#rub til it bleeds

[nomadintransit]

[cocteautwinsgirl]

hiiii!! for the music ask game:

4. A song you’d put on a playlist for a character you love

from my devil's minion playlist 🙂‍↕️ this is armand. to me.

[rodolfoparras]

Free use but not really free use with homophobic misogynistic dude bro, who will let you fuck him in the library after a long day of studying for exams not that he has much of an option, at first he’s begging please not here come on anyone can just walk in but he only spreads his legs when you spit on your fingers before you rub them against his rim, reluctantly bends over the table while his eyes are glued to the door, tells you to “just hurry up or we’ll get caught here”but he’s painfully hard, cock flush against the wooden table and rubbing against it with every thrust, “mph fuck hurts ah- hurts sir” but won’t ask you to stop, practically slobbering all over the table while you’re ramming into his cunt, eyes slowly turning bleary and unfocused as he continues to watch the door, the look quickly turning into one of terror when he hears a voice, tries to push you away but he’s stuck in such a compromising position all he can manage is a weak push to the chest, and you’re stood there laughing while the sweet thing is begging you to “ pull out please!”

But you refuse to do that, so he does everything in his power to stay quiet - biting down on the palm of his hand or on his lips til it bleeds -while you’re continuously ramming into him, at some point you grow tired of the muffled grunts and groans and tell him you won’t let him cum if he doesn’t make some sounds, suddenly you have the sweet thing telling you how good he feels how he loves daddy’s cock even begging and pleading you to let him cum please!,

you watch the last bit of pride slowly be stripped away from him while tears continuously trickle down his cheeks, the only consoling he gets is when you lean into his ear and whisper to him not to worry “you sound like a girl anyway” and if someone were to walk in they’d see him with his back flushed against your chest, his pathetic little cock in the palm of you hand, and this big bad dude who claims he hates gay ppl so much sounding like a girl as he begs to cum on another man’s cock.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Panty-Flashing Them

Warnings: Implied Smut, Mean! MW2, Dominant! MW2, Victim/Reader Blaming, Slut-Shaming, Reader Getting Pimped Out, Mention of a Leash, Allusions to Injury, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

Ghost is a territorial man. So seeing you flash not only him but Johnny as well made something in him simmer.

It wasn’t rage, for this little accident, regardless of how intentional it was, was not your fault. If he had to place it, he’d attribute it to…

Lust.

As was evident in how he excused himself from the gathering of the 141 and Los Vaqueros in your living room, grabbing you by your arm.

He stowed you away. Dragged you to a desolate laundry room and gripped you by your thighs. You gasped, gripped onto him. Felt something hard rub against you.

Ghost threw you atop the washing machine and gave you a harsh stare as he watched you try to fight the feeling building within from the machine’s buzzing and shuffling.

“Go on then, Doll,” he rasps, eyes hard and the throbbing monster between his legs harder. He palmed himself. Remorse was not in his nature. And neither was mercy.

“Seein’ as you were practically beggin’ the others to fuck you, go and put on a show.”

His voice lowered. He stood between your legs, frame blocking you from any form of help or salvation.

“Just for me.”

König

König had been sat on your sofa, an action figure in a house for a doll half his size, and you’d bent over to retrieve something from beneath the TV cabinet.

The fact that you were wearing a pair of König’s shorts was already clouding his moral compass. Seeing your underwear peeking out beneath them was what sent him over the edge.

As you remained bent, cheek pressed to the floor as you reached for what you’d lost, you didn’t hear König approach. Didn’t know he’d even moved from the sofa until something thick and hard was pressed to the back of you, followed by two heavy hands holding you at the waist, and a slow, shuttering breath.

“Don’t move,” König told you. “Stay like this.”

Slowly, he pressed deeper into you. You could feel his restraint unwinding second by second.

It was when he bent over you, had his broad chest pressed to your back, that you knew you weren’t escaping. And you weren’t backing down.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you cum, bleed or pass out.” König’s voice held no humour, but you could feel the franticity building in it.

He reached round, gripped your chin. Made you look at him. His smile was sharp, his features dark.

“Whichever comes first.”

Soap

Johnny pulled the leash tighter around your throat when you tried to protest your innocence. Tried to make him see reason.

“Doesn’t matter that it was ‘just an accident’.” He mimicked you, made you sound weak, whiny. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white around the leash.

His shadow loomed over you from your position on the bed, on your hands and knees while Johnny presided over you with an iron fist.

Tears obscured his silhouette. Made your eyes glassy.

“Aww, Did I upset you, Bonnie?” Johnny’s tone held a gruffness that didn’t even try to hide the anger running beneath.

He huffed, a mocking laugh.

“How’d’ya think I felt when you were practically spreading your legs for Simon?”

Again, you tried to tell him what really happened. Tried to incur any fragment of mercy Soap would spare you.

He pulled on the leash again. Tighter. You gasped, hands flying up to the leather around your neck, trying to loosen it – to plead for Johnny’s favour – as the air was knocked out of you.

“Oh no, you don’t get to talk.” He said. He stepped to you. The bulge in his jeans became ever more noticeable. Impending.

“M’gonna use you like the whore you are ‘til my cum’s leaking out of every hole in your body.”

Valeria

“Do I look like I fucking care, Darling?” Valeria circled you, her belt wrapped around her hand, a glint of darkness in her eye.

Wrists and ankles duct-taped to the chair, you could do little to follow her. To understand her intentions.

“Do you really think whatever little lie you pass off as an excuse can quell the fire you’ve set?”

Before you could attest your innocence, beg for forgiveness, Valeria’s belt came down across your thighs. Crying out, you flinched, tried to withdraw, pushing your chair back in the process.

Valeria lunged forward and gripped the chair by the arms, pressing your skin into the wood, and dragged you back.

Her face twisted into a visceral snarl, the portrait of evil.

“Please, Valeria, I’m begging you–”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, alright.” Valeria looked down at you, her face to yours. Just shy of your noses touching. With bared teeth, she smiled.

“I won’t stop until you do.”

Price

“If you wanted attention that badly, you could’ve just asked.”

Price had your arms and legs bound to a hard, wooden chair while a thick ream of cloth had your mouth gagged. He stood over you, arms crossed over his front, a glint in his eye. He sighed, brought his hands to grip your tied forearms. Pressed them into the armrests.

You winced.

“What…possessed you to go and show your arse to Alejandro and the rest of the team?” His voice reflected a tone of ponderment found only in Sarcasm’s extended family tree. And it showed with the faux confusion written in his brow.

“Do I just not cut it for you?” He leaned in. The chair creaked. Your arms hurt. He didn’t let up.

“Am I not enough to keep you from throwing yourself at the nearest soldier?”

He watched you, his stare narrow. You shook your head, eyes wide. You tried speaking through the gag, tried to tell him that he was the only man you loved, but you both knew your efforts were futile.

He withdrew, gripped his belt, adopted his default stance. He heaved a deep breath.

“Come in, lads,” he called behind him, not taking his gaze off you. Your stomach tightened.

A thin smile stretched across Price's lips as he watched your eyes widen, your gaze following Simon, Soap, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro as they filtered into the room.

Price bowed at the waist, lowered his voice so only you could hear.

“Seeing as you’re so keen to show ‘em what’s under your clothes, I’m gonna let them use you ‘til you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Horangi

Hong-Jin popped the top button of his jeans, keeping his gaze trained on you, spearing you with a dark stare.

“Did you enjoy giving König and I a little show, Dear?”

Sarcasm nestled in his tone, a viper in a den. But the excitement running parallel beneath it, just shy of its transparent underbelly, was evident.

Hong-Jin slid the zip of his jeans down. Pulled the denim over his hips.

“It’s only fair that I…” He took your hand, placed it at the hem of his underwear. Dipped beneath the band.

His skin was scorching. Something pulsated beneath your fingers.

The implication sat heavy in his tone. In his eyes.

“Return the favour.”

Alejandro

“I didn’t know I was dating such an attention-seeking whore.”

Alejandro’s voice was the roll of thunder across a darkened valley, the weight of a downpour of knives settled into his tone.

Hands behind his back, he stood over you, having resigned you to sitting on your knees, the hardwood floor pushing against your joints.

“Luckily for you, I’m not the type to hold grudges.” A smile played at his lips. One you knew not to trust.

“But he is.”

Alejandro looked to the door, where, from beyond its frame, emerged Rudy. His face held a similar, serpentine pallor, his lips drawn up into a thin smile. Venom in his veins.

“Wasn’t expecting to get blue-balled by (Y/N) earlier, Ale,” came Rudy, his usually sugared demeanour having dropped, the veil between what he was and what he showed to the world slipping away. Retreating.

Alejandro gave him a knowing look. He turned back to you.

“Why don’t you be a good little doll and put your face to the floor. Just like we practised.”

The memory of leashes, lashings and tears flooded your memory. You held back a  wanton whimper.

Alejandro’s voice dropped. “And let Rudy see the rest of what you promised him.”

Rodolfo

“I don’t want to have to do this, Cariño. Rudy stood over you, his hands on your shoulders and his face dark. Grim.

His hold on your shoulders tightened.

“But I can’t let your behaviour go…”

He searched your eyes for the right word. His brow furrowed when he found it.

“Unchecked.”

He sighed. Pushed down on your shoulders.

“Come on, Angel. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He told you, pushing harder until you bent to his will.

Now, on your knees, you could see how desperately he needed you.

One hand came to your jaw, thumb trailing to your lip, pulling your mouth open. The other slid down to his belt, sliding it from the buckle. It hissed, pulled tight against the metal. You swallowed.

Rudy’s breath shuttered, and you could tell from the way his hand clenched, the way he slipped the belt from his jeans like a snake, that he was enjoying this. Much more than he wanted to let on.

“Now remember, mi Amor, no teeth, no biting.” His head tilted. Condescending. “Or I’ll bite you back.”

Graves

He can barely contain himself.

It was only the briefest of flashes. It wasn’t even intentional. But something about your shy smile after the fact once you realised what you’d done sent a vicious little idea to Graves’s head.

He starts stealing all your underwear. Gradually, yet in large enough volumes that he doesn’t have to wait longer than he can handle without his reward.

One day, you come into his office, face warm and tugging an oversized shirt over the top of your thighs.

