#and maybe the yellow shirt too like it worked but I feel it could just be better ya know?

[mountainsandmayhem]

God Bless The She Devil Who Made Joel Miller

Pairing: BFD!Joel x F!Reader

18+ only!!!

Summary: After a fight with your boyfriend, your best friend Sarah invites you to say with her at her childhood home with her dad.

CW: Joel be peekin, Joel is mean (but you like it). I’m choosing not to say anything else to not spoil anything so engage at your own risk.

AN: You can all thank @littlevenicebitch69 for this. She asked for being caught, but I am daddy and I know what she really wants 😉 thank you @mermaidgirl30 for being my forever beta xo

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

God bless the absolute angel who brought Sarah Miller into your life. She somehow convinced her dad to let you stay with them over spring break after your boyfriend locked you out of your shared apartment and then refused to answer the phone or let you in. Sweet, empathetic, and dependable Sarah was at your apartment minutes after you called her and didn’t have to say much to her dad to let him allow you to stay.

And God bless the absolute she devil who made Joel Miller and put him in close proximity with you. You have a boyfriend, maybe, you can’t be sure, but you do know you have it HARD for Joel Mother Fucking Miller. He’s exactly the type of man that would classify as a DILF, and you don’t even consider yourself into older men. But Joel isn’t older, he’s experienced and charming and every single thing he does seems to turn you on.

Sarah has been working a day shift at the local grocery store during the break and Joel is off running his contracting business. Joel Miller, sweaty and dirty and building things with his large calloused hands. Fuck, you try to shake that image from your brain because you certainly do not need another image of him to touch yourself too.

You have a job serving in the evenings so the house is quiet and all yours during the day. This afternoon the sun peeks through your curtains and wakes you. Sun dancing along the pale yellow walls of the spare bedroom. You pick up your phone and see that it’s clear and sunny, the perfect day to lay out by the pool that Joel said you could use, “make yourself at home, darlin’, any friend of Sarah is welcome anytime.”

You practically leap out of bed and into your ensuite bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready to lay out in the sun. You rush down the hall in the swimsuit Sarah lent you, a large blue and white striped pool towel tucked under your arm.

You love Sarah, but there’s no chance you’re wearing this ridiculous one piece swimsuit to tan, plus you’re alone so what’s the harm? Joel doesn’t get home until well after 5 pm most nights, Sarah usually around 3 or 4, and she’s seen you naked more than once. Plus the backyard is fairly private, most likely no one will see anything.

Fuck it, you think to yourself, slipping the red lycra straps off your shoulders and then shimmying the suit down your body. The sun immediately warms your skin and that boost of vitamin D already has you feeling lighter and happier. You spread the towel down on the chair and lay on your stomach, tying your hair on top of your head and then grabbing your phone.

You flip through Spotify before settling on the album Ten by Pearl Jam. As the first song floats across the backyard, you rest your cheek on your hands and let the fast paced grunge music wash away your thoughts of your boyfriend and what you’re going to do next week when you go back to school. All that matters now is the sun on your skin.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel was just about to start working on some paperwork for his next building when he heard movement in the hallway. You must be up for the day, he should probably let you know he’s working from home today, just in case. He wants you to be comfortable here, even if it’s killing him to see you wandering around his house in those small denim shorts you wear to work. Last night he was almost certain he could see your hard nipples peeking out from the fabric of your tight white t-shirt.

Absolutely not, Joel. He scolds himself.

He hears you pad down the hall and then the unmistakable swoosh of the sliding glass door to the backyard. He glances out the window in his office to see you slip the red swimsuit Sarah lent you off your body. His cock was already painfully hard behind his jeans.

She just turned 21. The Angel on his shoulder reminds the devil that’s tempting him from the other side.

His mouth waters as he looks at your body. Your tits are perky, pink little nipples hardening as the air hits them.

She's going through a hard time. The good side of his conscience seems to be losing but he finds an ounce of strength and looks away. He can’t be staring at you.

He tries to focus on this goddamn contract but even little deadline and “initial here” blend together and all he can see in the jumbled words of the page is that little strip of hair that leads to that bundle of nerves he so badly wants to suck on. When he looks up again you’re laying face down, round and perky ass facing his window and on display for him. She must not know he’s home, and now she’s going to think he’s a total fucking creep if he says something now.

She’s your daughter's best friend. No, she’s off limits. Beyond off limits. Get it together, Miller.

And then your music drifts through his cracked window. You’re listening to Pearl Jam. So now not only are you incredibly tempting but you also have the music of his teenage years blasting. He can’t resist anymore, glancing out of the window to see you still laying on your stomach and your plush ass bouncing along as you wiggle to Eddie Vedder singing about still being alive.

He’s not sure how it happens, his body seems to move without him knowing, and suddenly he’s standing at the window, staring down into the backyard at you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the large window frame.

He slows his breathing and focuses on you - every dip and curve, every freckle, every little bit of skin being absorbed by his heated gaze. Your legs are slightly parted, but not enough for him to be able to see your cunt, and fuck does he want to see it.

His palms tingle with the need to cup your ass, maybe spank you for being naked in the middle of the day. He has neighbors, they could see you right now. This is unacceptable and you should be punished.

Just as he’s about to head downstairs his cell phone rings loudly and you shoot up onto your elbows and look over your shoulder at him, eyes locking with his before a tiny smile crosses your face. Joel looks away quickly and grabs his cell, almost crushing the device in his grasp as he answers.

X•X•X•X•X•X•X

Joel Miller was fully lurking at your naked body, and while that should probably embarrass you, you need to get fucked. You need something, anything, to forget about that piece of shit boyfriend who locked you out and refuses to talk to you or let you get your stuff. Sarah told you when you first met that he had her when he was 19, so it’s not like he’s THAT much older than you. Plus it’s just fucking.

Yep, I’m going for it.

You gather the towel around your body loosely, hooking your swimsuit on your finger and twirling it happily as you head into the house, determined to confront him and then seduce him. When you head up the stairs he’s standing in the doorframe of his office, just across from the spare bedroom you’re occupying. He looks deliciously pissed, one arm propped above his head on the door frame, the other on his hip, knee popped out. Your pussy flutters at the thought of his large, angry body above yours.

The opening bars of Jeremy fill the silence between you two, almost daring the other to make the first move.

“Turn that off,” Joel snaps. “I’m working.”

“Didn’t look like you were working a few minutes ago,” you say back, matching his energy.

Joel’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing, but you can tell he’s fighting to keep his eyes on yours. You lick your lips, testing him, teasing him, pushing him to see if he’ll take the bait. The flick of his eyes to your lips happens so quickly you almost miss it.

You let out a scoff, “Ya, that’s what I thought.” You step towards him, so close that you can smell the coffee and sawdust on him. “Wanna take a break from all that work?” You say the word work teasingly, trying to entice him.

“Go to your room and put some clothes on. Don’t let me catch you naked in the backyard again,” He says deeply, then closes his office door in your face.

You smirk to yourself, dropping the towel at his door and wandering into your room leaving the door wide open. You hook your phone to the Bluetooth speaker as you lay on your bed completely naked. You hit the volume button and slip your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, little circles.

“Daddy didn’t give no affection, no

And the boy was something that Mommy wouldn’t wear

King Jeremy the wicked

Oh, ruled his world”

Joel whips his office door open looking absolutely furious. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Bare, wide open, and soaking wet. You don’t stop, don’t even bother to look his way, as you dip your fingers into your pussy and cry out his name. Joel steps into your room and hits the power button on your speaker. The only sounds that film the room are your moans and the squelching of your arousal as your fingers slip in and out of your pussy.

“What the fuck did I just say, little girl?” Joel says darkly.

You open your eyes to look at him and the expression on his face sends your heart into your stomach. You’ve always been a little bit of a brat, getting in trouble lots growing up. Truthfully, you like the rush of it, the adrenaline of the unknown. But Joel looks dangerous, eyes blown out with rage and lust, hands clamped into fists at his sides, a slight blush pinks his cheeks, lips in a tight line.

You sit up, crossing your legs and covering yourself with a pillow as you turn towards him. You’re suddenly not feeling so confident, you may have pushed the wrong man.

“Y-you said outside,” you start, your voice wavering. “I’m inside.”

Joel moves so quickly that you don’t even have time to register what’s happening as the pillow is ripped from your grip and disposed of on the floor in front of you. You’re bare and exposed to him again.

“Spread your legs,” he says hungrily, voice a raspy whisper.

He watches your throat as you swallow hard, leaning back on your elbows and planting your feet on the edge of the bed. You look at him tentatively, jumping and letting out a little squeal when he barks, “I said spread your fucking legs.”

You relax, letting your knees fall open. His breathing is rapid, a growling moan leaving his parted lips. He takes one step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Joel -” you start.

“Shut up. You knew what you were doing, you wanted this. Didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes, but…” his hand slaps the inside of your thigh and your knees slam together as you cry out.

“Spread. Your fucking. Legs,” he repeats in a slow and deep command.

“That hurt!” You say back, squeezing your knees together tighter. It feels like he set fire to your thigh and you can already see the red handprint forming.

“If you’re gonna act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like one. Now spread your legs so I can hit the other one.” He raises an eyebrow at you cockily. “If you keep them open, I might reward you.” You’ve bit off more than you can chew with Joel Miller.

You take in a calming breath through your nose, relaxing your knees as you exhale slowly. Joel can see the milky, sticky strings of your arousal as your pussy lips spread open for him. He has to swallow the excess saliva that pools in his cheeks at the sight. He wants to taste you so fucking badly.

“I think you liked it,” he taunts. “You’re makin’ a mess, you like being slapped around, don’t you? Treated like a little whore.”

Before you can respond he lays a hard smack on your other thigh. Your hips involuntarily buck upwards, your head falling back and a moaning, whimpering cry you don’t recognize as your own leaves your lips. You focus on your knees, fighting against your body’s instincts, keeping them pushed into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he kneels in front of you and yanks your ass to the edge of the bed. “Think you should get a reward now?”

“Y-yes, please, Joel. Please!” You have never had to beg for sex before, boys your age are usually fired up and ready to go, but men of Joel’s age know sex is so much more than just penetration - it’s a game, a tease.

He bites down on your thigh, “Please. Please, Joel!”

“You smell so fucking good,” he says as his hooked nose trails down your little line of pubic hair. You squirm under him as your clit twitches, aching for his attention. “And so goddamn wet. My little whore, aren’t ya?” His warm breath hits your needy clit and you flop down onto the bed, whining in need.

“Please -” but your words are cut off by the front door opening and Sarah’s voice calls through the house.

“Everyone can celebrate, I’m home now!!!” She yells jokingly.

“Fuck!” Joel huffs under his breath and bolts for his office, kicks your towel and swimsuit into your room, you follow and click your door shut quietly.

“Hello?” Sarah calls, heading up the stairs.

“Just getting dressed,” you call through your closed door. “I think your dad is in a meeting.”

“Put on your swimsuit, it’s gorgeous outside!”

Taglist

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part two max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

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“Come on, you can’t say he has so much potential!” Max miserably tried to hold in his laughs as you continued your rant about how much better Max would look if he put a little more effort or thought in how he dressed. 

“I’m honestly starting to think he’s allergic to wearing anything . . . not Red Bull related. Like even in his streams! In his home!” 

Sitting in front of his laptop with a makeshift setup in the hotel room in Japan, Max found himself unwinding from the earlier media day when he gladly accepted to join you for a game of Fifa. It wasn’t until someone brought up Lewis’ outfit from this morning did you start your little ted talk. 

“La, please concentrate on the game, we’re losing!” he couldn’t stop laughing either so your team was toast either way. 

“No, because I bet he's wearing his Red Bull shirt right now wherever he is.”

The reason why Max was no longer able to hold it together was because he was indeed in a Red Bull shirt. He might actually take you up on being allergic to anything not associated with Red Bull.

“I’ll gladly design a few outfits for him, I swear!” 

“La-” Max put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking from laughter as his screen showed the opposing team scoring a goal. The dutch would usually feel frustrated if he were to be losing a Fifa game in any other situation, but not this one with you.

He's ready to lose and lose again, even give up his title as one of the world's top twenty Fifa players if he gets to spend time with you like this, laughing and joking; forgetting the world around, so it's just you and him.

Just two people . . . being people.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Since I have no one to show, you're stuck with me.” 

It’s kind of been a routine now, having a private call after a game or upon finding spare time. You two have gotten close. You even considered “amilian” to be a close friend, per say. A close friend who you regularly vent to about work or just randomly ask riddles or dad jokes to bother.

You enjoyed his company. He was a fun person to be around. He made you feel . . . yellow in a type of way too. You never felt left out or unheard. He always had time for you, it's like you were maybe gravitating to being more than close friends . . . it's not like you can do anything about it though.

Surely people make close friends online all the time. 

You stay up on your couch, scrolling through the settings of your laptop to show and rant despite having to get up in the morning. Max crossed his legs on his chair folding his arms and watching the screen as you messed around on your shared screen.

