#there are so many more but at the top of my head and a quick glance at my favorites these are real great!!

[hitomisuzuya]

softdom Scara getting so much baby fever he breeds you nonstop to the point he's also a whimpering, lovesick, sweaty mess like bro I know he's definitely a top but I swear on my primogems that bastard whimpers when he has too many rounds I just want him to be stupidly in love and whimpering yknow 😔

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. multiple creampie. soft dom!scara. praise. some minor degradation.

happy thanksgiving, everyone! this came kinda just came out 😳 i'd bet all the primos i have saved for citlali that this man whimpers and cums hearing i love you.

earlier this morning, scaramouche happened to overhear one of his subordinates proudly announce that his wife was pregnant. and that flipped a switch in him.

a switch that ultimately left you breathless and drooling, twitching and whimpering in pleasure with scaramouche's cum seeping out of your abused hole. shaking and trembling, he started to pull out of you, letting out a soft whimper seeing his cum seeping from your pussy.

"three...three and you are still so tight," he groaned, resting his weight on you and stealing your lips up in a deep open mouth kiss that stole the very breath from your lungs. "your pussy was made for my cock. fuck, you are perfect," his teeth nipped at your lips. the harder he made you cum, the more fuel it added to the fire.

your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head feeling his cock stretch you apart again. the consistency with which scaramouche bullied his cock into your sweet spot long since brought on spontaneous orgasms.

"i love you. i fucking love you so much, do you know that?" he moaned, panting as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing your knee up to your chest. "i'm gonna knock you up. i am going to marry you. just set the fucking date," he reached down to rub your throbbing clit, shivering as your body twitched in bliss.

"scara..scara," you moaned, your mind foggy. pleasure was nearly shattering your body. you reach your hand out to him, which he promptly took. intertwining his fingers with yours, drawing out his next few thrusts for extra stimulation on your sweet spot.

"that's right," he moaned shakily, squeezing your hand. "cling to me. fall apart for me," taking your other hand, he pinned your them down to the bed next to your head. "now, my wife. look at me with those pretty, pretty eyes and tell me how much you want me to cum inside you again," the better he felt fucking into you, the more to call you his wife.

your pussy clenched like a glove around his cock from his wonderfully excessive praise. squeezing his hands, you leaned up a little to steal a quick kiss. "cum inside of me, scara! i want you to so badly!" you plead, "let me give you children with your beautiful eyes and your scowl!"

scaramouche's cock pulsed, he almost couldn't believe how hard he still was after having emptied himself inside of you three times already. he didn't like losing. he was is a man on literal mission. he knock you up and lock you down.

"fuck, you are going to cum again, aren't you, slut?" he moaned, putting both hands above your head so he hold them down easily with one hand. he scrambled to find your clit again, tearing sweet mewls of pleasure from you as he pinched and rubbed your clit.

your body quaked, the pleasure of his cock scrapping and rubbing every sensitive pleasure you have in your pussy nearly made you limp.

your gasp of pleasure from the knot of your orgasm abruptly snapping apart sounded like heaven to him. having been deemed incapable and inadequate at birth, it is intoxicating for scaramouche to know that he, and his cock were capable of making you cum this hard.

"you need to be fucked fuller, you deserve it. i say so," he whimpered, squeezing your hands as his hips drove into yours. "my wife deserves it," he chuckled shakily seeing your watery eyes lit up. "you like how that sounds, don't you," he cooed, rolling his thumb around your clit in a way that made you see stars. "my pretty, pretty wife."

his words almost made you cum again, his relentless thrusts dragging out the pleasure of your orgasm. "inside, inside," you babbled, the deeper intimate connection of his fingers rubbing your knuckles while he fucked you sent you reeling. "you are the only one in the world for me. i love you," your words fell away in sobs of pleasure for a few moments. "i love you so much!"

hearing those sweet three words sent scaramouche's cock throbbing inside of you. his cheeks flushed hearing the whimper he could barely swallow. cum ribboned inside inside of you, mingling with yours in a squelching mess. "i don't know if it's going to be enough," panting, his hips slowed to a stop, but he didn't dare pull out of you.

"you can handle another, right?" he asked, making you look at him with your breathtakingly fucked out expression. he licked his lips, and shivered as you nodded.

[fanaticsnail]

Stolen Moment

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: Too much time had passed between the rare moments you and your partner found for one another. You both decide to rectify that by doing something as simple as sharing the same Crowsnest and painting your lover's fingernails.

Themes: Wire x gn!reader, fluff, crass language, romance, established relationship, size difference, love, fingernail painting, kisses, comfort, sweet domesticity, sfw.

Notes: For @daydreamer-in-training who has found a new love for this tall commander. We needed him all sweet, didn't we, Coco? I hope you enjoy him being tender and giving kisses.

The sweet cry's of gulls echo in the cloud over above your position in the crows nest. Long, lanky legs lay over the top railing, the rustle of newspaper pages and a soft hum swelled a soothing warmth to the small piece of tranquility you carved for yourself.

The scent of seaspray was tainted by the manufactured chemical varnish bottle held in your fingertips, wafting to your nose the closer you found your prize. Your tongue darted from your mouth as you focused wholeheartedly on capping a larger index finger with a deep mahogany shade. With one hand holding your victim steady, the other hand meticulously applied the lacquer from the cuticle half-moon to the tips sanded to a rounded crescent.

As a little of the tint slipped over the border, you drew your thumbnail up to rid it of the blemish in a quick swipe. A gruff cough broke you from your fussing and prompted you to turn your head towards the sound.

“You know, any closer your face gets to my nails, and that tint will be staining your pupils, little mouse.” He drew the corner of his lips up into a half-smile, refusing to tear his eyes away from the newspaper as he spoke, “Also, it would bring me great pleasure if you stopped holding my hand hostage. Makes it hard to turn the page.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and turning back towards your task, glaring at the varnish with a critiquing eye.

“You're a smart guy. Figure out how to turn the page one handed.” You continued painting the layer until you were satisfied the entire bed was covered in the perfect consistency. Giving the digit a small squeeze to alert him you were done, he instinctively pointed his next finger upwards as an invitation to continue painting. “And while you're at it, smart guy, find a way for your lap to be more comfortable.”

Wire chuckled at your comment as he folded the newspaper in his hand, peeling back a fresh page with his fingers and awkwardly turning it to the next slide. Rolling the thin paper in his hands, he feigned his focus on the next paragraph while enjoying the pleasure of your attention while attending to his nails.

It was a small luxury to find time to yourselves amongst a crew of over thirty. There were so many bodies moving on the larger ship that days seemed to blur together. Every day, the same routine: get up, get to the dining room, eat breakfast, get chore rotation, complete first rounds, have lunch, more chores, and then dinner. After dinner, there were meetings for the commanders, and shift change for the night watch to take over for the day shift.

Each time you and your lover found time for each other, moments were stolen and the other found themselves preoccupied with their duties.

But not today.

Not with the tranquility of the afternoon sun beginning to set in the evening sky over the horizon. Not in this silence of simply sharing in one another's company. Not as you felt his thighs shift and adjust you to a better position while nestled on his much larger frame.

Simply folding his paper over once more, he placed it on the side table and removed his ankles from dangling over the railing. With his unoccupied hand, he snaked it around your waist and buried his forehead in the crook of your neck. His soft exhales of breath tickled the skin and erupted it into soft pebbles as the follicles rose. You could feel the flutters of his dark eyelashes kiss your skin as his lids met together.

“How's this?” he whispered softly while smoothing over your waist with his thumb in soothing circles, “More comfortable?” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes and moving on to the final nail.

Slowly dabbing the brush within the tint, you raised the mahogany hue to his littlest finger and slowly rolled it over the hard surface. Every nook of his nail was now painted with the hue of your choosing. You carefully screwed the lid back onto the bottle with the brush on the inside before setting the jar down to your side. Slowly rising his larger fingers up, you purse your lips and release a small stream of air through the taut circle.

Wire chuckled at your action, slowly nuzzling his head against your back and drinking in your attention. Through your careful attentiveness, he felt as if he, at his over nine foot statute, was made of glass. So careful, so delicate, so soft: all of those things were displayed in your adoration in something so simple as painting his nails for him in a hue that matched your own. Each small exhale parting from your lips caused his heart and eyes to flutter in delight.

He felt the lacker slowly dry as it hardened beneath your breath just as you realised it in unison. Without much thinking, he simply opened up the gaps in his fingers and laced your own fingers within. You clicked your tongue at his action, mocking displeasure, while you steadied his hand within your own. The size difference between you and your lover only seemed to intensify in this shared moment. His skin tone against yours, finally feeling the warmth after too many days passing between you, all of it was almost too much for your heart to take.

In lieu of unlacing his hand from yours, you simply drew it up to your heart and melted back into his embrace from behind. His thighs were soft, his skin was warm, his breathing was steady, and the moment felt as still as the pictures in the newspaper he was reading moments ago. Neither of you wanted to break the spell for fear it would end too soon, but you wanted to see your lover in all his unshrouded glory.

Slowly rolling your head behind you, you met his eyes with your own. The chocolate hue was as unmasked as his salt and peppered hair, shimmering in the light you shared together in the crows nest. Without a single word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your temple and held you closer within his embrace. You both closed your eyes on the impact, relishing in something so intimate and beautiful as a small kiss to your skin before he pulled away. He opened his eyes first, watching as your lashes slowly drew back to gaze at him.

“Finished that hand then, little mouse?” He purred down at you, slowly nudging the place his lips had just descended with his nose, “How do I look?”

“About the same as you always do, commander,” you shrug with a small tease laden in your tone.

“Tall, dark, and handsome, then?” he quipped in return, leaning back and drawing you further into his chest while cradling you against him. You scrunch up your nose playfully and nudge his chest with the crown of your head in response.

“Like a cockroach in lingerie.” You fluttered your eyelashes mischievously, smiling as innocent as a child caught with their hand in a forbidden snack jar.

Wire’s eyes widened briefly as his throat choked at your insult. Just as he began to grimace at your insult, you turned to straddle his lap and placed your hands on either side of his cheeks. Immediately surging forward, you claimed his lips beneath yours in a kiss that felt long neglected. Mouthing at his lips, you entangled your hands in the greying locks beside his ears while your palms pressed against his carefully fashioned facial hair.

Tilting and turning your head, you drank your fill of his off guard affections in every kiss you stole before his mind caught up to his experience. Just as you made to release his lips from yours, your hair was immediately entangled with his larger digits in a harder, fiery, and more deliberate kiss. You squeaked into his mouth, causing him to chuckle into yours before forging a bruised elevation against your skin.

Pulling away breathless, you gazed into your lover's eyes and slowly scraped your nose against his. Both of your eyes were half-lidded as you drew deep lungfuls of breath to balloon in your chests.

“You're a little shit sometimes, mouse,” he growled playfully at you, raising his lips to your forehead and pressing a smaller kiss to its center.

“Yes,” you admit with a smile, pulling away and gazing lovingly at him, “But I'm your little shit, Wire.” He leaned in towards you, darting his eyes between yours before a smile bloomed over his lips.

“You're as much my little shit as I am your cockroach in lingerie, mouse,” he fluttered his eyes innocently before pulling away his face and glaring at the newspaper. “Now, can I focus on turning the pages before you attack my other hand, or-?”

“-Nope. Other hand, now, commander,” you shrugged at him, turning back around on his lap and looking at the naked surface area, “Still good with the mahogany color, or do you want something different?”

“If it matches yours, I don't care what color you paint me,” he shrugged, darting his eyes over your head and down your back until he reached your waist, “I enjoy matching with you, mouse. Makes it feel like we're close, even when we're doing our duties away from one another.” He leaned down, pressing a small kiss to the center of your neck and whispered against your skin, “Better get a move on, mouse, before the captain takes this moment from us.”

“You got it, commander.” You retrieved the bottle and unscrewed the brush from the tip, ensuring the lacquer covered the strands of the brush while readying his hand.

At each swipe to his digits, he forgot more and more about the paper, and simply paid attention to the way your face concentrated on something so simple. Each swipe, dap, blotch, clean, and border was done so carefully, he could tangibly feel the love you placed on him with every stroke.

The gulls continued to skree within the sky as the sun slowly cascaded over the horizon before you. Yellows faded to pinks and purples, as blues and whites dusted the cloud cover above you both. He had never felt more in love in any moment prior, and you felt your heart quicken in exactly the same rapidity. You were his little mouse, he was your giant cockroach in lingerie, and neither of you would have it any other way than this moment stolen amongst the chaos of a crew as large as the Kid Pirates.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[sp1dermann0]

Dean Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: Challenging Dean in No Nut November 🙈

NSFW. Minors DNI. Not proof read, like all of my other works ❌

In honor of No Nut November, I wanted to make at least one piece this month about it. Ending is rushed 😭

When you first brought up No Nut November to Dean, he was confused. But when you explained in better detail, he was obliged to try it. In which that following week was a rollercoaster. You were gonna make it much harder for him. Or at least try to.