“Missing something, Darlin’?” Graves drawls. Your eyes narrow at him. You know he’s had something to do with your underwear’s disappearing act.

He puts his papers down, sighs, and rests the back of his head in his hands against the backrest of his chair.

“How about you flash me again. Slowly, now.” His eyes glint with a dark mischief and want.

“Y’don’t wanna know what happens if you don't do it the way I like it.”

Gaz

“Oh, Darling, look what you’ve done,” Gaz’s voice carried despite the thickening tension in the room. Neither of you needed to look down to see what he was referring to.

Despite the chastising tone in his voice, his eyes were warm. Kind, almost.

“If you wanted my attention so badly, you only had to ask.”

He stepped towards you, placing a hand under your jaw. He smiled.

“It’s only fair that I reward you for being so creative, isn’t it ?”

His other hand came to your shoulder, pushing the strap of your tank top until it fell, leaving the sweeping juncture between your neck and shoulder exposed.

Has bit back a shuttering breath.

Despite his gentile voice, an angeline choir, the soundtrack of mercy, there lay a hunger in his eyes, in his barely-restrained grip, that suggested a beast lurked beneath his pretty boy exterior.

And you knew from the way he told you to “Get on the bed – be good for me,” that you’d be seeing it tonight.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[dollwrites]

ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴇɴᴅ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴇᴍʏ ʟᴇʙᴇᴀᴜ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, reader’s tipsy ( and supposed to be saving herself for marriage ), thigh riding, dry humping. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act ten [ thigh riding ]

“Now petit,” Remy drawls. he’s breathless from the barrage of kisses and heavy petting you’d sprung upon him, but that doesn’t stop his lips from still chasing every movement of yours. his breath was hot on your mouth, his stubble tickling your soft cheek. you imagined just how raw it could rub between your legs, scraping against sensitive, vulnerable flesh and you mewl out loud, squirming in his lap. the idea made you wet. “You makin’ Gambit feel all guilty for givin’ you the drink, what with the way yer a’actin’ now.” but even in your inebriated state, you could tell that wasn’t entirely true. Remy was grinning a lazy, satisfied simper, enjoying the way your body rubbed against his, the way your head dipped so that you could nuzzle against his neck, lick and kiss and suck all over. “Rubbin’ all up on me like some kinda kitty cat in heat, purrin’ so pretty like.” with one hand firmly planted on the flare of your hip, the other traipsed across the shape of your jaw, urging your lips back towards his own. “Tell Gambit what it is you wantin’ right now, chére.”

“I want you.” the answer comes out so easily— slips from your swollen lips as simply as if you’d been asked what day it was. “Remy, I want you so much.”

Remy’s grin only widens, showing the tips of his jagged canine on one side. calloused fingers trace over your lips, committing each mountain and valley to memory as deep, ruby eyes flicker across your face, drinking in your expression. glassy eyes, unable to fully focus, in a lustful haze as the alcohol worked away in your system, lowering your inhibitions that you were usually so strict on. if Remy had been more of a scoundrel, he would’ve spared not a second— he would’ve had you on your back on the couch, legs wrapped around his waist and screaming his name as he plowed into you over and over. he knew you would let him in your drunken stupor. hell, you’d probably even beg him for it. however, he pushed that fantasy deep into the recesses of his mind almost as suddenly as it had flared.

damn, he hated having to be the reasonable one.

“I’m achin’,” he responds in a low groan, just barely rocking his hips to adjust your position on his lap, centering you. with the way your skirt was rolled up, the thick tent in his pants prods against the soft, flimsy cotton of your panties, already damp with your own desire. he lets out another sound, an expletive under his breath, as he feels the soak bleeding a damp spot right on his groin. his clothes were going to smell like your core, your arousal, which made it even more difficult for him to resist. “Gambit wants you bad, too, chére.”

“Then take me,” you plead with him, your hands running down over his shoulders, caressing his broad chest before sinking lower down over his abs. “Take me, Remy.” you could feel just how honest his words were, his hard cock rubbing up against your panties in such a delectable way, and you roll your hips to meet that movement, swooning at just how much of his length you could feel while he was still packaged up. your hands, albeit novice level when it came to intimacy, blindly fumbles with his belt, eliciting a soft grunt from him.

“Nuh uh uh, petit.” he insists, both hands fleeing to envelop yours and hold them for a moment. “Gambit ain’t gonna do nothin’ to make his lady hate herself in the mornin’, when her pretty head a’poundin’ and she’s comin’ round back to her senses. You done told me that you not gonna be ready ‘til I put a ring on this pretty, little finger.” pulling your hands with his own gloved ones to his lips, he peppers them in loving, open mouthed kisses. “Ah’ll always look after you, chére. And ah can tell that right now, you need a lookin’ after, but Gambit don’t take advantage a’his woman.” he paused, pondered for a moment, and gives you a charming, toothy grin. one that always made your knees weak so you were grateful to be perched on his lap. “That don’t mean he won’t give her what she needs,” releasing your hands from his own, he shifts you on his lap, his back sliding down further along the cushion of the sofa. you’re jostled into a straddling position across his right thigh, and he lets out a soft sigh— most likely of disappoint as his hard on can no longer rub your wet panties.

“Remy—“ you start to protest, squirming against his thigh. you wanted to get back to that intense sensation of his cock throbbing in his trousers, begging to be released. you wanted to grind on it some more, until you came and soaked his groin in your scent, since he wouldn’t let you get it out.

“Hush now, sugar. Just let Gambit get’chu goin’.”

one svelte finger slipped under your skirt, tracing your panty line before hooking into it. his bare knuckle brushed against your swollen clit, causing you to catch your breath and seize, but he only chuckles, pulling those panties to the side and out of the way. Remy taps his foot against the floor in a slow rhythm, the motion bouncing you up and down on his taut thigh. it wasn’t until you sit flush against it that you elicit a soft moan.

“Attagirl, just rub that sweet, little honeypot on my leg ‘till you’re all satisfied.”

both of your hands immediate search for purchase on his thigh, splaying out to provide leverage as your hips start to move of their own volition, humping your boyfriend’s leg like a needy bitch. it was almost overwhelming how warm his thigh was, how you were able to feel it radiating off of him. his muscles were subtle against the fabric, but tightened, and with each roll of your hips, your bare cunny rode against the dips in his muscle pads and wrinkles in the fabric, providing you with a wide, ribbed expanse to strum yourself silly upon.

before long, you were panting, back arching and hips rutting in fast, eager buck, and Remy can’t help but admire that sight. moaning to himself with one hand holding your waist to help guide your movements, the other palms at his cock, snorting through his nostrils to suppress a rumbling, pleasured sound. “Ah, chére, you drive Gambit crazy without even tryin’.” red eyes completely and utterly entranced by your base display, the smile on his lips still present, he rubs the bulge in his pants in languid circles, only to quell the raging need to be inside you. “Gonna cum on me, aincha?” he taunts, but only because he can see how close you are. he could watch the way you’re gripping his leg with both hands in tight vices, or feel all of the muscles in your legs tensed up, clenching around his own. he could hear it in your voice, the higher pitched gasping yelps that escaped your open mouth as your jaw hangs slack, and the dampness that coated his leg underneath you, marking him as yours. “You go ahead, now.” he encourages, squeezing your waist to ensure you that he still had you. “Let it all out, chére. Let Gambit see you.”

it was too difficult to hold out. your stomach was tied in a thousand knots that pulled and pulled and pulled with each swipe of your cunt over his thigh, until it felt like snapping. your nails dug into the rough denim of his pants, and you were certain you’d torn microscopic threading, because you could feel the warm flesh beneath, but you couldn’t care less about his ruined jeans right now. rubbing back and forth, aided only by the slight tapping of his foot, the bouncing of his leg, you brought yourself to the tipping point.

and when you came undone, you rode out the duration of your orgasm. toes curling, eyes crossing, and mouth hanging open. you cried out Remy’s name as if it were the only word you could remember. your clit throbbed, your core clenched around nothing but air, seeming to demand to be filled for the first time. slowing down once your muscles all loosened, you felt a creeping soreness in your inner thighs, cramping from the position you were in, but you chose to ignore it. your eyes were even more difficult to focus, now, but you managed to see only one of Remy and smile, lackadaisically and satiated at him.

that makes him laugh out loud, his hand gliding up the curve of your side and then to your arm, tracing over your shoulder until his thumb and forefinger capture your chin. “Now, what a pretty sight dat is,” he murmurs. his voice is still husky with unfulfilled desire, but he no longer rubs at himself. he needs that arm to sneak around your lower back and jerk you closer to his body, until you collapse with your chest flush to his. a soft giggle bubbles up from your grinning tiers, holding his shoulders. you can feel the warmth of his breath washing over your lips and cheeks in waves as he speaks again. “Cumdrunk’s cute on ya, chére.”

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee II

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Joel picks you up after a long day, taking you somewhere small and familiar, where conversation flows as easily as the wine. As the night winds down and Joel insists on driving you home, neither of you are ready to say goodbye quite yet.

warnings: some plot mostly smut 18+ MDNI

notes: this fic takes place in fantasy land where pinv doesn't end up in pregnancy ok thank you have a nice day. wrap it up in real life ok? im obsessed with this pre-outbreak Joel. I feel like I read & edited this til my eyes were bleeding, please lmk if you find mistakes

The evening rush had just died down when Joel walked through the door of the coffee shop again that day, his presence filling the small space. It felt easier, more relaxed now that he’d gotten used to coming around more. 

You glanced up from wiping down the counters, already feeling the exhaustion from a long shift settling into your bones.

“I thought we were meeting later?” you asked, arching a brow as you tossed the rag over your shoulder.

Joel leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed, his hazel eyes flicking over you—messy apron, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the long day.

“Figured I’d pick you up,” he said, ever casual. “Walk you out.”

You let out a small groan, rubbing your hands over your face. “But I smell like coffee and milk and—” you sniffed your sleeve dramatically, “—probably cleaning supplies. Real cute first date material.”

Joel smirked, one hand rubbing along his jaw. “Well, I smell like sweat and sawdust, so maybe it’ll cancel out.”

You snorted. “If you say so,”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to suffer through it together.”

