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goxjo · 3 days

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! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice.

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place.

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

#jjk gojo #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #!love letters #!jjk #!gojo #!holic #!collabs

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skywalkerslvt · 2 months

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Truth Serum—Logan Howlett

❥Pairing: Logan Howlett x AFAB!Reader (no pronouns other than 'you' mentioned)

❥Summary: You and Logan, drugged with truth serum, get trapped in separate cells during a mission. Things ensue...

❥CW: 18+, smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, minor use of pet names (Logan says 'baby' once or twice), 1.8k words

❥a/n: Need his big mutant cock rearranging my insides right now. Wrote this really fast to satiate the new hyperfixation lmao. Not proofread, might edit later if I have time! hope u enjoy!!

The mission was a mess from the start. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance turned into a disaster when you and Logan got ambushed by a group of well-armed mercenaries. Despite your best efforts, you were overpowered, captured, and dragged into a hidden underground facility.

Now, after being relentlessly questioned with truth serum, you found yourself in a cold, dimly lit cell, the metal bars mocking your current predicament. By the time they threw you back into your cells, your head was spinning. The serum had forced out every truth, every hidden thought, and you were left feeling raw and exposed. Worse, the lingering effects made it hard to think straight, amplifying every emotion. The worst part wasn't the isolation or the confinement—it was knowing Logan was just a few feet away, locked up in a cell next to yours. You couldn't see him, but you could hear his frustrated growls and the occasional clang as he tested the strength of his restraints.

"Logan?" you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the narrow space.

"I'm here," he replied, his voice a low, rough rumble. "You okay?"

“I'm cold,” you answered truthfully, the effects of the truth serum lingering in your veins, rendering you incapable of telling even a white lie. “Are you okay?”

Logan huffed a laugh at your response. “I'm fine,” he replied, voice deep and gravelly sending shivers down your spine.

"We need to figure out how to get out of here," you said, trying to focus on the mission. "Any ideas?"

"I’m working on it," Logan grunted, and you could hear the strain in his voice as he tested his restraints again. "These bars are tough, but they won't hold me forever."

Silence fell between you, broken only by the sounds of Logan's efforts to free himself. Each grunt, each frustrated growl sent your mind wandering to places it shouldn't, especially given your current situation. You tried to shake off the thoughts, but the truth serum was making it hard to keep control.

You had always been drawn to Logan—his rugged exterior and intense demeanor had always sparked something deep inside you, but you'd managed to keep those feelings under wraps, focusing instead on the mission. Now, confined and vulnerable under the effects of the truth serum, those suppressed desires came roaring to the forefront. Every grunt, every restrained growl from his cell fueled your imagination, making it impossible to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. The harsh reality of your situation only seemed to intensify the electric charge between you two, turning the once manageable attraction into an uncontrollable blaze. A shuddering sigh passed your lips as you closed your eyes, trying to think of something, anything other than Logan fucking you, those low grunts a hot breath in your ear as he pounds his thick cock into your aching cunt.

"What's on your mind?" Logan's voice cut through the silence, startling you. Your sigh didn’t pass Logan’s ears, his enhanced hearing picking up every little sound you made. You were lucky the wall between you was blocking the scent of your arousal from him.

You hesitated, biting your lip, knowing the serum would force out whatever you were thinking. "N-nothing" you grunted, voice straining from the effort it took to tell that small lie, but your voice betrayed you.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone softer now. "Talk to me. What are you thinking right now?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "You," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m thinking about you."

Logan went quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel the intensity of his gaze even through the walls between you. "What about me?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity.

You took a shaky breath, unable to lie. "The sounds you're making... they’re making me think of... things. Things we shouldn't be thinking about right now." You cursed yourself for admitting this so easily, for getting caught in the first place.

A low growl rumbled from Logan's cell. "Tell me," he urged, his voice darkening with desire. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Your face flushed deeper, the truth serum forcing out your most private thoughts. “I was thinking about how you might sound if we were in the same cell,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “What noises you’d make if you were inside me, taking me on the floor.”

The cell fell into an expectant silence, Logan’s breathing becoming more laboured. After a moment, he let out a low, appreciative growl. “Oh yeah? That’s quite the thought,” he rumbled, voice thick with a mixture of satisfaction and dark amusement. “You’d be surprised how much I can imagine what it’d be like, too. The way you’d moan, how you’d squirm and gasp on my cock. Bet you’d be so fucking responsive.”

You shivered at his words, the combination of the truth serum and his filthy words making your thoughts spin wildly. “You think so?” you asked, voice breathy and eager.

Logan’s response was rough, laden with desire. “Hell yeah. I’d make sure you felt every inch of me. And you’d be begging for more before long, that’s for damn sure. Just imagine it—bet you’d take me so well.”

The vivid imagery of his words sent a shudder down your spine, your mind swirling with the possibilities. Despite the dire situation, the raw honesty between you both was creating a new kind of tension, one that was both thrilling and unnervingly intimate.

You couldn’t help it–your arousal was too much. You slowly trailed your hand up your thigh, fingers circling over your clit through your pants. “I–I’d be…so good for you, Logan,” you panted out between moans. “Need you so bad.”

Logan's breathing hitched at your admission, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Yeah? You’d be good for me, huh? Tell me what you’d want me to do if I was in there with you.”

You could hear the raw need in his voice, and it only spurred your own desire. You let out a shaky breath as you slipped your fingers under your waistband, teasing your already sensitive clit. “I–I’d want you to kiss me, touch me.”

The muffled sound of his zipper being yanked down could be heard through the wall, the thought of him fisting his cock to your voice now spurring you on, quickening your strokes. “Yeah? Touch you where, baby? How do you want me to touch you?” he responded, the smirk evident in his voice.

The rough edge in Logan's voice sent a jolt through you, mixing with your own mounting arousal. You could hear the slight rustling from his side, the thought of him responding to you in such a primal way adding to the intensity of your desire. You whimpered, fingers working in slow, deliberate circles around your clit as you imagined his touch.

“I’d want you to start with my neck,” you gasped, voice strained. “Kiss and bite me there, tease me until I’m begging for more. Then move down, touch me everywhere. I want to feel your hands on me, everywhere.”

Logan's breath quickened, his voice rougher with need as he now stroked his cock. “Fuck, keep going.”

You could almost feel his touch, the way he’d explore your body with that intense focus. Your breaths grew quicker, each one a mix of gasps and moans as you continued to pleasure yourself. “And then I’d want you to put your cock inside me,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. “Feel every inch of you inside me, make me come with you buried deep in me.”

Logan's voice was thick with desire, mixed with a hint of smugness. “I love the way you sound when you touch yourself thinking about me. Fuck, it drives me crazy.”

You could feel the heat building inside you, each stroke of your fingers sending waves of pleasure through your body. The images of Logan’s rough hands and his powerful presence were fueling your arousal, driving you closer to the edge.

“Logan…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with anticipation. “I’m so close. I need you… so bad.”

Logan’s voice came through, rough and filled with raw desire. “I’m right here, baby. Just thinking about you coming while you touch yourself, it’s driving me wild.”

The pressure inside you intensified, each moan and gasp escaping your lips growing more desperate. You quickened your movements, your fingers pressing harder against your clit, teasing and stroking with the intensity you craved. The thought of Logan’s deep voice, his body pressed against yours, only heightened the pleasure.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” you whimpered, your orgasm building like a tidal wave, ready to crash over you.

With a final, shuddering moan, you came. Your body convulsed with the intense release, your fingers still moving in frantic circles as you rode the waves of pleasure. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as the last echoes of your climax slowly faded.

On the other side of the wall, Logan was experiencing his own tormenting pleasure. The sounds of your moans and gasps mixed with his own grunts as he fisted his cock, imagining the way you’d feel around him. The fantasy of your touch and the way you’d sound as you came was too much for him to bear.

“Fuck, yes,” Logan growled, his voice thick with need. “I’m right there with you.”

His hand moved quickly, driven by the intense images and sounds filling his mind. With a deep, guttural groan, he came, his release spilling out with a force that matched the intensity of his arousal. The sensation of climax wracked his body, his grip on his cock tightening as he rode the wave of pleasure. His breaths were heavy and uneven, each one coming in harsh, satisfied gasps.

Both of you lay there, spent and breathless, the aftermath of your climaxes leaving you in a state of both physical and emotional exhaustion.

As the echoes of your climaxes settled into the heavy silence of the cells, you and Logan were left breathless and spent. The raw, electric tension between you had transformed into a shared, unspoken promise, even amidst your grim circumstances.

Logan’s voice cut through the quiet, rough and filled with a heated intensity that made your pulse quicken all over again. “When we get out of here,” he growled, each word dripping with desire, “I’m gonna show you just how good it can be. I’m gonna make sure you feel every bit of me.”

The thought of his words sent a shiver through you, the anticipation mingling with the lingering effects of the truth serum. Even as you lay there, exhausted and vulnerable, the promise of what was to come fueled a deep, burning desire that only added to the intensity of your situation.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine #james logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #james howlet x reader #x men x reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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seventeenpins · 2 months

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nightly

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader word count: 1k summary: Joel is a mistake you just keep making. content/warnings: no specified Joel era so take your pick, dirty talk, literally all just smut, big dick, daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon undertones, Joel is an asshole a/n: I have been struggling to focus on writing for a minute now, but the horny gods smiled upon me and let me get this together. Praise be to @ozarkthedog for always letting me run my godforsaken ideas past you. Love you lots 💕

You can feel the wet spot on the bed against your back. Joel has you folded like a pretzel, backs of your knees resting on his sun-freckled shoulders, wrists pinned above your head and ass suspended in the air as he drills into you. A single curl bounces at his temple, separate from the rest of his hair that's plastered with sweat to his forehead.

If you make the same mistake five days in a row, can you really still call it a mistake?

He's far too old for you, and a little too mean for you, but damned if he isn't the best lay you've ever had.

Eight inches, uncut, a dick so fucking fat you can barely wrap your hand around it. You can hardly believe he's buried balls deep in you right now. That your body can even take it.

"C'mon, honey, that's it-" Joel's voice is a growl, punctuated by heavy panting, "This pretty lil gash is fuckin' droolin' baby, my own personal slip 'n slide-"

"You're a crass old man," you whine.

"I sure am, honey," he agrees with a grin, "But don't think I can't feel the way you soak me whenever I talk crass, sweetheart."

"I hate you."

He laughs, and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple and along the curve of his nose, splashing onto your cheek. Unthinkingly, you dart your tongue out to catch some of the sweat. Joel's grin turns to a smirk.

"Hate me all you like. You're the one who's come over every night this fuckin' week. Monday through Friday, baby. Hate me so much you can't get enough of daddy's big dick, huh?"

"Fuck you, you're such an asshole-"

This jab is even less effective, punctuated with a moan and a whimper.

"Sure, sweetheart, I am. But don't pretend like we don't both know--you don't have to come here at all."

He grinds against you, coarse hair rubbing against your mound as if to further his point. Pressure hits your clit just right and it's bliss. You have to fully restrain yourself to stop from howling, and even then, you let out a ragged moan.

Joel clamps a hand over your mouth and looks you dead in the eyes.

"I love those pretty sounds, baby, but remember I got neighbors? Thought you said you'd die before anyone finds out about us."

You try to roll your eyes, but he thrusts again and you're caught in another moan. The glide of his body against your clit, especially when he's stretching you out so exquisitely? It's overwhelming. You try to stay quiet, you really do.

It's not your fault though, not when Joel's fucking you silly.

Now, though, he's frustrated.

"Quiet now, settle-"

"I'm not a fucking dog, Joel, I- ahhh-" you mumble and moan between his fingers, barely muffled at all.

"Oh really? Not a fucking dog? Wanna tell me then why you're tryna get bred like a bitch in heat?"

He smacks your cheek, drawing out another pathetic whine that only seems to cement his point.

He sneers. "Those pretty lil noises you're makin' for me? That don't sound like a good girl. That sounds to me like a nasty fuckin' slut who can't help but keep her legs spread so her daddy can fill her up good. Huh? C'mon baby. Tell me to cum inside."