“It can’t be that hard, can it?” He asked. “To some it is, others it isn’t.” You answered, as you finished putting away a few bottles of water. Deciding to grab one for yourself once you were done. You heard a faint “hm” before you walked over to where he was sitting at the edge of the bed. Kicking the sides of his shoes to spread his legs a bit more for you to stand in between them. God, the way he looked at you made you want to pounce on the man. But no, you had to control yourself. So, you took a quick drink of your water bottle to help ease that feeling away. While you were twisting the cap shut, you felt Dean’s hands come to your hips. Just resting there. After a few seconds you tossed the bottle on the bed. Not caring where it ended up.

You took his face into your hands, watching as he practically melted against them. Then you moved to sit on his lap. His hands held you in a way to make sure you won’t fall back.

It was silent for a moment. Dean resting his head against your shoulder while you were zoned out thinking about…whatever. Then you finally made a move to kiss him. Tugging on his hair to get him off of your shoulder, then grabbing his chin to lean in for a kiss.

Just a small, gentle kiss turned into something way filthier. One of Dean’s hands moved to hold the side of your face. His other started to feel on your body. Just when you went to unzip his pants, he seemed to remember the challenge. Dean slowly pulled away from your lips then looked at you. The thought of not being able to have sex for a month pained him. He groaned and let his head fall to your shoulder. You tried to hold in a chuckle, but failed.

“It’ll be alright,” You begin. “I’m sure you can do it.” With that, you start to move to get off his lap. A sigh was heard, stopping the awaking silence of the room. You’re sure Dean probably rolled his eyes as well, you just decided to let out another laugh and ignore him.

A few days have passed since telling Dean about No Nut November. Those days were difficult due to you, but he pulled through. Whenever you got the chance you’d give slight touches, suggestive whispers, and many more things. He loved it. Dean went from tensing up whenever you were around to full blown ignoring you. Well, attempting to ignore you. Which was surprising considering…it was Dean you were talking about.

But then one day, he couldn’t take it anymore. So he shoved Sam out of the motel room; telling him to “Go get food.” You looked at him with pure confusion. Taking a final drink of your soda that you got from a nearby vending machine, then proceeding to put it down on the bedside table.

“You okay?” You asked, concern and worry slipping into your tone. “Yeah—no, I’m fine.” Dean replied, as he started walking toward you after shutting the door. Then finally, after all those days of prolonged torture, he grabbed you, pulled you in for a kiss, and moved toward the bed.

⭒

Clothes were being shed, heavy breathing could be heard, and bedding was being moved. Dean was on top of you, rubbing your side with one hand, and slowly jerking himself off with the other. You broke away from his lips, causing him to whimper. “You’re throwing the challenge this early into it?” You asked, suppressing a laugh. “Hey, I can last a few days…just not a month.” Dean replied, leaning back in for another kiss.

You rolled your eyes and kissed him back. A hand running down his chest and to his cock. When he felt you, he removed his hand and let yours take over. Pre was leaking from his tip and every time your hand went up, it collected it and was used as a replacement for lube. You wanted to try something. So of course you did it. Giving him a slow kiss, you moved your hand down his cock and to his balls. Dean gasped and jerked slightly, but stilled when you told him to. That’s when you gave a light tug and squeezed just a bit, then pulled away from his lips to see, or hear his reaction. It was like music to your ears. Dean let out a semi-loud moan and the face he made, made you want to do unspeakable things. But of course, you had to keep it slow. Or, more so wanted to just to “torture” him a bit longer. But you both knew that wouldn’t last long.

Your other hand went to his cock and started to give it attention. It twitched and throbbed for touch, and you gave it just that. All while your other hand was doing something else. Dean’s moans and whimpers just kept getting louder and louder. Surprisingly.

It came to a point you had to tell him to quiet down. You did not want a noise complaint.

You both decided to switch positions. Dean’s head hit the pillow with a soft thud. You were on top of him, straddling his thighs. Your breath ghosted over his jawline before you planted a kiss. It made Dean whimper.

His hands held onto your hips, holding onto them like his life depended on it. He watched as you reached over to grab something from your bag. Which was next to the bed, otherwise you’d have to get up. What you pulled out was a condom and lubricant. Then, you got off of him to prep yourself. Not even letting him do it just to “torture” him a bit longer. Dean watched you, rolling his eyes when he realized why you were doing it yourself. You took off the cap and squeezed some onto your fingers. It was cold, and the feeling made you cringe. But then you got into a position, pressed your finger against your hole, and pushed the tip in slowly.

Dean’s cock pulsed, it jumped at every little sound you made. When he reached down to touch himself, you looked at him and shook your head. Causing him to look at you some type of way and slowly retract his hand.

You were three fingers in (literally) before you pulled them out and moved to get onto Dean’s lap. You grabbed the condom with your free hand and raised it toward Dean. Gesturing for him to open it because you couldn’t at the moment. He furrowed his eyebrows at first, but then took it and opened it. Rolling it down onto his cock once he was done.

You hovered over his cock for a moment before going down slowly. His tip prodded at your hole before intruding into your heat. You closed your eyes and let out a small moan. With every inch that sunk deeper into you, you both let out noises of pleasure. Dean being the loudest.

When he bottomed out, you didn’t waste a second and started to move up. Dean pushed his head into your neck. Kissing his way up to your jaw. The room was filled with heavy breathing. With every movement that you did Dean got closer and closer to cumming. He gripped your hips tighter and let out a moan that went straight to your ears. The sound making yourself throb. Dean ended up cumming without a warning, the only “warning” you got was him moaning and practically whining in your ear.

You soon came after him—letting him know. You both sat still for a moment. Catching your breath and waiting till you’ve both calmed down. “You failed.” You teased, looking at him with a trying-to-be-hidden smile. “Shut up.” Dean responded, rolling his eyes. Then you soon moved to get up. Once you gathered yourself, you started cleaning things before Sam got back.

[lucagray813]

Shadow - Chapter 8

Title: Something Special

Rating: E (M rated and E rated sections are marked with the line break --M-- and --E-- respectively and can be skipped)

Word Count: ~10,000

Characters: Wukong, Macaque

Minor Characters: Monkeys, Mentioned PIF

Relationships: Macaque/Wukong

Minor Relationships: Macaque & PIF

Summary: After some monkey shenanigans, Wukong learns a little about the difficulties Macaque faced while he was imprisoned. And bold, new steps are taken in the bedroom.

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Acquired Disability, Slice of Life, DBK is called Niú, PIF is called Gōngzhǔ

CW: Sexual Intimacy, sexual inexperience, first times, penetrative sex, emotional sex, interrupted sex, panic attacks

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

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Wukong was not born yesterday and his beloved monkey subjects were nowhere near as slick as they thought they were. This lot were clearly on distraction duty but they couldn't be more obvious about it if they tried, so ignoring their concerned shrieks, he turned heel and made his way back to the house.

Which apparently was enough to prompt desperate measures but it didn't matter how many monkeys piled on top of him or tried to pull him back - they couldn't hope to slow him down, let alone stop him. Their attempts to cover his eyes however was a step too far - being both irritating and dangerous - so he simply transformed in quick succession to a tiny mouse and then a bird to get away from them.

He flew swiftly and if that wasn't the sight and sound of a lookout just outside the house then he didn't know what was. He wasted no time swooping down and transforming back to normal in order to march through the door, "Alright, the game's up, what's- What the-? What are you doing with my stuff!?"

It looked like they were trying to steal anything that wasn't nailed down. A small group was even putting in a huge effort to try and move the couch towards the door. There was some panicked scrabbling as most of the trouble makers tried to make a run for it and he had to move fast to save the TV but once that was safely righted it wasn't hard to catch a couple monkeys to interrogate.

"Alright. You know this is not on. What were you planning to do with my stuff?"

The monkey he had dangling from his left hand curled up as best they could, regret clear in their expression - although he didn't doubt for a second it was because they'd been caught and not because they felt any guilt. The monkey on his right was much less apologetic, apparently they needed his stuff for something important and they complained that they were going to bring it back when they were finished.

He shook them carefully, "I don't care that you were going to bring it back - where were you trying to take everything I own?"

They were tight-lipped so he redirected his attention to the weaker link, staring at them with as much disapproval as he could muster and they cracked almost immediately.

"You needed it for a show...? What show? What are you talking about?"

He shifted the angry monkey in his right hand to under his arm to stop them trying to reach the whistleblower and put the one in his left down, "Alright, the jigs up - show me where you were planning to take all this stuff."

After sending a wary glance towards their imprisoned partner in crime, they reluctantly led the way, and thankfully in that time his prisoner had calmed down, simply hanging limp and defeated. He shook his head - everyone on this island was so dramatic.

He wasn't very surprised to be led to the old theatre, long since cleaned up since Macaque had returned, but he was surprised to see it absolutely teeming with monkeys preparing to go on stage. He spotted Macaque off to the side with his eyes closed, he almost looked like he was sleeping in his chair and, given how peaceful he looked, he likely had limited the range of his hearing to almost nothing.

There was no way he didn't know he was here though - he would have sensed his magic if nothing else.

Bemused by what he thought was going on here, he released his charges and made his way over, sitting close to Macaque before asking, "This the director's seat?"

Macaque didn't even open his eyes as he hummed tiredly, "Nope. Think that got tossed against a wall, like, twenty minutes ago. God knows where the director is, doubt it's the same monkey it was. They've already gone through about three of them."

A little confused, he responded, "Wait, this isn't your doing?"

Macaque peeked open an eye for long enough to look at him in mild disbelief and offense, "I know it's been a while but you really think I'd run a show this badly?"

He looked around at the chaos and decided that no, Macaque was most definitely not calling the shots around here. He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, "Yeah, that does make sense. Why would you need to send the monkeys to steal furniture?"

Macaque sighed irritably and brought a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, "I told them not to- Sorry, I should have realised but I just couldn't handle the racket anymore. Did they break anything?"

"Nah, I got there before they could do any damage. You doing alright? You're not looking so hot."

"Yeah, yeah... Just tired. Think I might have a migraine coming on."

He frowned, "What are you doing here then? You couldn't be in a worse place to help it."

"It's a long story but someone needs to provide the special effects."

Did they really? He responded, "Well, I'll do it then. Get yourself out of here."

"I'd rather stay here but if you could take over my job I would actually be super grateful."

"Alright, what's the deal? Why're you wanting to torment yourself like this?"

"Can we talk about it later? I just... need to be around the monkeys for a while."

His expression softened, Macaque did occasionally have moments where he really wanted the monkeys' company, usually if he'd had a nightmare about the fire and if he was tired that might be what had happened.

Still he wasn't going to do himself any favours staying here, carefully he offered, "I could try some healing magic? That might help?"

He didn't miss the way Macaque tensed for a moment before he forced himself to relax. There had definitely been a polite decline on the tip of his tongue but shockingly he instead nodded stiffly. Wukong's offer had been genuine but he never actually believed Macaque would consider it.

Even before Macaque's hang ups about someone else's magic getting a little too close to his, he had never handled healing magic that well. Wukong was not particularly skilled at it either but he'd patched up literally thousands of monkeys over the years, so he had a pretty good grasp of the basics at least.

Slowly he raised his hands until they hovered on either side of Macaque's head, "You sure...?"

He nodded jerkily but it was clear how distressed he was about it, his body was tense, his face was scrunched up and his breathing was starting to pick up. Wukong hesitated, "Macaque..."

He spoke quickly, "Just do it."

Deciding to go for it, he took a deep breath and concentrated, determined not to mess this up. Macaque flinched as soon as his hands started to glow but he brought his own hands up to grab at Wukong's wrists as if to force them both to stay where they were.

He told himself to focus on the spell, focus on getting it right. He knew Macaque's magic, he would be able to feel if it responded badly, this was just fear, not pain.

He quietly uttered reassurances, "That's it. You're doing well. Just keep breathing."

Typically, the recipient would normally start to feel more relieved as the spell went on but Macaque just seemed to be doing his best to grit his teeth and bear it. This was the sort of spell you could keep going with but he tried to keep it as short as possible. He disengaged his magic slowly but he couldn't actually move his hands away with the hold Macaque had on them.

Instead he brought them to rest gently on the sides of his head, waiting for Macaque to come back to himself, which he did after a ragged breath in.

"You ok?"

Macaque nodded before dragging their hands away from his face and almost immediately flopping his head on Wukong's shoulder, "Tired."

Wukong was startled slightly by a small number of curious and concerned monkeys climbing over him. He'd almost forgotten where they were - chaos still carried on around them, most monkeys not even sparing them a glance bar this handful that were quietly chittering and asking what was wrong.