“La, it’s late.” He’s been trying to tell you for the past 10 minutes. It’s 6:30 in Japan, 7 hours ahead of the time in Paris, where you were. 

Not that he’s keeping track of the time where you were, it’s just that you shared the same time zone as Monaco, and he only had the GMT+2 clock displayed on his home screen because he needed to keep track of his cats . . .  not too make sure you got enough sleep or anything of that sort.

“It's only 11:30,” you shushed, pulling up pinterest. Max hung his head, trying to hold in his smile. “I could put together a whole outfit that would suit him right here and now,”

“La,” Max giggled watching you actually start to search and put things together. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you go to sleep, I'll try to get Max Verstappen in baggy jeans,” 

“WHAT?!” the blond flinched at the loud noise, looking around his hotel room to make sure no one heard anything -- despite him being alone. 

“You know I work in F1 right?” Max followed up, trying to hold in his smile at your silence. “La, you forgot?!” 

“I’m sorry!” you pleaded, holding your hands in a begging motion despite him not seeing anything.

Max put his hand on his chest and pretended to be offended when he was smiling really wide to the point his cheeks hurt. “My best friend doesn't know what I do for a living,” he gushed in fake hurt. 

Your mind blanked at the title. Best friend? 

“You do know what my job is, right, La?”

“. . .” You looked away embarrassed, you’ve known the guy for how long and don’t even know what his profession is. 

Max couldn’t stop his giggles. “Go to bed, La. I’ll get Max in baggy jeans for you.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey um, million?” 

“I thought I told you to go to bed?” Max chuckled, crouched in front of his suitcase, digging through it in hopes to find a pair of baggy jeans or a white shirt that he probably doesn't own. 

“I am in bed technically . . .” The blond looked over to his laptop on his desk, the call still going. “You work in F1,” Max felt his heart jump in anxiety for a second, there's no way you figured him out. 

“Yeah?”

 “Well um . . . my boss chose me to go see how things were going with McLaren at the Monaco gp,” 

The dutch perked up at your announcement. “Really? That's great!” 

“Y-Yeah, it is,” you stuttered, agreeing. you crossed your arms, looking at the email congratulating you on your phone screen. “I mean, I'm glad, this is an experience of a lifetime. I get to drag along a few interns with me as well.” Max frowned, your tone did not match with the news you were announcing.

“What's wrong?” He got up, sitting on the desk chair, looking at your profile picture, the concern was clear in voice, as if you could feel him sitting beside you on your bed and gently rubbing your back to comfort you. 

“Well, I don't have anyone to go with - the interns don't count . . . and I don't know anyone in Monaco or the attendees-- except you technically . . . I haven’t been on my own for that long before,” you sighed.

Max furrowed his eyebrows, trying to decipher what you were asking of him.

“Is it-” you cut yourself of with a sigh. “Can I hang out with you sometime? During the weekend?” Max stayed silent, feeling his heart pounding to the point he was scared the organ would explode out of his chest. 

“I mean,” Max cleared his throat to hide the crack in his voice that arose from the anxiety he was drowning in. “I’m not traveling with the team every weekend, so I'm not sure if I'm going to be in Monaco . . . I’ll have to ask my boss.” he replied quietly and slowly, trying to comfort you still. “There’s still a few weeks before Monaco, so . . . I don’t know for sure.” He whispered, scratching the back of his head.

He was digging himself a grave. Asking Horner if he’s going to be in Monaco when he is the driver and already lives in Monaco? It’s too late now to be honest about who he is, he dug this hole himself and now he’s stuck in it.

It’s not like he can be like ‘oh, yeah of course you can hang out with me. Oh, I’m Max Verstappen by the way, the guy who’s driving the best car and winning all the races, so I can get you VIP tickets and a hot lap too if you want.’

“I’ll try my best to be there,” the blond whispered. You could almost feel him brushing your hair comfortingly. “We can get ice cream or go sightseeing. I know this really good cafe you’ll like . . .” Max will just have to keep digging his hole.

proof reading credits to the lovely and amazing @classiclitfreak <3

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[rainylana]

“Still alive?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a relaxing day at home and eddie wants to play.

warnings: smut, language, mentions of spanking, reader calls herself fat, rough sex.

There was something so sexy about watching you paint. Maybe it was how your face scrunched up in concentration. Maybe it was how cute you looked, hair put up and comfy clothes with old paint stains. It was a hot day, so it was spent inside for the both of you. Eddie had lounged on the couch all day watching movies, a cold beer in his hand. When you broke out your canvas and paints, he didn’t pay much more attention to the film on screen. He watched as the white board turned into a bowl of fruit. First it was grapes, then a red apple, then a pear. Now you were working on a pineapple, halfway down with the green and brown spikey stems.

You looked adorable. Little grey, snug shorts just cut at the curve of your backside, black crop top covered in colored paint stains. Your paintbrush end was in your mouth, your eyes into slits as you thought about your painting. You always criticized your work. He didn’t understand why. You were extremely creative. You’d entered into the local fair and won awards almost every year. You liked your paintings to tell a story, is what you always told Eddie.

The polaroid camera sat on the coffee table beside him, and he quietly reached over and brought it to eye level, clicking the button as the room quickly flashed. You jumped at the noise. “Hey,” You looked back with a smile. “I look a mess!”

“You look beautiful.” He corrected for you, setting the camera back down as he held the polaroid. “I’ve been watching you for hours now. I don’t know what the hell I’m even watching now.”

“Friday the 13th chapter 2.” You laughed, turning back to your painting. “I wondered why I felt eyes at the back of my head. Thought maybe we had a ghost.”

“Oh, no.” He shook the picture. “So scary.”

He groaned loudly as he sat up from the couch, glancing at the tv as Jason sliced someone up with his machete, and happily trotted over to you. “Look how pretty.” He swung his arms around your neck, bending down to show you the picture with a cheesy smile.

“God, I look fat.” You cringed. “I’m slouched over. Throw that shit away.” You waved your hand so you wouldn’t have to see it.

“Fat?” He said incredulously. “It’s amazing how you can turn my compliments into insults. You’re too harsh on yourself, babe.” He put the picture in his back pocket, clapping your shoulder. “So, tell me what the story is with this beautiful bowl of fruit.”

“Farmers market opens next week.” You touched up your stem on the pineapple. “Thought maybe they’d like to hang this up by the register.”

“That’s nice of you.” He smiled, admiring the bright colors. “Joyce get hired there?”

“Mhm.” You hummed. “Starts opening day. I think Nancy wants to get a job there too.” You tilted your neck to the side as he kissed it lovingly under your ear.

“Mhm.” His vibrations warmed your neck.

You smiled, dipping your brush in yellow paint. “You’re gonna mess me up, Eddie.”

He dipped down to your shoulder, pulling down your tank top strap to kiss the exposed skin. “Don’t let me distract you, babydoll. Just lovin’ on what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” You raised a brow in amusement.

He hummed back in response and you could feel his smile on your skin. “Eddie,” You rolled your head back. “I’ve got to finish this by tomorrow.”

“Come on, play with me.” He came up to kiss your cheek, making your smirk. “I’m tired of watching movies.”

You rolled your eyes and put down your paintbrush. “Fine,” You dramatized. “You want your dick sucked?”

“You make having sex with me sound like a chore,” He scoffed, pushing his curls out of his face. “I’m so touched.”

You chuckled and grabbed at his shirt. “Shut up.” You pressed your lips against his, standing on your tipy-toes. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he slowly walked you the both back to the couch. When the backs of his knees hit the couch he laid down, pulling you on top of him.

You kissed him slowly and lovingly, noses rubbing together, little sounds mixing with the violence on the tv screen. Your bare legs rubbed against his jeans, a little warmth growing in your belly of contentment. “Am I boring you?” He cupped the back of your neck, lightly pulling at your hair.

“A little.” You challenged, grinding your clothed body against his own. You whimpered when his large hand cupped the space between your legs, adding pressure in just the right spot.

“There she is.” He smirked slightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “See, if I was boring you, angel, you wouldn’t make that pretty sound, now would you?”

“More.” You breathed, leaning into his opposite hand he had on your face, your pussy pounding in the palm of his other.

“I don’t know,” He tsked, petting your face. “You were getting a little too mouthy for my liking, sweetheart. Maybe I should spank that bad attitude out of you, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t let you come.” He rubbed his hand against your shorts, his dirty words making you throb desperately. 

“Please,” You begged, fluttering your eyes. “I want to come so bad. I’m sorry for being bad.” You could feel how hard he was against your bare thigh, and you reached out to palm his erection just like what he was doing with you.

He stiffened with a small groan. “Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ wet little thing, aren’t ya’?”

You nodded quickly, reconnecting your lips together in a quick tangle, rocking your bodies together like the ocean currents against the sand. You tumbled together, furiously removing articles of pesky clothing until your naked bodies were on display. Your wet arousal shined between your thighs, his hard cock resting against your slit as you tongue danced with him.

He sat up and twisted you around so he could be on top, leaning down to kiss you hard, dark curls falling down like a curtain. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”

You blushed deeply at the demand, obeying his words as you did so. You whimpered when he looked down at your push, aligning the tip of his thick cock. “Beg me for it.” He pushed out a husky breath.

You groaned and rolled your head to the side, arching your back for me. “Please,”

He rubbed himself up and down, circling your clit that send electric shock waves into your body, making you shake. “More.”

“Please, please, Eddie,” You had tears in your eyes. “I want your cock so fucking bad, please- oh,” He pushed himself in, the both of you simultaneously moaning. He thrusted in, bottoming out, his balls against the curvature of your backside.

He grabbed your hands and put them above your head, holding them there tightly as he began pounding into you. You’d never done it in this position before, not with your legs like this. It only made it more exciting for you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cried, panting heavily as tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. He looked down to his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy, your arousal making him glisten. He grunted, the weight of his thrusts making the couch squeak across the floor.

“Oh, god!” You sobbed, trying to move your hands. “Right there! Just like that, please don’t stop!” Your praises only made him go harder, your legs still dangling on his shoulders. He fucked you hard and deep, his cock abusing your g spot. You knew you wouldn’t be able to walk after this.

Your orgasm brewed in your stomach, your legs shaking from how cruel he was with you. You loved it in every way. “Gonna be my good girl again?” His words came out shaky, still domineering.

“Mhm, yes!” You mewled, arching your back. “Oh, god, you feel so good, give it to me, give it to me-” You chanted, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone.

“Fuck,” His stomach warmed and the ball inside was tight, coming down to kiss your lips. He let go of one of your hands to slap your clit, making you squeal. “Bad girl.” He trembled, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Been a bad- shit, bad little girl,”

“I’m close.” You cried, singing whimpers of songs that made him climb the ladder to release. “Almost, almost,”

Both of you came simultaneously, you sobbed and whimpered with you, his hips moving slower, but deep to ride through the release. He collapsed on top of you, his softening cock still inside of you. Your vision was blurry, your legs falling off his shoulders. Your breathing was erratic like you had been punched in the gut.

He gave you a wet kiss on the side of your neck, a tired graze of his lips that tickled. “Still alive?”

You chuckled, holding out a thumbs up to him.

[traveler-at-heart]

Across the Natashaverse - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Summary: After you're sent to another world, Natasha has to deal with yourself, from another universe, and a very different life.

Other POV from this fic.

“Put more weight on your left foot” Natasha says, barely checking America’s movements.

Of course she knows this is important. Maria asked her to train Chavez in the basics of hand to hand combat. Her mind is elsewhere, though.

Especifically, you.

Natasha thought she was doing you a favor, she really did. Someone as kind as you could do much better than her. Agreeing to a date would only give you false hope, so she rejected the invitation.

It was foolish of her to think that things would be the same after that. You weren’t distant or rude, though that might have been easier.

Every morning, you’d still have breakfast with her, show her funny videos or tell her about your latest discoveries in the lab with Stark, which in the end, were related to her work as well.

You simply stopped sharing your interests, or going out of your way to seek her company. Long gone were the days of sitting together at the Met while you talked about your favorite paintings. Or the grocery shopping that turned into strolls through Central Park and ended in your favorite bookshop.

All that was left now were pleasantries.

“Am I doing it right?” America asks. She sure as hell isn’t, so Natasha shakes her head, hoping she can manage to focus on the task at hand.

“Stop” she says, stepping on the sparring mat.

“Please don’t tell me you want me to fight you”

“You’re punching the air, Chavez. The only way to learn is by doing. It will be fine”

The girl doesn’t seem too convinced, but Natasha starts with slow movements and corrects America as they go. When the intensity of the training increases, the girl’s powers begin to stir. A yellow flash on the ceiling distracts Natasha, and the next thing she feels is America’s fist colliding with her cheek.

“Crap! Agent Romanoff, I’m so sorry”

But there’s another loud thud, not far from the gym.

“Did you hear that?” Natasha asks, trying to figure what the noise is.

“Maybe”

“Take a break” Natasha instructs, looking around the room to check if everything’s alright. The team is still figuring out the extent of her powers and Natasha worries the girl just unleashed a demonic creature or something.