"Fuck you Joel."

Suddenly, cruelly, he stops. Ceases any movement. Relaxes the grip on your wrists.

Panic overtakes you.

"What the fuck-?"

"Sorry sweetheart," he shakes his head, "You don't want this? You can see yourself out."

"No, I-"

You notice he's still sheathed inside you. You feel him do something, flexing his dick inside of you. Frankly, it's cheating.

"Please don't stop."

"What was that, honey?"

"Joooeeel-"

"Quit your whinin', use your words."

"Please fuck me."

"That ain't it, you know whatcha gotta say."

He starts rocking his hips gently, a slippery glide. It's not enough to stimulate. Just enough to make you want more. Need more.

The way you clench around him tells on yourself more starkly than your words ever could.

He's grinning again. "That's it, baby. You ready to admit what you need?"

"Come on, Joel."

"Cum where?"

You sigh. But you know you aren't gonna hold out any longer. He's pressing his thumb just above your clit and the glide of the motion is so fucking delicious it's hard not to buck against it.

Rut against it.

A bitch in heat.

"Fuck me, daddy-" you whine.

"You sound real pretty beggin'. Nearly got it honey. One more try?"

"Cum inside me."

"Mmmmm-" Joel groans, and the grip on your wrists tightens again. "Music to my ears, honey. Tell me where you want it?"

"Inside me, cum inside-"

"You want me to cum inside this lovely lil' pussy?"

"Please Joel-"

"That right?"

"Please cum in me, fill me up, fuck it deep-"

With that, his composure breaks and any restraint he had crumbles. Folds you deeper, fucks you deeper, pins you down and jackhammers into you.

You couldn't move, even if you wanted to, and that knowledge somehow heightens everything. It's blindingly bright, dizzyingly addictive. You barely notice the way Joel's lavishing you with praise, each deep thrust punctuated with good girl, good girl, good fucking girl-

When you cum, you feel the way his balls tighten as if in response, tipping over the edge mere moments after you. It could be romantic, finding yourselves cumming together, if there was any romance between you.

As you start to fade back down, you're able to pay attention again.

"That's it," he's praising you, and you realise his cock is still pulsing. You make to start moving, but he growls and holds you still. "That's right, sweetheart. Gotta let me fill you all the way up. Gonna make sure it takes."

Clarity starts to overtake you and you know that you've made a big fucking mistake. By the time you've come back to yourself, though, your pussy's flooded and pulsing oh so nicely, and Joel's pulling out of you. He moves into the other room and you hear him turn on the shower.

"You can let yourself out," he calls to you. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Your panties are sticky the whole way home.

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou #pins fic

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lymtw · 4 months

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Thinking of a soft and slow, but heated make out session with Toji, where he's got you beneath him, brushing his lips against yours with the intention of not stopping until both his lips and yours feel raw.

One of his hands is on your waist, squeezing tenderly, while the other is in your panties, thick fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. You're humming little whimpers into your kisses, pushing at his chest every once in a while and breaking the ongoing kiss.

"What, ma?" Toji asks, his voice deepened with restrained lust. His eyes are so dark, you can barely see the green that naturally brightens them. "Why're you pushing me away, hm?" He asks, kissing the corner of your lips.

"Please... slow down," you say, breathily. "I don't want this to end so soon."

"Baby, that was slow," he says, with an amused grin on his face. "Was being gentle and barely moved my fingers."

You sigh, embarrassment coursing through you and showing itself in your face through a bright shade of red that smothers your cheeks.

"Come on," he says, softly, leaning in again to continue where things were left off. Toji's lips lock with yours, the gentle synchronization egging on the pleasure he draws from you. He wasn't lying when he said he was barely moving his fingers. He just knows you've always been a sensitive little thing for him, and because of that, he loves testing your sensitivity in moments like these. Moments where even just the kissing part would have you squirming, and his weight on your body makes you need him so bad that you feel filthy for letting your thoughts of the situation evolve into something sinful.

"Kiss me back, princess," he murmurs, noticing the way you're heavily slowing down, not fully reciprocating his kisses like before.

"W-Wait-" you gasp, slapping a hand on Toji's wrist. "I'm gonna-"

"Then cum, sweetheart. We can do it again and again if that's what you're stressing over."

"Mm-mm." You shake your head to emphasize your response. "The first one is always the strongest. Please, Toji. Pretty please, not yet," you beg.

Toji has a look of strange disbelief painted on his features. How could you not want this? It's been going on for the better part of half an hour, now. The edging must be driving you crazy.

You pull his hand out of your underwear and the other one off your waist, bringing them both up to your lips. "Please, baby..." you murmur into his palms, kissing them both repeatedly. "...not yet. Just a little longer." You change the position of your hands and hold his hands tight, bringing his knuckles up to your lips this time.

Toji clicks his tongue, making it clear that he's the one who's being impatient. He just wants to see and hear the side effects of your pleasure. You're teasing him with those little whimpers and gasps between kisses. The reason it's so hard to bear is because he's so used to you giving him what he wants, when he wants it. This is one of the rare times where you're trying to stand your ground against him. You always hope you have enough willpower to keep up your defense because Toji knows every way to sneak through it or tear it down. Your love for him is a severe disadvantage, and because of it, all it takes is a few words and it's as if your defense was made of flimsy paper.

"Alright, alright, little masochist. I'll slow down even more, for you."

You giggle at the nickname, welcoming Toji's weight on you again. He makes a brief detour and directs himself towards your ear to whisper some much needed information.

"I'm not going any slower than this, you understand?" He mutters, into your ear.

"But-"

"Princess," he says, cutting you off. "It's yes or no. Do you understand or not?" he asks, stomping all over your wants because for once his needs outshine them. You nod, silently, in response. "Good." He pecks your cheek, leaning back to look at you. You look... not all there, or at least not like you did just seconds ago. It's not what he wanted. He sighs, knowing what it's gonna have to come down to as he cups your cheeks in his warm hands. He knows there has to be a different approach. One that doesn't involve him making you feel like you were in the wrong for wanting him in a specific way.

"Wanna cum? For me, mama?"

There he went, tearing down your defenses like they're party streamers. For me. Those two simple words were all he needed. He knew exactly how to catch you in his trap. Redirection was key. If he made it seem like a favor to him, you would do it with zero hesitation. It's one of the many pros that came with you and your constant need for his praise... He just knew you too well. Well enough to know that it worked the second the twinkle in your eyes returned.

"I'll take it slow, just like you wanted," he promises. "but, you can't push me away. Even if I bring you to the edge with that same pace you begged for." He knows he'll bring you to orgasm even with the limited movement you allow him.

There was a beam of tranquility in your eyes, a twitch in the corners of your lips, where the key to unlock the two words you strived to hear as many times as you could in a day, rested. It was only a matter of seconds before you would give in. You were right there, centimeters away from his clutches.

"Mama..." he says, pushing for you to answer him while leaning towards your lips again. "Let me make you cum," he says against the corner of your lips, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Fuck- Fine, okay," you say, waving your imaginary white flag.

"Mhm... that's my good girl."

And there they were, those two words you forever longed to hear from Toji. If he wanted you to be on the edge again, he did a great job of getting you there without having to do much.

Toji centered his lips on yours again, starting out with that same slow rhythm, as to not rile you up so quickly. He incorporated his touch a couple minutes later, his hands returning to the previous positions they held on your body—one on your bare waist, the other slipped into your underwear. You jolted at the reintroduced stimulation his fingers offered your clit, a sharp gasp breaking the passionate kissing.

"Shh... It's okay, doll," he murmured, quickly directing your attention back to his lips. He was feeding off your breathy moans and whimpers. If he hadn't pressed you so hard before with the promise of pacing himself with you, he would have gone back on his word and quickly made you cum so that he could work you up to the next orgasm, already.

Truly, you were heaven in his ears, on his lips, and in his hands. Despite not looking at you, he knew the sight to be insane, as well.

Your hands went to the sheets, the material balling up messily in your fists as Toji brought you closer to your peak. You did your best to keep up with his lips, but nothing was as clear as the strokes being drawn between your legs.

By the four minute mark, you were a panting mess, shamelessly chasing more friction from his whole hand. That's where the hand he had resting on your waist came into play. It lowered down to your hip, immobilizing you enough to stop you from taking more than what he was offering until he gave you permission.

"Be good," he mutters, cutting through the soft sounds of your whimpers. He knew you were close. So, so close. Your moans were getting higher in pitch and you were trembling beneath him. He just kept rubbing his fingertips against your clit, over and over, bringing a lingering—echoing sensation throughout your entire cunt. You completely fell apart after a few more strokes, each more pressurized than the other until you snapped. You lost the ability to kiss Toji back when he used the entirety of his hand on you, cupping your cunt to draw out as much of your pleasure as he could. Your head was thrown back into the pillow, waterfalls of lewd moans and cries filling the room. "There you go, mama," he coos, allowing you some freedom to roll your hips against his hand. He presses quick kisses into your jaw and the column of your neck as your face is aimed towards the ceiling.

You surpassed the zenith of your pleasure and in time treaded towards more than you could handle. You nonverbally begged Toji to stop, wrapping your much smaller hands around his forearm. A couple whimpers and squeaks of overstimulation were required for him to slow down to a halt, even after your quivering thighs trapped his hand between them.

Your eyes fell shut and you sighed, contentedly. Toji observed your state of bliss, a shade of pink dusting lightly over his cheeks. You looked so pretty, lying there on the pillow for him. He can see you clearly, despite the curtains being shut to keep your little world safe inside. This allows nothing and no one to peek in, not even the moon and its guiding light. You're more brilliant than the moon, anyway. Much prettier, as well. It doesn't take a genius to establish this, especially when you look at Toji with all the stars in your eyes.

"Let's go again."

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topicsfromatoz · 1 month

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INFINITE MELODIC MINIMAL HOUSE #AtoZ_HOUSE_MUSIC

youtube

Minimal house is a subgenre of electronic dance music (EDM) that focuses on simplicity, subtlety, and a stripped-back aesthetic. Emerging in the late 1990s, it is characterized by its use of minimal elements such as sparse rhythms, repetitive beats, and understated melodies. The music often employs a four-on-the-floor beat, with tracks typically around 120-128 BPM. Unlike other house genres, minimal house avoids overloading the sound spectrum, instead creating a deep, hypnotic groove through the repetition of concise musical phrases and a restrained use of effects. This genre emphasizes space and silence as much as sound, allowing each element to breathe and resonate. Influential artists like Ricardo Villalobos, Richie Hawtin, and Zip have been pivotal in shaping the minimal house scene. The genre's minimalist approach lends itself well to both intimate club settings and larger festival environments, offering a unique, immersive listening experience. Minimal house continues to evolve, with new artists and producers exploring innovative ways to push the boundaries while maintaining its core principles of simplicity and elegance. Its understated, yet compelling sound, has garnered a dedicated following among electronic music enthusiasts worldwide.

#MinimalHouse #EDM #ElectronicMusic #HouseMusic #MinimalTechno #DeepGroove #ClubMusic #DanceMusic #UndergroundHouse #TechHouse

Minimal house, electronic dance music, simplicity, subtlety, stripped-back aesthetic, late 1990s, sparse rhythms, repetitive beats, understated melodies, four-on-the-floor beat, 120-128 BPM, deep hypnotic groove, concise musical phrases, restrained use of effects, space and silence, influential artists, Ricardo Villalobos, Richie Hawtin, immersive listening experience, core principles,

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hoshigray · 20 days

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SUB TOJIKUNA.

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - shibari; bondage - anal fingering (m! receiving) - doggystyle/doggy blowjob position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap that shit up) - pet names (baby, little dove/one, mama, princess) - cervix-fucking - usage of aphrodisiacs (talismans) - toji & kuna being a bit whiny! - mention of drool/saliva.

It’s always fun to switch the roles of a relationship, and it’s even more of a treat when your husbands, Toji and Sukuna, allow you to flip their typical hegemonic worlds all around.