He jostled Macaque gently, "I've got things handled here. Go to get some rest. Go to my room and you can take this lot with you to keep you company."

They were a considerate bunch, keeping their enthusiasm for such a suggestion as quiet as they could, belatedly he recognised most of them as ones that had been around long before he'd come back from the Journey.

He felt Macaque nod, "Yeah... I should do that..."

"Yeah, you should. Before you do though - did the spell work? How're you feeling?"

Macaque sighed and pushed himself up tiredly, "I don't think it didn't work but I think I was too tense and tired for it to do much."

He leaned over and kissed his temple, "Go get some sleep and we can talk about it later. You did really good though."

Macaque just huffed and addressed the monkeys, "Alright, who wants to go for a nap?"

Almost all of them scrambled to get closer to him - a clear indication that they wanted to come with. And with a small, tired smile he was gone, his many willing volunteers gone with him.

Well, that was an unexpected success. Obviously, it would have been better if his spell had actually helped but the fact that Macaque even let him try it was a massive step for him and when he was less tired Wukong was definitely going to make a big deal about it. For now though...

He had to deal with this - whatever this even was.

He looked down at the despondent monkey that had remained in his lap and questioned them, "Don't suppose you can explain what's going on, can you?"

King sad. Want happy king. Did bad job.

The monkeys tended to address he and Macaque with the same title, particularly those that had been alive when he had been trapped under the mountain. It had annoyed him at the very beginning before the two of them had properly started to reconcile but now he was pretty happy that they viewed Macaque as his equal.

He could see how this might have started off as an attempt to cheer Macaque up but the monkeys had a tendency to quickly lose sight of why they were doing something and just got caught up in doing whatever they wanted and this had clearly spiralled well out of control.

"Hey, none of that now. He just wasn't feeling well. He would have loved this otherwise."

It was a little bit of a white lie. Even on a good day this probably would have irritated Macaque but he could appreciate the gesture. He probably still did appreciate it now, even if he was under the weather.

He moved them to his shoulder and looked around, trying to come up with a plan of attack. He had to try and find the monkey in charge so he could introduce them to their new special effects artist. Although it was looking likely that this had devolved past the point of anyone being in charge.

He sighed heavily, if he called the whole thing off there would be a riot. It looked like he was going to have to take charge here, he couldn't help but envy Macaque, no doubt lying in bed cosied up to some much better behaved monkeys.

Ah well, show time, he supposed.

----

Several grueling hours later and he was finally free to go check up on Macaque. There had been some genuinely fun moments throughout the day, and he was forever amazed by the stories the monkeys came up with, but he was absolutely ready to join Macaque in bed.

He was however stopped short when he opened his bedroom door and felt compelled to immediately locate his phone. It was just too cute a sight not to capture. Macaque curled up dozing, surrounded by monkeys doing the same, most of them snuggled up to him.

Alright, his hardships had been worth the pay off, and after a truly unnecessary amount of pictures, he made short work of stripping and carefully trying to join in on the monkey pile. Macaque opened an eye blearily as soon as he got on the bed, he grunted softly in acknowledgement before closing it again.

Unfortunately, some of the monkeys were just going to have to budge slightly because Wukong wanted to lie right next to him, and though they grumbled they did move, allowing him to lie almost nose to nose with Macaque.

He reached over and tucked some hair away from his face before quietly asking, "How you feeling?"

He got a sound in response that suggested that Wukong should shut up and go to sleep. He chuckled lowly, sounded good to him. They could chat after a nap.

An hour or two later saw him returning to the waking world, he yawned loudly as he stretched, before he directed his attention to what appeared to be a still sleeping Macaque.

"Mac...?"

He got a soft hum in acknowledgement and took that as a go ahead, "How you feeling now?"

Macaque yawned before blinking open his eyes, "Hm. Better. How was the show?"

He snorted, "I'd call it a disaster but everyone else seemed to think it was a hit."

Macaque huffed, "Yeah, what would you know about quality theatre?"

"Obviously nothing compared to the troupe. What was up with you earlier?"

Macaque shrugged, "Got into a bit of fight with Gōngzhǔ - just left me feeling a bit rung out."

That was definitely not the answer he was expecting, "What'd you get into a fight over?"

"Ah, it wasn't important. She was just in a mood - it'll be water under the bridge soon enough."

It was hard not to notice one or two of the monkeys still with them did not appear happy at the mention of Gōngzhǔ, it could have just been because she had been why Macaque was upset but they looked quite venomous.

One of them even started complaining about the "scary woman" before Macaque placed a hand over their head, "Yeah, yeah. We're all fine. Give it a rest." They did not look pleased to be silenced but they struggled to keep up the grumbling when Macaque started scratching gently at their scalp.

Wukong was a little suspicious, "Why do I get the feeling the monkeys know more than I do?"

Macaque just sighed, "It's nothing. It's just the last time Gōngzhǔ was on the island before you came back was a bit of a disaster. They don't remember her too fondly."

Despite this having happened hundreds of years ago, he could feel himself getting worked up at the thought that she might have done anything to endanger their home, "What did she do?"

"Wukong, leave it. It's in the past. There's no point getting bent out of shape about it."

He was prepared to argue when he realised that he was probably right, that didn't mean he didn't want to know though. He took a calming breath, and softer he asked, "What happened?"

Macaque hesitated before offering, "She was trying to help. But, and I don't know if you know this, but she has a really twisted notion of what that means. She just..." He cut himself off, before explaining, "I really don't want to tell you this story. It's only going to upset you and there's nothing to be done about it."

"I'm not going to make you tell me but the damage has already been done. I'm just going to imagine the worst case scenario."

Macaque rolled on to his back, and the monkey he had been petting quickly leapt up onto his chest and curled up there and almost unthinkingly Macaque brought his hand to rest on their back.

He was clearly thinking over what to say and Wukong waited patiently, only budging over so he could lay his head on Macaque's shoulder and throw an arm over him.

Tone carefully neutral, he explained, "Things weren't good. They hadn't been for a while but... She was just convinced that if I left the island behind and became an official member of her court I would be better off. We'd argued over it plenty but after the fire... She thought if she finished the job I'd finally see sense. Be free of what was holding me back."

He tightened his grip on Macaque as he processed the implications of those words, he tried to keep his fury in check, "She tried to...?"

"Tried to. Failed. She did some damage to the island, sure, but I would have killed us both before I let her hurt a single member of the troupe. I couldn't save them all from the fire but I would be damned if I was going to fail a second time."

His chest roiled with emotion but what left his mouth was, "How could you stand to be anywhere near her after that?"

He immediately cringed. He was one to talk. How could Macaque ever possibly stand to be anywhere near him after what he'd done? It was likely a similar story - he hadn't forgiven her, but had decided to move forward anyway. He tried to back track, "I mean, I- I just meant-"

"I know what you meant."

Wukong squeezed him, "I'm sorry."

Sorry really didn't do it justice. He was sorry he'd said anything and he was so incredibly remorseful something so awful had happened.

Macaque continued, "It was the last time we saw each other before... I came back. We've never actually properly addressed it but well, it got brought up while we were arguing. I don't think either of us are looking forward to having to try and talk about it. I know she doesn't feel bad about it. She never does if she feels the end would have justified the means."

He honestly wasn't sure what Macaque and Niú saw in her sometimes - there was tough love and then there was just straight up crazy. With how fondly Macaque spoke of her most of the time, he had almost forgotten how capable she was of some truly unimaginable feats of cruelty.

Macaque sighed, "We'll sort it out though. Honestly, that argument earlier was pretty tame - you should have seen how we used to fight back in the day. I swear half my scars are from her, she's such a vicious little shit. You've never met anyone with a hunger for violence like she used to have. But that was then, we'll be fine. You don't need to get involved so just... Don't go off and have a go at her, alright?"

He'd be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but his time was better spent here. Although, he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist glowering at her next time they met. To think he had willingly invited her to the island!

He huffed, "Fine. But she better watch her step next time she's on this island - one toe out of line and she's never allowed back."

"Oh, don't worry. I've said as much to her."

He nodded. Good. He knew Macaque would never knowingly put the island in danger.

He couldn't help but wonder if there had been any tension between Macaque and Gōngzhǔ at the party they'd had here and he'd just never noticed - they'd both seemed happy enough with each other.

"I always thought you two were, like, best friends. I didn't realise you and her had, like, actual beef."

"Yeah, well, I don't go complaining about you in front of her either."

And he was extremely grateful for that - she had enough reason to hate him. But still, while he got that Macaque probably didn't want to foster any bad blood between them, he wanted him to feel like he could talk to him about this stuff. Who else was he going to talk to if he was upset about Gōngzhǔ? Niú? Unlikely.

"How do you think it will go next time you see her?"

"Hard to say. Depends if Niú feels he needs to mediate. But either way it'll be fine, doubt it will end in too much bloodshed."

It would probably be a little hypocritical to say he hoped there was no bloodshed at all - it had been a long while since but he'd often had arguments with Macaque that had come to blows.

"Tell me how it goes?"

Macaque kissed the top of his head, "I will."

He decided to let the topic of Gōngzhǔ drop for the moment, he was definitely going to need some time alone to hash out everything he felt about what he'd learnt but for right now he'd rather forget about her. He asked, "How's your head?"

"Not a hundred percent but definitely better than it was. Er, thanks for, y'know."

"Anytime. How you feeling about the whole me using magic on you?"

He hesitated before answering honestly, "Conflicted."

He encouraged him to elaborate, "How so?"

"Well... Nothing bad happened so I should feel good, right? And I do, sort of. But the idea of doing it again is terrifying. Logically, I know it will be fine but..."

"It doesn't matter what "logically, you know" - your feelings don't care about that. But for the record, I think it was super brave of you to try it. I'm really proud of you."

He could hear the embarrassment in Macaque's voice, "Ugh, shut up."

He pushed himself up and looked down at him, "No way! It was a big deal! We should celebrate!"

Macaque looked like he'd rather do anything else but he tried to negotiate, "If I can do it again, then you can make a fuss, alright? This was probably just a fluke. I was just too tired to think straight."

He pouted as he poked Macaque's cheek, "Why are you so determined to downplay it when you do something impressive?"

Macaque swatted his hand away, "I never miss a chance to showcase my victories. This isn't the same. This is something I should just be able to do without freaking out. That's not impressive."

To be fair, when Macaque thought he'd done something spectacular he was incredibly smug about it, waving it in front of Wukong's face until he felt he received suitable recognition and awe. And Wukong could understand why he felt the way he did about this kind of achievement, at times he felt equally awkward about acknowledging when he'd successfully faced his social anxiety.

But it didn't matter how easy anyone else found it - Macaque had done something that was difficult for him personally and he should be proud of that.

"Well, I think it's impressive and I'm going to celebrate."

Macaque rolled his eyes but there was the faintest blush on his cheeks and that was all the motivation he needed to start showering his face with kisses.

"Ugh, you are such a loser."

Good thing he knew that actually meant - "I love you and I'm happy about the attention." And with that sort of sweet talk all he wanted to do was kiss him senseless. As he shifted to do just that he was interrupted by a disgruntled chirp. He stopped and looked down at the monkey that clearly did not want to move from Macaque's chest.

They had a short stare down but this monkey was crazy if they thought they stood a chance winning this fight but his adversary was obviously no fool because they suddenly stopped glaring at him to look as cute as they could, chirping pathetically at Macaque not to let him hurt them.

Incredulous, Wukong admonished, "You little... That's not going to work! You think we're not both wise to your tricks!"

They shuffled so their head was underneath Macaque's hand so they could nuzzle at it.

They were good but there was no way Macaque was going to fall for it. He would absolutely be aware that he was being played. Macaque laughed fondly, picking the monkey up and bringing them up to his face so he could rub their noses together, "You know how cute you are, don't you?"

Nowhere near as cute as Macaque was capable of being, that move there just about took Wukong out. He loved seeing him act all soft around the troupe.

The little rascal chirped happily before sending him a little cheeky side eye - clearly thinking themselves victorious. Oddly, all of a sudden he was over the cuteness.

He took the monkey out of Macaque's grasp and started to pick up any other stragglers, "Alright, I think it's time for everyone that's not me or Mac to get out of this room. You've all overstayed your welcome!"

He ignored their cries of outrage and unceremoniously dumped them out in the hall, making sure to make eye contact with the troublemaker that challenged him as he closed the door.

He dusted off his hands as he turned back around, "Now that's dealt with, where were we?"

Macaque had raised himself up on an elbow and teased, "I can't believe you kicked out the monkeys just so you could have your wicked way with me. When did you become such a deviant?"

He grinned as he made his way back to the bed, "I think we all know who the bad influence is here."

Macaque's face was a picture of faux innocence and Wukong didn't hesitate to crawl over him so he could show him everything said bad influence had taught him.