The redhead is so focused on the room, she doesn’t notice someone approaching.

That is, until she feels a hard slap on her ass, and a sultry voice against her ear.

“There’s my favorite ass-assin”

Five seconds later, she has the intruder upside down, back against the floor, gasping for air.

“Baby, I know you don’t like my jokes but this is a little too much, don’t you think?”

It takes her a second to process what’s happening.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, love” you smirk, all smug despite being knocked down by Natasha. “The weirdest thing just happened, I was going to get a snack because Anya was moody and then fell on my ass right outside the gym”

Natasha stares at you, as if you’re speaking a foreign language. And then it all clicks. The slightly longer hair, how you smell and feel different.

She let’s go of you and starts pulling your shirt by the collar.

“Hell yeah, let’s get naked”

“Where’s your birthmark?”

“I don’t have a…”

“You’re from another world”

“Ah, that’s so sweet…” you try to lean forward and kiss her, but she pushes you away. “Babe, I’m getting mixed signals here”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call for an emergency meeting”

—

“I’m sorry, she’s what?” Sam points at you, and Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

“She’s from another universe. America must have opened up a portal when we were training”

“Alright, so she just opens it back and we correct the mistake”

“It’s not that simple” Tony walks in.

“Uhm, guys. This meeting should be for Avengers only” you lower your voice, eyeing the man suspiciously.

“Hello? That table you’re sitting in so carelessly. Mahogany. Paid by me”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen this man before”

“A world without Tony Stark” Steve says, amused.

“Must be really quiet in your Compound” Sam says and you smirk.

“Why, no thanks to you. Not with all those super models you’re always bringing back to your room” you raise your eyebrows and Sam’s eyes widen.

“I date super models? I wanna go to her world”

Steve and Tony begin to argue about how that will make the multiverse collapse, when Natasha interrupts them.

“She’s messing with you, idiots”

Tony and Sam look at each other and then at you. You almost fall to the ground as you laugh. Since you’re not helpful, the team ignores you as they keep discussing the best way to identify your reality and correct the glitch.

“Y/N 2.0, we need more information about your… where did she go?” Tony grumbles.

“I got this” Natasha sighs, stomping to the kitchen. Sure enough, you’re rummaging through the fridge, complaining at every item of food you find.

“Don’t you have anything with sugar here?”

“You’re free to prepare anything for yourself”

“Not unless you want the kitchen to explode, Nat”

The redhead pushes you aside, while you look around the living room, inspecting the pictures on every place you can find.

“No wedding? Or Anya?”

“Nope” Natasha says, her voice shaking lightly.

“Why?”

“None of your business” she says, handing you a plate with a sanwich.

“Thanks. How did you know I was lying about Stark and Wilson?”

“Your voice gets all high pitched when you tell a lie” she answers, refusing to look at you.

“Huh” you mumble, taking a bite out of the sandwich. “Um. Is this peanut butter?”

“Would her Highness prefer caviar?” Natasha teases, but turns around and finds you covered in hives. “Shit!”

“That’s fine” you say, struggling to breathe. “Nothing an epi can’t fix, love”

You pass out in the middle of the kitchen, wondering if you’ll leave this foreign universe in one piece.

—

After leaving you at the medbay, Natasha goes back to the meeting room. She’s examining all the reports and missions that are related to multiverses. It’s a lot to digest, including all the quantum physics.

Alone for the first time since this whole thing started, she finally allows herself the chance to miss you. Right around this time, you’d be making dinner, and she’d be in the kitchen, pretending to help just to be close to you.

What if she never gets you back?

“Hello, there” a voice says. You approach slowly, knowing it’s best not to surprise her.

“How are you feeling? I’m really sorry…”

“There’s no way you could have known. It honestly never occurred to me that things like allergies were different” you say, patting her leg. “Interested in string theory?”

“Yeah, it’s a great ice breaker” Natasha says, and you chuckle. “You don’t seem too worried”

“The America Chavez of my world has had a bit more training. I’m sure I’ll be back home for lunch tomorrow”

“You could have said something!” Natasha feels the need to kick your ass again.

“Hey, I was gonna! And then I almost died”

“Jerk”

“What are you so worried about? She’s in a safe world”

“What if your Natasha gave Y/N a similar welcome?”

“Oh, I’m sure she had her pinned to a wall, only for very different reasons”

Natasha turns to you, alarmed. Her jealousy is so obvious that all you can do is laugh.

“There it is. I wasn’t sure you had any feelings towards her. Wanna tell me what happened?” you nudge her chair with your foot and she looks at you, annoyed.

“She asked me out, gave me flowers, I said no”

“Flowers, huh? Well, she’s more romantic than me. Natasha and I were pretending to be a couple for a mission and then I just blurted out I wouldn’t mind doing it again under different circumstances” you explain, laughing at the memory.  “But hey, if flowers and chocolates aren’t your thing, I respect it”

“It’s not like that”

“Then, what is it like?”

She thinks back to all the times you’ve made her feel safe, cared for, loved. You make it look so easy, but for the life of her, Natasha can’t figure out how to reciprocate.

What you make her feel, is too good and beautiful for someone like her.

“I haven’t earned her love” is all she manages to say.

“Natasha” you call, softly, and only speak when she finally turns to you. “You don’t have to do anything to be deserving of love”

There is silence, and then you take her hand in yours.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s grab some Chinese”

“Fine. No more peanut butter, though. I don’t want to fight myself if something happens to you”

“Now that would be entertaining”

—

Next morning, everyone is back in the meeting room. Apparently, due to some bad experiences, they’ve decided you should come back to your world immediately, before the universes collapse.

“I promise you, it will be fine” you insist. Natasha is the only one that seems to believe you, so you save yourself the trouble and spin around in the office chair.

“Can you stop?” Steve says, irritated.

“I’m trying to create a vortex that is powerful enough to send me back to my reality, Steve” but he still glares and you stand up. “Fine. I’m getting a snack”

As you exit the room, Natasha comes running behind you.

“Wait. I wanted to apologize”

“Steve is an old grumpy man, don’t sweat it”

“No, not about that. I’m sorry for… being so hard on you when you first got here”

“We deal with aliens and all kinds of threats.  It’s not so crazy to think that an intruder is dangerous. It’s all good, Nat” you shrug your shoulders.

“I just wouldn’t be ok if your Natasha had acted that way with my Y/N”

“Your Y/N?” you repeat, pleased as Natasha blushes. “Good for you, Romanoff. Get the girl. Trust me when I say, she’ll make it worth it” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Such a flirt”

“We can’t help ourselves around you, no matter the universe”

You wink, and walk to the kitchen, leaving Natasha in the hallway.

Inevitably, she thinks about you. The one that belongs here, with her. Are you enjoying your time in that other universe? Will you resent her for bringing you back? Maybe that Natasha is more loving and sweet, and you’ll finally realise that she can’t actually make you happy…

Her thoughts begin to spiral again, until the commotion in the room breaks her train of thought.

“Damn, you fell from the ceiling” Sam says, looking up. A yellow portal closes just as Natasha opens up the door. Everyone’s around you, and when your face comes to view, Natasha’s heart almost stops.

There’s a little cut and bruising from the fall, but you’re back.

She pushes everyone, and wraps you in her arms. You return the gesture.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me”

She hugs you closer, smiling against your neck.

Natasha’s never letting go again.

—

“So, tell me everything!” you say, sitting next to Natasha as you drive back home. “Did I tell you I almost died to peanut exposure?”

“Looks like someone had fun” your wife comments and you smile.

“What about you, my love? Did you do anything dirty with my other self?”

“Well, there might have been some kissing and touching before I noticed…”

“Not to brag, but the other Natasha was on top of me” you say, trying to pretend like it’s no big deal your wife kissed another you.

“You pissed her off and she threw you to the ground, didn’t she?” Natasha smirks.

Damn it.

“Maybe”

Seeing your daughter brings you back to reality. Fun as it was to be in another universe, your life is perfect here.

“Mommy, are you cooking dinner again tonight?” the girl says as you carry her to the kitchen.

“Uh… let’s have lunch first, yes? Go wash your hands”

Natasha hands you a plate of what the other Y/N made and you gasp.

“Holy crap, this is delicious! Babe, not gonna lie, I wouldn’t have judged you if you fucked her against a wall after tasting her food”

“You’re such an idiot” Natasha rolls her eyes, sitting on your lap and stealing a bite of the pasta. “But you are my idiot”

“Always and in every universe, baby”

You kiss her softly, happy to be home.

[octuscle]

Road Trip to a new life

Bloody hell, Chuck thought to himself! They can't just forget me here! His football team was on its way home from an away game. A very successful away game. And they all had their star quarterback to thank for that. And that was him, that was Chuck. And now they had all just taken a pee break. At a rest stop in the middle of nowhere. And hey, Chuck had been flirting with the cute waitress at the diner. And yes, he had fucked her in the broom closet. Hehehe, he thought to himself for a brief moment. A map of the state, showing the broom closets where he'd fucked basement girls, cheerleaders, or even teachers from schools he'd usually flunked out of shortly afterward. That would be a cool idea! His grin didn't last long. Shit, the team bus had left. Without him. And now he was standing here in the rain with no idea how he was going to get home.

A truck came to a halt next to him. A horn sounded very loudly. Chuck didn't react yet. The passenger door opened and a bearded guy looked out. "Son, you look lost. Can I give you a ride?" Chuck hesitated for a moment. He was still far too confused, far too angry to think clearly. "Sure, that would be cool," he replied. And climbed into the cab of the monstrous truck. It smelled of cigar smoke and sweat. Chuck looked at the driver. A short, slightly overweight guy. Unkempt. The dirty T-shirt ended just above the large belt buckle and showed a roll of flab. A greasy mullet peeked out from under the trucker's cap. Shit, Chuck thought to himself. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. The trucker lit a half-smoked cigar. "My name is Pete. If you want one too, there's one in the compartment right in front of you. Chuck shook his head, tensed his biceps and said, "Chuck! Thanks for the ride. And I don't smoke. I'm an athlete." Pete stretched out his right arm and felt Chuck's biceps. "Hm, feels good. It'd be a shame if you stopped working out." He blew a puff of smoke in Chuck's direction. And his hand moved towards Chuck's chest. "Wait, wait," Chuck moved to the right in a sit. "No homo, dude. I only fuck pussy." The driver just glanced briefly in Chuck's direction and smiled. His teeth were nicotine yellow. "I don't care what YOU fuck." He blew another puff of smoke in Chuck's direction, pulled his hand back and began kneading the bulge in his crotch. "Thanks for the ride, I think I'd better get off now." Another puff of smoke. Chuck went dizzy. "Comrade, the next stop isn't for another six hours. We have a schedule to meet." Chuck tried to keep a clear head. But the smoke was making him tired. His head felt like it was full of absorbent cotton. "All right, Pete," he mumbled. And fell asleep.

It was dark outside when Pete shook him by the shoulder. "Get up, sleepyhead. We'll take a break in fifteen minutes and then change drivers. Chuck yawned and stretched. Driver change? What was Pete talking about? And more important now was his latte. South of his big belt buckle, Chuck made a big tent in his pants. Of course Pete had noticed it long ago. He had long since taken his puny boner out of his pants and was wanking it. As a passenger, you had your duties. And it was still a quarter of an hour's drive. It wasn't the first time Chuck had blown someone in a driver's cab. Driver's cabs, filthy toilets in truck stops, broom closets in cheap diners. He could manage anywhere. How long had he been driving aimlessly on the highways now? Two years? Got there. You had to take what you could get. And Pete was actually out of his league. But he took him a good part of the way. Gratitude was a must.

Chuck walked a little wide-legged towards the restrooms at the service station. Pete must have cum. Chuck hadn't yet. They wouldn't be driving on for another hour at the earliest. It was going to be hell if he didn't find someone to fuck by then. In the light of a lantern, he leaned against the wall, his erection still clearly visible. He took a cigar from his leather vest, lit it and waited. Almost five minutes. Then a greasy business traveler in a cheap suit walked past him. A look that lasted a little too long. A grab in the crotch. A mumbled "20 without a rubber?". And everything was clear. It had been a few days since Chuck had showered, but the guy was still greedily going down on Chuck's greasy, cheesy cock. Premium beef. Yes, that described his cock very well. And this premium beef had just been sucked clean for 20 dollars. And then Chuck sank it into the guy's ass.

Chuck couldn't understand guys like Pete. When you were out on the street, you had to take care of your body. Okay, Chuck more than others, his body was his asset after all. But while Chuck shoveled in lots of chips and a big burger and drank three pitchers of beer, Chuck ate his steak and salad, drank water and used the last few minutes before leaving to do a few pull-ups and push-ups at the fitness station behind the toilets. A few other long-distance drivers loitered around him. If they hadn't had to drive on, Chuck could certainly have earned a few more dollars. But as it was, he climbed into the driver's seat. If he hadn't had to drive, he would certainly have had a few beers. As it was, another cigar would have to do. Pete snored in the back of his bunk. Chuck turned the radio up a little louder to stay awake. And he steered the truck south through the night.