Have you ever imagined the day of Sukuna being stooped down to your level — literally? Well, tonight was the night, especially for you. Huge thighs spread for you to situate between, his quadruple arms restricted behind his back with red rope and ofuda stuck to the string. Four scarlet eyes magnetized to the tiny mouth that bobs up and down on his lower cock while your warm hands fist the upper one.

Fuck, your eyes hooded and glossy, your face and frame highlighted by the glow of the room emitted by the candles around. Shivers tread up Sukuna’s spine from watching your tongue swirl around the glans, biting his lip at the flick of it on his frenulum. “—Mmmm, shit…Enjoying doing all the work, huh, little one.”

Your orbs glint with a smirk, kissing his tip before nibbling on the corona. “Me? Or you; you’re the one leaking precum like crazy, my love.”

“Tch, no thanks to these damn talismans,” your eyes flicker to the paper on the rope he’s referring to; the talisman is usually meant to diminish any supernatural prowess, a perfect tool to use on a substantial individual like the behemoth in front of you. However…there’s a catch. “Fucking aphrodisiac effect is making me weak, can’t even think straight.”

His comment humors you. “Hmm, can’t think straight…but all you can think about is cumming on my hands, right?” Your palms tighten the grip around the root of his dick, his white premature liquid sliding to your fingertips to assist the friction. “I can tell that you want to cum so bad; you’re pulsing nonstop.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow darkly with a guttural purr, attempting to fight the buck of his hips. “Don’t test your luck, dove; don’t think this rope—Mmmph!” You suck on his cockhead harshly as you knead his massive balls. “…Will restrain me for long.”

“We’ll see about that…Ohhh!” You titter when you feel the weight from behind adds to yours. “Mmmm, looking good back there? Don’t lose your balance now.”

“Tahhh, hahaha, not tryin’ to, mama.” Toji, the other husband, groans behind you. Rugged breaths as the raven-headed man pounds his sweaty pelvis to your ass. His cock is erect and grazing at the right places for you to whimper blissfully. Hungry hands hold you by the waist, keeping you attached as he increases the pace. “Fuuuck…! Feel so good…”

“Ohhshit, yesss, right there,” you wail with a deeper arch as Toji plows his length deep inside you. “Yesss, so good at this, baby! Know how to treat me well.”

The man inclines to your right ear; hot breaths brush the helix and lobe. “—Shiiit, so tight…” He coos, nestling his sweaty forehead to your neck and shoulder for strands of his hair to stick to your cheek. “Baby, please–I can’t, ‘bout to—Khhh!”

“Oh, no, you don’t~” you throw a foot up to smack his ass and testicles, and the hiss he fails to swallow makes your heart sing and cheeks hot. “Don’t cum without my say-so, okay? Be a good boy and wait a minute.”

The title you give him fuels his hips to quicken the pace, the skin of his pelvis and thighs constantly intermittently hitting your ass. Pleasurable sobs escape you before taking Sukuna’s dick back into your mouth, gobbling his girth until it hits the back of your throat. And the giant under your lips whines lowly like a purr, his stomach vibrating under your caressing touch on his second mouth.

The effects of the stimulant talismans exacerbate the haze for him, the King of Curses throwing his head back as you stroke and orally feast on his sensitive cocks. He nearly chokes on spit from your fiesty hands going faster, practically whining as you roughly suck on the skin of the underside. But you’re careful not to mention less you want him to end up freeing himself off the ropes and fuck you and Toji relentlessly.

“Goddamn it…!” You release your mouth momentarily to coat your fingers in saliva and sneak them downwards between Sukuna’s asscheeks to dance around his asshole. “Wait, stop, don’t—Mmmff!” And you insert two digits inside, and more excess come threatens to spill from his urethras. “Ohhh, fucking shit…!! Keheh, what a brat…”

“That’s right, my love,” you praise him while wiggling your fingers, the pink-haired man struggling to say anything every time you scrape his inner texture. “Keep squeezing—Ahaaa!!” Toji takes the advantage to slither his hand down to your clitoris, swiping the neglected pearl to the point you almost wobble. “Noohhh, ohhmyGod…!!”

Headaches worsen by the second — Sukuna can’t take it anymore; his patience wears thin with the shivers. “God! Princess, I can’t,” your gaze goes to him. “I need to…Oh, fuck…!”

“Need to what, big guy?” You tease, your digits grow quick in movement, and the way Sukuna squirms strokes your ego dangerously. “Tell me what you need.”

Crimson eyes shine furiously; the cloud of lust only makes them ever more attractive. “Let me…cum, little dove,” God, the blush of his face and ears shay to his shoulders, his grin becoming broader as he fucks your hand wantonly. “Need to cum in these dirty hands of yours.”

“—Mmmm, shit, me too, sweetheart,” Toji slurs while placing lazy kisses on your cheek before kissing you helplessly. “Gotta cum—Lemme cum inside ya, mama; wanna—Nnnmm!—f-fill y’ up so bad…!” His legs are shaky, yet the drive never falters, hammering himself till he’s balls-deep and pinching your clit.

You moan into the kiss, drool coming down to your chin while your cunt can’t help but twitch around the dark-headed man with every grind of his thick digits on your bud and poke to your cervix. “Nnnmm, okay, boys. Go ahead,” You suck on Toji’s tongue one last time before moving back to suck Sukuna off. “You may now cum.”

There have never been words that brought so much relief to the men: Toji inexorably bucking into your wetness as his balls kiss your folds, and Sukuna groans aloud at you, taking his length once more to an unforgiving pace that has him feeling euphoric.

The giant is first to release, bursting his load into your warm mouth that instantly sucks his fluids, his other cock ejaculating to the air before hitting your forehead and cheeks. You alternate between the two to lick and lap their glans clean, no matter how much they paint you with Sukuna’s semen. Toji comes right behind him, climaxing into your fluttering chasm every time he hits your cervix, sighing deeply as you milk him dry.

His heavy body slumps onto you, two trembling bodies standing with their knees as the aftershocks keep them humble to the cold atmosphere. You lament with a mouth full of Sukuna’s tip, swallowing whatever drops you can gather. “Holy shit,” Toji chuckles. “That was good, mama…”

“Hmmnn, agreed,” Sukuna swades his hips around, snickering at the sight of your lips staying glued to his dick. “Well done, princess.”

With a soft ‘pop,’ you peer at your husband with an overjoyed expression. “Thank you, my King.”

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idkyetxoxo · 1 month

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Jacaerys Velaryon - Reckless Sins

Summary - Their inability to see eye to eye often leads to arguments and mutual disdain, frequently escalating into reckless intimacy as both are eager to dominate and assert control, but what happens when, one day, they are caught in the act?

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), getting caught in the act, strong language

Word count - 2416

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"We must act," Jace declared, his voice urgent and eyes burning with intensity.

Rhaenyra shot him a stern look, her expression a mask of restrained frustration. The war had ignited fierce disputes within the family, but their bond somehow endured the strain.

"We cannot be hasty," I interjected, siding with Rhaenyra. Jace rolled his eyes, the exasperation evident in his demeanour.

"You always find a way to oppose me," he retorted, his tone dripping with irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to back down.

"I simply wish to make you see reason," I replied calmly.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, the weight of the day's bickering visibly wearing on her. Without another word, she exited the council room, leaving Jace and me alone in the cavernous space, the tension between us palpable.

As the heavy door closed behind her, Jace turned to face me fully, his expression hardening.

"Do you take pleasure in contradicting me at every turn?" he demanded.

I met his gaze steadily. "I take no pleasure in it, Jace but someone must temper your impulsiveness with caution."

His jaw tightened, the muscles working as he struggled to contain his anger. "And you believe you're the one to do that?"

"Yes," I replied firmly. "Because I care about the outcome of this war just as much as you do, and I refuse to see us make reckless decisions that could cost us everything."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with unresolved conflict. His eyes bore into mine, sharp and unyielding.

"You're insufferable," he spat, stepping closer, his chest heaving with frustration.

"And you're impossible," I shot back, my breath quickening.

We stood inches apart, the heat between us almost tangible. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Why do you always have to challenge me?"

"Because you need to be challenged," I snapped, stepping even closer until we were nearly touching. "You're too reckless, too impulsive."

"And you're too stubborn," he growled, his breath hot on my face.

The tension reached a boiling point. Without thinking, we lunged at each other, mouths crashing together in a fervent kiss. It was fierce, hungry, fueled by all the pent-up anger and passion we had in us. Our hands roamed urgently, fingers digging into flesh as we battled for dominance.

We stumbled back, knocking over a chair in our frantic embrace. His lips trailed down my neck, and I gasped, pulling him closer.

The world outside ceased to exist, there was only the heat of our bodies and the desperate need to consume each other.

His hands slid under my dress, the touch igniting a fire beneath my skin. I arched into him, our movements becoming more frenzied. We tore at each other's clothes, driven by a primal urge that overrode all reason.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine. "You drive me mad," he breathed.

"Then stop resisting," I whispered, pulling him closer.

In that moment, the line between love and hate blurred, consumed by the inferno of our desire.

He grabbed me by the waist, lifting me onto the council table sweeping away the papers and pawns scattered across it.

Looking down at me with a smirk, he teased me, trailing his tip against my entrance and relishing the effect it had on me.

"Stop," I warned, but he only grinned, pushing himself into me. He began thrusting, his hands gripping my hips, moving me in time with his powerful movements.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes closing as pleasure filled him. "You feel so good, no matter how many times I fuck you," he said, and I moaned softly.

"Jace," his name escaped my lips like a prayer.

"Yeah, that's it," he encouraged, savouring the sounds escaping my mouth as they echoed through the room.

His rhythm increased, thrusts turning into relentless pounds, each movement filled with the raw intensity of our conflict and desire.

"Fuck all of them," he muttered, burying his head into my chest. "Fuck the usurper and fuck his kinslayer brother," he continued, his movements becoming sloppy as his rage consumed him.

His hands tightened on my hips, fingers digging in as he drove deeper, the mix of anger and lust fueling his every motion.

The room filled with the sounds of our passion, the slap of skin against skin, the ragged breaths, and the mingled moans of two people lost in their own storm.

His teeth grazed my neck, sending shivers down my spine as he bit down, marking me. His hand slipped between us, finding that sensitive spot and rubbing circles that sent me spiralling.

"Jace, I'm close," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the chaos of our desire. He took my face in his hand, forcing me to look at him.

"No," he said firmly, and I frowned, frustrated. "I'm not done with you."

He pulled out of me as abruptly as he had entered, leaving me whimpering at the sudden loss, a slight ache forming between my legs.

"Asshole," I murmured, and he smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Such a filthy mouth," he mocked, and I rolled my eyes, sitting up.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. I shook my head defiantly and he shrugged, settling into a chair opposite me. He began stroking his cock, never breaking eye contact.

"Do it," he insisted, and I sighed, finally bringing one hand down between my legs and the other to one of my breasts, massaging and pinching periodically.

"That's it," he encouraged, quickening his movements as I threw my head back in pleasure. Our soft moans and groans reverberated through the room as we pleasured ourselves, each sound heightening the intensity.

"Gods," I whimpered, my hips bucked against my hand, my movements becoming frantic as I chased my release. His eyes burned into me, his own pleasure evident in the way his body tensed, his strokes becoming erratic.

The sound of clattering made me look up, and Jace approached me swiftly, grabbing my hand to stop my movements. "Fuck," I cussed, frustration bubbling over as he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"I never told you to cum," he said, his voice low and commanding. I glanced down at his length, twitching and strained, noting with satisfaction that he hadn't let himself go either.

"That's my job," he growled, thrusting into me again. I sighed at the exquisite feeling of him filling me once more.

"I love it when I piss you off," I said, my fingers tangling in his curly locks.

"You infuriate me," he corrected, his voice a mix of anger and desire.

I laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. "Then why can't you stay away?"

His response was a deep, primal thrust that made me cry out. "Because you're the only one who can match my fire," he said, his pace quickening.

Our bodies moved together with a reckless urgency, every thrust, every touch driven by the volatile mix of our emotions. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer with each powerful motion.

"You're impossible," I gasped, arching into him, my nails scraping down his back.

"And you're insufferable," he shot back, but his voice was hoarse, tinged with something deeper.