--M--

Wukong was very content with the way his and Macaque's physical relationship was developing. He had never been a monkey with a high sex drive but if he was honest the feelings of arousal or pleasure were nowhere near as important, or even as appealing, as discovering new ways to be close and intimate with Macaque.

It had taken a fair bit of convincing before Macaque finally seemed to accept Wukong was perfectly happy not to finish. And it wasn't even always just because he still felt bad about being the only one to do so, it just wasn't the point of doing this - he preferred it to be sensual rather than sexual.

He liked seeing and hearing how Macaque responded when he touched him, he liked exploring his body and whispering words of devotion against his skin. And he liked when Macaque did the same to him - it was just so easy to get wrapped up in each other and forget that the rest of the world existed.

It hadn't been a straightforward learning experience, both of them at times a little too keen to please the other or a little too reluctant to accept any reciprocation - neither a hundred percent on their own boundaries let alone each other's but they were figuring it out.

As a general rule, there was no touching below the belt, which Wukong could easily accept but Macaque would still occasionally try and convince him otherwise, whispering promises of how good he could make him feel if he would just let him.

He was in two minds about it.

On the one hand he had learnt how good it felt to be the one responsible for making someone else's pleasure, so Macaque would definitely not be getting nothing out of the experience but on the other hand, he'd built up this idea in his head that an orgasm was way too big a thing for him to be able to properly repay Macaque for.

And part of him knew that it was silly, as if an orgasm was the greatest gift someone could receive, but the longer he didn't let it happen the bigger a deal it became in his mind. He couldn't find a way to reciprocate in a way that had equal value so he just couldn't let Macaque do this for him.

Knowing this was the root of the issue however Macaque was not so easily deterred and he had tried a myriad of arguments or ploys to try and change his mind - some of which were definitely better than others.

One thing they had learnt from Macaque's attempts to convince him was that hearing him beg to service him was possibly the fastest way to turn him off. He could understand that plenty of people would have found that particular attempt very appealing but he couldn't even begin to express how bad it made him feel.

Macaque had thankfully noticed very quickly and everything had stopped so they could talk about it. Macaque had been a little surprised that he'd been so against it, not having quite realised how much Wukong hated him treating him like a king, even in jest. That certainly hadn't been a fun conversation but he was sort of grateful to finally have talked about it, even if thinking about the circumstances did embarrass him a little.

Macaque did however eventually hit upon the right strategy to get Wukong to cave, breaking off their heated make out session on the bed to sit tall upon his lap and all but demand that he be given what he wanted.

In any other setting, Wukong have been annoyed at the domineering attitude but damnit if Macaque didn't look good sitting in his lap as if it were his personal throne and looking down on him as if there was no outcome where Wukong didn't submit to his desires.

He had decided he did not want to closely examine why this was what apparently did it for him but he'd been able to do nothing more than gaze up at him in awe as he nodded mutely. The victorious grin he got in return had no right to be as attractive as it was.

He was fairly certain a hand job was not supposed to be such a euphoric experience but Macaque obviously knew what he was doing and with the well earned knowledge he had of his body, Wukong had been putty in his hands. He wasn't convinced he hadn't died as he lay in the afterglow.

He was quickly snapped out of it however when he realised that Macaque was intending to clean up the mess he'd made with his tongue. Face burning, he had trapped him against his chest with a strangled, "Don't you dare!"

Macaque had found this hysterical, even as he complained that now he'd gotten his mess on both of them. Macaque had been almost unbearably smug about his performance, and there was literally nothing that Wukong could say to bring him down a peg because it was undeniable how thoroughly Macaque had rocked his world.

He had made it abundantly clear that this wasn't something he wanted to happen every time though. It had been amazing, sure, but he still preferred the way they normally did things. Which seemed to puzzle Macaque a fair bit but he was amicable to it as long as he was no longer totally deprived of the pleasure of making him come undone.

Deprived... He was honestly a ridiculous person. But it did help settle his anxiety over not being able to reciprocate. This thankfully did not result in the opposite problem of being worried he now wasn't giving Macaque everything he should when they were together like this. He always let Macaque be the instigator for their more sexual entanglements but all he had to do was direct Macaque away from more "exciting" territory and he took the hint without complaint.

They were getting pretty good at telling each other if there was something they liked or something they would like to try but Wukong refused to voice how badly he wanted Macaque to drop his glamours. It wasn't just his ears or his eye or the magic burn marks he knew were there - all of Macaque's scars were hidden.

And it tormented him slightly that he couldn't explore Macaque's body properly, couldn't learn every inch of it like he wanted to. It'd been a while since they'd discussed their glamours and he had to resist the urge to revisit the subject. He wasn't sure why he felt so reluctant to bring it up. It just felt like he would be asking for too much.

But while he couldn't map out Macaque's real body as he would like, he was starting to get to grips with how best to apply his magic in ways that made Macaque sing and in doing so he felt he was starting to understand Macaque's own magic in ways he never had before.

Kissing and feeling Macaque's skin was almost more for his own pleasure than Macaque's, what really mattered when it came to making Macaque feel good was affecting the magic thrumming beneath the surface and as such he was hyper aware of any little changes in the flow of Macaque's magic.

He couldn't feel the sort of minute detail that Macaque could but that didn't mean he couldn't deepen his understanding of what he could feel and the best way to get magic to respond was with magic.

He'd learnt well before they had started experimenting in the bedroom that just directing more magic to his hands wasn't the key to helping Macaque get the most out of the experience, and sometimes it could just end up being uncomfortable if not actually a bit painful. A little fine control with focused intent was what garnered the best results.

He was still working on how best to direct and control his magic in more sensual situations and even if he did seem to hit on to something good, maintaining that sort of control was difficult even at the best of times, it was made all the more difficult when he was being distracted by Macaque's sighs and moans.

But he was both determined and talented - slowly but surely he was getting better at it. He liked to imagine that one day Macaque might feel ready to let him do even more with his magic, to let it sink into his body and interact with his own. To feel each other in a way that neither of them had ever experienced with another person.

But as heady a fantasy as that was, it was still a long while away from seeing the light of day and it was definitely something that they needed to figure out outside of the bedroom first, because he had no idea how to even really go about it and Macaque still struggled with him just casting spells on him.

But overall it was all moving in a positive direction and he was completely enamoured with their deepening intimacy.

Unsurprisingly, it was Macaque that suggested they take it a step further.

--E--

There was nothing to suggest that today's make out session was going to develop well past anything they had done before. It wasn't even a particularly handsy or exciting venture, there was no reason that today should be the day that Macaque broke their kiss to say.

"You should fuck me."

He thinks his mind might have stalled for a second before he came to his senses and reeled back, voice a little higher pitched than he would like, he got out an incredulous, "What!?"

Completely blasé, Macaque responded, "Ah. No. Wait, wait. Let me try that again. That's too crass for your tastes, right? I forgot you prefer more romantic euphemisms." In a sultry voice he tried, "Wukong, I want to feel you inside me. Oh, no, wait, I can do better still - I want you to make sweet love to me."

The swooning really wasn't necessary, although arguably none of his teasing was. But he wasn't wrong, he generally did prefer sweeter, less direct language and he was forever embarrassed by the fact. He blamed Zhū Bājiè, he wasn't sure how it was his fault, but his incessant talk of women must have played some part in why he was less fond of crude language.

But thoughts of his sworn brother had no place here.

Nowhere near as cool and collected as he would like to be, he exclaimed, "Now? Like, right now?"

Macaque's expression was one of pure amusement, "Now was when I was thinking, yes. Unless, of course, you were expecting to be wined and dined first? I think I know where to find some candles and rose petals if that's what you're worried about."

Obviously, it wasn't. But Wukong was realising while he had on occasion imagined what it might be like to with sleep with Macaque, he had never actually thought of how that happened. In his mind they transitioned from not-sex to sex so naturally without ever having discussed it but on reflection there was no way that was how it was going to go down. In fact, it was probably always going to be like this.

With Macaque being a little shit about it.

"I'm not worried about anything! You just caught me off guard! Isn't this something we should, like, talk about first?"

"Oh? What do you need to know?"

One day, he was going to have the upper hand in these situations, he swore, but unfortunately it wasn't today, "Like, I don't know, how do we do this?"

Macaque raised an eyebrow, mirth sparkling in his eyes, "Now I know you know how. That's the one part you've definitely got experience of."

He felt his face redden, "Obviously I didn't mean that how! I meant, how? Because I don't think either of us want a repeat of how we used to do things!"

God knows he didn't, it flew in the face of all the intimacy they'd carefully built together and was not at all what he imagined a proper union between the two of them could be. Not to mention, Macaque would never let him live it down if he couldn't do better than his younger self's monkey instincts.

Macaque snorted, "Yeah, no. That can stay firmly in the past. Well, how do you want to do it?"

"Me? Oh no, you're the one that brought this up. How do you want to do it?"

"You can just say you want to do it missionary. No shame in that."

He buried his face in Macaque's chest, "Ugh. Shut up. Why do you have to be like this? I'm embarrassed, you win, alright? Can we please just talk about this properly?"

Macaque laughed as he brought a hand up to gentle scratch at Wukong's scalp, "Yeah, alright. But I really don't care how we do it but if you have something in mind then let's do it that way."

He looked up at him, "Hold on. Before that, why now? What was so special about today?"

Macaque looked faintly amused, "Special? Nothing. I've been thinking about it for a while and this was just when it felt right to bring it up."

He scowled, "You just did it now to mess with me, didn't you?"

Macaque laughed, "I didn't but I can't say I'm disappointed with your reaction. That was great. But tell me, when would you have preferred I brought it up?"

If he was honest, there was probably no time or place where he would have been prepared but it was the principle of the thing. He pouted, "I don't know. It's not like it matters anyway. But... You want to do this, right?"

"That is why I brought it up. You not feeling as keen on the idea?"

A little awkwardly he admitted, "It's not that. I guess, I just don't really know how to... Obviously, I get the basics but, I don't know, just talk me through the plan here."

"The plan is pretty bare bones - you get us some lube, we figure out a position and get to it. I really don't know what else to tell you."

He frowned, "You're missing a step, aren't you? You need to prepare in some way, don't you?"

Macaque shrugged, "If pain was something I could feel then yeah but we'll be fine without it. Lube will be enough."

He pushed himself up so he could smack Macaque's arm and glare at him, "Just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean you can't get hurt. That is literally the last thing I want to happen."

Macaque just rolled his eyes, "Fine. Get me some lube and I'll sort it out."

Suddenly bashful, he averted his eyes, "Or, y'know, I could do it...?"

"Either way, we need lube, Wukong. You want to get on that?"

He sat up properly and tore out a hair in order to transform it. He held out the materialised product for Macaque's approval, "Is this ok?" He just wanted to make sure - it's not like he'd ever used his powers to conjure up such a thing before after all.

Belatedly, he realised Macaque couldn't actually see what he'd summoned and he started to read the back of the bottle. He had never really understood how his powers were able to work with so little information to give him such a detailed product - he didn't know what ingredients were supposed to be in this and yet here he was reading what seemed a very accurate ingredient list.

Macaque cut off, a little exasperated, "Somehow I don't think your powers have summoned something dangerous. As long as it's slick I think it will do the job. Are you sure you don't want me to do this?"

Holding the bottle a little defensively, he responded, "I've got this!"

Macaque just rolled his eyes and started shifting until he was lying on his front with a pillow under his hips, "Well, I'm all yours then."

He moved to straddle Macaque's legs and found himself a bit unsure how to proceed. He knew technically what he was supposed to do but... He coughed, "Maybe for the sake of absolute clarity, you can tell me exactly what you want me to do?"

Surprisingly patient, Macaque rested his head on folded arms, "Just lube up your fingers and start with one, when that can move easily enough add another and so on. If in doubt add more lube and take more time. We're in no rush. Foreplay is half the fun after all."

He could do this. He was great at everything! And he was not at all stressed out by the idea that Macaque wouldn't know if he was hurting him. He just had to take his time. He had unbelievable wells of patience. He could do this.

Fingers lubed, he set the bottle down close by, then rested his dry hand on Macaque's backside. He did appreciate the way Macaque's tail wrapped around his bicep comfortingly in response. He swallowed thickly before he started to slowly sink his first finger into him. Only to almost immediately pull it back out when Macaque hissed.

Panicked and concerned, he rambled, "Shit. Are you ok? What happened? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to-"

Macaque's tail squeezed his arm tightly, "Stop freaking out. You didn't hurt me but you do need to get your magic under control. You may as well have lightning bolts of anxiety coming off your hands. What are you stressing out over?"

Oh shit. He hadn't been thinking about his magic at all.

Stupid.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realise- I- Shit."

With what surely must have involved shadows in some way he soon found himself more or less sitting in Macaque's lap, their faces inches apart, "Wukong, it's fine. I should have realised that feeling your magic inside me would be more intense than feeling it on my skin. You didn't hurt me. I just wasn't expecting it. Now, tell me what's wrong."