At the next break and before the driver change, Chuck was able to earn a few more dollars. There were many truck stops where he was known as a colorful dog. When you heard his heavy footsteps and the creaking of the leather, it was like a bell on a Pavlovian dog. Chuck had been traveling the country for many years. A mixture of hustler, temporary trucker and casual laborer. He had flunked out of college at some point. Stupid thing to do. He'd had a thing with a woman once. And she'd claimed he'd raped her. That taught him a lesson, since then he only fucked men. They appreciated his mouth, his ass and his cock. And paid well.

Somewhere in New Mexico, Pete threw Chuck out of the truck. He had to be out of the cab before the finish line. Pete would be in big trouble if it came out that he had let someone else drive the truck. He thanked Chuck with a masterful blowjob and a box of Cuban cigars. They would probably never see each other again. The country was big… Chuck rarely got in the same truck twice.

Chuck loved the feeling of the sun on his body. He was able to use the stop for an extensive open-air workout, a good meal, two lucrative fucks and even a shower. Now let's see where he was going. He stood by the road. It wasn't five minutes before a car stopped and the driver asked him if he could give him a lift. Chuck only asked if he could smoke in the car. Only if he didn't just put the cigar in his mouth, was the answer. Chuck got in the car. On the road again!

Pics by @ki-kink

[nina-ya]

Patching up Zoros Wounds

A/N I’ve decided to turn this into a series cause why not. I’m working on a Law one which should be up tonight, and I’ll take a jab at some other One Piece characters too!

Zoro Law Sanji Shanks Ace Luffy Sabo Doflamingo

Pairing: Zoro x reader CW: Blood, descriptions of wounds, nothing heavy. WC: 928

You and Zoro had been separated from the strawhats a while ago. You could blame Zoros shitty sense of direction or your own foolish decision to follow him, but either way you two are separated, lost and injured. The fight is only fragments in your memory at this point and all you can recall is encountering a sketchy group of people, the clashing of swords, the deafening gunfire, and the rest is hazy, but now you are alone with Zoro. You two found yourselves slipping into an empty building; Zoro is sitting on a counter and you are in front of him, examining his wounds. Your eyes squint and your brows furrow as you look at a particularly deep laceration on his chest. “Hmmm… yeah that looks bad. Chopper is going to kill you when he sees this.” You mutter in deep thought. He rolls his eyes at you and lets out an exasperated grumble in response. “You know I'm fine, right? I've suffered through much worse and you know it. This is just a small scratch compared to all of that.”

You quickly retort. “A small scratch? Zoro, I know you are prideful and are some sort of unbreakable monster, but this?” you gesture towards the wound “this is deep, its bleeding, its oozing some weird yellow shit. Let me help you.” “I told you it's fine, it doesn't even hurt,” he insisted, attempting to keep up his facade. You lean forward and whack the cut and watch as he shouts in pain. “Oi! Fuck! What was that for?!” You stare at him with a raised eyebrow and a triumphant look on your face waiting for him to admit defeat. His chest heaves as he recovers from that sudden smack and he grumbles “okay fine maybe it hurts…” A smile graces your lips when he concedes. “See? I knew something was up, you stubborn marimo. Now let me take a look,” you lean in and lightly graze your thumb over the cut. You look up at him with a worried expression when he sharply breathes in. “Hey I know it hurts but I just need to wrap it up so you don’t bleed out before we make it back to Chopper, okay? You’ve said it before, you’ve suffered through much worse, so just hold on for a moment, okay?” You say in a soothing voice. He nods at you and lets you continue. You glance around the room, not finding anything suitable to wrap around his wound, so you end up taking off your shirt and ripping it up into makeshift bandages.. His face immediately flushes crimson at the sight and he stammers, “Uh w-what are you doing? There's no need for that.” You respond with a hint of amusement, “What does it look like I'm doing?” you lean in and wrap the torn shirt tightly around his cut. His eyes dart around the room, refusing to even look in your direction as you work on his cut. You work in silence, tending to the wound with delicate touches and focus. Zoro has gotten over the initial embarrassment, but the red hue on his cheek still seems to give away how he feels about the predicament. He watches as you wrap the wound up with care. Much more care than he is used to, and he is enjoying every second of it, finding solace in your touch through the pain. When you finish you look up at him with a smile. “There we go, all done! How does it feel?” His gaze lingers on you longer than it should and you catch his eyes, the intensity of those steel gray eyes unmistakable. “What’s got you all captivated, swordsman? Admiring my makeshift first aid skills?” You tease, trying to break the tension and ease the awkwardness hanging in the air. He grumbles as he averts your gaze once more. “Just surprised is all. Didn’t expect you to be so… gentle.” You can’t help but laugh at his response. “Well next time I'll make sure to make it hurt.” you see him open his mouth to retort and you quickly speak up, “Kidding! I’m kidding. Contrary to popular belief I don’t enjoy hurting you, Roronoa. Now, get up, we need to find the others and get you to chopper so he can properly patch you up.” He nods and stands up, wincing slightly as he does so. He starts to walk out the building before he remembers your shirtless state. He stares at you for a moment, contemplating, before he takes off his own shirt and hands it to you. “Here. Sorry about the blood on it, but a bloody shirt sure as hell beats no shirt at all.” You take the shirt with a small smile and toss it on. You then start to lead your way out the empty building and through the chaotic streets. Despite his tough exterior and his pride, he let you help him, and allowing you to see him in a vulnerable state has brought you close to him. You take a hold of his hand and start to lead him back to the Sunny. He looks at you surprised when you grab his hand, but you seem to already have a response prepared. “Hey, you didn’t think I would let us get lost again did you? I am just holding your hand so you don’t go wandering off. Now come on, let's go.” And with that, you two walk hand and hand, making your way back to the rest of the strawhats.

[when-i-wake-if]

It has been 18 years since humanity was brought to the truth that monsters, creatures and deities they were all too sure were myths are in fact real well most of them anyway with these new realizations comes new mysteries, problems and hope but dawn (MC 1) never paid too much attention to it but after the death of their father they have been sent reeling the perfect life they had crumbling slowly forcing them into positions they never would have dreamed of. their life colliding and slowly meshing into the unknown creature's deeper darker world. Across the city in a dingy alley badly hurt dusk (MC 2) awakes to no memories other than their name and something they were told that stung like a dagger in their heart for some reason. As Dusk tries to make sense of what is happening they somehow fall into a rabbit hole of crime, mysteries and dark truths all because they are trying to find out who they are and how they ended up in that alley

~Customize your MCs looks, gender identity, clothing style and name

~ Choose your legal job! (Dawn starts the game with a certain job but that job doesn't stay long)

~ Make deals that will change the course of your life

~Customize your room and apartment aesthetic style

~As Dawn manage the relationship with your mother, your ex your, past relationship and current feelings about your dead dad. As Dusk unravels your past try to figure out what happened to you or set It all aside and attempt to make a new life for yourself

~Romance 4 different characters for both MCs and hey if you want to romance a god as one or both MCs!

Dawns ROs

Xeno || Xe/Xem || 21 || Human

"Hellooo how is my favourite co-worker! I brought you your favourite drink, I'm amazing! I know~"

Description ~ Short coily dark brown hair, lean build with a Bronze complexion, dark green eyes, Nubian nose, Xyr height is 5’11, Xe has a full tattoo sleeve on Xes right arm and a tattoo on the side of Xyr neck when outside of work Xeno tends to wear ripped black jeans, no sleeve neck length shirt, runners and a bunch of rings, necklaces and one stud earring.

Selena || She/Her || ?? || Ghost

"Please! Don't be scared i mean you no harm le-let me explain"

Description ~ Shoulder-length ginger hair that is curled at the tips, She has a chubby build and pale skin, greyish blue eyes, a button nose, height if she could stand on the floor would be 5’3, freckles kiss her face and shoulders, she forever dressed in a light blue tea length swing dress and stockings with a pair of black flats, adorned in pearl earrings and necklace, to most she appears slightly translucent

Brier || He/Him or She/Her || Gender selectable|| 228 || Vampire

"Oh, sweetheart are you okay? please don't cry how about a rose? will that give you back your pretty little smile"

Description ~ Chin length afro-textured dark brown hair, Slim build and ebony complexion, Dark red eyes, button nose, height 5’7, outside of work they typically wear wide cuff pants, cropped blouse with a sweetheart collar, 4-inch heels or black dress shoes, round glasses, realistic heart shaped earrings, ruby necklace, silver rings

Míng || They/He || 30 || Dragon

"Well maybe if you watched or read the news more you would know how shitty it is, for people who aren't human like you."

Description ~ bleached white shoulder-length hair, lean build light brown complexion, black sclera and piercing yellow iris, flat nose height being 5'7, scales litter their body colours mainly being yellow and orange with some red ones sprinkled in, typically wears graphic tees , with a worn-out black bomber jacket, cargo pants and platform boots

Both MCs

Is || she/her, he/him or they/them || Gender selectable || ??? || Minor God of death {and dreams}

"Is it truly a lie or is it just not the truth you want to hear. darling, you have so much to learn"

Description~ Long straight black hair that reaches past their ass typically in some kind of intricate hairstyle with silver jewellery woven in, curvy build with a tanned complexion, pale white eyes, roman nose, height 8,5 when not forced to dress modestly they are always wearing a short dress with a marabou robe or a satin robe and six-inch heels, adorned in many silver bracelets, necklaces, rings and flower earrings and they have belly button piercing

Dusks ROs

Sire || He/Him || 26 || Kelpie

"you should watch where you going around here kid someone will end up killing you if you are not careful"

Description ~ Shoulder length wavy dark green hair so dark it almost appears black Sire's hair always seems to look wet/damp, he has a dad bod and Ivory complexion, black eyes, Greek nose, His height is on the slightly shorter side standing at 5’4, usually wearing black leather pants, dress shoes and a button up shirt that never fully buttoned up

Loralie || They/Them || 24 || Siren

"you are so adorable I could eat you up~ how about I buy you a drink gorgeous"

Description ~ Mid back length black goddess braids, Athletic Swimmer build and Dark brown complexion with dark blueish grey scales scattered about, piercing grey eyes, Flat nose, height 6’2, a large scar down the middle of their chest, gills most noticeable upon their neck, outside of work they typically wear cargo pants, muscle shirt, converse shoes, a gold locket, dangle earrings, spectrum piercing

Joshua || He/They || 20 || Werewolf

"Plan?? I never said I had a plan did I? ...oh well I didn't but don't worry I can get us out of this"

Description ~ Short messy dirty blonde hair, muscular build and tan complexion, amber eyes, Greek nose though it has obviously been broken in the past, scar along the right of their jaw, freckles speckled over his face, height 6’0, typically wears work boots, jeans and a muscle shirt with a flannel jacket

Z || She/He/They || ?? || Undead

"pay me back? how about you let me eat you and I'll take that as your repayment I'm quite hungry and you're starting to irritate me"

Description ~ Messy straight chin length black hair with strands of grey hairs throughout, skinny build and pale olive and appears slightly greeny yellowish, black eyes, hawk nose, the height of 5'6 the left corner of her mouth is carved away revealing most of their teeth and flesh and their left hands pinky and ring finger are just bone the surrounding area seems to have a hideous burn scar though he typically covers it up by wearing white gloves, black turtle neck, beige torn pants and two different pairs of dirty runners

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

How do you climb up from rock bottom what are you willing to do. to sacrifice. to find out the truth what will you do when you get those truths what if they aren't what you expected or wanted will you help others or push the world aside? how far is too far to achieve your goals

Demo: TBA || My other IF || Charater Portaits: coming soon

[rae-writes]

Such a Wh*re (I love it)

Mephisto x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings : nsfw, name calling [whore], mc is accused of fooling around with the brothers and other four dateables [however it’s neither confirmed nor denied for reader interpretation] 

synopsis : Mephisto would rather die than admit jealously over some human so you’ll just have to make him choke on his words instead 

“What a whore.” 

You slam your D.D.D down a little too hard on the desk, eyes cutting dangerously at the purple haired noble, “I beg your fucking pardon?” 

Mephisto doesn’t back down. Typical. “Don’t act like it’s not true, Mc, we all see how you interact with the seven brothers, Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, and even our Prince. I just don’t see how Lord Diavolo thinks it savory to meddle with someone such as yourself on any other basis except for being an exchange student.” 

While a bit dumbfounded that he was talking to you like this, you still find it in yourself to give him an irritable smirk, “Oh? Are you jealous, Mephistopheles?”

“As if. I just thought you should know how you look, flaunting yourself around like that.” 

With your hues darkening mischievously, you make your way towards him, “So you admit to watching me?” Using his surprise at your closeness, you take the opportunity to grip his tie. 

“I never said— h-hold on, w-what do you t-think you’re d-doing?!” 