Our breaths came faster, mingling with the fervent sounds of our passion. His movements became frantic, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. "Jace," I moaned, my body trembling.

"Not yet," he commanded, though his own control was slipping. His rhythm grew erratic, driven by a desperate need. "Together," he growled, his eyes locking onto mine.

With a final, shuddering thrust, we found our release, our cries of pleasure mingling in the heated air

We collapsed together, breathing hard, the weight of what had just happened settling over us. The council room, once a place of strategy and war, had become a battlefield of a different kind, our bodies the only weapons we needed.

As our breathing slowed and the sweat cooled on our skin, the reality of our situation returned.

"Clean up your mess," I said, leaning back on my elbows with a smirk. "Before someone walks in and finds the heir face-deep between my legs."

He shot me a look as he began putting his pants back on. "Our mess," he corrected, straightening the chair we had knocked over.

I hummed in response, sitting up fully and spreading my legs provocatively. "Clean it," I commanded, my voice low and taunting.

His eyes flickered with hunger, a predatory gleam lighting up his face. "You're stubborn," he said, approaching me once more.

"I've been told," I replied, my voice a purr as his face dipped between my legs. His tongue lapped at the mess we had created, each stroke sending shivers of pleasure through me.

I moaned softly, my fingers threading through his hair, guiding him as he worked. The heat between us reignited, our bodies responding to each other with the same intensity as before. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open as he continued his ministrations, the sensation driving me to the edge once more.

Just as I was about to lose myself in the moment again, the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open cut through the haze of passion. Panic surged through us both.

"Shit," Jace muttered, pulling away quickly and scrambling to his feet.

"Give me my dress," I hissed, urgency lacing my voice. He bent down quickly, searching the floor, but we were unsuccessful in our frantic efforts to cover me up.

"What do we have here?" Daemon's voice rang out, an amused smirk on his face as he took in the scene. Jace immediately stood in front of me, shielding my body from view.

"What are you doing, little prince?" Daemon asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"We were just..." Jace began, taking a step forward, but I grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back in front of me.

"I'm still naked," I shrieked in his ear, my voice a desperate whisper. He looked back at me, panic evident in his eyes.

"It's not what it looks like," I stumbled out, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.

Daemon laughed shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I think it's exactly what it looks like," he said, taking a few steps closer. "But don't stop on my account."

"What?" Jace asked his voice a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Go on," Daemon said, gesturing toward me with a lazy wave of his hand. "Make sure you do a good job. I wouldn't want to report that the heir of the kingdom doesn't know how to please a lady."

I could see the hesitation in Jace's eyes, the conflict between his duty and his desire. He glanced at me, his face a mask of uncertainty.

"Now," Daemon commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

With a deep breath, Jace turned back to me, his eyes filled with renewed determination. He sank to his knees, his hands spreading my thighs once more as his mouth descended to my centre.

The embarrassment of Daemon's presence mixed with the raw pleasure of Jace's tongue, creating a heady, intoxicating sensation. My fingers tangled in Jace's hair, guiding him as he worked, my moans growing louder with each passing second.

"That's more like it," Daemon remarked, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched. "Don't be shy now. Let him know how he's doing."

I threw my head back, a loud moan escaping my lips as Jace's tongue found a particularly sensitive spot. The thrill of being watched only heightened my pleasure, pushing me closer to the edge.

"Good girl," Daemon purred, his voice low and encouraging. "Show him how much you enjoy it."

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, each touch, and each sound amplifying the pleasure coursing through me. I was teetering on the brink, my body trembling with the effort to hold back.

"Don't hold back," Daemon commanded, his voice a seductive whisper. "Let go."

With a final cry of ecstasy, I did as he said, my release crashing over me like a tidal wave. Jace continued his efforts, prolonging my pleasure until I was spent, collapsing back against the table.

"Well done," Daemon said, a satisfied smirk on his face as he straightened up. "Now, clean up your mess, both of you. We wouldn't want anyone else stumbling upon this little scene, would we?"

As Daemon turned to leave, his laughter echoed in the hallway. We exchanged a glance, the reality of our situation sinking in. This was a dangerous game we were playing, but the thrill of it was impossible to resist.

Jace turned back to me, exhaling heavily. I slapped his chest in frustration. "Ow," he mumbled, rubbing the spot I had just hit.

"Give me my dress," I demanded. He quickly found the discarded garment and handed it to me. I slipped it on, hopping off the council table as I adjusted the fabric.

"This is your fault," he muttered, irritation in his voice.

"My fault?" I retorted, incredulous.

"You're the one who wanted me to clean my mess," he pointed out as we began picking up the scattered papers and pawns.

"I didn't mean," I snapped. "You're the one who couldn't control himself."

"Neither could you," he shot back. "Don't act like you weren't just as involved."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, shaking my head as I tossed papers back onto the table.

Jace rolled his eyes. "Look, maybe we both lost control, but what about Daemon?"

I froze, the weight of his words hitting me. "Daemon saw... oh, gods, he saw my—" I buried my head in my hands.

Jace chuckled, the sound a mix of relief and amusement.

I looked up at him, mortified. "So now what?"

"Now we get out of here before anyone else catches us," he said, giving me a squeeze.

As we walked out of the council room, Jace's arm around my shoulders felt oddly comforting. We moved quickly, our footsteps echoing through the empty corridors.

"I can't believe Daemon saw—" I started, but Jace cut me off with a smirk.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Daemon's got bigger things to worry about, I certainly don't think he disapproved."

"I'm still mortified," I muttered. "What if he tells someone?"

"Let him," Jace shrugged. "If anything, it might remind us to be more careful next time."

"Next time? You think I'm letting this happen again?"

He laughed. "Well, if Daemon's reaction was any indication, maybe we'll have to be more creative. Or, just a little more discreet."

I couldn't help but smile. As we reached the end of the corridor, we parted ways, the tension between us temporarily eased by our shared laughter.

For a moment, the war outside was forgotten, replaced by the war we fought with each other, a war that ended, at least for now, in a fierce and reckless truce.

A/n - This is VERY different from my usual style, so I’m extremely nervous to share it. I spent an absurd amount of time writing it because I kept second-guessing myself, but I really hope it doesn’t disappoint!!

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #team black #prince jacaerys #jace x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys strong

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bpmiranda · 8 days

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Professional (Hugh Jackman) nsfw

A/N: purely fictional, age gap, 18+ f!reader, jealous!hugh, flirtationship, dry humping, semi-public sex, mild choking, unprotected sex, creampie

Hugh Jackman is a professional actor. He takes great precautions to never be disrespectful or arrogant or otherwise unpleasant to work with because he wants everyone working together to remain in good spirits. During the production of The Greatest Showman, his professionalism is put to the test and he knows that is exactly what you are; a test.

You’re happily bouncing from department to department, coordinating with costumes and lighting, making sure the stars are all wearing the correct shade and amount of makeup required for their scenes. Hugh is unable to keep himself from joking with you, he’s always hoping for your chair to be open in the makeup trailer, always flirting with the young makeup artist. Though, in his defense, you are quite the flirt yourself, even if he knows it is just your personality. That’s what makes it all the more difficult to restrain himself, you simply can’t help it.

“Is that my jacket?” He asks, doing a double take as you’re walking past him towards the trailer lot.

You turn around and look down at yourself, recalling that you did in fact take his zip up hoodie, and you laugh. “Oh, yeah, I got cold in the trailer and it was just sitting there. Do you like?” You ask, giving him a little spin and he chuckles, fighting to keep himself professional.

“It’s a bit big for you.” He comments, placing his hands on his hips as he notices how the hem of the hoodie falls at your thighs.

“Well,” You shrug, giving him a small smirk. “You’re a big man, Hugh.” You wink before continuing on your way and leaving him wondering how you might look wearing only his hoodie.

It’s not like you’re trying to seduce him, but that’s just the effect that you have on him. Your charming personality slowly chips at his willpower and makes him want to know you better, want to seek you out. “How’s that?” You ask as you finish shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, your fingers lightly touch his smooth jaw and you move behind him so he can look at himself in the mirror.

“You shave me better than I can.” He chuckles, rubbing his chin and lifting it up to inspect your work.

You grin triumphantly as you softly comb his hair back with your fingers, smoothing down a few strays. “Personally, I adore your beard,” You say, sighing as you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and absentmindedly squeeze them, massaging him. “I love a full, greying beard.”

Hugh tries to fight the smirk at the corner of his lips as he looks at you, failing. “You like older men?” He asks and you nod, not thinking too much about the question and the implications that come with it.

“Don’t make fun of me,” You grin as you pack away the shaving utensils you used and lean back into his lap as you look at him in the mirror. “I think it’s the experience that comes with them. It’s nice to relinquish control and just follow.”

One of Hugh’s hands comes up to your hip while he chuckles at you. “Ever been with one?” He asks shamelessly and you nod, your cheeks growing warm, but you’re not embarrassed. It’s Hugh, he’s basically your friend now. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“That’s personal, Hugh.” You smirk, turning around though he doesn’t let go of your hip and his hand smooths across your ass as you turned. You didn’t mind. “But you don’t have to worry, you’re the only man in my life right now.” You say, caressing his smooth cheek gently and smiling.

“I’d better be.” He says, patting your hip lightly before he gets up and kisses your cheek. “Thanks for the shave, sweetheart.”

“Anytime, darling.” You call as you wipe off the chair he was occupying. Not a single thing about the interaction seemed off to you, but Hugh couldn’t stop thinking about the things he would show you, teach you, if you’d let him.

One morning, he notices you laughing and pushing Zac gently, your hand lingering on his chest as his younger co-star is laughing with you, leaning an arm on the table behind you so he’s closer to you. Hugh tries not to let it bother him, he knows that’s your personality, you’re just a flirty person. You don’t like Zac that way, you probably don’t even like him that way. You’re just here to do a job, like everyone else. However, it feels so different when it’s just you and him. Hugh swears you feel what he feels too, especially when you shyly return a quip or intentionally lean on him, touch him in a way that isn’t all too necessary. It doesn’t stop him from being jealous, and that’s simply because he knows you’d be his without a second thought, the same way he’s already yours.

“No, Hugh!” You scold as you take the cup of coffee from the grown man sitting in your makeup chair. You gently wipe the foam that had met his lip off and you suck your thumb clean. Another action that you thought nothing of while it drove him wild. “It’s going to stain your teeth, you have to wait after the photo shoot.” You tell him as you set the cup down and inspect his face. Hugh gives you a tired look and you pout at him. “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t mean to be so cruel.” You say, softly caressing his stubbled cheek and he chuckles.

“I think that’s exactly what you mean to do.” He says with a smirk, taking your dainty hand and holding onto it as he rests it on his lap. “When am I on?” He asks, glancing at the time on his phone sitting on his other lap and you lean into him, pressing your hip against the inside of his thigh to peer at his screen. Hugh can smell your perfume and he wants so badly to keep you this close forever.

“About 10 minutes.” You say, stepping back again to get a good look at his appearance and fixing a few stray hairs from his combed back style. “I should get hair back in here.” You murmur, about to do just that when Hugh subtly tugs on your hand.

His green eyes look mischievously at you when you turn back to him and he shakes his head. “I like how you do my hair better.” He says, only wanting you and him alone in his trailer a little while longer. Your cheeks warm up, but you fix his hair anyway, fully aware of him glancing at your body and your breasts as you’re leaning into him. His hands come to rest on your waist and you bite your lip, smiling to yourself as you lightly spray his hair and smooth it over.

“There.” You whisper, looking down at him to see he is staring at your lips and your chest. “My eyes are up here, darling.” You smirk, lightly swatting at his toned chest and he chuckles.

“Like you don’t stare at me.” He smirks and you pretend to be insulted, letting your mouth fall open in shock which makes him laugh.

“Please,” You say as you pack away the hair styling tools you used and lean back against the vanity. “I’m a professional, Hugh. I don’t have time to ogle and pal around.” You say, knowing full well that is exactly what you do all day and he chuckles because he’s the one you ogle and with whom you’re always paling around, more so than anyone else on set.