That made you smile, warmth creeping up your neck despite yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping a little softer. “Second date, I’ll take you somewhere fancy. But tonight, I got somewhere I think you’ll like,”

You swallowed, your heart giving a little unexpected flutter. A second date. Meaning he had plans on seeing you way more than just for one night. And damn did you like the sound of that.

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to be more put out than you actually were as you untied your apron. “But if I smell like an espresso machine all night, that’s on you,.”

Joel just chuckled, stepping back to let you close up.

You expected him to take you to some hole-in-the-wall diner or maybe just grab a quick bite somewhere. But instead, he walked with you down the quieter streets of the small downtown, until he stopped next to a small, tucked-away Italian restaurant with a hand-painted sign and a cozy glow spilling from the windows.

It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t trying too hard—it was the kind of place people probably came to for years, passing it down like a family secret.

“You ever been here?” he asked as he held the door open.

You shook your head. “Didn’t even know it existed.”

The second you stepped inside, warmth wrapped around you—the scent of garlic and tomatoes simmering low, fresh bread baking, the low hum of conversation filling the intimate space. String lights hung loosely across the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the rustic wooden tables. A candle flickered at every one, pooling small halos of light between plates of pasta and glasses of deep red wine.

“You eat here a lot?” you asked him as he stepped in behind you.

Joel shook his head. “Did some work on the building a few years back. Owners fed me a few times.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Keep comin’ back when I can.”

As if on cue, an older man in a white apron emerged from the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw Joel. He walked straight up to him, clapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that made your brows lift.

“Miller!” the man greeted, grinning wide. He rattled something off in rapid, affectionate Italian, gesturing around the restaurant. Joel huffed out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Good to see you too, Sal,” Joel said.

Sal patted his shoulder again, his thick fingers pressing into the fabric of Joel’s shirt like he was testing its strength. "Still workin’ with that stronzo fratellino, eh?"

Joel chuckled. “You bet.”

Sal scoffed, shaking his head. “Tsk. He was never as good with his hands as you.” He turned to you with a wink. “My best man here, best muratore in town! Fixed this place up when the siding was fallin’ off my dannata walls! Quick, clean—like an artista, eh?”

Sal laughed when Joel only shook his head, a red flush creeping up his face as he looked at you apologetically.

"Sit, sit! Please, eat whatever you like! I get you wine—" Sal finally let go of Joel, waving over the hostess with an urgency like he was hosting royalty.

“You’re quite the celebrity, Joel,” you teased, glancing up at him as the two of you followed behind to your table.

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I promise I didn’t bring you here for that—the food’s just real good,”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, amused, as the hostess stopped at a cozy table by the window.

Sal came back over with a bottle of wine, winking at you before heading back toward the kitchen. “Enjoy dinner, eh?”

You watched him go, then turned back to Joel, arching a brow. “So, you’re with your hands, huh?” remembering what the man said a few minutes ago.

Joel picked up the menu and hid his face. “Don’t start.”

You bit your lip, amused, and looked down at your own menu.

The dinner itself was nice.

The kind of nice that snuck up on you, unfolding in a way that felt natural, easy, like you’d done this a dozen times before.

Joel was quiet, soft spoken, but asked a lot of questions. Not just the polite kind, but ones with weight, ones that made you pause before answering. He wanted to know how you got into coffee—if it was something you always loved, or if it just happened. What made you decide to open your own shop instead of working somewhere else. If you liked being your own boss, if it was worth the stress.

And he listened, really listened, nodding as you spoke, his hazel eyes steady on you. Every now and then, he’d ask something that made you stop and think, something no one had ever really asked before.

“You ever picture yourself doin’ anything else?” he asked at one point, twirling the stem of his wine glass between two fingers.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I never thought about it. The shop is mine. My whole world’s kind of wrapped up in it.”

Joel hummed, watching you carefully. “But it makes you happy.” It wasn’t quite a question, but more an observation. 

“Yeah, yeah it does.” you answered with a smile, then tilted your head. “What about you? Do you like what you do?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, thinking. “Don’t know if anyone likes workin’,” he admitted, then nodded a thanks to the waiter as he set down your meals. “But can’t think of anythin’ else I’d be doin’. Ain’t the type to be sittin’ in a stuffy cubicle and all.”

You smirked, picking up your fork. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’d look real nice in a suit and tie.”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he cut into his food. “Yeah? And what, you see me sittin’ at some fancy desk, makin’ phone calls all day?”

“I dunno,” you teased, shrugging. “Something about you in a tie just works for me.”

Joel shot you a look, amused, before taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe I’ll show up to your shop one day in one, just to surprise ya,”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” you giggle. 

The rest of dinner went by too quickly for your liking.

Joel told you about the different jobs he’d done over the years—how he liked working with his hands, how there was something satisfying about building something solid, something that would last. There was a quiet kind of pride in his voice, nothing boastful, just a man who knew the value of hard work, of making something real.

In return, you traded stories about your most memorable customers—the regulars, the weird orders like the ones who asked for 50 different flavors in one iced coffee. Joel countered with tales of difficult clients, stubborn contractors, and one particularly bad job where a homeowner swore they knew more about construction than he did.

And when Joel chuckled at a particularly funny story, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, you began to realize—God, you liked seeing him like this. Relaxed. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, he liked being here with you, too.

And before you knew it, the waiter was coming by with the check, and the night was ending far sooner than you wanted.

The evening air was warm as you stepped out of the restaurant, your cheeks still flushed from the wine and the lingering glow of good company. Sal had insisted on treating you both with large helpings of his homemade tiramisu—claiming you couldn’t leave until you were properly fed.

Joel had muttered something about not needing dessert, but you’d watched him polish off his plate without complaint.

Outside, the street was quiet, the warm light of the restaurant spilling out onto the sidewalk as the door swung shut behind you.

“That man is dangerous,” you groaned, placing a hand over your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

Joel huffed out a small laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Could’ve said no.”

You scoffed. “And risk offending him? No way. I’d be blacklisted for life.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head before glancing around. “Where’s your car?”

You blinked up at him. “Oh, I walked.”

Joel’s brows pulled together. “You walk to work?”

“I live close by,” you shrugged.

Joel exhaled sharply, already looking like he was making up his mind, “Let me drive you—”

“Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

“I insist,” he said, and before you could argue, his hand found the small of your back.

Heat shot through you, electric despite how warm and gentle his palm was. You exhaled, smiling, and knew there was no point in arguing. Not when he was looking at you like that—stern, certain in a caring sort of way. So you didn’t fight it.

He walked beside you, his stride slow, deliberate. The night air was perfect with summer warmth and a cooling breeze, the quiet hum of the city stretching out around you, but you couldn't help the way that everything else had narrowed down to him—the sound of his boots against the pavement, the occasional brush of his hand near yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not quite touching.

He made a little conversation, but he was quieter now, more thoughtful. He asked about your family, where they were, if they ever came to visit. If you had much of a life outside of the shop or if it kept you too busy.

You answered easily, finding that with him, it was just...easy.

Joel didn’t fill the silence just to talk—he let it linger, let you breathe, let it settle into something comfortable, something that felt like it had always been there. 

By the time you reached his truck, you realized just how much you liked that about him. And how much you liked him.

Joel reached for the handle, about to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

But then he hesitated. His fingers curled around the handle, but he didn’t pull. Instead, he exhaled, slow and measured, his jaw ticking as he turned to look at you.

His gaze flickered—your eyes, your mouth, then back again—just in time for you to feel it, that slow-building heat simmering between you.

“Screw it,” he muttered.

And then his hands were on you.

One at your waist, the other coming up to cradle your jaw, his rough thumb sweeping over your cheek as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of weight that sent your heart slamming into your ribs.

The breath hitched in your throat, and for a second—just a second—you forgot how to do anything but feel.

It was slow but heavy and intentional, like he’d spent all night trying to fight the urge and finally gave in. He kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. It was steady, claiming, not the kind of frantic desperation you’d expect from someone who couldn’t hold back.

No, Joel took his damn time.

His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, pulling you further into him. His hand slipped from your jaw, fingers threading into your hair, holding you exactly where he wanted as he kissed you again, his tongue venturing past your lips, sliding along yours in a way that made you turn molten.

You gasped softly, pressing closer, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, needing something to hold onto because God—he was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel groaned low in his throat, like he’d finally let himself indulge, like this was something he’d been starving for. His grip on your waist tightened, guiding you until your back hit the truck, his body bracketing yours against the cool metal, broad and solid and so damn warm.

“You gonna open the door or what?” you teased breathlessly, between kisses, your lips brushing against his.

Joel huffed, his nose dragging along your cheek. “You in some kinda hurry?” Joel’s lips ghosted along your jaw, trailing down the column of your throat, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin, each one making you melt further into him.

You let out a soft, breathy sigh, and Joel chuckled low against your neck, his breath hot. “Didn’t answer my question.”

You barely remembered what he asked. Your brain was fogged, drowning in the way he felt against you, the way his body crowded yours against the truck, solid and warm.

“No,” you managed, voice breathless. “No hurry.”

“Good to hear,” Joel muttered.

And then, in one fluid motion, he scooted you over, swung the door open, and hooked an arm around your waist—lifting you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. A startled gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the worn leather seat of his truck before you could even process the shift.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Joel climbed in after you, the door shutting with a heavy thunk, sealing you both inside. The space between you was nonexistent—all heat, all him, his presence pressing into you, crowding you in the best way.

You thanked whatever lucky stars you had that it was dark, that Joel’s truck had tinted windows, because none of it would’ve stopped you anyway. Not when you were already leaning back into him, your fingers trailing up, brushing over the scruff along his jaw.

Joel’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling, anchoring himself as he kissed you deeper, tilting his head to taste you fully. His other hand found your jaw, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, tilting your face toward him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing closer, nails scratching lightly against the denim of his jeans. He groaned, low and deep, swallowing the sound. Then, suddenly, his grip shifted, strong hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you forward until you were straddling his lap. 

A breath hitched in your throat, hands bracing against his broad chest as your knees pressed into the seat on either side of him. The new position had you flush against him, heat radiating between you, the space inside the truck growing impossibly small.

Joel’s eyes flickered up to yours, searching, giving you a chance to stop this before it went any further.

But you didn’t want to stop. So you kissed him again. Deeper. Hungrier.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs, rough palms trailing over denim now, gripping just enough to make your breath catch. His mouth was hot, insistent, kissing you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way you sighed his name when he tilted his head to deepen it.