You huffed out a ‘cute’, grin getting impossibly sharper at his sudden stuttering. Swiftly, you undo the knot and yank the accessory off, using it to tie his hands behind his back. 

Trying to choke out a proper sentence, Mephisto gapes at you, eyes widening when you mutter a spell to make the tie inescapable. “Mc! I-I demand you answer me!” 

“What’s it look like, pretty boy? ‘M being the whore you seem to so desperately want me to be— and I’m not even going to charge you for the front row seat you’re in.” 

His breath quickens as you shove him back into a chair, eyes darting from you to the door that’s only half closed; anyone could walk in here- it was the newspaper club’s office room. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head.” With a wave of your hand, the door slams shut and locks itself. “No one’s gonna see you all embarrassed and humiliated but me today.” 

“N-no one h-humiliates me.” 

You lick a stripe up his neck, working on undoing his school shirt buttons after opening his blazer, “Watch me.” 

It takes less than a minute- to expose his chest and tug his pants down just enough to free his leaking cock. Mephisto can’t decide whether it’s because you’ve had practice or because in this position, he’s more pliant than he’s ever been. He chooses the former to save face. 

“You know, for having such an ugly mouth, you sure are pretty. Pretty eyes, pretty hair, pretty body…” your eyes flit downward with an amused twinkle, “Pretty dick.” 

Mephisto swallows the gasp that wants to escape at your words, instead choosing to screw his eyes shut and tilt his head back. Wrong move. 

Because now you're attacking it with sucks and bites, leaving no patch of skin untouched by your lips, and he can feel the bruises forming, feel the sharp bloom of pleasure when you bite down harder and it makes him keen. 

And you know he’s given up his facade when he doesn’t even acknowledge the sounds he’s making, especially when his hips jerk as you grip the base of his cock. 

“C’mon, ‘phisto.” Your free hand grips his jaw and yanks his head down so brilliant green hues are staring back into yours; one eye still holds your own color while the other is a mix of blue, pink, and yellow. “Don’t you think ‘m pretty too?” 

Yes his brain supplies, but nothing comes out of his mouth other than a strangled groan. And when you pout at his lack-luster response, he feels the need to get on his knees and praise you until you’re smiling again. 

Moving down his tensed up figure, you come to a stop in front of his legs and wrench them apart so you can fit in the middle. “Maybe I need to go ask someone else? Maybe…Lucifer?” 

Hearing his rival's name while you’re inches away from his cock makes Mephisto strain against the bindings keeping his arms in place, eyes glaring down at you heatedly. 

“No?” You hum in mock thought, swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock absentmindedly, “Then tell me I’m pretty.” 

“F-fuck, you’re pretty, you’re so fucking pretty, Mc.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” The noble groans, “Especially when you’re looking at me.” He doesn’t even care about his pride on the line here as long as he keeps your—

“Attention, hm? That’s what gets you going, is my attention? Why didn’t you just say so, silly demon.” You wrap your lips around him, taking his cock all the way down so casually he almost thinks he’s dreaming.

“S-shit! Oh, fuck, f-fuck!” Mephisto feels you laugh freely, sending his back arching at the vibrations. He knows his cheeks are ablaze, embarrassingly so, but- “P-please, please don’t stop!” 

Laughing again, you come off his cock with a pop, using your hand instead so you could coo at him, “Look at you, Mephisto. Whining, begging, and trembling because of me.” 

He tries to shake his head to deny it, but it only adds to his thrashing as he feels himself getting closer and closer to that delicious edge. 

“I think…” You dig your tongue harshly into his slit, making him cry out so loud it bounces off the walls, “I think you’re the whore.” 

At that, Mephisto just falls apart in your hands, toes curling in his shoes while his body shakes so much he’s almost afraid he’s gonna fall off the chair he’s on. 

It’s a gorgeous sight. Purple hair all mussed up, cheeks a pretty dark pink, eyes half lidded, and tongue lolling out just the slightest amount. His chest, framed by the wrinkled uniform, is streaked with white, as are his blazer and pants. It’s such a sight that you can’t help but…

The sound of a shutter going off brings Mephisto back to reality, weakly opening his eyes to see what the noise was. What should be a cold wash of dread is instead a shock of heat forming in the pit of his stomach as he watches you hold up his camera. 

You take your time connecting said camera up with your D.D.D, successfully transferring the picture over. It’s only when you place the electronics down does he finally speak. 

“So what? You gonna leak that to everyone now that you’ve done your part at humiliating me?” Although he can’t help but find the predicament he’s landed himself in very hot, he still has a sliver of nervousness in his tone. 

“Course not.” Walking back over to him, you lick some of the cum off his chest, “Looking like this? You’re all mine.” You savor the taste a bit more theatrically than you should, but the whimper that escapes Mephisto is all too worth it. 

“M-Mc—“ he’s cut off by your lips crashing onto his and he doesn’t waste a single second in kissing you back, bullying his tongue into your mouth impatiently. 

You moan at him in return, tangling your tongue with his before you pull back, a little breathless from the encounter, “Pretty, pretty, Mephistopheles…” Capturing him in another kiss, you make sure this one is slow and sensual to keep his attention on you.

It works. He doesn’t even realize you’ve undone your spell or that you’ve begun untying his restraints. All he’s focused on is your taste mixed with the faintness of his own and the warmth of your breath when you break away for a quick moment, just to come right back. It was intoxicating and he loved it. Craved it. 

Pulling away one last time, you gaze at him thoughtfully, “I wonder if your mark is as pretty as you…maybe you’ll let me find out someday, hm?” And then you’re grabbing your phone, waving at him, and exiting the room, taking a piece of his pride with you. 

But Mephisto doesn’t mind, not really. Even when he scrambles around to clean himself off and make himself presentable again to go meet up with his prince because he’ll sear his pact into you, no matter who says otherwise. You asked for it and he’s ever so glad to deliver. 

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Part 5 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge @hellishjoel

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: About 5000

"Your, uh, your parents left a few minutes ago," Joel informed you as you finished drying off and getting dressed. "Two separate cars. You should be safe to sneak back over unnoticed." A smile formed on his face.

"Thanks." You scrunched your nose, "I feel like I’m on, like, James Bond or something... sneaking around."

He snickered again and tossed on a t-shirt over a pair of jeans. "Well... thanks for keeping me fuckin' company."

"Yeah." You nodded, feeling that sinking feeling again from the uncertainty of the whole situation. It was a weight that was already beginning to weigh on you. Now that you'd spent a night sleeping next to him the feeling was magnified.

"You okay?"

You forced a smile, trying to focus on the amazing aspects of the night together rather than the depressing what-ifs that plagued your mind. "Yeah. I'm good."

Joel looked you up for a second and then waved you down the hall. You followed him into the kitchen where he began rummaging through a drawer filled with miscellaneous coupons, writing utensils, and post-it notes. He ripped a yellow post-it from the top of a short stack of them and then scribbled seven digits with a black sharpie and handed it to you.

"I know this is kind of the old- fashioned way to give someone your phone number," he went on, handing it over, "But, shit, I'm old."

You felt the butterflies again - a surge of positive vibes that overtook your worries as you accepted his number. "You're not that old."

Joel smiled. "Send me a text or something so I have your number too.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t contain a wide grin.

“Just maybe… make sure your parents don’t see that someone named Joel is sending you messages.”

You nodded. “Got it.” You pointed over your shoulder toward the back door with your thumb. "I'll, um... I'll see you later."

He nodded and followed you to the door as you began to head that way. When you turned the knob and pulled it open, Joel pressed his hand against it and closed it again.

You turned, staring up at him and Joel opened his mouth to speak, though nothing came out.

"I, uh..." He cleared his throat and paused for another several seconds. "I get out of work around three."

You wanted to smile, and inside your heart was doing backflips; but you were too overwhelmed by the look on his face and his unwillingness to let you leave to show it.

"Okay," you said simply. When he didn't speak you continued. "My parents usually aren't out of work until about five, so..." you snickered, "I could probably easily get back over here.”

"You could always sleep over at your friend's house again." Joel tipped the corner of his mouth up in a smile, making you grin wider.

"They may send a search party." You took it upon yourself to bring your lips back to his, watching for a second as Joel's eyes closed firmly before closing yours.

He pulled you tightly against him, leaving the other hand against the door and kissed you harder before reluctantly letting you go. "I gotta go to work." Joel brought his lips back to yours once more, and you found yourself craving him again. When your hands tightened around the fabric of his shirt he cursed against your mouth. "Fuck."

"Do you think..." you breathed, "Do you think Holly would care if I slept over a second night?"

Joel finally managed a full grin, continuing to alternate between playfully making out with you and having a conversation. "I don't think she'll mind."

You kissed him again, playing into the raw aggression he attempted to control. You could see it in his strained jaw and closed eyes.

"I hadn't fucked in a while before I met you the other day." He reached down, adjusting himself and moved away to regain some control. Joel kept his eyes closed again and tried to think of anything else.

You knew you had been indulging in your own pleasures far too much and decided to take a moment to be fair to him. As bad as you wanted to cross back into his personal space and take control of the situation, you refrained, noting he was trying to contain himself.

"I'll call you," you told him.

Joel opened his eyes and looked you up and down before nodding. A smile finally crossed his face again and he laughed at himself. "I should have just taken a damn sick day."

You giggled and shrugged, this time opening the back door fully. "I'll go home before you change your mind."

He let out a deep breath and watched you for a moment. "Keep that bag packed."

"I will." You smiled at him and looked around the house once more before opening the screen door. "See ya later."

Joel swallowed hard and nodded, watching as you exited his home.

The feelings and the energy that had swept over Joel made him feel like a new man each time he saw you. He wasn't used to any of it - the attraction, the sex and, perhaps most importantly, the way you looked at him like he was the only man in the world. All of that had been just a speck in his marriage, even early on. Joel recognized how intense the connection was and it had begun to leave him fantasizing about you long after you’d parted.

He crossed the kitchen and glanced out a window, watching as you pulled open the back door to your home. You gave a final look in his direction before heading inside and Joel turned away from the window, bracing himself against the kitchen table.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He couldn't deny that there was a touch of ‘wrong’ in fucking his neighbor’s twenty-three year old daughter; but also acknowledged that he hadn’t felt this alive and wanted in years - maybe all of his life. Joel closed his eyes and drew a hand across his beard. For a moment he just stood there in the empty house, letting his thoughts wander in rapid-fire fashion.

"Shit." He said the word quietly to himself and glanced at the clock. With fifteen minutes to spare he decided to try to make the feeling go away temporarily and walked down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Steam still lingered on the mirror and when he saw his lone reflection he immediately missed having you there looking back at him in the mirror.

I need a cold shower.

With that, he stripped his closed back off and turned the shower on. He shivered as he stepped in, purposely leaving the water cold and closed his eyes, teeth chattering, as he stood directly under the icy flow of water. Joel wrapped his arms around himself and was able to focus on the uncomfortable sting from the shower rather than the one that burned inside of him. He stood there enduring it until the top of his head felt nearly numb. Joel turned the handle hard, creating a loud thump as it clicked back into place and the faucet turned off.

Again, he took a deep breath and still shivered there alone for a moment before ripping back the curtain so he came face to face with himself again in the mirror. Joel took in his shivering body, his desperate eyes and chattering teeth. In that moment he felt he looked more like a scared child than the strong man he viewed himself as.

He shook his head again. What the fuck am I letting this woman do to me?

The rest of the morning was long, and Joel had a difficult time focusing at work. The clock felt like it was stuck on the same number for hours on end and multiple times his co-workers had called him out on spacing out as they worked together to re-wire the electrical system in a building that was being restored.

"Joel, what in the hell do you keep looking at that damn phone for?" Tommy, Joel’s brother, approached him, prompting Joel to immediately shove the phone back into his jeans pocket. He took off his hard hat and wiped sweat from his forehead.

Joel searched his mind for a lie but he had nothing, "I’m just waiting to hear back from someone… about something."

"You ain’t dying, brother, are you?" He laughed and Joel managed a chuckle.

"Nah. It’s nothing." Joel's smile faded a bit and he placed the hand on his pocket where the phone sat.

"Seems like something to me," Tommy went on, "I've never seen you so glued to that thing."

Before he could answer, the boss on their job site called out to everyone from a megaphone. “Today’s meeting is mandatory. We’re going over the blueprints for a big job that’s starting August 1st. Unless I watch you throw up, you’ll be there.”

“He’s a ray of fuckin’ sunshine,” Tommy remarked.

"Meeting." Joel nodded to himself and removed his own hard hat, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Shit.”

"Yeah," Tommy said matter-of-factly, "You know, the shit the boss has been talking about for two weeks.”

"Yeah." He nodded, “I forgot about it.”

"Everything alright?" Tommy asked again, "Are you fuckin' hungover or something? You haven’t been overdoing it with the drinking since you and your wife split up, have you?”