Hugh stands up from his chair, blocking you from view with his massive frame as he leans on the vanity, his arms trapping you as he leans down and the tip of his nose brushes yours. “What if I’m not very professional?”

You’re speechless, for the very first time in your career, and he sees that as a win. “Hugh,” You whisper his name, swallowing hard as you try not to seem nervous or uncomfortable because you’re not and you really want to see where this goes. “We should lock the door.” You say, tilting your head upwards so your lips are moving against his as you ask, “Unless you want them to see?”

Hugh nods, kissing you softly, pressing his body into yours as you return the gesture. “I want them to see.” He murmurs, one of his hands resting on your hip and the other moving your thigh slightly so he can grind his crotch against your core, stimulating you through the thin fabric of your leggings.

A soft moan falls from your lips as you hold onto his waist with one hand and the other reaches up to clasp around his nape. “Who could you possibly have to be jealous of?” You ask breathlessly against his mouth as he is leaning over you, pressing his erection harder into your sensitive clit.

“Doesn’t matter.” He murmurs, lifting you up suddenly and stepping between your legs. “You’re here with me now.” His fingers reach for the seam between your thighs and you stop him quickly.

“How am I supposed to walk out of here with ripped leggings?” You ask with a light laugh at how desperately he wants to fuck you and he groans, turning you around instead and tugging them down. You bite your lip as you watch him undo his belt buckle in the mirror and he winks at you.

“You’re lucky I care enough.” He says, leaning with his hand onto the vanity, his chest pressing against your back as he lines his cock up to your entrance and you whine as his swollen head prods at your wet entrance. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Hugh!” You whine as he’s pushing his length into you, slow and gentle so you feel every inch of him taking up space in your cunt. “Fuck.” You rest your head back against his firm chest, one of his large hands comes up to hold your throat and he’s kissing your neck softly as he begins fucking you.

His chest is rising and falling quickly against your back, his breathing is hard against your neck and you feel him lightly squeeze your throat which makes you whine in response. His cock is throbbing inside you, pulsing against your tight walls while he’s rutting deeply into you. “You’re so tight, sweetheart.” He groans, nipping lightly at your earlobe as your whimpering his name, your little frame trembling in his hold as he has his way with you. “You ever been stretched out like this, baby?” He asks and he smirks when you shake your head, unable to form a sentence as you’re completely cock drunk and the air isn’t all the way reaching your brain as he’s got your windpipe in his strong grip. “Didn’t think so.” He grunted as your core began to squeeze him in tandem with your orgasm.

“Hu-Hugh!” You cry out hoarsely, his hand lets go of your throat and your head hangs forward weakly as you’re shaking from the force of your release. Hugh simply pushes you down onto the vanity and brings your hips back to meet his forceful thrusts, using you now for his own pleasure. “Fuck!” You gasp as hot tears prick at your eyes, your hands pressing firmly into the flat surface he’s got you pinned to while he’s filling your pussy with his load.

“Shit!” He groans, leaning forward and pushing the head of his cock against your cervix where you feel his spurts of cum being dumped. His large hands grab onto the round part of your ass, spreading you lewdly as he watches himself moving in and out of your little hole, smirking when he begins to see the mixture of yours and his creamy white fluids coating his thick shaft. “You’re a damn tease. You know that?” He asks, leaning forward and kissing your cheek as you lightly laugh.

“Is that what’s got you so riled up?” You ask, leaning onto your hands again and looking at him in the mirror as he’s admiring your dazed expression, his cock still sitting heavy inside you. “You can’t handle a little friendly flirting?”

“Don’t pretend that’s all that was,” He chuckles, one of his hands sliding up your blouse so he can grab onto your tit. “You told me yourself you like older men.”

You moisten your lips and bite your bottom one as he kisses your neck, sighing against your skin. “Then you had no reason to be jealous in the first place.”

Hugh laughs lightly and nods in agreement. “I suppose you’re right.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror and you feel him throb inside you, a small whine echoes in your mouth. “I just can’t be professional around you, sweetheart.”

This was a request that I ended up putting far too much time into and I enjoyed it🤭 Let me know what you think!

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfic #the greatest showman

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egcdeath · 5 months

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life's a beach

pairing: patrick zweig x reader request: @diorrfairy: i can't stop thinking about patrick x reader who's an introvert, kinda shy but with a fiery temper just like him. and she knows it's better not to get involved with guys like him but she can't help it. and he's constantly teasing her trying to get on her nerves like … summary: a chain smoking tennis player disrupts your day on the beach and uproots your entire summer vacation. word count: 6.5k warnings: enemies to lovers (kinda… the reader folds like a paper airplane pretty quickly), smoking, no use of y/n, low speed police (pool security guard) chase, mentions of smoking, brief mention of alcohol, so much exposition, vague descriptions of sports, some kissing, patrick and reader are spoiled rich kids author’s note: this fic definitely got away from me, but i hope that you all enjoy it! also, i apologize in advance for any characterization issues, since i’ve only seen the movie once. with that being said, i’m still taking requests if you want to send me anything!

For all your life, the beach has been your happy place. The soothing, repetitive push and pull of the water and the endless crashing of the tide was a guaranteed way to make your loud mind quiet down. Next to the endless ocean, you were just a tiny little dot–not a girl who was a golf prodigy, or someone whose parents' financial power caused everyone around you to treat you like a delicate doll. In fact, that was part of the reason why your parents purchased the lot in the first place, as you insisted that the comfort of a semi-private beach was necessary for you to properly enjoy your vacation.

That was also what made your smoking companion on the beach all the more jarring.

You were fully reclined on a beach chair and deeply immersed in the novel in your hands when you first caught a whiff of the strong, putrid scent, which immediately left you annoyed. Turning your head to follow the scent, your face somehow fell further when it fell upon the culprit of the foul cigarette smell. The side profile of a man who was about your age, casually smoking as he stared out at the body of water across from you.

Perhaps you had become so immersed in your book that you’d failed to realize that only a few steps away from you, someone new had joined you on the sand. After all, when you sat down just an hour ago, you were completely alone. Somehow, that managed to make your mood sour even more. There was all this space on the beach, yet this man decided to sit down right next to you and smoke a cigarette!

You were sure that you were gawking at him at this point, if at nothing else, his sheer audacity. When he finally seemed to sense your seething gaze, you quickly looked back at your book as if it was the most interesting thing in the world—despite you completely losing your spot.

After a moment of pretending to resume your reading, the stale scent of the cigarette had lessened, indicating to you that the man next to you had finally stopped. Good. Maybe your simple glare had been more effective than you realized.

But nearly as soon as a self-satisfied smirk could find itself on your face, the scent returned in full force. You practically had to physically restrain yourself from uttering, “Seriously?” aloud.

Seeing as your first passive aggressive attempt at getting him to stop was futile, you decided to pull out the big guns.

With your all but abandoned novel in hand, you curled your unoccupied arm around your mouth and began to cough profusely. You put all your might into pulling out the most atrocious sounds you could muster from your lungs, and when you decided you were satisfied with this passive aggressive approach, you glanced over at your beach companion, only to find him looking back at you.

With him looking straight at you, you felt your stomach trip over itself. You’d always been a sucker for pretty men, and with one pointed look, you were sure that this would be no different. Yet, armed with the knowledge that you were the one who started this, you willed yourself not to give in to someone with good looks and cigarette breath.

You continued to stare him down, hoping that you were coming off as intimidating, rather than swooning. Though, the longer the two of you glared at each other, you swore you could see his lips mold into the look of a smirk, particularly as he took a pointedly long drag from his cigarette.

It quickly became abundantly clear to you that he wasn’t interpreting your gaze to be anything near threatening—if anything, he saw it as a challenge. Unluckily for him, you were incapable of backing down to a challenge.

As soon as you opened your mouth to form some sort of sassy remark, you were surprisingly beaten to the punch.

“Want one?” he asked, the smirk unwavering on his stupidly attractive face.

“Ew,” you replied, then immediately regretted it. Seriously? Ew? That was the best that you could do? You would think that years of dodging and delivering verbal daggers over family dinner would’ve better prepared you for this moment, but leave it to you to be tripped up by a pretty face.

You paused for a beat too long before retorting, “You can keep your lung disease, thank you very much.” You readjusted the book in your lap, still not feeling completely satisfied with your reply, but anything was better than your first statement. “Maybe go smoke somewhere that’s not right next to me, like,” you paused to gesture to the widely empty beach. “Literally anywhere else.”

“I didn’t realize that you were queen of this strip of beach. My apologies, Your Highness,” he shot back snarkily. You swore you could feel your blood boiling as it pumped through your veins.

“I’m not saying you can’t stay here,” you could feel your volume increasing as more adrenaline pumped through you, “I’m just asking that you don’t smoke.”

You watched as his brows raised questioningly the longer you spoke. “Or at least, don’t smoke next to me,” you clarified, folding under the pressure of a set of rather piercing blue eyes.

“Fine,” he agreed with a shrug, to your surprise. That hadn’t been so hard after all. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. You bit back the part of you that wanted to feel triumphant at your clear victory over this random, pain-in-the-ass man.

Once more, you pretended to read your book while in your peripheral vision you watched him grab his few items, including his box of cigarettes, and stand up to move. What you weren’t expecting to see was him plant himself just a few feet further from you, sit down, then begin to aggressively tap his box of cigarettes, just loud enough to grab your attention. Naively believing that he wouldn’t actually have the audacity to begin smoking again, you were slightly scandalized when he pulled a stick out and returned to happily chain smoking.

He briefly glanced back over at you, the smug look on his face telling you that he was eagerly awaiting your reaction. As much as you didn’t want to humor him, you clearly couldn’t hide your annoyance.

“Oh my god,” you huffed, grabbing your tote bag and towel and standing up to head back towards your beach house. Maybe the beach just wasn’t in the cards for today. At least that man couldn’t bother you in your sunroom.

——————

One of the benefits of owning and spending your summer at your vacation home was being able to have your friends stop by and spend a few days with you. Seeing as your parents were utterly uninterested in spending any of your summer break together, it was also nice that you were basically able to do whatever you wanted over the summer.

As a teenager, this mainly meant parties and intense summer flings, but as your time in college began to mature you and your friends, the novelty of doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing began to wear off. What never seemed to wear off was your love for the local ice cream shop, with its sweet dairy scent lingering in the air and a waffle cone that was nothing short of to die for.

With one of your friends’ visits coming to an end, the two of you sat on the patio of this shop, racing against time and heat as you worked on your cones. In between gossip about which one of your classmates had to attend graduation with a baby bump, you caught your eye on someone exiting the shop to join you on the patio.

You practically had to hold back your groan as you processed who it was. Unfortunately, your enemy from the beach hadn’t felt nearly enough shame, and he openly waved at you.

Upon seeing your eyes wander, your friend turned around to see what it was that caught your eye. Just as quickly as she turned around to view the asshole, she turned right back to you with a newfound excitement.

“Oh my god, you know him?” your friend asked you, shock and elation written all over her face for a reason you couldn’t understand.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, taking a bite of a bit of exposed cone. “Do you know him? Did he go to your high school or something?”

She scoffed at your words as if you were missing the most obvious point in the world. “‘Did he go to my high school or something?’” she repeated in disbelief. “That’s Patrick Zweig. He’s about to go pro.”

You tilted your head and furrowed your brows, as if to ask for more context.

“In tennis? He’s like, the thing right now,” she explained.

“Maybe that’s why he’s such an asshole,” you glanced back over at him, only to find that he was unabashedly staring at you as he licked his own cone of ice cream. If you hadn’t had such a ridiculous encounter a week ago, you would’ve thought that he was being suggestive towards you.

“What happened that made him such an asshole?” she prodded, and you swore that she leaned forward as she asked.

“Please try to look a little less excited,” you laughed, entertained by your friend’s investment in your story about someone who was a celebrity in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she apologized disingenuously. “Go ahead.”

“Well, I was just trying to do some reading out on the beach, when he sat like, two feet away from me. Mind you, the entire beach was empty. He could’ve gone anywhere else.”