“I don’t usually—” you began, panting as you broke from the kiss for just a moment, lips still brushing his. “I don’t usually do this on a first date, just so you know.”

“Me neither,” Joel muttered quickly, voice rough, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers laced through your hair, tangling at the base of your neck as he pulled you closer, like the space between you was too much to bear.

His other hand trailed down, squeezing at your waist before gripping the waistband of your jeans. His fingers dipped just under the fabric, teasing, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Think you can get these off for me, sweetheart?” he rasped, his voice thick with want.

Your breath caught, “H-here?”

Joel huffed, smirking just a little, his thumb brushing back and forth over the waistband, slow and teasing. “Ain’t nobody around. Just us.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady, certain. “Unless you really wanna stop.”

He was giving you another chance to pull away, to tell him no, and you knew if you said the word, he’d back off immediately.

But hell no. You shook your head, breathless. “No. No stopping.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, approval flashing in his darkened gaze. “That’s my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the button of your jeans, fumbling slightly. Joel exhaled a soft chuckle, amused but patient, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat as his hands ran up and down your thighs, steadying you.

You finally got the zipper down, lifting your hips slightly as you started pushing them down, but Joel’s hands took over, firm and unhurried, hooking his fingers under the waistband and dragging them down your legs in one slow, smooth motion.

The second the denim was gone, his hands ran back up your bare thighs, gripping at the flesh of your ass, his gaze locked on you like he needed to commit this to memory.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked, pupils blown wide as he devoured you with his eyes. “Knew you had a great ass—couldn’t stop starin’ at it this mornin’.”

A flush spread through your body at his words, pooling low in your belly, but you could barely focus, too wrapped up in him, in the way he felt beneath you. Despite his claim earlier that he smelled like sweat and sawdust, you thought he smelled addicting—pure masculine heat, sweat and musk, with the faintest hint of whatever cologne or deodorant still clung to his skin. It was him, and it made you dizzy.

Heat curled low in your belly, especially when he tugged you down against him, pressing you right where you needed him, letting you feel all of him—hard, thick, pressing into the thin barrier of your panties.

A quiet moan slipped from your lips, and that sound did something to him.

“Oh, you make the sweetest little noises, baby,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he rocked you against him, his hands guiding your hips so you could feel just how much he wanted you.

His lips found your neck again, kissing, nipping, working their way lower, and you whimpered when they reached your shoulder, his fingers toying with the hem of your top.

“Think I wanna see more of you,” Joel muttered, voice thick and rough like gravel. His hands dragged up your sides, thumbs skimming the curve of your ribs. “Lift your arms for me.”

And you did—because you wanted more too. Needed it.

Joel peeled your top off slowly, taking his time, hissing when your bare skin was revealed beneath the dim light filtering through the truck’s fogged windows. His hands ghosted over you, calloused fingertips brushing along your collarbone, down to the tops of your breasts, his eyes dark as they devoured you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his rough fingers slipping beneath the band of your bra, teasing. You squirmed in his lap, eager, desperate for something, arching into his touch.

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, his lips curling as his fingers came up to pull the cups of your bra down and began palming your breasts in both hands, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

“That feel good, baby?” he rasped, watching your reaction as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, circling, teasing.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Joel smirked, then pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. You moaned, head tipping back, arching into his hands.

“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning in, dragging his lips down the exposed column of your throat, over your collarbone. Then he licked along the swell of your breast before finally closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking slow and deep.

You gasped, gripping his hair, your hips instinctively grinding down against him. The friction sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly, the hard line of him pressing right against you.

Joel groaned against your skin, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before switching to the other, giving it the same slow, torturous attention.

“Joel,” you whimpered, rolling your hips against him again, the need in you growing unbearable. 

He hummed, his hands sliding down, gripping your ass, grinding you down harder against him, “You’re so needy, baby,” he muttered, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “Bet you’re already drippin’ for me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, panting, whimpering, grinding against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s hand slipped between you, his fingers slipping to cup your covered mound, feeling the dampness that had seeped through the fabric. He sucked in air through his teeth as his fingers pressed firmly, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby. This all for me?” he teased, “Huh?”

You gasped when his fingers would press and sometimes skim along your bare skin, running along the lace, teasing, pressing just enough to make your thighs shake.

“Please,” you breathed, writhing against him, desperate for more.

Joel hummed approvingly, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers spreading through your slick folds, teasing your clit before dipping lower, barely pushing inside.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Takin’ my fingers so easy.”

You moaned, body shuddering as he continued to rub gentle circles around your clit before finally pushing two fingers inside, stretching you just enough to make your breath catch in your lungs. Joel groaned, watching you, drinking in every sound, every gasp, his fingers working slow and deep, curling just right to have your whole body shaking.

Your hips rocked into his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm, pleasure building fast, coiling tight in your belly. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles that had your legs trembling around his hips.

“You gonna come for me, already, sweetheart?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on my fingers before I fuck you?”

You gasped, “Yes, yes–” your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body locking up as the coil snapped in your belly, pleasure ripping through you in waves as you cried out, coming hard against his hand.

Joel groaned, his head falling forward to kiss your sweaty skin, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, his cock twitching hard beneath you.

“That’s my girl,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, slick and shining in the dim light. You stopped breathing as he brought them to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction as he licked them clean, his tongue dragging slow over his fingers. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, like he was ruined by the taste of you.

Once he licked his fingers clean, he brought them to your lips and rasped, “Open,”

A wicked smile crossed your lips as you parted them obediently, letting him slide his fingers onto your tongue. Joel groaned low in his throat, watching you intently, his pupils blown wide as your lips closed around his digits.

You didn’t just take them—you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue teasing along his fingertips, slow and deliberate.

Joel’s smirk fell as his whole body tensed beneath you, muscles going taut as his free hand dug into your hip, hard, like he was barely hanging on. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, and suddenly, his slick fingers left your mouth, his hand moving to your throat—firm but careful—pulling you down to him, kissing you again. It was hungry, needy, open and wet, all tongue and heat, like he had to taste you again, like the last few minutes of teasing had finally broken something in him.

You moaned against his mouth, shifting in his lap, feeling the thick, solid length of him pressing right where you needed it most. Joel hissed at the friction, his fingers tightening on your waist.  Then his hands moved, gripping your hips, holding you there as he worked open his belt, the soft clink of metal making your stomach tighten. The zipper came next, slow and deliberate, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. You watched as he freed himself, his thick cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and dangerous, his jaw tight with restraint, “Still want this baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing his face, his neck, nipping and biting at his throat as his hands worked himself. You lifted yourself up to give him better access to you. “Want you so badly, Joel.”

He grunted at the sound of his name on your lips, so low and wrecked and needy for him. Reaching down, he hooked his fingers beneath the soaked fabric of your panties, dragging them to the side. His other hand gripped his cock, dragging the tip through your slick pussy, teasing, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“Joel—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint, positioning himself right at your entrance. “Go on. Take what you need.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking down onto him slowly, gasping as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch until he was seated deep inside you.

Joel’s head fell back against the headrest, his hands flying to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there.

“Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his thighs tensing beneath you as he held himself still. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight,"

You moaned, feeling every inch of him pulsing inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he rocked his hips up into you, and your head snapped up at the force, making you look up just in time to see a familiar face out the back window.

“Oh shit—Tommy.”

Joel’s entire body went rigid, “Please do not tell me you just—“

“No—Tommy,” you hissed, ducking down as far as you could, but it only added more friction, making Joel’s cock pulse inside you.

He grunted sharply, his fingers digging in harder to steady you, his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react to the way you just squeezed around him.

Then, a truck door slammed shut.

“Hey, ain’t this Joel’s?” Tommy’s voice rang out, just outside, “Thought he left hours ago,”

Joel’s eyes snapped open, wild and alert. In an instant, his arm shot out, slamming the lock button with a sharp click.

Your heart raced, your hands scrambling to tug your shirt back over your head as Joel shifted beneath you, one hand still firm on your waist, the other reaching toward the door controls.

“Is he in there?” Tommy muttered to himself. The sound of boots crunching against gravel got closer.

Joel rolled down the window—but only a few inches, just enough for Tommy to see his face and nothing else.

Joel’s expression was thunderous. “The fuck do you want?”

Tommy’s brows raised. “Damn, hello to you too,” he muttered, squinting between the tinted glass. “I been callin’ you. You never got back to the landscaper—”

Tommy blinked. His brows lifted slightly.

“Well, hell,” he said, smirking. “That the coffee shop girl?”

You, still catching your breath, gave a little nod, “Hey Tommy,”

Tommy grinned. “Joel never shuts up about your coffee.”

Joel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Tommy’s smirk widened, shifting his weight onto one hip, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, you guys comin’ or what? Bout to head down to Jameson’s Bar down the street with some of the guys.”

The good thing was—from Tommy’s point of view—it probably just looked like a hot and heavy makeout session in the truck. He couldn’t see that Joel was, in fact, inside you. Your eyes flicked up to Joel’s face, still locked in frustration, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged. And just because you could, just because you had to—you rocked your hips just a little. Joel choked on his own breath, his whole body seizing, his hands flying to your waist in warning. His eyes darted to you in a look that might kill you if you didn’t feel the betraying feeling of his cock twitch inside your cunt.

You bit your lip, eyes flicking down at Joel, voice sweet as honey, “Was just about to.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his fingers pinching your ass hard in retaliation. You yelped, causing your body to twist up and into him, and he had to swallow his groan.

Then, suddenly, Tommy’s expression shifted.

His eyes flicked between the both of you—Joel looking wrecked, breath uneven, a little too flushed for the cool evening breeze, and you, doing your best to keep your face neutral while subtly adjusting yourself in his lap.

Tommy’s head tilted. His mouth parted.

And then, slowly, a knowing smirk crept onto his face.

“No way,” he breathed, realization dawning. “You are not—”

“Tommy—” Joel ground out, voice low and warning.

But it was too late.

Tommy burst out laughing, doubling over, hands on his knees.

Joel exhaled sharply, hands twitching on your waist, his patience hanging by a thread. “Swear to God—”

You, on the other hand, were trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.

Tommy finally straightened up, wiping at his eyes, still grinning like an idiot. “Man, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Get outta here,” Joel said between his teeth.

Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back from the truck. “Hey, hey, I ain’t judgin’—I just never thought I’d see the day my big brother was gettin’ it on in a goddamn parking lot like a damn teenager.”

Joel groaned, glaring daggers at him. “You done?”

Tommy smirked, but started backing toward his truck. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He shot you a wink. “You take care now, darlin’.”

You smiled sweetly. “I will, Tommy.”

Joel huffed sharply, clearly done with this entire situation.

You kept an eye on Tommy as he finally slid into his truck, still shaking his head as he fired up the engine. Before he pulled away, he called out—

“Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do!”

Joel slammed the window up before you could reply.

The second Tommy’s taillights disappeared down the road, Joel let out a long, deep breath, his grip on your waist still iron-tight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You giggled, biting your lip, still settled in his lap, still pulsing around him.

Joel’s gaze snapped to you.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice thick, dark.

You blinked at him innocently, then, just to test him, you rolled your hips slowly, feeling his cock move deep inside you again. Both of you moaned at the feeling.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

“Mmm but you love it,” you smiled.

Joel growled, his patience finally snapping. His hands tightened, yanking you down against him, grinding your soaked heat over him slow and deep.

You gasped, your fingers flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he began to set a rhythm, his hips rocking up to meet yours, filling you over and over again.

“Fuckin' hell, girl,” Joel gritted out as your forehead dropped against his, “You love this, don’t you?”

You could barely breathe, pleasure pooling low and hot, winding tight in your belly, “Y-yes, feels s–s–so good,” you gasped, rolling your hips faster, chasing the high that had been aching inside you since the moment he first touched you.

Joel’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan that tore from your throat as his hips snapped up into you, deep and slow at first, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. You whimpered, fingers fisting in the shoulders of his shirt, clinging to him as the pleasure started to coil, winding tighter and tighter with every drag of his cock inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped, barely able to breathe, barely able to think beyond the feel of him filling you, stretching you, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

“That’s it, baby—just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, his arms wrapping around you as he rocked up to meet you.

You moved with him, rolling your hips, your body seeking more, chasing it, the friction and heat spiraling higher, hotter, pleasure building until it felt like you were seconds from snapping.

Joel must’ve felt it, the way you were trembling, the way your body clenched tighter around him, because his grip on you tightened, guiding you faster, pushing you closer, until—

“Come on now, hunny–you all talk or you really gonna cum?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with need. “Let me have it, wanna feel you.”

And that—his words, his voice, the command in it—was what undid you.

A sharp, wrecked moan tore from your lips as the pressure snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your whole body shuddering and twitching as you clenched tight around him, pulsing, shaking, coming undone in his lap.

Joel groaned loudly, his head tipping back against the headrest, his jaw tight, his breath shattering as he thrust up into you, once, twice—

And then he followed, his grip bruising on your body as he buried himself deep, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came, spilling hot inside you, his whole body locking up before relaxing, spent, wrecked.

The truck fell into silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the sticky heat between you, the feel of his arms still gripping you, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a huffed-out chuckle against your chest. “Yeah.”

You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you moving, just breathing each other in, the moment settling between you.

Finally, Joel ran a slow, warm hand up your spine, his voice still gravelly when he spoke.

“So.” A beat. “We ain’t goin’ to Jameson’s, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head against his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

Joel smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“Good.”

[lovebugism]

OMG Stevie helping his shy!girlfriend with a bloody nose while at school just ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

steve promises a good time in exchange for skipping class with him. you end up with a bloody nose. (established relationship, hurt/comfort-ish, 0.8k)

“Missed you,” Steve slurs against your mouth, pressing your body between his towering one and the cold bathroom stall.

You manage a quiet giggle between his sloppy kisses. He swallows the sunshine sound with his plush, pink mouth. “It’s only been three hours,” you tell him as you twist your hands in his wild hair. The chestnut strands feel like silk between your fingers.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” the boy mumbles before pressing his smile to yours. He licks into your mouth and sighs at the taste, almost like he’s never felt you before — like he hadn’t kissed the breath from your lungs all lunch period.

He’s insatiable, your beautiful brown-eyed boy, and he kisses you with haste accordingly. He’s always seemed to touch you that way. With a hunger, like every time he’s held you is the very first time. And with an eagerness, like any time could be his last.

Steve gets all boyishly aggressive beneath the weight of his yearning. And you, warm and fondly held by his swollen mouth and wide palms, can’t help when your head gets all swimmy about it. It’s a horrid combination, really. 

‘Cause when he ducks down to kiss your neck, you rise to the tips of your toes to swallow him whole. Your faces bonk rather gracelessly together accordingly — like a couple of poorly aligned planets.

“Oh, shit!” Steve exclaims as he pulls back from you, rubbing at his aching forehead.

“I’m okay!” you blurt — not because you entirely mean it, but because you feel like it’s something you should say after being so carelessly clumsy.

The boy’s face twists with a puppylike pout. His jutted lips are rosier and very ardently kissed. His honey eyes flit rapidly across your features, glazed over with leftover longing. You look about as far-gone as he does now.

“Are you sure?” Steve presses. Because you’ve got a tendency to downplay the severity of certain situations for the sake of being a burden. It’s a whole thing. You’re still working on it. “I know that had to hurt, babe.”

“I’m fine,” you insist despite the distant throbbing between your eyes. Shaking your head with so much vigor doesn’t help. “I promise. I’m good… I think.”

Steve peers down at you, visibly unconvinced. His narrowed eyes widen when blood drips slowly from your right nostril, trickling like a river of crimson down your cupid’s bow.

Your brows furrow at his suddenly concerned gaze. “What?” you wonder as you reach for your mouth. His eyes are very obviously pointed there, and you’ve got a weird itch now, anyway.

“Nothing! It’s okay, just��� Maybe don’t touch it,” Steve blurts before ducking at your side. He unravels cheap toilet paper from the dispenser beside your thigh and wraps it around his hand. He rises again to wipe the nosebleed, only to find that you’ve smeared it with your fingers.

Your eyes go glassy at the cherry-colored blood staining your fingertips. “Gosh…” you murmur as your heart swells into your throat. You blink slow, head all swimmy — and not in the good way.

“It’s okay. You’re alright, babe,” Steve insists as he smooths a softly calloused palm beneath your jaw. He guides your chin softly upward and presses the tissue to your nose. “Here. Just tilt your head back. Hold this ’til the bleeding stops, yeah?”

At a loss for what else to do, you listen to him. You press the crown of your head against the stall wall and wrap a trembling hand around the boy’s wrist. You can feel his racing pulse beneath your thumb.

“This is the last time I’m skipping study hall with you,” you announce with an icy glare that’s hardly intimidating. “Ever.”

Steve’s lip quirks into a sheepish half-smile. “I figured,” he replies.

When the bleeding doesn’t stop, he takes you to the nurse’s. 

He sits with you in the concrete room, beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights and the overwhelming scent of bleach. His hands tremble with the longing to touch you while the nurse checks you over. She shoves a cotton ball up your nostril and a bulky icepack in your hand.

Steve would help you hold it if he didn’t think it would be the worst idea ever. He’s already gotten you into this mess — he figures it’s best to keep himself out of the rest of it for now. He idles in the corner, instead, and plays the innocent bystander.

“How did this happen, exactly?” the woman asks as she scribbles out a report. The pen against the clipboard sounds much louder in the quiet.

You glance over her shoulder at Steve for an answer. He shrugs with panicked eyes. The nurse peers at you over the frames of her cat-eyed glasses with a most impatient glare.

“I, uh— I just wasn’t paying attention,” you stammer less than convincingly. “Slammed right into a wall. Guess I should watch where I’m going, right?”

You force out a giggle while the older woman flashes Steve a deadpanned glare. “And I don’t imagine that you were the source of this distraction. Were you, Mr. Harrington?” she montones.

“Me?” he scoffs with a lopsided smile. “Of course not.”

[temiizpalace]

☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !

SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.

CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia

(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)

ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“shit! ow—“

leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.

everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.

today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.

typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.

now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.

“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.

“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.

you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.

“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.

but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”

he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.

leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”

“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.

start running <3

🐬┆JADE LEECH

“jade, stop moving!”

you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.

only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.

normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.

so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.

“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.

for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?

oh. that’s an idea.

“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.

you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.

you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..

“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.

🐍┆JAMIL VIPER

“you scream like a girl.”

you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.

he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.

“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.

“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.

“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.

confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.

now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.

he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.

“sorry.”

“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”

“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.

you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.

“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!

🏹┆ROOK HUNT

“how’d you fall?”

you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.

“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”

you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.

“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“

“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.

he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.

he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”

you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”

before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.

you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.

despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”

he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.

💀┆IDIA SHROUD

“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”

you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.

while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.

he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”

ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”

he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”

you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”

“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.

“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.

“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”

“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.

when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.

let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.

A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.

date published: 1/27/24

© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 21: Timeout

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: address it...

Welcome to the chapter 21 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader's POV

The gym was quiet except for the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the rhythmic bounce of a basketball. Paige was shooting free throws while I set up my camera on a tripod, capturing the smooth arc of her shots.

I adjusted the camera, stealing a glance at her. “You sure you’re okay...we're okay, to be back here?”

Paige caught the ball on a rebound and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m good, ma. Besides, we talked everything out, right?”

I nodded, though a lingering tension sat between us.

Coach Geno walked in, clipboard in hand, and stopped mid-step when he saw us. “You two good again.” He sighed, shaking his head. Seeing the still unresolved tension between us.

Paige dribbled the ball, looking like she was trying to decide whether to argue or stay quiet. I spoke up instead.

“We’re good, Coach. We talked through everything. I’m filming the practice plays, and Paige is just—”

“Working off some steam, til practice starts.” Paige finished.

Coach set the clipboard down on a bench and crossed his arms. “I don’t doubt that you two think everything’s worked out, but there’s a lot of emotion running high. And frankly, it’s bleeding into everything—practice, even the team dynamic. You both need to take the rest of the today as well to figure it out away from this gym. And you Y/n, I sais no drama for my team, so fix it.”

“What?” Paige’s voice was sharp, her frustration evident. “We’re fine, Coach.”

He raised a brow. “You say that, but the way you’re gripping that ball says otherwise.”