He went to bury his face in his hands before he remembered at the last minute one of them was covered in lube, "I just don't want to mess this up."

"I already told you I could do it."

"No, not that, I mean, yes that but I meant all of it!"

"What exactly do you think you're going to do wrong?"

He cringed as he admitted, "Mac, I'm so stressed I don't even think I can get hard."

Macaque hummed as he brought a hand to his chin, "Well, that would make things a bit more difficult." He didn't seem at all worried or upset about this though and after a moment he flopped back on the bed, dragging Wukong with him, who just about caught himself before crushing Macaque.

"Alright new plan. Forget about the sex. Back to kissing with the option to finger me while you're at it. If you're up for it."

Relief and shame warred within him, "You sure? You wanted to-"

"As established, there's nothing special about today. Why rush? There's clearly an element we didn't anticipate - let's figure that out first."

"You're not disappointed or something?"

Laying it on thick, Macaque responded, "Oh, you're right. I just hate kissing you and I absolutely don't want us both to enjoy ourselves. What was I thinking?"

"Alright, alright. I get it. Still, I'm sorry for... y'know..."

Macaque just rolled his eyes and dragged his head closer to his, so their lips were inches apart, "How about you make it up to me by showing me what those magic hands of yours can do?"

It was so easy to fall back into the familiar, to pick back up where they'd been before Macaque had suggested kicking things up a level, and as much as it settled his nerves it also stoked a fire within him. He could make Macaque feel good, he knew how to do that, he wanted to do that.

Passion bled into their kiss and he allowed his hands to wander, tracing over every inch of chartered territory, determined to make Macaque feel good. He refused to let him reciprocate, which normally would have Macaque not-so quietly amused but he was clearly enjoying his undivided attention too much to interrupt it with their normal banter.

He had perfect control over his magic, not even his own building arousal was enough to let him falter in his single minded pursuit to bring Macaque as much pleasure as possible.

He manoeuvred them both so he could still kiss Macaque and comfortably lay a hand on his backside, fingers creeping slowly towards unexplored territory.

He could do this.

His tail picked up the discarded bottle of lube, tipping it so it drizzled over his fingers and between Macaque's cheeks. Nerves were starting to make themselves known again but he tried to reason with himself. This was just like anything else they had done - he just had to take his time and pay attention to Macaque's reactions.

Don't even think about the sex that could theoretically follow. Just focus on feeling out what was happening right now.

Macaque squeezed his hip reassuringly and Wukong let their kiss lose some of their intensity for a moment to focus on the magic in his hands and the intent that influenced it - he wanted to make Macaque feel good, he wanted him to feel good because he adored him, because he loved him so much he didn't even know what to do with himself half the time.

When he started to sink the first finger into him, he was met with a gasp as Macaque broke their kiss to bury his face into his shoulder. Wukong paused but he didn't pull out, he hadn't sounded pained. He kissed the side of Macaque's head, "Talk to me, Mac. Ok? Not ok?"

A little breathless he responded, "Ok... Just intense. Anyway you could use less magic?"

He frowned as he concentrated, he wasn't actually sure he could, but he tried his best to draw magic away from his fingers while still maintaining control of what was there. He thought he must have been somewhat successful when Macaque slumped against him, "Yeah... Like that... Move?"

It was an odd feeling trying to move magic away from his hands, his fingers felt a little tingly, almost like they had pins and needles. It probably wasn't something he should do for hours at a time but as long as he had a reasonable baseline of magic still present it shouldn't be harmful. They could experiment and test it out a bit more another time.

For now, he focused on Macaque. On how he felt around his finger and on his reactions and both were reassuring him that he in fact would not have any issues getting hard if they chose to go any further than this. Once he felt confident that he had a good handle on his magic, he coaxed Macaque away from his shoulder so he could kiss him again.

Macaque was not someone that lost control very often but the desperate little sounds that occasionally escaped him coupled with the messy way he kissed him suggested to Wukong that he was probably a little powerless in the face of the sensations he was experiencing and it was a hard thing to resist falling into a similar haze.

He was a little torn over drawing this out for as long as possible and wanting to give him more and more to see how high he could bring him. But it was inevitably the former that he went with and it was only Macaque's prompting that got him to add more fingers. Each one required them to pause for a minute as Macaque adjusted to the additional magic.

He was aware that usually finding someone's prostate was supposed to make them feel good but he'd been thorough in his exploration and all that really seemed to pull a reaction from Macaque was how he used his magic and so tentatively he had started to experiment with it.

A particularly clever twist of magic had Macaque throwing his head back and gasping his name and when their eyes met, he knew that they both wanted the same thing. Far huskier than he intended Wukong asked, "How?"

Long past the point of teasing, Macaque kissed him before answering, "However you want."

He was sure Macaque was expecting him to lay him down as he had teased earlier and part of him was tempted - he'd be able to kiss him as pleased and admire every expression that crossed his face - it was definitely how he usually pictured this going but...

He carefully removed his fingers, gingerly wiping them on the bed sheets on a spot away from them before gently pushing Macaque to lie on his side and plastering himself against his back, "Like this...?"

His senses apparently returned to him at least a little, Macaque looked over his shoulder and commented, "Unexpected but I'm not complaining. You're sure?"

He knew this probably wasn't the most comfortable position for either of them, but he wrapped an arm around Macaque and pulled him tightly to his chest, nodding against the back of his neck, as he somewhat bashfully admitted, "I... I like holding you like this."

He couldn't really explain why he wanted it this way but he knew that he almost always craved for Macaque to be wrapped up in his arms or for him to be wrapped up in Macaque's.

Macaque brought Wukong's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles chastely before affectionately calling him a sap. He tried not to let nerves start to build but he felt the need to ask, "You're sure about this? You really want to do it?"

Macaque responded by letting go of his hand and grabbing the bottle of lube and handing it to him, he sounded a little amused, "Yes, I'm sure. Yes, I really want to do this. And I know you do too."

He did. He really did.

He didn't give himself any time to doubt himself, slicking himself up efficiently before positioning himself at Macaque's entrance. He took a breath, and kissed just below Macaque's ear as he slowly pushed in. His hand quickly moved to grab Macaque's hip in order to steady himself.

Physically, it felt incredible but that wasn't what threatened to overwhelm him. Without involving their magic, this was the closest he could possibly be to Macaque and as he bottomed out, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head into the back of Macaque's neck as he willed himself not to cry.

He would never, ever live it down. But god, he loved him so much and he was so unbelievably grateful they could have this. That they'd gotten a second chance and this where it had led them? It felt impossible and yet against all odds they were here, together.

For a split second, he thought he had failed to keep it together but that sniffle hadn't come from him. He immediately propped himself up to try and get a proper look at Macaque's face, "Macaque? Are you ok?"

All he could really see was Macaque hurriedly wiping at his eyes, "Your fault. Fucking feeling so much. Tone it down will you?"

It surprised half a laugh out of him and he leaned his forehead on Macaque's shoulder, "I'm sorry but that's literally impossible."

He brought his hand up to rub Macaque's arm, "Are you alright though? It doesn't hurt?"

Macaque grasped the hand on his arm and pulled it down to hold it close to his chest, "It's intense. Really fucking intense. Doesn't hurt but just give me a minute."

He could have all the time in the world, Wukong was perfectly content right where he was. As he basked in the feeling of being buried in Macaque he realised he probably wasn't controlling his magic as tightly as he had been but admittedly he'd never actually had to manipulate the magic in his dick before.

A little awkwardly he asked, "Uh, is my magic too much? I could try and..."

Macaque's laughter was a little strained but it was genuine, "Not got the same control there as with your hands, huh? Go figures. It's fine. Go ahead and move."

He sort of didn't want to. He didn't want to lose any of the closeness they had. He kept his thrusts slow and shallow, almost trying to bury himself deeper without actually pulling out. And fuck it felt good but he almost didn't care about that, he wanted to figure out how to make it good for Macaque. He couldn't trust himself to mess with his magic like this and if he was being honest the thought of trying to manipulate magic where he was currently joined with Macaque was a little mortifying.

He found himself peppering Macaque's ear with kisses, unable to stop himself from whispering sweet little nothings into it which had Macaque trembling and quietly swearing in response. He choked over his reverent adulation however as one ear became three. His hips bucked unintentionally and it was hard to say whose gasp was louder.

"Fuck, Macaque..."

He didn't know if it was just his ears or if he'd taken all his glamours down but right now all he could focus on was the fact that he hadn't seen even this much of the real Macaque in centuries.

He wanted to take his hand back so he could feel them, so he could reassure himself he was actually seeing them, but Macaque tightened his hold the second he even tried it. He squeezed his hand reassuringly and gently began trailing kisses up the side of his neck towards his ears, giving Macaque plenty of time to tell him to stop.

But he didn't and Wukong tried to hold him impossible closer as his lips acquainted themselves with all three of his ears. It really struck him as he did so that sound was one of the only reliable ways Macaque had to perceive the world around him. Sound, magic and shadows. That was how he was experiencing them together right now.

He wasn't sure if it would work or even if it was a good idea but as he started up his litany of praise and adoration once more he spoke them as if they were an incantation, just the barest hint of magic behind every word but the effect was immediate.

A gasp and a strangled moan before Macaque let go of his hand so he could grasp Wukong's hair and pull him closer to his ears, as if he couldn't bear the thought of him even thinking of pulling away, of him stopping for even a moment.

This left his hand free to discover whether all of Macaque's glamours were down and as he felt along his chest and his abdomen he could immediately feel every scar that had been hidden away.

It was him. It was the real him and Wukong wanted to know every inch of him, wanted Macaque to never deprive him of all of him ever again.

Everything that wasn't Macaque was gone from his mind. All that mattered was filling his ears with words of devotion, mapping out every inch of his skin with hands and being as close to him as possible. He needed to know how much he loved him, how he couldn't stand to ever be without him.

He was vaguely aware of how heavily he was panting, of how urgently his hips snapped, of how close he was but it was all lost under a constant litany of Macaque, Macaque, Macaque.

He didn't think much of it when Macaque let go of his head to desperately hold his hand to his chest again, the sting of his nails cutting into his hand barely registering. It all came to a stuttering halt however at Macaque's desperate plea.

"Wukong! Stop!"

It took half a moment for the words to properly register but once they had, he all but froze, panting heavily as he pushed himself up to try and look at Macaque, "What's wrong? Are you alright? Macaque...?"

He had buried his face into the bed but Wukong could see how tightly his good eye was scrunched shut and he was bordering on hyperventilating. Wukong pulled out as carefully as he could but it still seemed to pull a small sob from Macaque. Alarmed, he tried to ask again what was wrong but words seemed beyond Macaque at the moment.

He still had a deathly grip on his hand however so he decided the best thing he could do was try and get him to calm down first. He tried to get his own breathing under control before trying to encourage Macaque to copy him, uttering reassurances between deep breaths.

After several stressful minutes, Macaque calmed enough to choke out, "Sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. Too much. Couldn't handle it. I didn't-"

He immediately tried to soothe him, "Hey. Hey. It's ok. You absolutely don't need to apologise. I'm the one that's sorry. I should have realised- I'm sorry I-"

"Stop. Please. Don't- It was me. It's always me."

He couldn't let that fester, "That's not true! Macaque, you did nothing wrong. We just moved a little too fast. That's all. Everything is fine. We're fine. You're fine."

He couldn't deny that he was equally trying to reassure himself. But even if he was feeling immeasurably guilty, what mattered right now was Macaque.

Who had let go of his hand in order to push himself up and turn himself round. Wukong's breath caught as he finally got to see his unglamoured face properly. He was so enraptured he almost missed Macaque's intentions as he reached down and rambled, "I can still do this. It doesn't have to be a total disaster. I can still make you feel good. I-"

Wukong stopped him before he could get anywhere near touching his dick. Macaque was crazy if he thought that's what he cared about, "Macaque, that is literally the least important thing right now."

He sat up so he could bring his free hand to gently rest beneath Macaque's scarred eye and, voice choked with awe, he said, "It's you. It's really you."

He wanted to stare at his face forever, take in every little detail of how it had changed, to map it all with careful hands, to cup his ears and find out if they still faintly glowed. Beautiful was not a word that felt appropriate, but despite the roiling emotions he was feeling, in that moment all he could think was how blessed he truly was to be able to see him like this.

He let go of Macaque so he could bring his other hand up to gently wipe away the tears that were escaping his good eye, "Macaque..."

Macaque ducked out of his hold to bury his face against his chest and Wukong went with the motion bringing them both back to the mattress as he wrapped his arms around Macaque.

Macaque's distress was clear, "I wanted this. I wanted to be able to do this so badly."