“Dick,” she interjected, though the unsubtle glance over in Patrick’s direction and her overzealous body language suggested to you that she might’ve meant the words less than she thought she did.

“Right,” you agreed. “But that clearly wasn’t enough. So he starts chain smoking. Right next to me.”

“Rude,” she added, doing her best to validate you as you told the story. Her ability to only add commentary in a monosyllabic manner was entertaining you, but you couldn’t focus too much on that now.

“So I called him out. I was like, ‘Hey, you dick. I know that you want black lung, but not everyone else does,’” you explained, embellishing your story to disguise your lackluster responses.

She giggled as you explained and you continued on. “Obviously, he was embarrassed that I called him out. So he looks me right in the eyes, and-“

“And what?” she asked, her eyes practically glimmering, as if you were about to tell her a story about some wild tryst that left you with a negative impression of him.

“Babe, I don’t think this story ends the way you think it does.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a shrug and a wink.

“Well, he got his ass up and started walking away. Internally, I’m celebrating. But then, he sits down pretty close to me… and starts smoking again. And he’s staring me down the whole time he does it.”

“Ugh! He is an asshole,” she shook her head as you wrapped up your story. “But like, isn’t he kinda…?”

“He could be the sexiest man alive and couldn’t seduce me with that personality,” you replied confidently, although you weren’t completely sure of your words.

“That’s certainly not stopping him from trying,” she glanced over her shoulder once more, where he was still looking at you while very intently eating his ice cream cone.

“Gross,” you replied, feigning a full-body shudder. “You couldn’t even pay me to go anywhere near him.”

“It’s probably for the best anyway. A friend of my friend said there was some super messy relationship drama with him recently.”

“Lovely,” you replied, trying your best to look and sound disinterested, but feeling curious regardless. “I feel bad for whoever has to spend any extended period of time with him,” you popped the bottom of your ice cream cone into your mouth, then crushed a paper towel in your hand. “Wanna head out?”

——————

After that, you truly tried your best to avoid Patrick. Like clockwork, he seemed to appear on the beach in your backyard during the late afternoon. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you had watched him through the windows of your bedroom more than a handful of times, and you could almost swear that his head was on a swivel, as if he were looking for someone before he settled into his spot.

Unfortunately for you, it felt like he seemed to pop up wherever you were. As you evaluated boxes of strawberries at the grocery store, you noticed him eyeing bunches of bananas not all that far away from you. Midway through a hike, you noticed a familiar set of distractingly muscular thighs and tried your best to hide, much to your friend’s confusion. While drinking a fruity cocktail at a bar, you noticed him and finished off your drink and threw down a bill at record speed.

You guessed that you never realized how small a town was until you were actively attempting to avoid someone. In a way, it was a little bit exciting to be dodging him so vehemently, though you’d never really admit that to yourself. At least, it was exciting until it became an utter annoyance, much like it was becoming at that very moment.

After you’d decided that you’d spent enough of your summer lounging around without practicing any golf, you decided to take it upon yourself to head to your local country club and take on the familiar course. Of course, you couldn’t play any golf without fueling up first, which left you in the restaurant of the club snacking on a cup of fries when you spotted the one person you had been trying desperately to dodge.

You averted your gaze down to your phone and acted as if you were reading the most interesting thing in the world, but not even that farce lasted long, as you were met with the sound of a chair scratching the floor across from you. You looked back up and were met with Patrick’s intense, searing stare.

“Are you following me, or something?” he asked, his brows furrowed at you as he looked at you with concern.

“What?!” you asked with disbelief. “You’re the one who keeps showing up around me and keeps licking ice cream seductively at me!”

“Seductively?” he laughed right in your face, and you could feel your face immediately warm up in embarrassment.

“Shut up,” you replied weakly, though you knew what you saw. “Who even are you?” you asked, despite now having the displeasure of knowing exactly who he was, thanks to your friend and a Google search.

He began to smirk, and it took everything in you to not want to wipe that smug smile right off of his face. “I’m Patrick, and you are?”

You introduced yourself while mentally berating yourself for the butterflies erupting in your stomach over his intent gaze. Unfortunately, Patrick was even better looking than you could’ve imagined up close, with sunkissed skin and freckles that seemed to go on for miles.

“Well if you’re not stalking me, what are you doing here?” he questioned, though it was clear from his crooked, goofy smile that he wasn’t being serious.

“I play golf,” you explained with a casual shrug, though the feelings you were having inside were far from casual. “So I’m here to do that. You?”

“I knew I’d heard that name before,” Patrick began before stealing a french fry from you and popping it into his mouth. “You won a championship recently?”

You nodded with what you hoped was a neutral expression on your face, hoping to brush him off despite the fireworks going off in your stomach and the heat returning to your face. Sure, it wasn’t the first time someone had recognized you for your accomplishments out on the golf course, but it felt different coming from him.

“I did,” you replied as casually as possible, not acknowledging his fry thievery or reciprocating your knowledge of his athletic achievements. It was always better to be more mysterious with the type of person who seemed to love the chase, and it seemed clear to you that Patrick was one of those people. “Anyway, I need to go practice so I can win the next championship.”

You pushed your unfinished dish of fries towards him and stood up before grabbing the golf bag propped up next to your feet. You pushed your chair in and didn’t even spare him a glance back in his direction as you walked away, secretly hoping to yourself that he was still watching you as intensely as he’d been watching you at the table.

You tried your hardest not to ruminate over your conversation and feelings too much, but as you walked out to the first hole, you couldn’t help but over analyze everything. The first and most confusing of which being your feelings towards Patrick. Clearly, you were attracted to him. Despite your terrible first impressions of each other and having what could arguably be described as a meet-ugly, you couldn’t pretend like his good looks and charming, yet cocky demeanor didn’t have an effect on you. It was clear from the way that the butterflies in your stomach decided to stop lying dormant every time he was in your vicinity.

What you still couldn’t quite place were his feelings towards you. It was obvious that he was getting some kick out of teasing you. Hell, it was obvious from the first interaction you had with him. And it seemed like he might be interested in you, based on the way he seemed to be magnetically drawn to you, and his less than appropriate treatment of his ice cream cone, which he could deny all he wanted, was definitely a shoddy attempt at flirting. Even your friend had noticed.

Just as you began to try to make sense of your previous interaction, you looked up to find a golf cart headed your way. The cart was manned by none other than the subject of your deep thoughts, and as Patrick got closer to you, you swore you could see a fiery excitement ignited in his body.

“Play with me?” Patrick asked once he parked, despite already being off the vehicle and reaching for his rented golf bag.

You paused for a moment, as if you were considering his proposition, despite you already knowing your answer. “As long as you don’t mind getting your ass whooped.”

You made sure to deliver on this promise, beating Patrick with ease. In a way, it felt like comeuppance for him being a nuisance towards you just a few weeks ago. But that didn’t mean your mini tournament was without its downsides for you. You tried desperately to fight the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl when he said something stupid and snarky, and to quiet your screaming brain during the many, many, times you corrected his stance.

What you were also surprised to find was that Patrick wasn’t all that terrible of company to keep. He seemed to know exactly what to say to make you laugh, despite your effort to be unimpressed with him, or how to throw you off right before you swung at a ball. More than once, you had to remind him that no amount of teasing would change the fact that he had a terrible score, but it certainly didn’t stop him from trying.

With your landslide victory clear and your game over, the two of you made your way back to the rental station.

“You definitely cheated,” Patrick commented as he put his equipment back.

“You’re such a sore loser,” you replied with a roll of your eyes and a laugh. You’d been doing a lot of eye rolling and laughing while playing golf with him, and it was oddly quite pleasant.

“I’m not!” he insisted, turning back to face you as if that would somehow prove his point.

“You are, though! You’re a dirty player, too. I don’t think anyone has ever come up behind me and yelled for me to focus before.”

“Whatever,” he dismissed you casually, “You would be eating your words right now if we were playing tennis.”

“Yeah?” you questioned with raised brows.

“Yeah,” he parroted back, taking a step towards you and locking that intense gaze on you once more.

Feeling bold, you matched his step forward, practically getting in his face. “Fine then. Let’s play.”

“Really?” he sounded shocked by your proposition, and looked utterly unintimidated by the fact that your faces were practically touching.

“Sure. There are some courts over by the pool,” you turned to look in the direction of the pool, taking that as an opportunity to step away from him. You feared what you might do if you stayed that close to him for any longer than you needed to. “Isn’t that what you came here to do anyway?”

“So you are stalking me?” he joked, referencing your earlier conversation.

You rolled your eyes once more. At this rate, your eyes were going to be stuck at the back of your head. “Do you want to play or not?”

If you were a beast on the golf course, Patrick was a sight to behold on the tennis court. The brief article you read online simply did not do the man across from you justice as he served balls at you that probably would have wiped your head clean off of your body if you had any slower reflexes.

While you were able to get a few good hits in, courtesy of the lessons your parents put you in before they realized that golf was your calling, none of them remotely compared to the man across the court.

But your embarrassing loss was rewarded by hearing the repetitive loop of grunts and groans from your competitor. It was somewhat of a miracle that you were able to keep it together without bursting out laughing or squeezing your thighs together. You were also handsomely rewarded by seeing those muscular thighs in action. To be completely frank, there were more than a few moments where you lost momentum due to distraction from Patrick’s good looks.

While Patrick had proved himself to be a sore loser while playing golf, he wasn’t a terrible winner. He only gloated about crushing you once the two of you had finished playing, but he did happen to revel in his win for the entire walk from the tennis courts to the locker rooms.

Surprisingly, you weren’t that annoyed by him. In fact, you were pretty sure that you were hovering around the feeling of endearment.

You sat out in the lobby, freshly showered and playing on your phone when a familiar presence joined you once more.

“Are you hungry?” Patrick asked you as he made himself right at home and sat down across from you.

Was he about to ask you out on a date?

“I could eat,” you replied, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach once more.

“Let’s get dinner, then,” he suggested, and you tried your best not to look too excited. He was asking you out on a date. What an unexpected turn of events.

“Sure. There’s a place just up the street if you want to walk?”

The diner was slightly further than you remembered it being, but the time passed by quickly as the two of you divulged stories of your sports accomplishments on your trek over. Over dinner, the two of you instantly bonded over a similar upbringing of wealthy parents who couldn’t really be bothered to raise you, and backgrounds in boarding schools that prioritized your athletic skills over anything else.

After spending way too long at your booth and working through a spread of food that would send a shiver down your coaches’ spines, your waiter finally stopped by your table with an exhausted look on their face.

“One check or two?” they asked you.

“One,” Patrick replied before you had the chance to pipe up. The waiter turned around without inquiring anything more, clearly tired of having to serve the two of you.

“Wow,” you said with a giggle. “Chivalry is not dead.”

“I’m single-handedly keeping it alive,” he joked right along with you.

Feeling emboldened by your day of camaraderie and teasing each other, you decided to ask something. “Does that make this count as a date, then?” you asked it as a joke, though you were genuinely curious about the answer. While you’d previously found yourself intrigued with his looks, you’d now learned that he was far more than that. It was safe to say that you’d developed a full-blown crush over the span of the day.

“Do you want it to count as one?” he asked almost earnestly, and despite the fact that you were sitting, you swore you felt your knees go weak.

You shrugged nonchalantly, but the grin on your face was anything but. Fortunately, he was wearing a matching grin, and you almost swore there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks. You buckled under his gaze, and looked down into your nearly empty cup of water. “Sure.”

“Then it’s a date,” he confirmed.

“It’s so hot,” you huffed as the two of you stepped outside and into the humid night.

“Wanna cool off at the pool?” he suggested after holding the door open for you.

“Wow, you just don’t want this date to end, huh?” you teased. “The pool is definitely closed by now.”

“So?” he replied.

“So you want to break in?”

“Why not?” he shot back.

You stared at him for a moment with a mostly blank expression.

“You’re such a bad influence. Let’s go,” you conceded, heading in the direction of the city’s pool.

Once the two of you arrived at the locked gate, you stood expectantly, waiting for the next part of Patrick’s plan. You didn’t have to wait for too long, as with a brief confirmation that you were ready, he hoisted you up and over the fence. You then watched as he flung his own body over the fence, and you bit your lip as you attempted to distract yourself from how that image made you feel.