I glanced at her hands, realizing her knuckles were white against the orange leather.

“Go home. Talk. Take a breath. Come back when you’re really ready.” His tone softened slightly. “This team needs both of you, but you’ve got to get on the same page first.”

Paige reluctantly set the ball down and nodded. “Alright, Coach.”

I packed up my camera, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me.

Back at the apartment, I went straight to the bathroom to shower, letting the hot water wash away my frustration. I’d thought we were making progress, but Coach’s words brought back the doubt I’d been trying to push down.

Paige’s POV

The sound of the shower running filled the apartment as I flopped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed, and Nika’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound normal.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?” she asked bluntly.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “We talked about everything, okay? It’s fine.”

Nika snorted. “Fine? Coach just sent you both home, and called me to call you. That doesn’t scream fine to me. Im all the way in Seattle, don't make me come kick y'alls asses.”

I stayed quiet, not wanting to admit she was right.

“You’ve been off since she came from covering my game in Seattle, you know she wouldn't cheat on you, and damn sure not with me, Paige.” she continued. “And it’s not just affecting you. Y/N’s walking around like she’s carrying the weight of the world. She's trying to understand being in the spotlight, when she's just a photographer. So whatever’s going on, you need to fix it, and fix it fast.”

I sighed, closing my eyes. “I’m trying, Nika. We talked about it, but I don’t know… It feels like there’s still something between us that we’re not addressing.”

“Then address it,” she said firmly. “You love her, right?”

The question caught me off guard, even though the answer was obvious. “Yeah, I do, I really fucking do.”

“Then act like it. Stop holding back. Be honest, even if it’s messy. She deserves that, tou tell her thr truth.”

I sat up, Nika’s words sinking in. “Thanks, Nika.”

“Don’t thank me. Just figure it out before Coach benches both of you for emotional interference,” she said, hanging up before I could respond.

When Y/N came out of the bathroom, her damp curls framed her face, and she was wearing one of my old UConn sweatshirts.

“You okay?” she asked, sitting beside me.

“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand. “But we need to talk.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought we already did.”

“We did, but I don’t think we were completely honest with each other—or with ourselves.” I took a deep breath. “I’m scared, Y/N. Scared of how much I care about you and how fast this has all happened. Scared of what happens when I leave for the WNBA.”

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed my hand. “I’m scared too, Paige. But we can’t let that fear control us.”

“I know,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t want to lose you, no matter what happens next.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, her voice steady.

We spent the rest of the night in the gym, working off the tension through laughter and quiet moments. Paige filmed me trying to shoot a three-pointer, and I filmed her laughing at my terrible form.

The unspoken was there, but for now, it was enough to simply be together.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 @sevyscoven ,.... (more to be added)

[demonic-charcuterie]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!

I NEED SENKU FANFIC NOBODY ALIVE ONLINE MAKES THEM ANYMORE LET ALONE DECENT SMUT!

Not proof read

You were brewing up noodles for the villagers when you looked up a Senku's hunt before turning and looking up at the sky. You sighed before handing over to someone else. You pulled back the curtain and saw senku hunched over something with red fingertips from all the tinkering. You slowly trailed up behind him before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He jumped before turning and seeing it was you. "Oh...hi y/n" he said while standing.

"You should take a break my love. Your hands look like they're about to bleed." you say while taking his hot hands in yours and turning him around, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sighed and picked up his tools again. You sighed and groaned loudly. He chuckled and you stay stood like that for a few moments before slowly you felt him push his ass against you. You instinctively gripped his waist.

"What are doing?" You asked with a giggly tone.

Senku just hummed and continued pressing his ass against you.

You chuckled slightly as you gripped his hips. “Senku, do you need help staying still babe?” You said while tracing patterns his bare skin under his shirt. Senku shivering slightly and leaned further over his desk, holding whatever contraption he was working on up to his face.

You slowly began rubbing his outer thigh gently over his pants and you felt the muscles in his body clench. You giggled as you watched him struggling to compose himself.

Slowly you trailed your hands further in til her hands grazed over his half hard member. He jumped and placed down his contraption on his work bench.

“Y/n-“

“Doesn’t it feel good?”

“You’re touching my clothed cock, of course it feels good!” He snipped.

“Then what’s the problem?~” you teased while continuing to rub his cock through his pants.

He groaned softly and you felt him twitch in his pants.

“F-fuck I cant- please…please take it out.” He said as he nails dug into the wood of his wood bench.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You pulled down his pants and wrapped your soft hands around his cock and slowly began stroking him up and down. His knees faltered for a moment. You looked down and gasped as you saw he was already leaking pre cum.

You started focusing only on his tip as you stroked him and watched as he unraveled.

“Oh fuck! Shit y/n!”

“Shhh!”

You pulled him flush against you with your chin resting on his shoulder. His back arched as waves of pleasure flooded him. A few moments pasted like this before you began leading to the cot he had set up in the corner of his lab.

You sat down on the bed and he stood over you with hunger in his eyes.

“Well, take them off.” You said referring to your baggy pants. He was quick as he undid your belt and threw it to the side. He yanked down your pants and attempted to spread your legs.

You tutted your tongue at him. “No.”

He looked up at you confused. “W-what do you mean?”

You reached down to his swollen head and gather some of his thick pre cum on your fingers. You spread your legs and he looked at your perfect pussy. You rubbed his pre cum on your inner thighs and pressed them together.

“Go ahead.” You said with a grin.

He looked at you with pleading eyes but took a step closer to you and slipped his cock in between your juicy thighs. He moaned as he threw his head back. “Oh fuck goddess…” he mutter as he began thrusting into your thighs.

You smiled as he gripped your outer thighs, leaving little crescent moons into your skin.

“Fuck baby you’re so soft..” he whimpered while hunching over you.

“Gahhh~ c-can I c-cum baby…please can I come your thighs goddess?” He begged while thrusting a bit faster.

You nodded while running a hand through his hair. “Go ahead baby~ come all over my thighs.”

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret Creator Reader Pt 2

warnings(s): slight angst, kinda? humanish wanderer (he can bleed, throw-up and cry), its unedited cause i’m spam posting my drafts <3

word count: nunya

First Part: Here

Wanderer never realized how much you affected his daily life until your absence began to sink in. He never noticed how much your smile and kind greetings made his heart flutter until his heart ached from the emptiness.

At first, he didn’t really think your absence was such a big deal til he’d wake up with tears in his eyes and the faint whisper of the name you had given him ringing in his ears. It was like you were haunting him. How could you name him with such care but disappear and not even think to visit? Did you really abandon him? Were you lying when you told him the meaning of his name?

Wanderer began traveling the world, following any reported sightings of the creator. Each time he’s left with a dead end, he feels his sanity wear thinner and thinner, a gentle touch away from snapping.

It isn’t until he hears of a parade being held to welcome and thank the creator for restoring the kingdom of Khaenri’ah. He drops everything he’s doing, and heads straight to your supposed location.

When he gets there, the streets were crowded with people watching as you give a speech high up on a balcony.

He ignores everything else, his focus entirely on you. It’s as everything melts into the background and his actions are on autopilot.

He flies over your position, not hearing any of the gasps erupt from the crowd nor noticing the guards that seem alert at his presence.

His are wide and blown out as he grips your wrists tightly.

“Wanderer…”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT…” he says, tears lining his eyes. Your eyes furrow in confusion. He seems unstable, face full of desperation.

“What do you mean…”

“… my name,” he says quietly. “Say my name!” You pause for a bit, not understanding what he wants. Finally, you speak.

“__”

The voice he has been longing to hear… the name he dreamt of you saying reaches his ears.

He lets out a choked sob, all the emotions he held in finally spilling out as he grips your clothing. It’s like nothing else in the world matters but the two of you.

Even as there are whispers all around speaking of blasphemy.

Amidst his sobs, he asks you all the questions that had been plaguing his mind.

“Do you really see me as a gift… a blessing? Am I really that important to you…”

You’re silent, unsure what to say as all eyes watch you. He feels his heart break at your silence.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, hands trembling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been using it. I love it! I love what you named me, I really do!”

“I’m your blessing, right? Why aren’t you saying anything.” His movements grow desperate as he shakes you. “… you said so yourself, you can’t take it back. Why aren’t you speaking?!”

You notice the judging eyes staring at the man on the floor. You try to push him off of you but he lets out another heavy, choked out sob, his tears flowing harder. Your attempts to get him off you is seen as a form of rejection. “You-“ he suddenly doubles over, throwing up on the ground. ”…you can’t abandon me!” He screams.

The guards grow closer and he finally notices them. “Please…” he crumples to the floor, trembling hands clutching his chest. He gasps as he finds it hard to breathe. He feels a pressure in his head, and suddenly blood flows from his nose.

You begin to panic, seeing him cry so hard his nose begins to bleed. You bend over and bring him into your arms. Rubbing his back, you call out the name you’ve given him. “I’m not abandoning you. You’re a gift.”

He shakes his head, pushing himself further into your arms. “I’m yours! I’m your gift…” He needs to hear you say it. He needs you clear all the insecurities and doubts in his heart. He truly looks pitiful, his face covered in snot and tears.

The guards are unable to pull him away from you no matter how hard they try. His grip on you is like iron. The guards have no choice but to disperse the crowd. With a nod of your head, the guards allow the two of you some privacy.

Almost an hour passes of him crying into your arms, begging you not to abandon him and demanding you say his name over and over again.

Finally, his tears run out and he’s left sniffling with his eyes swollen shut from the salty tears.

“You love me, right?” he whispers, staring up at you from his position in your arms. You sigh and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, I love you ___.”

He smiles with his red puffy eyes and tear stained face.

“I love you, too…” he whispers before he passes out, the exhaustion finally taking over. You try to move but even unconscious, his grip is tight and unrelenting.

You sigh and let him cling to you. You’re glad that he likes the name you’ve given him but you’re a bit concerned on how much importance he’s placed on it. As you relax in his hold, you fail to realize that simply typing in a cluster of letters into a game has set your fate in stone and that no matter how hard you try to deviate from it’s tracks, you’ll never be free from it’s grasp.

[skymar13]

Helping 1A with the post war effects

:angst/comfort

Bakugo

When bakugo started to lose his hearing you thought it’d be ideal and give him some reassurance to learn sign to be able to freely communicate with him as well as help him interact with his classmates as well.