"I'm fucking fine Tommy." Joel stopped abruptly and stared at his brother sternly. He thought he felt his phone go off and so he reached into the pocket of his pants again. When he found the screen viewing nothing but the time he almost cursed aloud and jammed the phone back into his pocket. When he glanced back up Tommy was staring at him. "Yeah, I know. I checked my fucking phone."

A few of the other guys glanced over and Tommy grabbed Joel by the arm, towing him to the side.

"I got you this job," Tommy scolded him, "It makes me look bad if you fuck up.”

"Stop giving me shit." He began to walk away but Tommy put a hand on his chest and Joel glared at him.

“Look, Joel. You’ve taken care of me my whole life and this is the one thing I helped you out with.”

“I’m having an off day,” Joel began but Tommy cut him off again.

“No, you haven’t been yourself in months since your lady left you.”

“You really want to go there right now?”

“I’m sorry.” He backed off. “I shouldn’t have said that, but… for me. Please. I like working with you and-”

“Fine.” Joel grumbled.

"Okay.” Tommy nodded and sensed Joel was itching to check his phone again. “But brother to brother, whatever the hell this is." He pointed toward his pocket and then directly at Joel, "Fix it.”

...

You finally decided you would text Joel when eleven o'clock rolled around. You didn't want to seem overly desperate by texting him too soon, nor did you want to interfere with the beginning of his day. Lunch time, you suspected, would be a good time to contact him.

You read the message in your mind as you typed, plopping down in the center of your bed as you did. Hey, it's me... I hope your day isn't going as hard as your morning. You squinted your eyes, not knowing if the message was too corny or forward. You hesitated a moment before finally hitting the send button. Talking dirty and using innuendos wasn't exactly your strong suit.

A loud sigh left your mouth and you rolled onto your back. Having the house to yourself and no work to do was something that very rarely happened - and something you would have typically welcomed. Now, it provided you with far too much time to daydream about Joel and all of the possibilities that went along with his abrupt, dramatic entrance into your life.

You glanced down at your phone, noting the minute hadn't rolled over yet. Still, you already felt self-conscious in the fact that he didn't immediately text your back.

It's been twenty seconds, you reminded herself.

The television played mindlessly across the room and You attempted to put your focus into a rerun of Law & Order with little success. Your eyes dropped to the phone again, this time at the exact second that the time switched from 11:00 to 11:01. It was almost like the device was taunting you; sticking out its tongue and willing you to believe that he, for some reason, ignored the message.

That was when the downward spiral of thoughts occurred in a perfect, timely fashion: Maybe he's annoyed at me for waiting so long. Maybe he's playing hard to get. Maybe he's in the middle of something important. Maybe a co-worker saw the message and now he has to explain it. Maybe he's losing interest. Maybe-

The phone sounded off providing the instant remedy to every worrisome question, and you snatched the phone up into your hands. A smile decorated your face as you read his reply. Warm relief spread into your body from his prompt response.

Jesus honey... I was starting to think my phone was broken.

Your thumbs pounded furiously at the screen as you typed out another message, smirking to yourself as you did. Didn't mean to keep you waiting!

You were completely smitten with the brewing affair and glanced out the window toward his house. You found herself counting down the minutes until three o'clock, or a little after, when you would see his truck roll back into the driveway. Your phone chimed again almost immediately this time and you glanced down to read it.

I forgot I had mandatory meeting until about 5:30 tonight... so I may be the one to keep you waiting... you have my mind clouded. I almost forgot about it.

You felt the simultaneous pull of emotions now that Joel wouldn't be home until later. Still, you felt satisfaction in the idea that you could distract him. It made the butterflies return to your stomach.

Sorry! :) Hope the meeting goes well... I have to find a way to sneak over now that my parents will be home... hmm...

The predicament was real. You weren’t sure how you would manage getting over to Joel's house without them realizing where you were going. You couldn't drive your car - they would see it in his driveway. You couldn't claim that someone was picking you up - they would see that no one was there to get you. Including Holly in the plan would let one more person in on the little secret you and Joel shared - even though you were absolutely dying to.

"Shit..." You thought about it, distracted momentarily by nothing but bad ideas that you knew wouldn't work. A part of you wished you had a key to his house so you could get over there early and greet him in your best bra and panties at the door.

Yeah, right. You knew you didn’t have the balls to do that, anyway.

When the phone sounded off again you felt instantly intrigued. I'll take care of it... don't even fuckin' sweat it.

You closed your eyes and envisioned Joel in his entirety - the feel of his trim beard against your face as you kissed; his breaths as they landed against your neck; the sounds he made at the height of his arousal in the midst of your embrace.

The collection of thoughts made you feel hot and cold; anxious and excited; and nervous but ready all at once. Joel had completely clouded your mind to the extent that you had no room for anything else.

I wonder what he has in mind.

After a long day and some on-and-off texting, Joel’s messages went cold around three o'clock, and you knew it was because of his meeting. However, when eight o'clock you felt anxiety creeping in. As crazy as it felt, you knew you couldn't be stuck in your bedroom staring at Joel's house all night.You had to see him.

The last message on your phone had come nearly a half an hour before. He informed you he was about to shower and of course that felt like a tease. It was enough for you to feel just a bit secure, though with each passing minute you wondered when he would jumpstart the evening.

Your attention was drawn for a moment to the television when a reporter came on about an incident somewhere across the country. A short video clip showed some type of creature in pursuit of two police officers defending civilians. When they all disappeared out of the range of the camera, the sound of gunshots sounded off before the news cut back to the reporter.

"We were informed earlier that the attacker was said to be high on the drug PCP, which would explain the loss of motor skills and aggressive behavior."

Your interest piqued for a moment and you tried to rewind the television to see what the thing looked like. It was dark and brief but you still couldn’t tell what exactly was happening. When your phone chimed your eyes urgently left the television and you smiled to see Joel's name on your phone screen. All he typed was: Ready?

You giggled and nodded as you typed, saying the word out loud, "Always."

A sigh left your mouth and you glanced in the mirror, fluffing out your hair a bit. You looked down at your attire - a pair of girlie boxer shorts from Victoria's Secret and sports bra.

Time to change, you thought with a grin.

The phone went off again and this time when you glanced down you continued to smile but now your curiosity piqued even more. you imagined Joel saying the words aloud that he typed: Go down into the living room. Make sure your parents are there. Text me when you get there.

All of it was so cryptic, and made the uncertainties all the more fun. It was like a big game of cat and mouse. You felt like a kid ready to go to your favorite amusement park, though you didn't know how you would get there - or which ride would be first.

Without another thought you flung open your door and rushed down the stairs, immediately catching the attention of your mom who was already there with the television on. Your father was fully reclined in what he referred to as his 'comfy chair' and was snoring away.

"Hey honey." Your mother greeted you with a smile.

"Hi." You smiled and fiddled with your phone nonchalantly, responding to Joel with a simple, I'm down here. What now?

"Holly?"

Your head snapped up and your face grew a shade darker. "Yeah," you lied.

"Your dad kind of conked out on me," your mother motioned to him in the chair, "We're supposed to be watching Survivor."

"That's still on?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course. It's one of the best shows on television."

"If you say so." You chuckled and looked down when your phone went off again.

Stay there.

"You kids and your phones."

"Hey, you're getting hooked now that you have a smartphone, too." You eyed your mother, who managed a chuckle and yawned. When a commercial came on she rose to her feet, prompting you to head in her direction. "Where are you going?"

"To the kitchen,” she said, staring at you as if you were crazy.

You glanced at your phone again and you bit down on your bottom lip. You weren't sure what Joel was up to but you wanted to obey his requests to stay put in the living room. "Well... why?"

Your mother laughed this time, "To get a bottle of water. Is that okay with you?"

"I'll get it," you offered.

"Are you hiding booze in there or something?"

You laughed, "Hiding? Mom, I'll be twenty-four in a few months. I'm going to be a big-time detective soon." You raised your eyebrows, "I don't need permission to have a drink anymore."

"You do in this house." Your father joked, seemingly springing to life. He grinned well before he opened his eyes as he teamed up with your mother in an effort to tease you.

“I'm not hiding “booze”. I was just coming down to say goodnight.” You crossed the room and kissed your mother on the cheek and then did the same to your father, who already looked like he was about to fall back asleep.

Your mother shrugged, "Well, alright." she glanced at her husband, "You must take after your father because I could stay up until midnight sometimes."

She laughed and you exchanged a hug, pleased that your phone had gone off again as you did. "Good night Mom."

"Good night." You exchanged a smile before glancing back at your phone for what felt like the fiftieth time.

All set honey. You can go back upstairs.

You didn't understand but you were already on your way to the second floor.

So... what's the plan? How will this work tonight?

You sighed, hurrying back to your room with all the intentions of changing into something you felt was more appropriate and much sexier than your typical bedtime attire. When you pushed the door open you screamed and immediately put your hand over your mouth, muffling a laugh just after.

Joel stood in between your open window and your bed. His face twisted into a smirk though he raised his eyebrows when he heard your mother shout up the stairs.

"What happened?" The television muted, "(Y/N)!”

Your mouth hung open and you quickly exited your room when you heard your mother's footsteps approaching the stairs. "I'm fine!" you shouted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Why did you scream?" Your mother's footsteps were thudding up the stairs now and panic set in in your chest.

"Mom, I'm fine," you insisted, meeting her a step out of the partially open bedroom door. Your heart was thudding in your chest as your mother looked at you skeptically, waiting for your question to be answered. "I... there was a spider. It was... on my door handle and I touched it when I opened my door."

"Yikes. Where did it go?"

"I don't know."

You prayed your mother wouldn't try to enter your bedroom as your eyes began to scan the hardwood floors of the hallway.

"Mom, it's fine," you insisted, "I think I squished it when I opened the door.

"I hate knowing there's a spider in here."

"It was tiny," you insisted, strategically placing your body in between your mother and your room. The only way you could have kept your mother out would have been to push her away, and you didn't have the heart to do something like that. With a deep breath the two of you entered the room.

Joel was nowhere to be seen and your eyes frantically scanned the area while your mother's scanned the floor.

"Mom, I'm fine... really." You were panicking now as you had no idea where Joel had gone. "Please. It's dead. It was smaller than a dime." You took a deep breath, "They're going to vote someone off the island and you're going to miss it."

Finally, your mom let up a bit in her pursuit and stood with her hands on her hips as if she'd just completed some grand mission. "Well... kill it if you see it. You know I hate those things."

"I will." You were practically stiff-arming her out of the room, though you softened up your tone. "I love you, Mom. Thanks for spider hunting for me."

She smiled, "Good night honey."

You watched for a moment, making sure your mother had retreated back to the first floor before closing the door to your bedroom and locking it. For several seconds you stood in silence, glancing around and only able to hear the sound of your thudding heart. When Joel slowly crept up from the floor in between the bed and the wall where the window was, you put your hand on your chest and let out a deep breath.

"Well, I didn’t expect you to scream like that." Joel grinned wide, speaking quietly.

"How did you get in here?" You laughed, whispering the question to him. You were so infatuated by every little thing he did.

Joel nodded toward the window before kicking off his shoes and making himself at home in the center of your bed. "It's been awhile since I've scaled a house to sneak into a girl's bedroom."

"Is that a habit of yours?"

He chuckled, "Sounded a little fuckin' creepy now that I think of it. But, no... not since I was in high school."

You bit down on your bottom lip and crossed the room, leaning a knee on the bed next to him. "You scaled the house?"

Joel smiled wider, "Being a little bad feels pretty good, doesn't it?"

You responded by swinging one leg across his body and straddling him on the bed before bringing your lips down to meet his.

He kissed you for a few seconds before latching his fingers beneath the band of your shorts. "Do you sleep in these?"

A day ago you would have felt self-conscious, though now you could tell he was being flirtatious. "Sometimes..." you kissed him a little harder, "And sometimes nothing at all."

"Mmm..." Joel smiled as you kissed again.

"So... are we going to your place?"

He smiled, "How the hell are we going to do that, honey?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

Joel drew a hand up to your face and twirled a strand of hair in his fingers, unable to keep himself from grinning. "We're staying right here." He laughed, "What’d you think when your mom burst in here?”

"I felt like I was going to be sick."

"How do you feel now?" He reached for your hand and held it in his own, smirking when he saw you were shaking from all the nerves. "You're used to doing the right thing all the time, aren't you?"

"No, I-"

"I like that." Joel smiled wider and kissed you again. "But you are certainly pushing your limits with me." His hand snaked up your back and he began to urge you out of the sports bra you had on until you laid topless on top of him.

"It feels good to push the limits," you told him, closing your eyes as he began kissing your neck and cupping your breast with one of his hands.

"Only one way we're going to get caught messing around in here tonight," he whispered against your neck.

"What's that?" You arched your head back and moaned lightly.

Joel laughed and laid his head back down flat on the pillow. "If you can't be quiet."

"No promises," you teased, purposely pushing back so he could view your upper body in its entirety.

"Mmm..." he hummed. "Well, if I'm too much for you," Joel reached for a second pillow next to where he laid, "Just moan into this."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 6

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421

[blakeswritingimagines]

Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off

Summary: The farm boy next door can't help but admire you even when it becomes too much.