With both of you on the correct side of the fence, you took it upon yourself to shuck off your clothes—save for your underwear–before you dipped your toe in the cold water.

“How’s the water?” Patrick asked as he approached you, taking his shirt and shorts off in the process. You tried your best not to ogle too much, but his six-pack was definitely staring at you. Yeah, you were definitely ogling, and he was definitely noticing.

“You tell me,” you replied, then pushed him into the pool without really thinking. You probably wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t just been caught looking at the man like he was a piece of meat, but you had been doing exactly that, and panicked.

After a moment, he resurfaced and spat out the water that he’d swallowed from your surprise movement. Yet, as he came back to the surface, he didn’t say anything to you.

You eyed him nervously while he began to approach you in the water, and you opened up your mouth to apologize just as you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. With a yelp, you were dragged down into the water, luckily dodging the ledge on your way down.

Coming back up, spat out the chlorinated water and coughed out what you’d swallowed. “I deserved that.”

“You definitely did,” he agreed, lightly splashing you with water from where he stood.

You splashed him right back, putting a little more effort in and splashing him with slightly more force. “But you also deserved that.”

“And why is that?” that overconfident look appeared on his face once more. Just twenty-four hours ago, if you’d seen that look, you’d probably want to knock it right off of him. Now, you were tempted to keep prodding.

“Because you were being a dick about smoking not that long ago,” you replied, getting a little closer to him and matching his look with your own confident gaze.

“Huh,” he hummed. “Fair enough.”

“So why’d you do it?”

“Who knows. Maybe I just really wanted a smoke. Maybe I wanted to catch the attention of the cute girl on the beach.”

“Shut up,” you replied with clear disbelief. “I like how you try to flatter your way out of every sticky situation.”

“I mean it.”

“So you thought annoying me was the best way to get my attention?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“What if I was allergic to cigarette smoke?”

“You weren’t.”

“What if I just didn’t react, then?”

“You did,” he said.

“Must’ve been fate,” you replied dryly.

“Must’ve,” he agreed earnestly. Immediately, you felt a tension in your chest, and you wondered if he felt the same way. You didn’t have a witty or sarcastic comeback, and his face was dangerously close to yours.

Unsure of what to do, you splashed him once more.

“What was that one for?”

For making me fall for you in the span of a day, you idiot.

You shrugged, unable to come up with a coherent answer with you realizing just how physically close the two of you were. Now that you were beginning to have a bit of clarity, you could hear the pounding of your heartbeat in your eardrums. Or maybe it was Patrick’s. With your bodies this close to each other, you couldn’t be too sure.

You wondered what was going through his mind, but if the quick glance to your lips and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he gulped was any indication of his thoughts, you were sure you were on the same page.

You found yourself in somewhat of a standoff as the two of you stood there, wordless and hearts pounding as you stood together in a freezing cold pool. You shut your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them, Patrick’s nose was practically pressing against yours. But just as you began to follow his lead, you were met with a blindingly bright flashlight.

“Hey!” a new voice yelled out, pulling the two of you out of your trance. “What’s going on here?”

Patrick’s eyes widened and you were sure yours did too.

“Shit, security,” you muttered to yourself as it occurred to you what was happening. The two of you immediately scurried to the side of the pool. “I don’t think they saw us, but they definitely heard us,” you whispered.

“Do you think you could outrun them?” he asked, matching your low tone as the light of the flashlight moved across the pool without

“What?”

“Come on,” he hoisted himself out of the pool and you did the same, trying your best to be quiet as the two of you grabbed your discarded clothes.

“Patrick…” you trailed off, glued to his side.

“Come on,” he repeated as he shepherded you to the fence. “I won’t let them get you. Now,” he gestured for you to come over so he could help you climb over again, and you did. As he climbed over, the security guard’s flashlight had finally caught up with the two of you.

“Hey!” the guard repeated, lunging in your direction just as Patrick made it over.

“Run!” you yelled at him as the two of you took off. All of that tennis training clearly paid off, as he was far faster than both you and the security guard.

“Get back here!” the guard shouted as he chased the two of you.

The two of you sprinted, your bare feet screaming at you as pebbles and sticks poked your soles. Running on pure adrenaline, you swore you could hear Patrick laughing as he ran ahead of you.

The two of you ended up by his car, parked safely at the country club. You desperately tried to catch your breath as you leaned against his car door, now completely sure that you’d lost the security guard who was chasing you.

“I hate you so much,” you got out in between panting heavily.

“No you don’t,” his chest rose and fell quickly as he corrected you.

“No I don’t,” you confirmed, taking satisfaction in hearing his heavy breaths next to you and knowing that you weren’t the only one affected by the chase.

It felt as if the two of you had been transported right back into the moment you were having in the pool, a heavy, undeniable tension settling over the two of you, with the adrenaline of the chase and your hearts still rapidly pumping blood from all that running. It was almost as if one second you were standing next to each other, and the next you were pinned up against his car door, kissing like your lives depended on it.

With one of his hands up your shirt, you somehow found the willpower to use the logical part of your brain. “Wait, stop,” you reluctantly said as you pulled away for air. “I don’t want another security guard chasing us.”

“They won’t,” Patrick insisted before leaning back in to kiss you.

“They will,” you disagreed, exerting all of your willpower to dodge his advance. “Take me home?”

Patrick’s hand sat securely on your thigh for the entire ride back to the beach house. With the tension between the two of you crackling and the excitement of successfully running away beginning to die down, the two of you were mostly quiet on your way over.

After he pulled into your driveway, he looked over at you with hesitance. If you didn’t know any better, you might even say that he looked a little nervous.

“Wanna come inside?” you broke the ice, knowing that was what he was surely thinking about, and just as you predicted, he seemed to light up at your invitation.

The heat of the moment seemed to have passed, with the two of you now safely in your home, and not coming off the heels of being chased down the street. Patrick sat on your living room couch while you poured two tumblers of a criminally expensive whiskey.

You returned to the living room and sat down on the far end of the couch, passing him one of the cups before extending your legs out. You were pleasantly surprised when he positioned your legs over his lap and began to soothingly rub up and down your calves.

“What a day,” you sighed, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled in response.

As you laid there, you realized that you were actually quite exhausted. A silence settled over you once more as you yawned, then Patrick yawned not too long after you.

“You know, you’re nothing like I expected you to be,” he said randomly.

“Oh?” you replied questioningly. “Should I be offended or flattered?”

“Up for interpretation,” he looked over to you to gauge your reaction, and you playfully pushed his thigh with your foot.

“Then I’m gonna interpret it in a good way.”

“I meant it in a good way,” he said after a beat.

You smiled softly as you peered at him. “I didn’t expect you to be like this, either. I actually had a lot of fun beating you in golf and running from security guards.”

“No way you’re still talking about golf after I absolutely demolished you in tennis,” he laughed, a sound that you’d grown rather fond of throughout the day.

“It was pretty amazing watching you play golf with such bad form. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone use that many strokes on that course.”

“You wanna talk about bad form?” Patrick laughed again. “It’s a miracle you didn’t pull something when we played tennis.”

“Hey! My form is not that bad. You know I was in tennis lessons as a kid, right?”

“And how long ago was that?” he probed, looking at you with a suspicious raise of a brow.

You tried your best to do some mental math, but you were far too tired to be precise. “I mean, it was a while ago…?”

“Clearly,” he shook his head.

“Rude,” you replied, though your tone carried across you not really caring. “I’m still here for a few more weeks. Maybe you could teach me.”

“Only if you teach me how to get better at golf. I’m gonna have to impress my fellow board members someday.”

“Deal,” you agreed. Part of you wanted to leap for joy after establishing that this wasn’t some sort of one-and-done thing, and that you could at least see Patrick until you went back home.

You watched as he leaned further against the couch and tilted his head against the cushioned back of the piece of furniture, his eyes fluttering shut as he did so.

“Want to go sleep on a real bed? The guest room is clean,” you offered.

“No, I’m comfortable here,” he yawned and patted your calf. You didn’t believe him in this slightest, with his long limbs and less than ideal sleeping position. But you were quite comfortable, so you didn’t bother with insisting he leave the couch.

In the morning, you woke up in the same position that you’d fallen asleep in, with your legs draped over Patrick’s lap as he sat up and snored.

You did your best not to disturb him as you got up and went about your morning routine, taking a shower and changing into something comfortable before heading back downstairs. You were surprised to find Patrick somehow still upright and asleep on your couch, but you didn’t question it too much. It had been a long day and night.

You brewed some coffee in the kitchen, making sure to leave a portion for your guest, before you grabbed the book you’d been reading and headed out to sit on your portion of the beach.

You’d lost track of time while sitting out there, listening to the sound of the ocean and getting caught up in the contents of your book. In fact, you’d gotten so lost in your book, that you hadn’t even noticed that you’d gained a presence on the beach.

After Patrick cleared his throat, you turned to look at him. A smile grew on your face as the two of you locked eyes, and you scooted to the left on your oversized beach chair. Surely, there was enough space for both of you.

He took your invitation and sat down next to you, glancing between you and the ocean as he settled in. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and occasionally peered down at your book, but otherwise didn’t bother you. The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, your chests rising and falling in sync with each other as the two of you lost track of time.

Maybe Patrick wasn’t such a terrible beach companion after all.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #challengers #challengers fanfic #josh o'connor x reader #art donaldson x reader

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

Hi lovely! Me again but with an actual request this time 😭😭 would you be able to write poly!marauders with reader who just got their wisdom teeth out and they’re all taking her home and taking care of her while she’s all loopy and hyped up on pain meds. I think it’d be so silly and cute. Only if you want to though! Much love and thanks!

-🍓

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mention of blood, effects of anesthesia

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Sirius had offered to be the one to drive you, but no one had let him because of how upset you all knew he’d get. As soon as you come through the door, Remus knows they’d made the right decision.

“I know, darling,” James' voice is low, sympathetic, and a bit panicked, “but I promise you can have them in a couple of days, alright?”

Sirius leaves the dishwater to get cold, beelining for the front door. Remus is hot on his tail. They find James kneeling in front of you, untying your shoes while tears dribble off your chin and into his hair.

“I can make you a smoothie, or mashed potatoes, or any non-solid your heart desires.” He turns his head, mouthing help.

Your face only crumples miserably, and James looks nearly like he might cry too but Sirius comes to his rescue.

“Hey, sweet girl.” He palms the back of your head, careful of your face as he tilts it up towards him. “What’s got you so wound up, huh?”

“He won’t let me have marshmallows,” you cry, words all garbled by the gauze in your mouth.

“So mean,” Sirius commiserates. “I’ll do you one better and make you a chocolate milk, how’s that sound?”

Your tears dry instantly. James lifts your ankle to take off your shoe, and you grip Sirius’ arms, beaming up at him. Or beaming as best you can, with your mouth all numb and full of cotton.

“That sounds amazing,” you sigh, blissful.

Sirius grins right back at you, his hand coasting down your neck and back up again. Remus can tell he’s dying to touch your face the way he normally would, but he restrains himself. “You’ve got a deal,” he says as James pries off your other shoe. “Come watch me work.”

He steers you toward the kitchen, Remus passing a hand over your head as you go by. You give him a sweet, lovelorn look in return.

“Can she have her gauze out soon?” he asks James once you’re in the kitchen.

He sets your shoes by the door. “Yeah, it should be fine by now. They said a half hour.” James leans against the couch and passes a hand over his face. He looks so worn out Remus can’t help but cross the room to him, taking his hand and kissing it lightly.

“Was she very upset the whole time?” he asks.

“No, she’s been all over the place. Far worse than you, though.”

Remus feels heat rise to his face at the memory. He’d had his wisdom teeth out last summer and reportedly spent the rest of the day clinging to whoever was nearest, grousing about how tired he was but never actually going to sleep.

“Oh, uh…” James digs in his pocket. A few receipts and a dime come out, then a small bottle of pills. “They said she should start on these once she got home, but I can’t get them open. Can you try?”

“Mhm.”