He rubbed Macaque's back, trying to comfort him, "I know... We might still be able to. We just need to take our time, figure out how to make it work for us."

Macaque hiccupped as he responded, "I just wanted this to be something we could have. Without having to work around whatever I am now. Like we always have to. I just wanted..."

Wukong kissed the top of his head and hushed him, "I know."

"It was good. It was so good right until it wasn't and I just couldn't..."

It eased his guilt ever so slightly that Macaque hadn't suffered through the whole thing but the question of how long had he not noticed the shift ate away at him, he felt himself tear up slightly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't notice. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you."

His apology just seemed to make Macaque feel worse, "Wukong, it wasn't you, you didn't do anything wrong. Fuck, you wanted this to be something special and I ruined it."

He felt they were on the precipice of an endless spiral of blaming themselves for what went wrong and as much as he wanted to make Macaque see that it was his fault and to beg for his forgiveness, it wasn't helping either of them right now.

"You didn't ruin anything and it was special. It was more than I could have ever imagined - it was incredible, you were incredible. You are incredible. Emotions are just running a little high right now. I know we need to talk about it but right now all I want to do is hold you and never let you go."

Feeling overwhelmed with the feeling, he choked out, "I love you." He buried his head in Macaque's hair and held him tightly, "I love you so much."

Sounding equally emotional, Macaque responded, "I know... I love you too. More than I could ever tell you."

Very little was said after that with Macaque falling asleep before too long, clearly exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster, and Wukong knew he wasn't long behind him but even as tired as he was he couldn't help but lightly run his hands over the scars he could reach in this position, trying to commit all of them to memory before they were hidden away again.

The morning was going to bring some difficult conversations but as he slowly drifted off all he could think about was how grateful he was to have Macaque here in his arms.

--Chapter End--

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LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[thatdisasterauthor]

Okay, so, very quick overview here! Emergency management has always been around in some form or fashion, but having it organized at a federal level on an ongoing basis rather than a per disaster basis tends to happen less often. Why varies from country to country.

It's also important to consider that many countries may have a federalized RESPONSE system (such as using their military to deal with the immediate effects of a disaster) but not a federalized RECOVERY system. FEMA, while they do dabble in response, is primarily focused on recovery/post-disaster aid, and pre-disaster mitigation efforts.

If you don't have a federalized recovery system, like the US pre-FEMA, usually what happens is the big disaster hits somewhere, and then whatever governing body holds the purse strings will pass some sort of legislation to provide funding to deal with that specific disaster. Rinse and repeat as each disaster happens. That's what the US used to do as well.

Then we had this interesting dovetail of massively increasing populations, those populations moving into disaster prone areas as they colonized the west, and an increase in consumerism that meant a lot more people had a lot more to lose as the 1800s faded and the 1900s began. This is when we start to see a more formalized disaster response system forming in the US.

The Army Corps of Engineers technically started in 1802, but I'm not sure off the top of my head how much specific disaster response and recovery work they did back then as compared to today. We also had some various acts and other legislation passed over the years that was meant to provide for more than this or that disaster as they happened, but it was all still smaller scale.

We had a few other major disasters over the 1800s/early 1900s that were responded to by various bits of the military, and private entities like the Red Cross, and we started seeing more legislation about stuff like building codes, mitigation of future disasters, etc.. But it was all still rather piecemeal.

Then, then we've got the founding of the Forest Service in the very early 1900s. Which, weirdly, does not get brought up in the conversation very often? But the Forest Service was founded on the idea and promise of being able to control wildfires, to control a disaster. The accuracy of that idea is a whole different discussion, but the point is it was a nation wide, federally backed push to have a standing force for handling JUST disasters. It nearly failed until the 1910 Great Burn burned 3million acres across multiple states in a couple of days, and people realized that, "hey, maybe having people who know what to do about that is good actually???"

From there we get into WWI/WWII which resulted in a lot of studies about how people behave in disasters and how governments should handle that sort of stuff. It also resulted in the creation of the Office of Civil Defense which handled stuff like evacuation prep, volunteer coordination, etc.. A precursor to FEMA as it stands now.

Next we got the Federal Disaster Act of 1950 which created permanent and general legislation regarding disaster relief, but it was heavily focused on floods specifically. In the 60s Kennedy created the Office of Emergency Preparedness to deal with natural disasters and we were dealing with all the nuclear war fears at the time. But we were still passing legislation pretty ad-hoc for specific disasters, and disasters were getting more and more common and worse and worse. The first billion dollar disaster was Hurricane Betsy in 1965.

In 1968 we see the creation of the National Flood Insurance Program, which became mandatory in the early 70s. The focus in nuclear response also shifted in the 70s to how to evacuate entire metropolitan areas. And THIS is when FEMA was founded by Carter in 1978/79. They wanted to have an way to handle things as a WHOLE rather than dozens of little pieces scattered all over the place.

Now, FEMA isn't perfect. Far from it. We do still pass ad-hoc legislation per disaster all the time. (FEMA is intentionally under-funded so politicians can swoop in and save the day for their constituents whenever a disaster hits them.) But FEMA does at least provide a better central structure to focus that ad-hoc legislation around, among other things.

And once again I have said I was going to write a short post and then not done that, haha. But, to sum up: it's not that the US one day decided to switch to a central federalized system of emergency management, it's that we slowly progressed towards it over two centuries.

Someone is trying to argue with me on TikTok that FEMA was actually founded in the early 1800s (and that before that people just died in disasters because there was no help at all).

And I just. Ma'am. No. You are so far down the wrong rabbit hole you're having dinner with the Red Queen.

[prettybbychim]

i can count on one hand the amount of female characters in this game that have made me stop and stare but damn She. stunning i’m in love

[welpuu]

heyyy bffs im back with another daily eden doodle

this time she became smoal :(

here are some other versions cuz im indecisive :')

[palabraasinnecesarias]

any ranma fanfic (aside from yours) that you like / would recommend? 🥺

Hi!! Most of the fics I recommend, you might have read already, but these are a few that I always find myself rereading. fair warning, they're all ranma/akane also, they're probably all going to be from ff.net lol

Whistle by pahlee is very sweet but honestly anything by this author is golden; they have all sorts of AU's, usually concentrating on ranma/akane

Ranma teaches Akane how to whistle. WAFF

You Bet! by Strawberry Apocalypse i think about this fic often tbh

Akane looses a bet to Ranma and now must pay the consequences. A little piece of fluff oneshot.

Blush by Rui *internal screaming*

Ranma never backs down from a challenge...

Blind Date by PurseMonger is one of their more popular pieces, but they have a lot of fun stories

First impressions are important, so what happens when you make a bad one? Modern day AU.

Laughter by Efflorescent Vagabond is short and very sweet

Ranma takes note of Akane's miraculously obscene mannerisms while laughing. A tale told through the mindframe of our infamous and stubborn pig-tailed protagonist.

Fever by yuriakugara

Having caught a cold, Akane had developed a high fever! But with everyone out of the house except for Ranma, how would she cope? will he look after her, or worsen her condition? Complete. Cooking lessons and secrets. With a nasty surprise waiting for Ryoga when he pops in.

Temptation by Miyopiyo (rating M) if you're in the mood for something spicy

He didn't know she was drugged with an aphrodisiac when she kissed him, but the touch had triggered his true emotions. Though he soon realized that Akane's passion wasn't real, he couldn't bring himself to stop looking at her, or stop touching her...

Fence-Walking by Crystal-V-Princess *edit: i just remembered that i really liked this one too lol forgot to add it earlier

Akane wants to leanr how to walk on the fence, but can she do it, and for that matter, can Ranma?

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Wanna hear how stupid I am. Ofc you do. Refer to the tags.

[silverskyeline]

'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

[hoshigray]

Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong… 

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko. 

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life. 

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men. 

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing! 

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,”  he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste. 

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better. 

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?” 

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe?  You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder. 

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get. 

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating! 

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight. 

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you! 

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence. 

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?” 

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him. 

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. ��Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss. 

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again. 

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris. 

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!” 

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.” 

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.  

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips. 

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again. 

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…” 

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him. 

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm. 

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower. 

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same. 

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[whateveriwant]

The 141 getting you to stay in bed

It gets a little spicy towards the end so 18+ please

Soap

Waking up to the feeling of a numb arm is extremely unpleasant, but you suppose it comes with the territory when trying to cuddle 200+ pounds of rugged Scotsman

You manage to free your trapped limb and roll to the other side of the bed, but that space behind you remains empty for only about three seconds before Johnny's pressing himself flat to your back 

Now with his arms around your waist, he holds you tight to him, mumbling unintelligibly against the back of your head

He drifts back to sleep quickly enough, his grip on you starting to loosen, only for it to tighten again when he feels you try to wriggle out of his hold

The incoherent grumbles from his throat grow increasingly displeased the more you try to shift away from him, until finally he huffs a grumpy, “Quit it,” into your scalp, hooking his leg over yours 

If you still don't listen, he'll have no choice but to take drastic measures to keep you still. Fed up with your squirming, he simply rolls on top of you, pinning you to the mattress below him

You can try beating on his back, telling him that you can't breathe, but he just shrugs and says, “Use my breath.”

Don't even bother trying to explain how oxygen doesn't work like that, because he doesn't care. “Tough,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. “‘Cause I'm no' movin’.” And by extension, neither are you

Gaz

Kyle is also a stage 5 clinger, but he's less boa constrictor and more baby koala

So when your alarm goes off at 8am precisely, it's no surprise that the man behind you grumbles in protest

“It's Saturday,” he bemoans. “Why you getting up so bloody early?” When you tell him you like to keep your routine even on the weekends, he just groans and mutters, “Five more minutes.”

You can try to squirm and wrestle out of his hold, but he'll just tighten his arm around your midsection, keeping his front firmly glued to your back

But you need to get up! You have to pee for goodness’ sake! 

“Use the empty bottle on your nightstand,” he mumbles into your hair, peeking an eye open as you crane to look back at him. The look you give him at such a horrid suggestion has him sighing. “Alright, fine,” he relents and releases you. “But be quick. Bed gets cold without you.”

Once you've answered the call of nature, don't be surprised to find Kyle waiting for you directly outside the bathroom. He's wrapped up in your comforter like an oversized burrito, only his face and feet visible as they peek out from under the plush cover

With a sleepy pout, he holds his hand out for you, tugging you back to bed with him. Oh, he’ll make sure you get those five more minutes alright. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming

Ghost

First of all, don't even kid yourself into thinking you'll stand a chance of waking up before him or sneaking out of bed without him knowing. This man is the epitome of a light sleeper, whenever he does sleep, that is

So when you do finally wake up, it comes as no surprise to see Simon already up too. But just because you're both awake now doesn't mean you have to immediately be productive; quite the opposite, in fact

With how busy and stressed he is all the time, Simon loves nothing more than to just lie in bed with you and do nothing for hours

If you try to get up, he's stopping you with a gentle hand on your wrist, his voice quiet but firm as he commands, “Stay.”

You'll lay back down for a bit to appease him, but it won't be long before you feel guilty since you have so many things you should be doing instead

But actually, no, you don't have  anything to worry about. He's already taken care of everything before you woke up, he humbly informs you

The cat's been fed, the bin’s been taken out to the curb, he's even gotten your breakfast typed up on his phone – just give him the word and he'll place the order

So now when he opens his arms for you, having you bury your face in his chest, you've got nothing to worry about except savoring this moment with him 

Price

John is also a very light sleeper, so it only takes .02 seconds of you trying to stand from the bed for his bear-like snores to cease and his eyes to flit wide open

He'll grab you by the shirt hem, mumbling, “Where’re y’ goin’?” But it doesn't really matter what your answer is because his response is always the same: “No y’r not.” And pulls you back down. “Y’r stayin’ right here.”

He'll lie on his stomach, face smushed in the pillow, a big, warm hand tucked under your shirt resting against your belly

With nothing better to do, you scroll through your phone, catching up on your socials, the news, etc., but it's not long before you hear him grumble, “Put that away, will ya? ‘S too early to be meltin’ your brain with that thing.”

Well, what does he expect you to do? Lie there and stare at the ceiling for an hour? “Expect you to be good,” he tells you. “Don't make me get the handcuffs out again.”

Now that you have to laugh at. If he thinks it's too early to be on your phone, it's definitely too early for that

He smirks, opening his eye just a sliver, and the hand on your stomach begins to rub soft circles. “Is that so?” he taunts, his touch sneakily edging downwards. And when he slips beneath the band of your shorts, well…

Let's just say you're not leaving that bed anytime soon

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced bonding, subjugation, some type of discrimination, elements of androgyny

♡ fem reader

Thinking about the big and burly behemoth Omega finally finding himself the cutest little Alpha to breed with…

He could never bring himself to breed with Alphas. Growing up, he developed a great disdain for them—all high and mighty rabid animals prone to violence, more often than not completely dimwitted to top it off, as if their massive ego had usurped the place of basic brain operation.