Warnings: PwP, Nipple play, Eating out reader, Blowjob, Unprotected sex, Overstim, Swallowing cum.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 5.3k

Criston Cole was a hardworking ranch hand, waking up every morning before sunrise to tend to the horses, cattle, and other farm animals. His tan muscular body was always covered in dirt and sweat as he carried out his chores. You just happened to be the new neighbor who moved in next door, and Cole couldn't help but notice how beautiful you were. He often found himself watching you from afar as you worked in your own garden, dressed in a flowing sundress

You were unaware of the glances from Criston and continued with your gardening for the day, humming a cheerful tune to yourself. A light breeze tousled your hair, causing a few strands to fall into your face. As you bent down to weed your garden, your sundress clung to your curves, emphasizing your figure. Criston's breath caught in his throat at the sight of your curves accentuated by the clinging dress. He quickly looked away, trying to compose himself. It wasn't right to ogle his new neighbor like that. "Hey there, mind if I lend a hand?" Criston called out, approaching you with a friendly smile. "I've got some experience with gardens. Maybe I could help you get those weeds under control." He hoped his offer would give him an excuse to be closer to you, even if just for a little while. Criston had always been a straightforward guy, but around you, he found himself getting tongue-tied and flustered. You looked up from your gardening, a smile spreading across your face. "Oh, hello there," you said, straightening up. The sun glinted off your hair. "I could definitely use some help," you replied, your eyes dancing with gratitude. "These weeds are relentless. But, really, you don't have to bother. I don't want to take up your time." Criston's heart pounded in his chest, not just from the physical exertion of working in the garden but also from the proximity to you. Your scent - a mix of soil and something sweetly feminine - filled his nostrils, making it difficult to think clearly. "No, no," he stammered, shaking his head. "It's my pleasure. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to spend more time with you." He leaned over, pulling out a stubborn weed with ease, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "So, what else do you grow here? Just vegetables or… maybe flowers too?" You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with amusement at his eagerness to help. "Thanks," you said, feeling a flutter of butterflies in your stomach at his words. "And yes, I grow flowers too," you replied, gesturing to a patch of vibrant blooms nearby. "But I'm particularly proud of my collection of sunflowers. They've just about finished flowering, but they'll make beautiful cut flowers for the house."

Criston followed your gaze to the sunflowers, admiring their bright yellow petals against the green stems. "They're beautiful," he murmured, feeling a sudden urge to pluck one and present it to you. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, his hands moving deftly through the soil. "Sunflowers are my favorite," he admitted, glancing at you from beneath his lashes. "They remind me of sunshine and happiness." He paused, then added softly, "Kind of like you." Criston blushed at his own boldness, realizing he'd probably said too much. But the words were out now, and he couldn't take them back. Your eyes widened in surprise as he spoke, your heart skipping a beat at his compliment. You had always been reserved and introverted, rarely the target of such ardent attention from the opposite sex. However, you couldn't deny that you secretly relished his compliments. You looked down, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Thank you," you said softly, feeling a sudden warmth spread through your chest. "That's very sweet of you to say." Criston felt a surge of relief when you smiled at his compliment. He hadn't meant to make you uncomfortable, he simply couldn't help his feelings. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met - kind, gentle, and beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy. "I mean it," he said earnestly, meeting your gaze once again. "You're special, darlin'. And I hope…" He trailed off, swallowing nervously. This was uncharted territory for him. Normally, he was the confident one, not the stuttering fool. But you brought out a side of him he didn't know existed. "I hope we can be friends," he finally managed to say.

You could sense his nervousness, and it only served to increase your own. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't hide the fact that he had an effect on you, too. The word 'friends' stuck in your throat, but you nodded, pushing past the unexpected disappointment. "Yeah," you said, plastering a smile on your face. "Friends." Even as the word left your lips, you wondered how long you could keep up the pretense of friendship when your heart was begging for more.

As days turned into weeks, you found yourself spending more and more time together. The boundaries of friendship slowly blurred as Cole's compliments turned into lingering touches, his eyes never wavering from yours. Even though you knew it was wrong to encourage his advances, it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist the growing attraction between you. Criston had been hard at work for hours on the ranch, his muscles straining under the weight of the bales of hay he was carrying. Sweat dripped down his face and his back as he moved from one chore to the next. His mind kept drifting to you, your laughter lingering in his ears, your face constantly on his mind. He needed to see you, to talk to you. But he was nervous. He didn't want to come on too strong and ruin the newfound friendship.

Following your interactions with Criston were spent thinking of him more often than you'd ever thought possible. You found yourself looking out of your window frequently to catch a glimpse of him, but not too obviously. One evening, you were sitting on your porch, enjoying the cool breeze, when you heard the sound of approaching footsteps. You looked up to see Criston walking toward you, his hat shading his eyes from the sunset. Criston's heart hammered in his chest as he approached your house. He'd been thinking about you nonstop since that day in the garden, dreaming up scenarios where he could spend more time with you. As he drew near, he noticed you sitting on your porch, and his steps quickened. "Evening," he said, tipping his hat. "Mind if I join you?" He sat down beside you, leaving enough space between you both so as not to crowd you. But close enough that he could smell your soft perfume and hear your breathing. You felt a thrilling race down your spine as he sat down next to you. He was so close that you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "No, not at all," you managed to say, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you'd like. You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, trying to keep your thoughts from straying into forbidden territory.

Criston felt your nervous energy and it made him chuckle. He reached over, placing his large, calloused hand over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Relax, darlin'," he said reassuringly. "I ain't gonna bite." He let go of your hand and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head as he gazed up at the stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky. "Beautiful night," he remarked, hoping to break the tension. Your breath hitched as he took your hand, his touch sending sparks through your skin. You tried to relax, but it was difficult with him so close. You looked up at the night sky, trying to focus on something other than the man next to you. "Yeah," you agreed, your voice a whisper. "It really is." You were acutely aware of the space between you, like an electric current waiting to be bridged. Criston turned his head to look at you, taking in your profile bathed in the moonlight. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, letting his fingers linger on your cheek. "Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I… I need to tell you something." He swallowed hard, gathering his courage. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You've gotten under my skin, darlin'. And I don't want you to leave."

Your heart stopped as he touched your face, your breath catching in your throat. You could see the intensity in his gaze, and the raw emotion behind his words. It took everything in you not to melt right then and there. You'd had your suspicions about his feelings, but hearing him say it out loud was something else entirely. "Criston," you whispered back, your voice filled with hope and uncertainty. "What are you trying to say?" Criston exhaled slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now. "I'm saying that I care about you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions within him. "More than I should after knowing you for such a short time. But I can't fight it anymore. I want you to be mine." His confession hung heavy in the air between them, a declaration of love and desire that left him vulnerable and exposed. Your eyes widened at his confession, your heart racing in response. His words stirred up a maelstrom of emotions within you. Part of you wanted to jump into his arms and say yes, but the rational part of your brain held you back. "Criston, I… I don't know what to say," you murmured, a mix of confusion and admiration in your voice. "I care about you too, but we barely know each other. Isn't this a little…fast?"

Criston nodded, understanding your hesitation. But he wasn't about to give up without a fight. "Maybe it is fast," he conceded, reaching out to gently cup your chin. "But I've never been one to play it safe. Life's too damn short for that." He leaned closer, his lips hovering just inches away from yours. "Tell me," he whispered, his breath mingling with yours. "Would it be so wrong if I kissed you?" Your heart hammered in your chest as he inched closer, his words and proximity making it hard to think clearly. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, making you shiver and close your eyes. For a moment, rationality left your brain, replaced by a wave of yearning and desire. "No," you breathed, finally giving in. "It wouldn't be wrong." Slowly, you tilted your face toward his in a silent invitation. Criston watched as you closed your eyes, tilting your face towards him. It was all the encouragement he needed. With a low growl of desire, he moved closer, his lips crashing onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands moved to cradle your face, holding you firmly as he deepened the kiss. His tongue darted out, exploring the depths of your mouth, tasting every inch of you. His body pressed against yours, the heat between you growing stronger with each passing second.

You melted into his touch, returning his kiss with equal fervor. Your hands grasped at his shoulders, pulling him closer as your lips moved in tandem with his. A soft gasp escaped your lips as his tongue invaded your mouth, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The feel of his hard body against yours was electrifying, making you cling to him even more. All rationality and hesitation faded away, replaced by a burning need for more of him. Criston groaned softly as he felt your hands grasp at his shoulders, pulling him closer. He loved the way you responded to his kisses, the way you melted into his embrace. His hands slid down to your waist, tugging you flush against him as he deepened the kiss further. He could feel the heat building between you, the desire coursing through his veins. He wanted you, needed you, with a desperation he'd never known before. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "God," he panted, his voice thick with lust. "You have no idea what you do to me." Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breathing just as ragged as his. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the desire in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You looked up at him, your eyes mirroring the same intense need you felt. "I think I have some idea," you murmured, your own voice breathless. "You have the same effect on me, Criston." You ran your fingers through his dark hair, pulling him down for another hungry kiss.

Criston moaned into the kiss, his hands sliding up to grip your hips tightly. He could taste the desire on your lips, feeding his own hunger. He broke off the kiss once again, panting heavily as he stared down at you. "Then let's not waste any more time talking," he growled, his hands moving to lift you effortlessly onto his lap. His arousal was evident, pressing insistently against your thigh. "Let's show each other exactly how much we want each other." A gasp escaped your lips as he lifted you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. You could feel his hard length against your thigh, making your body throb with need. You gripped his shoulders, steadying yourself as you looked down at him. "What did you have in mind?" you whispered, your voice sultry. Criston's eyes burned with desire as he looked up at you, his hands roaming over your curves. "I have a few ideas," he replied, his voice low and husky. "But I want to hear from you, Blake. What turns you on? What makes you lose control?" His hands found the hem of your dress, slipping underneath to caress the soft skin of your thighs. A shiver ran down your spine as his hands glided over your thighs, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You leaned into him, your lips skimming along his jaw. "You," you whispered, your breath hot against his skin. "You make me lose control." Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. "Just the sight of you, the sound of your voice… It drives me crazy."

Criston groaned as you undid his buttons, revealing his chiseled chest. He couldn't resist the urge to capture your lips again, kissing you deeply as his hands continued their exploration of your body. He palmed your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your dress. "I want to see you, Sweetheart," he murmured against your mouth. "All of you." With a swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him and carrying you towards the barn. "Let's get you out of these clothes." You gasped as he stood up, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. Your heart thudded in your chest, anticipation building with every step he took towards the barn. "Criston…" you murmured, your hands clutching at his shoulders. The idea of being exposed to him, completely vulnerable and at his mercy, both thrilled and terrified you. But there was no denying that you wanted this, that you wanted him. "Yes," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Please." Criston carried you into the barn, setting you down gently on a stack of hay bales. He stepped back, his eyes devouring the sight of you standing there, your dress clinging to every curve of your body. He reached out, tracing a finger down the valley between your breasts, watching intently as your nipples hardened under his touch. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice laced with awe and desire. "I want to worship every inch of you."

The air was cool and the hay bales were slightly scratchy against your skin, but you barely noticed. Your body was too focused on the way Criston looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His touch sent fire through your veins, making you arch into his hand. "Please," you whimpered, your breathing uneven. "Touch me. I need you." Criston didn't need to be told twice. His hands went to work, peeling the dress from your body until it pooled at your feet. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on your bare flesh. His hands roamed over your breasts, squeezing gently as he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth. He sucked and nibbled, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. His other hand slid down to your panties, hooking his fingers into the elastic and pulling them down. Your head fell back, a loud moan escaping your lips as he lavished attention on your breasts. The sensation of his warm mouth on your skin was overwhelming, making your legs tremble. As he pulled your panties down, you stepped out of them, kicking them aside. You were now completely naked, exposed to the cool air and to Criston's hungry gaze. "More," you pleaded, your hands finding their way to his hair, urging him closer. Criston's hands explored your naked body, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. He kissed his way down your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel before continuing lower. He knelt before you, his face mere inches from your most intimate area. He inhaled deeply, savoring your scent. "You smell divine," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your folds. Without warning, he leaned in, his tongue delving between your slick folds. He lapped at you hungrily, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady. Your knees buckled as his tongue made contact with your sensitive flesh, a cry of pleasure tearing from your throat. Your hands fisted in his hair, holding him close as he ate you out like a man starved. The sensations were almost too much to bear, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. "Oh god, Criston!" you gasped, your hips rocking against his face. "Don't stop! Please don't stop!" Criston reveled in the taste of you, the sweet essence of your arousal coating his tongue. He worked his tongue deeper, flicking it inside you as he sucked on your clit. He could hear the pleasure in your voice, the desperate plea for more, and it only fueled his desire to bring you to the brink. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you open for him as he devoured you.