“Thanks.” James’ eyes widen, and he rushes off to the kitchen, saying something to Sirius about how they can’t let you use a straw. Remus follows a few steps behind, reading the label of the pill bottle before twisting the top off. It was childproofed, bless him.

When he enters the kitchen, Sirius has you sat up on the counter and is poking around in your mouth. He takes out the gauze carefully, one piece at a time, and sets it on the counter. Remus makes a mental note to deep-clean that later. Your eyes follow Sirius’ movements, slowly widening.

“Is all that blood from me?” Your voice carries a slight quiver.

“That?” Sirius says swiftly. “No, that’s old blood. You’re good as new now.”

“Oh,” you breathe, deflating a bit in relief. Remus chuckles, and your eyes fly to him, lighting. “Rem!”

You open your arms wide. He steps into them, raising his eyebrows at James as you grip his shoulders tightly.

“Told you,” James stage-whispers. “All over the place.”

“I can hear you,” you say, words muffled into Remus’ sweater. He pets the back of your head pacifyingly.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

You take some time to mull this over. “M’okay,” you decide. “I’m a little sad they had to take my tongue, but it could be worse I guess.”

“They didn’t take your tongue,” James says, like it’s not the first time he’s had to tell you this, “you just had some teeth removed.”

“They’re dismantling me,” you say morosely. It’s clear you’ve accepted your fate.

Remus strokes your hair again, leaning away slightly so you’ll look up at him. You do, and even with your glassed-over eyes and puffy cheeks you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m glad you’re not hurting too badly,” he hums, cupping the side of your head. You smile dopily and lean into the touch. “I’ve got a pill that’ll help make sure you don’t hurt later, too.”

Sirius passes you your chocolate milk so you can take it, and James clucks about how you need to take slow, careful sips all the way until you’ve drained the glass. As soon as it’s out of your grasp you’ve replaced it with Remus’ hand, your fingers tracing the lines of his palm with idle fascination.

“Feel like watching a film?” he asks you softly.

You hum. “That sounds nice. Can I have the fuzzy pillow because they’re taking me apart?”

Remus huffs a laugh, and James groans. “Nobody’s taking you apart, darling,” he reasons. “The dentist only took the unimportant bits.”

“Bit by bit,” you sigh.

James looks in distress, so Remus takes the crook of his elbow in hand, squeezing lightly as Sirius eases you off the counter and into his hold. Remus thinks you’ll be lucky if he releases you before tomorrow.

“You can have all the pillows if you want them,” Sirius promises you. “My poor girl, being taken apart bit by bit. You can have whatever you want.”

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bunny584 · 8 months

Text

OBSESSED: SHOKO feat. The BOYS (PART II)

A/N: This is so…I am so…CLEARLY I was in a mood when I wrote this 😅 there is 100% going to be a third and final part. Please use the visual below to envision the…biomechanics of positioning and such, height differences and all.

C/W: ….the trio is their own content warning LOL, Mature 18+

Shoko is drowning.

She is suffocating.

And it’s your little hand that’s holding the back of her head under water.

…rather, she wishes your little hand would just grip the back of her head already and drown her face in your—

“Do you like the pink or the black dress better?”

Your eyes are wide and gorgeous. Finding Shoko’s in the floor length mirror, expecting an answer. An opinion.

But the problem is, Shoko has only one opinion.

And it’s that you’re fucking hot.

And beautiful. And pretty. And perfect.

And her jaw is so sore from how much she clenches it to keep herself from begging to eat your pussy like a woman starved.

Because she IS starved.

“Baby?”

Your girly giggle knocks Shoko back to Earth, just long enough for you to rip her breath away.

You glide over to the bed, where Shoko is seated. Thighs mashed together. As if it’ll keep her from leaking all coherent thought onto her panties.

“Y-you look pretty in…” Shoko’s voice is high and weak, before it shatters to stardust.

Seductive little grin tugs on your lips before you flick your tongue over Shoko’s bottom lip. She’s immediately cross-eyed.

Panting, with mouth parted.

Shoko’s heart is rattling in the back of her throat, how it always does before you kiss her.

Then you kiss her.

Your tongue dances with hers. Feather light pulls along the roof of her mouth. Shoko whines. She always whines when you makeout with her. Her entire body is loose and limp. The only stiff thing about her is her hot, sticky bud. Begging to be touched and rubbed while you fuck her mouth like this.

And she would touch herself while you did this to her, if she could. But she never can.

Because you’re a succubus.

You taste and suck and roll Shoko’s soul over your tongue like a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

And right when you have her pathetic. Whimpering “oh god” and “please” into your mouth, you pull away. Planting one last chaste kiss on her lips or cheek before going about the conversation or task.

Leaving Shoko paralyzed.

“Pink it is!” You glide into Shoko’s bathroom, the boys will be over in a few.

“P-pink is perfect.” Words bubble out of Shoko’s lips a day late and dollar short.

But who cares? She can’t think right now.

Like clockwork, Shoko’s two fingers snake between her drenched panties and her leaky cunt.

She just…she just needs to take the edge off.

Because you’ve been doing this to her.

Kissing her until she’s soaking wet every day. Since that night. It’s a sick little routine you two have and it’s driving Shoko insane.

You’re always sighing into her mouth and calling her baby and holding her face in a way that makes her cunt twitch. And clench. And pulsate around nothing.

The second you leave the room or turn away. Shoko’s fingers fly to her core. Petting herself slack jawed and dumb.

Because even small touches keep her grounded.

And she’s NOT going to ruin this by trying to talk about it. And muddle your obvious chemistry with labels and feelings.

A sliver of you is enough.

Even though she is pining for the moment you fuck her mouth with something else.

“Girls?” Satoru’s voice thunders in your foyer.

For once you’re grateful for his utter lack of boundaries. He jingles keys for dramatic effect.

“Car’s here! The tequila isn’t going to drink itself.”

—

It’s going to take act of God to stop Suguru from cumming in his pants.

All night.

He has been physically restraining the steel fucking pipe between his legs all night.

And maybe he would survive if it was just the way you winded your hips on him the last 5 songs.

Maybe he would be okay if it was just the way you grazed your lips over his ear whenever you whispered something to him.

It was definitely the way you batted your eyelashes up at him. Holding eye contact while taking the kamikaze shots.

That are white and opaque, like his cum.

And being the sick, perverted shell of a human that he is. He pictured you swallowing his arousal. The same way you throated that shot.

Not to mention the “You have to hold eye contact with me, Suguru. Or seven years of bad sex.”

Sex?

You are sex.

The way you’re lapping him in the taxi home is sex.

With your dress splayed across him. Heat radiating from your precious little cunt held back only by gossamer thin lace.

Suguru can feel every tiny bump in the road. Because your pussy grinds and bounces and rubs the length of his shaft.

And he’s shameless.

Every time you lean forward to talk to Shoko, Suguru’s hand traces down your spine. His mind’s eye can only picture steadying the small of your waist while he fucks into you until you forget your name.

His cock is raging against his thigh.

He and Satoru have been exchanging dubious glances all night.

Especially when you pulled them both to the dance floor. You were a lock-and-key fit between them.

Like you were made to take them both.

“God.”

Suguru accidentally mumbles out loud. And he’s thanking/cursing out the gods as soon as he does

Because when you turn to look back at him, your hips grind in a small circle on his cock. And the friction nearly short circuits his brain.

“You okay? Am I too heavy?” Cotton candy on your voice and Suguru needs you to melt on his tongue.

Suguru purposefully bucks his hips upward - causing you to bounce fully off his lap. And he would impale you on the landing if he could.

He could suspend you with one hand. And rail the daylight out of you while standing up.

“You’re a featherweight, princess.” It’s a miracle he’s able to keep his tone steady.

“Oh, he speaks?” Shoko teases.

“Only because the love of his—“ Both you and Suguru land friendly fire onto Satoru’s chest.

Effectively cutting him off.

Satoru settles back into his seat. Riding his eyes along every soft curve and dip in your body.

Everyone.

And he means everyone (driver included) in this car except for you is fucking struggling. Keeping it together by a string of floss.

And he didn’t need his Six Eyes to see that.

Shoko hasn’t stopped panting since the night started. Every time you lean into her ear to giggle about god knows what, she moans.

It’s soft. Below the decibels of normal human perception.

But Satoru can perceive it.

The driver has had his left hand buried in his crotch the whole time. Goddamn revolting.

But Satoru gets it.

And Suguru.

Poor, tortured Suguru.

Satoru has never seen his best friend this blue balled in his entire life.

He has seen Suguru take swords to the chest. Satoru has seen him swallow shit curses as big as the Burj Khalifa. He’s seen Suguru suffer.  

And yet, he has never suffered like this.

There’s a light sheen of sweat draped on his forehead. His jaw is so tightly clenched his molars could vaporize into thin air. His hand drunkenly runs up and down your back when you bend over and dangle your fucking prize in Suguru’s face.

In Satoru’s face.

You are a tease.

And Satoru has every intention of getting you back for this.

There will be hell to pay for how irresistible you are. It’s maddening.

You could ask for the world and Satoru would bring you the Milky Way. You pout your lips and bat your eyelashes and somehow, somehow the batteries in Satoru’s brain die.

Every. Fucking. Time.

The whole car comes to a proverbial halt. Because you lean over to Shoko once more. Your dress bunched a little too high around your hips. Plump, perky ass cheeks in near full view in Suguru’s lap.

“Baby?” A snowflake hitting the ground in that car might as well be a raging hurricane. With how silent it is.

Satoru swallows the sharpest, driest rocks known to man.

Suguru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. He’ll draw blood in a minute.

“Y-yes?” Shoko answers your call.

Starless skies fill the car but Satoru can see Shoko’s high crimson blush from the backseat.

Baby? Holy shit, Ieiri.

“Kiss me,” Melody on your lips is strong enough to sink a Navy fleet.

What Satoru sees next will be burned into his psyche for the rest of his life.

His overgrown cock throbs against his thigh. Beating more aggressively with each passing second.

He can’t remember when he pulled his glasses off. To watch your tongue wire into Shoko’s accepting, desperate mouth. You thread both of your hands into her hair while your mouth molests hers.

All in plain view of Satoru and Suguru.

And Shoko has no idea what to do with herself. Satoru can’t blame her. She’s full of high pitched moans and pants, drunk off of your love elixir.

God. Fucking. Damn.

“Oh, oh it’s that kind of night?”

Satoru is fully aware of the slur to his words. And the flecks of blood now currently under his finger nails from digging into his palms the way he is.

And you laugh in the way wind chimes sing in the breeze. How Satoru imagines the angels in heaven strum harps. Your voice is so…disarming.

“What, you jealous pretty boy?”

You flash him a smile that Satoru is sure doubles as the cure for any and all communicable diseases. A smile that could get answers out of the CIA or KGB.

“Maybe. A little bit.” Satoru is all rasp. His hand palms his length on its own accord.

He has no control here.

Your eyes flicker down to Satoru’s mouth for a millisecond. And in a flash his lips are on yours.

He grips a handful of hair like it’s his life-force. Your kiss is sweet. And dizzying. And toxic. Nothing like this can be pure, it can’t be good. Satoru is convinced his heart will stop beating after taking a bite out the apple in your Garden of Eden.

But he could die on your lips. Right here. Right now.

“Oh Satoru…” you purr into his mouth and he shamelessly squeezes his cock.

You are unfair.

'I’m jealous too, pretty girl.” Suguru’s voice slices through the thick lusty silence.

You say nothing before you pull off of Satoru’s wanting lips and take in Suguru.

Satoru and Shoko watch you nestle deeper into Suguru’s lap.

His hands drift from your waist, to your hips, around to your ass. The way your flesh dimples when he squeezes sends electric currents through Satoru’s cock.

He watches you deepen your kiss with Suguru, who is so clearly tantalized. So clearly about to split you in half.

His fingers twitch along his zipper for a second.

Then time stops.

And so does the taxi.

You take a second to pull away from Suguru’s lips but Satoru doesn’t miss how puffy and flushed your mouth is.

Your eyes dart between the three of them. Then out the window.

“Oh! We’re home!”

FINALE

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