He couldn’t hate them more, yet he doesn’t correct anyone when they mistake him for one, either. In many ways, he wished he was born one instead of an Omega. It would make it easier to fulfill his desires that way. A dominant Omega isn’t all that normal, after all—and submissive Alphas are an even rarer breed to come by.

He hadn't found one yet. And other Omegas don’t really do it for him. They approach him, thinking he’s an Alpha, then feel disappointed when figuring out he’s not—which is fine, as he isn’t particularly interested in their scent either. Betas make for an okay compromise—they don’t care if he’s an Omega, it makes no difference to them—yet he could never really shake the feeling that something was missing when lying with them.

At the office, the scent of Alphas plagues him all day—how they strut around, stinking up the place with no concern for anyone else. This is a workplace, for fuck’s sake—can’t they have a little dignity and not treat it like a mating ground? He really hates them. All bigheaded assholes—

“Ow—” there’s bark and a hard thunk of something hitting the floor.

Someone just bumped into him—someone so small he hadn’t even seen them over the top of his clipboard. Looking down, he sees a fellow Omega—a pretty one. You must be as disoriented by the scent around you as he is—probably why you walked right into him—poor thing. He ought to help you up.

You hold your head in your hand, wincing at the sting of your rear—you’d fallen right on your tailbone. Looking up, you give the fellow Alpha who’d knocked you down a mean glare, “What the hell, asshole!”

His outstretched hand stiffens midway. That’s not a very Omega-like thing to say—especially not by one so small as you. No, wait… what’s that scent?

You ignore his hand and get up on your own, dusting down your pin-stripes with angry brushes—face pursed, almost pouty, but not quite, too stink-eyed as you lean in and jab a finger into his chest to punctuate your words, “Watch where you’re going next time, you…”

You soften up halfway through the sentence. It must have dawned on you as well. His scent. Not like other Alphas, but something else entirely—something that suddenly makes you blush all over, wide-eyed.

You don’t say another word, only giving a weak huff before turning tail and stomping away.

There’s something very cute about it—he’s left thinking while watching you, utterly stunned and still, replaying the events that just occurred over and over in his head—wondering how he’d never seen you before. You must work on a different floor.

Luckily, he’d made sure to read your name tag—pinned all properly on your chest like a badge of honor, neatly like the rest of you. Well put together from the top of your salon-styled hair down to the tips of your pointy black stilettos. Even with their added height, you must have been two heads shorter than him—no taller than any regular Omega.

It's no wonder he mistook you for one. You were as cute as one, too—like a doll he could put behind glass, up on a mantle, and keep forever. But oh my… that mouth on you and that awful snarl. Just like any other imposing Alpha, he supposed. Bratty and arrogant, quick to jump the gun and pick a fight instead of taking it for the simple accident it was.

He goes back and sets himself down by his desk—but he’s way too distracted to work now, too busy with the thought of you. That flushed face you showed him before teetering off was something he wouldn’t mind seeing again—also that cute scowl under certain circumstances and what type of expression you’d give him if he wiped it off.

He's lucky an office party came along so quickly. He wouldn’t usually go, but now he had a reason. He bet you’d be there—the way you were dressed when you’d bumped into him tells him you’re one to respect the memo—head to toe in such a neat suit, trying to come off as androgynous as if in desperation needing everyone to know you were an Alpha. It must be hard for you—looking like that but wanting to look… well, suppose more like him.

He's glad he never felt that way—wishing to be smaller and cuter like other Omegas. Sure, he’s been envious of them at times, but more so of their easy pickings and not their appearance. He’s happy being bigger and stronger—it keeps unwanted attention at bay. You probably struggle to do the same. He bets you get a lot of the wrong eyes following you. Yeah… you must attract the bad sort all the time—alphas swarming you only to catch your scent and lose interest. Or maybe not… Alphas are sick, after all. Come to think of it, most of them would probably get off on dominating another Alpha. In that regard, it must have been worse for you than for him. Luckily, both of your issues are now solved.

He wondered what you’d wear tonight. You’d look much better in something feminine and not that suit you’d been wearing. He hopes, but no, you’re wearing much the same thing—another tailored two-piece that all but drowns you.

He understands what you’re going for. You have to dress like that, or else what Omega would ever want you looking the way you do? Aside from him, of course.

No matter. When you move in with him, he’ll dress you in all the pretty things he knows you want to wear. After all, pretty colors, ruffles, and lace will suit you so much better.

“Hello again.” He approaches you by the hors d’oeuvres even after you’d visibly and explicitly chosen to ignore him.

You groan under your breath, responding without even bothering to look at him, “Do I know you?”

Your tough act is cute. He has to withhold a chuckle before answering, “Don’t remember? You called me an asshole a week ago.”

“You walked right into me, so it’s not like it wasn’t deserved.”

You have to love that arrogance—that air of unfounded superiority. He wonders, where do you keep it all? “Well, how could I not? You’re so small I didn’t even see you.”

You’re quick to bare your teeth—obviously, he hit a nerve—showing him that same snarl you’d done back then. Cute little canines—he bet they won’t even hurt going into his neck once you mark him.

“Watch your mouth, Omega.”

Still, with a small smile, he feigns surprise. “Wow—are you an Alpha? Funny, I didn’t know they came in such tiny packages.”

It flusters you, no doubt—your brows lowered into a full glower now. “And I didn’t know Omegas could be so rude.”

You turn to stomp again, as you’d done before—though this time, he grabs your arm before you’re gone.

You whip around with another bark, “Hands off—"

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes unexpectedly, giving you puppy-dog eyes you hadn’t thought him capable of. “I should have been more mindful of my steps. It was entirely my fault.”

You go still at the sudden show of humility and respect. Finding yourself softening by the tilt of his head, bowing at you in acknowledgment of your higher standing. Not that many bother doing that to you—between mistaking you for an Omega or otherwise neglecting your standing as an Alpha, both due to your physique. Seeing it up close and so abruptly flusters you.

“Let me get you a drink to make up for it?” he offers politely, almost in plead.

Struck with feelings of somewhat regret for your own uncouth attitude, you nearly accept on a whim. “That’s kind…” But then think it over. You don’t really want to lead him on, either. You nearly stutter, yet steal yourself. After all… “But you’re not really my type.”

He hangs his head with a dejected sigh, “That’s harsh.” But he’d already figured as much and didn’t really care. Giving you his most sorry grin, he insists, “Humor me anyway? Just one drink so I don’t feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”

It’s clear you want to refuse—still, as suspected, your heart just can’t handle seeing a desperate Omega in need. Bless your dim Alpha instincts.

“Okay, fine. One drink, that’s all,” you end up agreeing. One drink can’t hurt, right?

You feel like a good Samaritan once the big hunk of an Omega runs off to fetch you a glass. Pitying him or even sympathizing, maybe—it can’t be easy for an Omega in the mating scene to look like that. No Alpha around would want an Omega bigger than them—it’s utterly emasculating, not to mention unnatural.

Of course, you’re aware you’re in much the same shoes as him—you’re not delusional. Only, it’s easy being an independent Alpha—you don’t mind being a lone wolf in the world—but Omegas were built to be domestic. So yeah, you pity him—the poor guy, he’ll probably never find a proper mate.

But you can’t let your pity grant him too many favors—you have no intention of taking on any charity case tonight, especially not a pity fuck. You’ll have one drink with him as a mutual apology. That’s all.

Luckily… one drink is all he needs. Add a little sprinkle of this and that in your glass, and you’re already in the palm of his hand.

He has to carry you bridal style before he’s even managed to lead you to the elevator—it’s empty all the way down to the garage. He puts you in his car, locks your seatbelt in place, then drives off. It’s honestly quite astounding how easy it had been. He’d thought trapping an Alpha would be a much more remarkable feat, an impossible one for an Omega—but this was no different from eating an unguarded piece of cake.

You’re drowsy as he carries you into his apartment. And that’s when the other drug kicks in. The overwhelming scent of being inside his nest sets off your rut like a matchstick being ripped along the red.

Your claws come out, puncturing his sheets as he lays you down on his bed.

You’re too delirious to do much but writhe—making it easy for him to unbutton your dress shirt, followed by your slacks. He has to scoff at your plain black boxers and binder bra. You poor thing, always trying to run with the big dogs when you’re no bigger than a bite-sized puppy. From now on, you’ll only wear lacey things he brings home for you. You won’t have to puff your chest—you can be as sweet and pretty as your delicate physique constitutes—his cutest, littlest, most perfect mate.

You gain newfound strength once he’s peeled your underwear down, baring your needy heat to his touch. Instantly, your arms spring into action, flinging themselves around him, pouncing like a predator at its prey with your fangs bared.

He stops you easily—placing his wrist between your teeth, using it as a muzzle. He chuckles, looking at you gnaw on it like a bone.

“I think the world has it all wrong,” he starts, though he’s not sure you’re even capable of understanding speech in your state. “Omegas are the ones better suited as leaders of society, not Alphas.”

As he talks, he continues with his ministrations, stroking your needy slit with a mean finger, swiping it cruelly before splitting between the folds.

“I mean, look at you—mindless in a rut, willing to pounce on anything that moves—like a wild animal.” Once he sticks his finger inside you, your teeth do his wrist the same justice—drawing blood, making him hiss through his smile, “I ought to keep you in a cage.” And yet he doesn’t pull either hand away. “It would suit you well—on your knees with a pretty leash and collar upon your throat.”

You’re wet in his hand—soaked and so warm he loses track of his own finger as if melting within you. His cock strains against his boxer, wanting to feel it for himself. But you’re still way too tight for that.

He feeds you another digit, and you moan—suckling on his wrist now more than biting, though still with your canines out and seeking.

“Look at these wittle teeth, tch—” he grins upon closer inspection, looking between them and your eyes—pupil-fat orbs, far gone in your instincts. “I bet they’re just itching for my neck instead, huh?”

The provocation seems to make you more desperate. Pumping you slowly, more so to stretch you out than stimulate, he can feel your breaths turn thicker with need, how you press your tongue against his wrist, wet and lousy, wanting for more.

“Well, go on then, Alpha...” He chuckles again, removing his arm from barring your mouth before wrapping your throat with the same hand, holding it like a collar, keeping you under control.

And then he bares his neck for you.

“I give my consent.”

♡ part two

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Harvest Moon

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,100 Summary: It's Joel's birthday and you're going to make sure he has a good one. Warnings: smut, fluff, dancing in the kitchen to neil young, unprotected p in v, public-ish sex (but under a blanket), talking to neighbors while sitting on joel miller's cock, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), fingering, riding, joel has a filthy mouth, no use of y/n, not beta read.

A/N: I spent most of tonight adding 2,500 words to this barely written piece. Now it's two hours past my bedtime, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEL MILLER!!! This can absolutely be read as a standalone, but, this is yet another singular smut entry for my Elks babies. This was originally going to be posted as a birthday celebration chapter for that, but I really wanted to give Joel his gift on his actual birthday. Happy birthday you gorgeous old man, you. Hope you like the porn I wrote about you. ❤️🥴

Masterlist

🌕🌕🌕🌕

You’ve been looking for the CD since you learned of Joel’s love of the song. Tommy did it, he actually did it. Somehow by some miracle he found the CD. 

“Not a problem,” he gives you that same shy Miller lopsided grin. “Milt had it. Told me to tell you it’s yours to keep… said he owes you since you were his daughter’s favorite teacher ‘n all.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you say, barely being able to contain your excitement, “this is going to be amazing.”

“Of course. Should be thanking you really,” he shrugs. “It’s about time he had a good birthday.”

—

Joel said he’d be helping fix one of the greenhouses today, but you’re still scared to ruin the surprise as you unlock his door. 

“Joel?” you yell out into the quiet, seemingly empty house. 

No answer. Perfect.

Quick steps lead you to his CD player, the same one he first showed you how much he cared for you with. Now, it’s your turn to show him just how much he means to you. The disc tray opens and you place the CD into the system, you can’t wait to surprise him. 

—

“More coffee?” you ask, holding up the percolator.

He nods and smiles, happily sitting at the table full from the steak, potatoes, and cornbread you made him. He had insisted on sharing the meat, but you refused, happy to let him enjoy the first taste of steak in over twenty years.

Your friend Helen got her boyfriend Greg to cut a small filet of steak from the newly butchered cow. She handed it to you with a knowing smile. It’s nice to see everyone accept yours and Joel’s relationship. 

You lean over his lap, and top his coffee cup off. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a dress? Can’t believe you got yourself all dolled up for me.” He surprises you by pulling you onto his lap. 

“Careful!” you shriek, quickly placing the carafe on the table. “Yes, you have… many times. That's why I wore it.”

“Hmph,” he hums happily, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you for dinner–and everything sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. 