Izuku

Izuku had always had scars on his body but now they had almost tripled to the point his body was more scar than skin. When yall would cuddle you’d lightly touch his scars whispering how beautiful they were making him feel less insecure and grounded.

Denki

When Denki came back his brain was fried and he’d have random spells where he would just blank out. The rest of the class made jokes about it but when this happened you’d rub his back waiting for him to come back to reality and when he did he’d js look at you with sorrowful eyes.

Kirishima

Kirishima thought he was unbreakable but when he started falling apart during the war and was actually getting marked up he couldn’t help but feel useless. You stop by to change out his bandages and make him food since he refused to leave and for this he thanked you to no end

Mina

She had carefully manipulated her quirk all the time. Mina had never gotten chemical burns until the battle. Now she had to deal with painful light pink marks across her body. (I have vitiligo so I relate to the insecurity) she hated them thinking they were disgusting and she tried to hide them until you’d kiss each one carefully complementing their shapes and color.

Iida

His engines had blown and were terribly sore it hurt to walk. So you never let iida walk not even to fetch his water bottle that was across the room. You’d taken care of him u til he healed without a question and for this he was forever indebted.

Sero

His arms had been sore and he was all banged up from the falls he’d endured. Sero sat on the sink letting you change his bandages and lay kisses on them afterwards. He leant in to kiss you lips hissing in pain.

Ururaka

Poor had been vomiting all day. Ururaka couldn’t even stand straight without getting nauseous. And even if it was gross you held the bag or pulled her hair back and brought her water and liquid ivs or snacks to make sure she wouldn’t get sick.

Tsuyu

Her tongue had been sliced up to the Gods blood constantly spilling from her mouth. Every time you noticed tsu beginning to bleed you brought her hydrogen peroxide and cleaned her wounds.

Jirou

Her ears had been ringing all day none stop causing her so many head aches. Jirou had experienced too many loud sounds for way too long. The best way you could help was be her quiet you brought her noise canceling headphones and watched 1950s silent movies.

Todoroki

He’d had freezer burns and regular burns all over his body. Todoroki was constantly shaking from the pain he couldn’t touch anything before his nerves would flare up. You’d brought him some aloe Vera and Tylenol you wouldn’t touch him but you stayed with him and that’s all he could ask for.

Tokoyami

He had gotten pretty beaten up back there and shadow hadn’t helped. Tokoyami had barely any control over dark shadow to the point he stopped trying. Luckily you were able to patch him up and calm dark shadow with your words of love and treats.

Hitoshi

He had so many head aches from over use of his quirk. So you stayed in hitoshis dorm making it dark and quiet with just the tv playing as you let him nap with Tylenol on the bed side waiting for him.

Momo

She’d almost completely wrecked her whole body. Momo had felt weak for a while after barely being able to walk across her room without feeling dizzy and nauseated. You brought her some medicine and food and kept her entertained u til she felt better.

[whinesandwhimpers]

cw; victim overtaking kidnapper mid-fucking, choking—almost passing out, breeding kink

stalker!reader who manages to kidnap Soap but does a terrible job of tying him up so when he wakes up to you bouncing on his cock he easily breaks his binds and harshly grabs your hips and starts thrusting up into you.

"This what ye wanted, Lass?"

You gasp as he flips you both over and continues roughly fucking into you, pawing at your tits and pinching your nipples, making you arch your back and release a loud moan.

"Please, please—"

He folds you in half, hitting deeper inside you, wraps a hand around your neck and applies a little pressure, making your eyes snap open to see he's already watching you, teeth bared like a wild animal.

"That's it. Ye want me so you'll take whatever I give ye, filthy fuckin' girl." He snarls and presses harder against your neck, effectively cutting off your oxygen.

Your building orgasm mixes with pure panic as you claw at his arm to no avail.

When your vision starts to dot black and your eyes close, he releases your neck, his hand flying down to rub fast, harsh circles on your clit.

Between your arms sprawling out to clench the sheets and taking his rough pounding(quite literally rocking the bed), you manage a few gasps for air before you're crying out as you reach climax and cum on his cock.

"Ye want my bairn too, aye? Want a big, swollen belly until you're pushing him out of this pretty cunt, aye?" He pulls out of you, flips you over, lifts your ass up before he's driving his dick right back inside you. He grabs your tits and pulls you up, your back flush against his chest, squeezing the flesh and pulling your nipples. He puts his mouth next to your ear, through the sounds of your squelching pussy and his body smacking against yours with every thrust, you manage to hear the low words, a promise that sends shivers through you. "Aye, I can do that. I'll keep you stuffed full of my cock and my cum 'til there's a whole litter of 'em running 'round."

You whine and clench around his cock, your head slumping back against his shoulder as he fucks you to your second orgasm. You bring a hand up to hold onto the back of his neck, making him hiss when you dig your nails in.

"Knew you were—were perfect." You huff out, eyes squeezing shut.

He growls and turns your head and kisses you roughly, biting your bottom lip until it bleeds. When you moan against his mouth at a particularly rough thrust, he groans and slams inside you to the hilt, coating your walls and filling you up with his warm cum.

The feeling of him cumming inside you is enough to send you over the edge, your second orgasm hitting you harder than the first, making you scream.

He holds you on his cock as you come back down from the high, then follows you as you slump forward onto the bed, laying on top of you and keeping his cock buried inside you. He murmurs in your ear about keeping you plugged up so it takes before he nuzzles his cheek against your back and falls asleep.

You can't help but clench around his cock at how he just bred you and how he promises to keep breeding you, causing him to let out a little whimper in his sleep, and though you should feel like you're being crushed by this large mass of a man, you're quite comfortable with him on top of you and fall blissfully asleep.

[cum-a-calla]

as someone who’s written amazing sub!roman, any thoughts on tipping him so far over the edge that he comes without permission and gets all panicky ??

He’s leaking.

His cheeks are so red, the apples of them nearly glowing hot - it feels good to press your lips down against them in small, peppered kisses, soft and sweet. He’s absolutely miserable. Eyes cloudy, words melting off into meaningless, whining moans… god, he’s so pretty. So lost. You wonder idly in the back of your mind how many times he can really bite his bottom lip between his teeth before he makes himself bleed, before it’s so chapped he has to start subtly moisturizing at work. And isn’t that a cute thought? Every time he pulls a goddamn chapstick out of his suit pocket, covertly rubbing it on his lips. Embarrassed. His stupid little smirk being just a little bit shinier, a little extra soft. Fuck.

“You really want it, huh?” Soft voice, soft hands - gliding up and down his shaft, and fuck… he’s so thick, so fucking hard. Precum drips over the knuckle of your thumb on the upstroke and you gather it, gliding it back over the fat, engorged head, soft as velvet. There’s a fleeting consideration about leaning down to lick him, or even kiss it… but you don’t. Roman whines and tenses up, hips bucking so softly into your hand.

“Yeah… yeah, yes, fuck…”

His voice. So delicate. Quiet and loud all at once, somehow, drawn so painfully high - he’s gotta be so embarrassed, begging for your touch like this. It makes it so much better.

You’re only human. Throbbing, careful in revealing your desperation, you sigh, you stroke his hot cheek and reach up to thread your fingers into his mussed hair, pulling it into your fist. He gasps and his eyes fly open, looking obediently up at you. For once, Roman Roy has nothing to say. He’s just an object. A thing, a vessel. You smile kindly down at him, fixing your expression into a soothing one despite squeezing his cock at the base before stroking him again, slowly, diabolically. When he arches his hips again you pull away from his dick to slap him on the thigh and he stops.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “I’m going to use you now. No - no…. shh. Don’t say a fucking thing. It’s not up to you, is it, baby?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and there’s the initial tensing of his muscles, the barest hint of a thrust - and, like the good boy he desperately wants to be, he stills it down, takes a breath, whining through his gorgeous nose like a fucking puppy. There’s a beat where you wait, trusting that he can be obedient. It’s important to train a dog. You slide a thumb against his bottom lip and he accepts it without thought - and does he have any thoughts left? Does he need any? No. No, he doesn’t.

The slow, delicious slide down his cock is everything. Working yourself down over the throbbing length, making it torturously slow for the both of you - not that his feelings matter… not really. It’s yours, after all. Roman, that is - his entire life and professional position doesn’t stop him from being an object to be used right now, in this moment, moaning and begging in half-words as you take your time to work his cock inside of the warm, tight place in along body. Your time, your rules.

It’s only a few rolls of your hips in that you realize there may be a problem - he twitches, hips bucking so very slightly - and then his voice draws up so loud, so painfully, embarrassingly high-strung. His cock throbs, and you grab him by the jaw, shaking him til he looks at you, barely, eyes glazed.

"Oh, I'm - mmm'sorry, sorry, I'm... I -"

Roman gasps his breaths, whining like a soft little thing. Eyes squeezed shut, nails digging desperately into your thighs as his hips grind up, up, bucking the both of you off the bed with the force of his wet cock between the slippery lips of your cunt. Under your gaze, he gives in to his own end. Cum shoots from his pretty, flushed slit in ropes, over his own belly.

You're not mean... no. Accidents happen.

Roman moans and whines as he comes back down, and the reality of his situation comes to the forefont of his brain as the haze clears up. His breath visibly, audibly hitches in his chest and he makes another whining sound, but it's different - this one borne of humiliation, disappointment. No pleasure at all. His big, beautiful eyes, pupils dilated in the melting of pleasure into fear. And that's exactly what it is. You watch as he processes and the panic rises up his belly, his chest, til there's a film of tears over his eyes, the faintest wobble in his chin, his bottom lip.

"Fuck," he whispers. "I fucked it. I... I fucking -" He covers his eyes with his forearm, pressing into it. There's a twitch in his chest as he bites back the threat of sobs, his trembling body underneath you.

"Rome. Baby - hey. Stop. Look at me. Look," you urge, pulling his arm away. Red spiderwebs of veins cross into the whites of his eyes, his lashes wet. He still looks so beautiful. So absolutely wrecked. "You know I'm still going to use you, right?"

It's not a question. Not really. It's a fact. He takes a moment, sniffling, nodding obediently.

"You gunna be good for me, now?" You ask firmly. "Gunna make it up to me?"

"Good."

His whining - his pathetic, wavering voice, his gasps, his weak little uh-huh, I will, please, I'm sorry. It's enough to make your cunt clench down on nothing, still lazily gliding your hips over his spent cock.

The slow ascent up his body, crawling. His eyes on your face, your tits, reverent, watching until you're poised over his mouth. "Ready, baby?" you ask. It's only a courtesy - it doesn't matter, not really. He's going to do it anyway.

Once you've lowered your hips, his perfect, gorgeous nose is buried at the apex of your slit, his red eyes fluttering shut as he gets to work licking, sucking, lapping like the dog he is. An obedient little mutt, lips working overtime to show you he can learn. His tongue is so soft and warm on your clit. It's like he's spelling a prayer, there, begging forgiveness with his little whines and moans. A glance behind shows you his cock twitching just a little, barely half-hard but on its way. It's too bad, really, because he's not going to be allowed to use it for a while. But you save this tidbit for later - no need to distract him.

Roman eats your cunt like it's his last meal. The thought of it has molten heat surge down between your thighs, where he looks up at you in little bursts of bravery. God, he belongs here. Belongs underneath, being used, and your hips are rolling as that pressure builds and builds, dripping over his face, his chin.

You thread your hands into his hair as it washes over you - Roman picks up the pace as you start moaning and riding against his mouth, trying to take in all your pleasure, to be useful, to worship your pussy for the heaven it is, all tight and pink and pulsing on his face. The vibrations of his moaning only serve to heighten how hard you cum on his tongue.

"Nose - now. Nose," you demand, and he obeys, shifting lower to rub the tip of his nose over your sensitive, pulsing clit, his tongue diving as far as he can into your wet, tight, twitching hole. You trail your thumb over the visible bridge of his nose, over and over and over, tattooing its skight curve into your brain like braille as your eyes clench shut and you ride the last of it out. "Good boy. Fuck - you're so fucking good, you belong here."

In the aftermath, pulling off of his face and flopping bonelessly beside him, he eyes you with a certain level of shame. His red-rimmed eyes, feverish cheeks. His cock almost fully hard now, pointedly ignored.

"Good job, Rome," you coo softly, kissing the red blade of his cheekbone. He shudders and leans into it, the softest hum vibrating through his chest as he surrenders, snaking a tentative arm around the dip of your waist. Wanting to pull you closer, careful to be slow in case you don't want it. "You need me? That's okay, baby."

You sink into him, kissing his forehead, his eyebrows, the tense lines between them. You trace your lips down the devastating slope of his strong nose, licking the tip before you treat him to a kiss. Not because he's earned it - just because you want it. He responds hungrily, reaching up to frame your face with his fingers.

Worship.

Face pressed against his chest, both of you cooling down, there's a wonderful silence. An acceptance. News of his impending punishment can wait for now - you're not cruel. Roman nuzzles closer, arm around you, seeking your heat, and for now... he can have it.

[anotherjheastan]

April 9, 2025

CW: suggestive, mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, panic attack

Jey sat up, cold sweat clinging to his body. He reached for his phone, bleary-eyed. It was 3:22 am. He felt tired, but knew if he laid back down, he wouldn’t go to sleep. He sighed and then he remembered the nightmare he was having. Gunther was beating him bloody and people were leaving. The audience, his family. He gripped the side of the bed. He rubbed his neck with his other hand. He jumped when he felt Rhea touch his lower back. 

“Did I wake you?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Rhea said with a sigh. She sat up and took over rubbing his neck for him. He groaned with relief.

“I guess I slept weird or something,” he mumbled.

“It’s stress,” Rhea said. “My neck hurts in that same spot when I’m stressed.” 

“Hmm,” Jey replied, leaning back slightly into her touch. He closed his eyes.

“Did you have the nightmare again?”

His eyes shot open, body tense, but the images played in his mind anyway: Jimmy covered in blood, himself covered in blood. Gunther towering over him with an evil grin, the championship held high in the air. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Ten days ‘til WrestleMania,” she said quietly. 

She moved on to rubbing his shoulders and he relaxed again.

“Yeah,” he repeated, closing his eyes.

“You’re ready,” she said. “You can do this.” 

Gunther holding Jimmy in a headlock flashed in his mind. He felt the zip tie stinging his wrist again as he reached for his brother. He heard his mother’s voice filled with more sadness than disappointment: why didn’t you protect him, Joshua? He saw Naomi’s rage and sadness, yelling mostly to herself: I told him not to do this! Why did he do this? He saw Jimmy in the hospital, blood soaking through the bandage that wrapped his head. His chest felt tight. His breathing got faster. And he had to face the man that did that to Jimmy in ten days. What would Gunther do to him? 

“Breathe, baby,” Rhea said, slipping her arms around him. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Breathe with me.”

Jey opened his watery eyes and took a shaky deep breath. He exhaled slowly with her. 

“Again,” she said and they breathed in and out again.

He leaned into her, relaxed. She gave him a squeeze. 

“You’re safe,” she said. “Jimmy’s safe.”

“But he’s missing WrestleMania,” Jey said, balling his fists. “And it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. He asked for a match and got it.”

“I tried to warn him,” he said, hitting his thigh with his fist.

“You did warn him. And now you’ve warned Gunther. You’ve gotta stay focused on that.” 

He didn’t want to go to that dark place. But seeing his brother bleeding in the ring had unlocked the door. On Monday, he had held the doorknob during his promo, feeding off the energy he felt on the other side. Next Saturday, he would open that door and walk through it. When he wasn’t having nightmares, he was dreaming of beating Gunther bloody with a wicked grin on his face. The championship was an afterthought as he watched Gunther being carried away on a stretcher. The darkness was calling to him. A part of him was afraid, but a part of him was also excited. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly, resting his arms on top of hers. 

“Wanna distraction?” she asked, kissing his neck.

He smirked, enjoying the soft kisses peppering his neck. He moaned when her tongue slid down his neck. He felt her smile before kissing his neck more intensely. 

“Rhea,” he breathed, thinking about asking her to stop. 

But even if they did stop, sleep wouldn’t come. At least this would tire him out. 

Rhea paused and nipped at his earlobe. “Yes, baby?”

Her voice was sultry and low. It drove him crazy when she sounded like this. 

“Turn around,” he said, a slight growl to his voice. 

He turned to face her. Their eyes met before she turned over, a smile on her face.

[henneseyhoe]

Home Alone.

Lewis Hamilton X Black!Fem!Reader

WARNINGS:Brief hitting, pain kink, masturbat!on, Sub!Lewis, Dom!Reader, smutty flashbacks,slightly unedited, SHORT!

SUMMARY: Lewis feels neglected so he takes matters into his own hands.

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“You just don’t listen, do you?”

The stinging he felt on his bronzed skin was like fire to his backside. Every crack of your whip came with a soothing rub or caress before contradicted by another smack and the thong you once wore that morning made for good use as a gag, the cotton stuffed in his mouth being the only thing blocking his moans from bleeding into the hallway. When you had told him not to cum while you were gone, he blew you off. If anything he’d have more than enough time to cum.. over and over again. He hadn’t had the pleasure of being inside you in weeks, which came with reason. You were busy, and unfortunately around this time your fiancé was taking a break.

“Do you need anything? Let me know now” You alarmed your soon to be husband and gathered your keys, putting them in your purse. You felt his strong arms snake their way around your waist, his tatted hands roaming your soft stomach and sides.

“I need you”

He spoke against your neck, making you roll your eyes for what felt the hundredth time that day. This had been his third attempt to bed you.

“Lewis..” You warned and he groaned your nickname, throwing his head back.

“Did I do something? Cause this feels like punishment and I don’t think i can last any longer” He was truthful. He felt one minor brush up against him could have a wet spot in his briefs.

You turn to him and cup his face in your hands. “How the hell did you survive when you were single? There’s no way you need sex this often”

“you want an honest answer?” He questioned and you squint, letting him go. “No, actually…I might punch you and I don’t need your white side kicking in and calling the law on me” You joke then kiss his lips before slipping away from his hold.

He couldn’t even enjoy your crack at him in peace, another groan exiting his mouth as you escaped him. “I have no energy to feel humor right now, I need to cum first”

“Then I suggest you wait for when I wanna give it to you” You gave him one last glare before leaving. He knew what that meant and cared less at the moment.

While you put on your big girl pants on and went out to stock up on food for the month, your fiancé took it upon himself to take care of that itch he has had for the passed week. He uncaringly left the bedroom door cracked open, more focused on the less dominant hand around his long shaft gripping the base to keep him from cumming too quick after that first round.

He held his right hand around his tip, slowly jerking himself off again once he felt that familiar pressure and heat in his muscles dissolving. He had precum beading on his tip, the clear and sticky liquid trickling, almost tickling the underside of his shaft before the trail was stopped by his hand. He thought about your warm walls and digging into you deep, so deep that the cum from the round before was forced out of you, pooling around the base of him and your entrance until it began dripping down to the sheets.

He couldn’t take the image of you being sprawled out for him, or on your knees, or with your ass up and face down. Any position had his head spinning and his stomach muscles burning with the need to un-flex, but he was on the edge and it was almost impossible to not tense up without cumming all over himself, particularly his stomach and chest, and he wasn’t done playing yet.

He hadn’t thought about his favorite times like when you’d fuck yourself in front of him, an exact replica of his dick measurements from tip to base and width shoved inside of you with no hip or thigh barrier stopping you from getting each and every inch, your chest heaving up and down the faster you went.

He hadn’t yet thought about when he ate you out all night to the point you cried and wet up your new sheets. His lips tasted like you till the morning when he reluctantly washed it off, remembering he could just go and get another taste whenever he wanted it.

He hadn’t thought about when you sucked his dick on your first date night after the engagement, taking him down your throat as your head hung off of the edge of the bed. He had watched the imprint of his thick dick penetrate your throat, satisfied shivers running along his skin as he heard you gag with every thrust of his hips. Even with the gags, you took him like a champ, as if he dick belonged there and should have never left from the first time.

As he began to think about it all, he had no idea the woman of the hour had been watching almost the entire time.

✮✮✮✮

💌ps.| this was originally gonna be about jude bellingham but then i found out that nigga is 20 and i was like ohhh that’s not- ???? 💀 i could have sworn he was 22 like huh?!