“That’s not all,” you giggle as he nips at a sensitive spot under your chin. 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re so good to me.” 

You clutch his chin tilting his head up to meet your eyes. “You deserve a happy birthday.” His big brown eyes search yours, like he’s forcing himself to believe it. “Joel, you do.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he sighs warmly.

“I love you too. Now, I have something else for you,” you slip off his lap and head towards your backpack. “It’s something small, I promise.”

You return with a bundle of fabric held behind your back. 

“Remember when you tore your favorite flannel and you tossed it in the rag bag?”

You place the flannel in his hands.

“Well, a certain girl named Ellie grabbed it for me. I mended it, reinforced the buttons, and sewed up a couple holes. It’s not perfect, but it’s fixed.”

He holds the flannel up and inspects it. “This is–wow–this–I can’t believe it.” He looks up at you, his eyes wide with adoration. “I was wearing this that first day I saw you, y’know? This is so sweet sweetheart, thank you.” 

He likes it, you thank your lucky stars. Your handsome Joel, here with you on his birthday, allowing himself to be taken care of. 

You know the story of his birthday, you’ve retold the tale to yourself every night as you anticipated this day. Afraid to upset him, afraid to cross a line, but all you’ve wanted to do is give him the world he so deserves. 

It wasn’t just you who thought of him today. It’s Tommy finding the CD. It’s Helen getting you the steak. It’s Ellie grabbing the flannel from the rag bag. He deserves all of it. 

“You’re welcome,” you say with a kiss to his forehead. “Now, put it on. I have one more surprise.”

He slips the flannel on as you head to the living room. The CD waits in the stereo. You turn it on.

The soft guitar and brushes of a drum fills the air as you turn the volume up.  

Joel’s huge smile greets you when you walk back into the kitchen.

“You– how?” he asks, unbelieving. 

“Asked Tommy and he found it for me. Milt had his greatest hits. Now,” you reach your hand out to him, “may I have this dance birthday boy?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you into him. The two of you sway along to the music, his strong arms enveloping you as your cheek rests against his warm chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. Your hands slip around his broad back, one of them trailing up to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs deeply before placing a tender kiss against the top of your head. 

“This is my favorite song,” he murmurs.

The sun has long since set, the singular lamp above the sink casts a warm dark amber glow across the kitchen Your shadows dance across the walls as you sway. He smells of coffee and sweet corn bread, like home and comfort. 

He starts to hum then softly sing along. His deep voice reverberates through your ear, pressed against his heart. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”

You can hear the contentment in his voice as he holds you closer. Moving in synchronicity with each other, gently stepping across the small kitchen as the harmonica solo plays. If you could stay in this moment forever you would.

You tilt your head up, and his eyes meet yours. The smile he gives lights his face. Lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, dimple sitting deep on his cheek, mustache curving with his plush upturned lips. He serenades you with the same lyrics as before, looking deep in your eyes. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,  I wanna see you dance again,  Because I’m still in love with you,  On this harvest moon”  

His lips meet yours, thanking you with a gentle kiss. The man you love and adore, feels good on his birthday all because of you. 

The song plays on repeat, the two of you dance together, Joel gently hums and sings along as the harvest moon rises above the mountains. 

You gently pull away, unclasping his arms from around you.

“Come on birthday boy,” you say with a playful smile, “let’s go watch the stars.” 

—

You and Joel sit beneath a large plaid comforter on his porch. The early fall breeze that rolls down the mountainside leaves a chill in the air. The night sky is lit bright with the orange full moon. Most of Jackson is at the Harvest Moon Festival tonight, you can just make out the distant sounds of laughter and music flowing through the air from the main street on his porch. Ellie was especially thrilled about the teen sleepover happening at the Bison tonight, giving you both this rare moment of solitude in his backyard. She told Joel she knew he was in good hands with you for his birthday. 

And he is–or at least you’re in his good hands. 

“Oh, god,” you softly whisper into the night, you’re so tense from keeping yourself quiet. The stars are a little harder to see tonight thanks to the ambient glow of the bright moon, and yet you see stars whenever you squeeze your eyes shut while fighting the urge to moan. Joel’s deft, large thumb rubs circles against your clit while you ride two of his thick fingers. 

He’s driving you crazy like this. His large body and the blanket wrapped around you, overheating all of your senses in this chilly night. You’re completely covered, nobody would know that your legs are spread wide, one draped over his thick thigh while his hand is stuffed up your dress making you quake as he finger fucks you.

“Easy now, easy now,” he says nuzzling against your neck, his large nose charting a course across the sensitive skin. “Gotta remember where we are. You're the sweet, innocent teacher 'n librarian here. Lotta people look up to you, can’t have them knowin’ what my girl really likes when she’s with me.” Your hips slow their movement, he makes up for it by pumping you harder. “See, I can help, just gotta let me know you want it baby.” 

“Want to take–neyugh–care of you,” struggles out of your mouth. 

“You’re taking care of me right now, sweetheart, touching you is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Want to go inside… w-want to–want–to, want to feel you in my mouth,” you grip the straining bulge underneath the fly of his jeans. 

“Not yet,” he sighs deeply when you squeeze harder. “Like seeing your skin glow in the moonlight. What you’re doin’ now is enough, want to enjoy my night with you.”

Your hold tightens around his cock as you fight harder to suppress the urge to scream into the night. His fingers angle up hitting your most sensitive spot and you feel like you could explode. You’ll be the fireworks to celebrate Joel’s birthday. A whimper is fought by biting your lip, it’s so hard to not scream. His brown eyes look almost black in the low light as he watches you struggle and blink rapidly. 

“Shh baby, you’re doing so good, bein’ so quiet, don’t ruin it now. If anybody was out right now they could walk right on by and they’d have no idea what I’m doing to you under here.”

You’ve never done anything like this, so out in the open. Jackson is a peaceful town full of law abiding citizens, and right now you’re sitting on the back of the porch of Joel’s house getting felt up by him. 

“Joel… I–I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me baby.” His hot breath hits your lips before sealing his mouth against yours. Your cunt spasms against his thick fingers, you feel set alight by your orgasm, overheated and burning. Maybe you’re glowing just as bright as the moon. His tongue dances with yours, swallowing all of your gasps and cries. You’re sure at this point, anybody that walked by would know exactly what was happening between the two of you. You don’t care, all you want is to feel Joel’s cock inside you.

“Want you, Joel, want you so bad,” you mew as his fingers rub against your sensitive folds. 

“Okay baby, okay.” His fingers slip from your warmth before he brings his soaked digits to his lips. His eyes flutter shut when he tastes you. 

“Sweeter than birthday cake,” he declares before raising his hips and pulling his jeans down with a grunt. “Come here. Come sit on me.”

Your legs spread wide as you straddle his large lap with your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. He grips himself and moves the half hard heft of his cock against your soaked core, swirling his tip back and forth across your clit. 

“Tell me you want my cock,” he whispers against your neck, licking a line up to your ear. “Tell me baby.”

“I-I want your cock–I need your cock Joel,” you beg. 

“I know you do darling,” he chuckles deeply, lining himself up to your entrance.

The sounds of the festival go silent and the bright orange moon fades as you slowly sink down on his cock. Taking all of him, thick and throbbing into your tight cunt. 

“That’s my good girl,” he grits. “Your sweet pussy is taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Clutching your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you try to fight the moan his words bring up.

“Oh, you must like that. You’re squeezin’ me so hard sweetheart.” 

You set a pace, riding him gently under the moonlight, his fingers gripping your hips tight. 

His hot breaths hit the back of your neck as your back molds even tighter to his front. His hand snakes down to rub your clit, small circles making your body meld even more against him.. The rhythm of his fingers and cock spearing you pulls another orgasm down from the ethers of space. Shivering, sweating, and stuttering Joel’s name, you’re trying to be good for him, trying to not scream into the night. 

“That’s my girl, grippin’ my cock so good, cummin’ all over me. Getting yourself nice and slippery so I can fuck you real good, huh?” 

“Mmf,” is the only response you can muster. Your cunt flutters around him, and he doesn’t relent, slowly fucking into you while his finger pulses against your clit. 

The sound of two people conversing approaches. Your movements come to a halt, Joel stays still, his finger still resting against your sensitive bundle of nerves and his cock sitting deep inside you. Hank and Billie, the nice couple that lives three houses down from Joel, walk past the porch. Both look over and wave a greeting. Fuck.

“Beautiful moon, isn’t it?” Hank says with a smile. 

“Quite.” Joel responds. The rumble of his loud voice radiates through you.  

“You guys get any barbecue tonight?” Hank asks. “It was really go–”

“We stayed in,” Joel gruffly responds. He subtly knocks his hips into you causing a wave of sensation to hit against your already cock-drunk pussy.

Your nostrils flare with a deep exhale.  

“Oh, well, there will probably be leftovers tomorrow,” Billie offers. “Tell them I sent you and they’ll give you the good stuff.”

“Thanks Billie,” you breathlessly reply, wishing on every star you’ve seen behind your eyelids, they’ll leave. “We appreciate it.”

“Best be getting home,” Hank says, grabbing Billie’s hand. “We both had a bit too much to drink!” 

Oh thank god.

“Enjoy your night,” Joel says plainly as he starts to slowly rock into you once they turn away. 

To the eyes of your neighbors, you and Joel just look like a normal couple enjoying the night sky cuddled together under a blanket… little do they know he’s filling you with his thick cock under the shield. 

“That was close,” he whispers against your ear before nipping it. 

Your giggle is cut off by a moan when he fucks into you harder. 

“Guess we shouldn’t take our time, don’t want to get caught, now do we?” he asks. 

“We can just–nyuh–go inside,” you plead, wanting to be able to moan and scream Joel’s name in the comfort of his home. 

“Gimme one more baby, gimme one more,” he grunts against your neck. “And then I’ll take you into my home and fuck you.”

His hips pound against your body, his thrusts bucking into your core harder. “That’s it baby, you really want me to take you in and lay you down ‘n fuck you, don’t you?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your stomach tightening and thighs trembling as the universe splinters around you. Your orgasm rockets through your body. Color turns to black and white, noise falls silent. All that exists is Joel Miller and his big cock shattering you into a million pieces like your own personal big bang on the back of his porch. 

“Good girl,” he groans, “let’s take this party inside.”

—

The plaid comforter is laid out on the kitchen floor. Your wobbly legs move your still blissed-out body to Joel’s stereo, starting “Harvest Moon” on repeat all over again. 

You lean against the kitchen entrance, admiring Joel as he rests atop the blanket, naked and supporting himself on his elbows. No man over fifty should ever look as good as him. Broad shoulders frame his strong arms, his chest has a smattering of dark hair that trails down to the slight bulge of his stomach. His cock rests in between his legs, still hard and shining with your slick. He’s so gorgeous, and he’s all yours. 

“Come here sweetheart,” his voice is gruffer. “Lay down next to me.”

His dick twitches as you walk to the blanket and settle beside him. 

He moves over you, covering you with his warmth as he engulfs himself in your slick heat. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist allowing him to take more. 

“Joel,” you moan. The angle allows his cock to push farther in and your walls to tighten harder against him. 

“Ooh, you’re so fucking wet, you hear that?” he asks incredulously. The squelch of your pussy soundtracks along to the song quietly playing in the background. “Sounds so fucking good baby.” 

He gasps when buries himself to the hilt, soaking the curly hairs around the base of him with your wet.

Your body trembles as your hips meet his, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt at a brutal pace. 

He takes no time to own you now behind the walls of his home. Your hands clutch at his wide back, sobs and screams of his name echoing out into the air as Neil Young softly sings in the background. 

You’re so full of him. His body surrounding you, his lips against yours, his cock pounding into your accepting cunt, his name chanting out of your mouth. 

“You want it baby?” he growls against your neck, his cock pumping in and out of your hole at a speed no man over fifty should be able to ever reach. “You want my cum?” 

“C-cum Joel,” you cry, tears sprouting from your eyes as your fourth orgasm launches through you. 

He gasps your name, pulling out of your tremorous pussy and shooting thick white ropes of cum across your pussy and stomach. 

His sweat is slick against your overheated body, you’re a mess of sweat, orgasm, and love. 

He kisses you, his tongue licking against yours before he rolls off you. His chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. “Fuck,” he pants, stretching his limbs out. “Gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“Well, you are another year older, old man,” you tease, curling up next to him. 

“Yeah,” he turns his head to look at you. “I guess I am,” he sighs. “Thank you for–my birthday and–all of this. I can never put into words how much it all means to me.” 

“So I guess you’re still in love with me?” you tease.

“Always. Especially on this harvest moon,” he returns your smile. 

---

Tagging a couple people who had asked about this piece earlier this month: @almostfoxglove, @sawymredfox, @burntheedges, and @littlemisspascal 🩷🌝