The intensity of his oral assault was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your orgasm building, a wave about to crash over you. "I'm gonna—oh fuck, Criston!" you cried out, your entire body tensing as you came undone beneath his skilled mouth. Waves of pleasure washed over you, your inner walls clenching and unclenching around nothing as your climax ripped through you. Criston felt your body go rigid and heard your cry of release echo through the barn. He redoubled his efforts, sucking harder on your clit as he thrust his tongue deep inside you, prolonging your ecstasy. Only when your trembling subsided did he slow his ministrations, licking and kissing your sensitive flesh to ease you down from the high. Finally, he pulled back, looking up at you with lust-glazed eyes. "You're breathtaking when you come apart," he said, his voice rough with desire. Panting, you gazed down at Criston, taking in the sight of him kneeling before you, his face glistening with your juices. Your body hummed with satisfaction, but the sight of him, the raw desire in his eyes, reignited the fire within you. "Come here," you demanded, tugging on his hair. "I want to taste you too." He rose to his feet, allowing you to pull him into a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only heightened your arousal. Your hands fumbled with his belt, desperate to free his straining erection.

Criston broke the kiss, panting heavily as he watched you strip away his belt and unzip his jeans. He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants down, freeing his throbbing member. He was hard and ready, his cock standing proudly at attention. He grabbed your wrist, guiding your hand to wrap around his length. "Feel how much you affect me," he growled, his eyes burning with carnal intent. Your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. You pumped him slowly, marveling at the silky hardness in your grip. "God, Criston," you breathed, "you're so big." You licked your lips, eyeing his impressive size. Dropping to your knees, you leaned in, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock from base to tip. You swirled your tongue around the swollen head, tasting the salty drops of pre-cum that leaked from the slit. A guttural groan escaped Criston's lips as you lavished attention on his cock. The warmth of your mouth, the wetness of your tongue—it was intoxicating. He threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding you as you took him deeper. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take all of me." With a muffled moan, you relaxed your throat, allowing him to slide further in. The stretch was intense, but you reveled in the power it gave you—to make him lose control. You bobbed your head, taking him in and out, savoring the taste of him. Your free hand cupped his balls, gently rolling them as you worked his length. The musky flavor of his arousal filled your senses, spurring you on. You wanted to bring him to the brink, to watch him unravel. Criston's breaths became ragged, his hips instinctively thrusting forward to meet each motion of your head. The sensation of your mouth enveloping him was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. "Fuck, yes," he hissed, his grip tightening in your hair. He could tell you were enjoying yourself, reveling in the power you held over him. It only added fuel to the fire of his desire. The sound of his approval spurred you on, your movements becoming more urgent. You took him deeper, your throat constricting around him as you swallowed. You could taste the saltiness of his precum, the slight tang of his arousal. It was addictive, and you found yourself craving more. You doubled your efforts, sucking harder, pumping faster.

Criston's control slipped, his hips snapping forward as he chased his release. The sight of you on your knees, worshipping his cock, was almost too much to bear. He could feel the tension coiling in his gut, the familiar pressure building at the base of his spine. "I'm going to come," he warned, his voice tight with impending release. "If you don't want it in your mouth, pull away now." Your eyes locked onto his, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you relished the power it gave you. You continued to suck him, increasing the suction as you felt his cock throb in your mouth. You wanted every last drop of his release, and you weren't about to let him pull away now. With a final, deep swallow, you took him as far as you could, milking his cock with your throat muscles as he erupted into your mouth. Criston's world narrowed to the sensation of your warm, wet mouth engulfing him. The pressure built to a crescendo, and then he was coming, his release flooding your throat in powerful spurts. He gripped your hair, holding you in place as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. "Fuck...." he panted, his voice hoarse with exertion. Finally, he stilled, his cock softening slightly in your mouth. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. "That was incredible," he said, carefully pulling out of your mouth. "You're amazing."

With a satisfied smirk, you stood up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You stepped closer, pressing your naked body against Criston's, feeling the lingering hardness of his cock against your belly. "And I haven't even gotten started yet," you teased, reaching down to stroke his softened member once more. Criston chuckled, a low, husky sound. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Oh, I think we've both got plenty left in us," he murmured, nuzzling your neck. His other hand slid down to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "What do you say we take this to the bed?" He pressed a trail of kisses along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to explore every inch of you." A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your body already responding to his touch. "What's wrong with right here?" you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. As he guided you towards the hayloft stairs, you couldn't help but wonder what other pleasures awaited you in his arms. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and you found yourself practically vibrating with excitement by the time you reached the loft. Criston laid you down on the soft pile of hay and blankets, his eyes dark with desire as he loomed over you. Criston stared down at you, his gaze devouring every curve of your body. He bent down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue demanding entry. He explored your mouth with abandon, tasting himself on your tongue. Breaking the kiss, he trailed kisses down your chest, pausing to circle a hardened nipple with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. He sucked gently, teasing the sensitive bud until you arched beneath him, whimpering with need.

The sensations coursing through your body were overwhelming, each kiss, each lick sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You threaded your fingers through Criston's hair, urging him on, wanting more. "Please…" you moaned, your hips bucking up toward his, seeking friction. "Don't tease me," you pleaded, your voice laced with desperation. Criston lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a smoldering intensity. "Patience," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. He kissed his way down your stomach, pausing to swirl his tongue around your naval before continuing lower. He spread your thighs wide, exposing your slick, glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. He dipped his finger into your folds, coating it with your arousal before sliding it inside you. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he penetrated you, stretching your walls deliciously. You bit your lip to stifle another moan, not wanting to alert anyone below to your illicit activities. But the pleasure was too intense to hold back completely. "Criston," you breathed, clutching at the hay beneath you for purchase. "More," you begged, rocking your hips up to meet his finger. He added another finger, scissoring them inside you, stretching you wider. The sounds of your pleasure were music to his ears, driving him to push you higher. Criston watched intently as he fucked you with his fingers, admiring how your body responded to his touch. "You're so fucking tight," he growled, his thumb circling your clit in rhythm with his fingers.

The dual stimulation was almost too much, your body trembling under the onslaught of pleasure. You clamped down on his fingers, your inner walls clenching around him. "Yes, just like that," you cried out, no longer caring if anyone heard you. You needed more and craved the release that was tantalizingly close. With a few more expert strokes, Criston felt you tensing, the signs of your impending orgasm clear. He positioned himself between your legs, aligning his throbbing cock with your dripping entrance. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him was overwhelming, pushing you over the edge. The feeling of him entering you sent you spiraling into bliss. Your orgasm hit hard, your pussy clamping down on his cock as waves of pleasure crashed over you. "Criston!" you screamed, your body convulsing in ecstasy. The feeling of your tight heat enveloping him was indescribable. He groaned as your walls pulsed around him, gripping him like a vice. He held still, savoring the sensation of your release, letting you ride out the aftershocks. Once your tremors subsided, he began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies joining together. As Criston picked up the pace, you met him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to meet his downward strokes. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves, reigniting the flames of desire within you. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him down for a searing kiss as you rocked against him.

The kiss was deep and passionate, fueling the fire burning between you. Criston broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, marking you with his mouth. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of your head as he pounded into you relentlessly. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the loft, punctuating the erotic symphony of your coupling. Your bodies moved together in a dance of passion, your movements synchronized perfectly. Every thrust drove him deeper inside you, hitting all the right spots and sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You could feel your second orgasm building, spurred on by the relentless pace of his thrusts. Criston could feel your body tightening around him again, signaling your impending third climax. He reached between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it firmly with his thumb. "Come for me, Sweetheart," he demanded, his voice strained with effort. "I want to feel you milk my cock." With one final, deep thrust, he pushed you over the edge, his own release following closely behind as he spilled himself inside you. The combination of Criston's relentless thrusts and the pressure on your clit sent you tumbling into another earth-shattering orgasm. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. You cried out his name, your voice hoarse from screaming. The pleasure was so intense, you thought you might pass out from the sheer force of it.

Criston collapsed onto you, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath. He rolled off you, lying beside you as he caught his breath. He pulled you close, tucking you into his side as he stroked your hair soothingly. "That was… incredible," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "You're amazing, Darlin'." As your breathing slowed, you snuggled closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your explosive lovemaking session. "You're not so bad yourself," you replied, a satisfied smile on your face. You traced lazy patterns on his chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin against yours. "We should do this more often," you suggested, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Criston chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. "I'd like that," he said, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. "But we should probably get cleaned up before someone comes looking for us." He sat up, offering you a hand to help you stand. As you made your way towards the bathroom, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close against him. "And don't worry Sweetheart," he whispered in your ear, "we'll find plenty of opportunities to continue our… extracurricular activities."

[gyllenhaalstories]

ELWOOD DALTON x PLUS SIZE!READER HEADCANONS

summary: if he can push and pull a big obnoxious yellow lamborghini, imagine what he can do!!! well, you don't need to imagine. i did it for you. but still!!!

warnings: bunch of cute things & various smut elements. chances are i'll steal some of these in my fics later on bc i love repeating myself but i felt inspired to gather the random thoughts in one place. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2100

photo credit: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: even if all my fics are written with a fat reader in mind, it just feels so good to put the emphasis on it! this is so incredibly self-indulgent and i am not sorry about it. 🥰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

FLUFF

Dalton wears very form fitting clothes, like his vast collection of the tightest shorts imaginable that he's worn on the octagon. But you will notice a gradual shift in his clothing preferences. The more he hangs out with you, the looser his clothes will get. Especially his hoodies and his patterned shirts. You will also notice how he accidentally leaves pieces of clothing at your place when he visits. He just likes to drop hints that he wants you to wear his clothes because he wants you to wear his clothes.

The first time he catches you putting on his hoodie if you're feeling a bit chilly or wearing his flowery shirt on a hot day? He's losing it. He'll have a dumb smile on his face all day because this is a big victory just like winning a fight. Maybe even more so when you start sharing clothes casually.

Also he's large. He just is. He takes space both literally and metaphorically. He makes you feel small in the best way. He opens jars for you in a twist of his wrist, he carries all the bags in one trip after grocery shopping, he shoves the laundry basket full of heavy wet clothes on his hip and holds you close with his free arm so you can hang clothes to dry outside. When Dalton locks eyes with you, he just has a way of making you feel so much smaller than him. This size difference, whether it be literal or not, feels good. It feels right. He will never shut up about it, if you ever tell him that you like the size difference. He might love it as much as you.

One of his love languages is you tending to his injuries and wounds. The lovely sound of your voice as you reprimand him and tell him he's too old to break into fights at any minor inconveniences. The gentle touch of your hands when you're cleaning him up with a washcloth and wincing at how much it must hurt... Except it barely hurts anymore he's just so used to it, although he might say it does so you baby him a little more. The adorable band-aids you put on him that he wears like a badge of honour. Eventually, you learn to carry a first-aid kit with you as often as you can. Just in case.

Beach dates. Did I say beach dates? Beach dates. He loves them. Dalton loves to hang out by the ocean and watch the sun rise and set. He loves it even more when you're with him. Holding hands or with his arms wrapped around you, he loves to share this moment with you. It feels so intimate. You can see him in his most peaceful and relaxed head space where the chaos of the Road House doesn't seem to affect him. He could stay there with you forever, with your feet in the water and the ocean breeze tickling your face.

He'd love to invite you to hang out at the Road House during his shifts, but he rarely lets you visit him at work. He's scared you will get injured or hurt by one of the drunk idiots or worse. He prefers to know you are safe and sound, far away from all the danger.

Dalton still tries to spend a lot of time with you. He likes it when you drive his car around and he can just be the passenger princess and enjoy the view, which means you. He likes it when you cook meals and desserts he hasn't had in forever due to years of intense training and strict diets. He'll always be around you to taste the food or steal a bite of a burning hot cookie that is fresh out the oven. The small things are very important for him.

Small things like slapping your butt when he walks behind you, and you doing the same when the roles are reversed. Small things like going shopping for the most obnoxious shirts that scream elderly dad on vacation vibes. Small things like dropping him off and picking him up when he works at the Road House. Small things like bringing you with him when he trains so that you can just exist in his presence, within a safe distance, and so that you can look at him when he gets all hot and sweaty. Small things like you laughing at his jokes about how everyone seems a little aggressive when he casually beats people up for a living. Small things like telling you that you smell so good and getting new perfumes so when he wears his clothes and you were his, he gets to carry your smell all day long. Small things like looking at you with big doe eyes and a dumb little grin on his face because he likes you so much. He likes the little things, because so often in his life he was living on the edge and he was depraved of those calm, harmless, insignificant little droplets of happiness.

What is the most important thing for him? Protecting you. He is so protective of you. Dalton wants to make sure you are safe and that you aren't involved in any shenanigans he gets himself into. He wants to make sure that nobody and nothing can hurt you. He's quick to remind anyone who crosses your way that they should be minding their own business. It may cause some issues between you, you have to remind him that you are a grown adult and that you can take care of yourself. He believes you, he knows you're strong and capable of anything you want to achieve, but he can't fight his protective instincts. He takes your security and your well-being very seriously. He wants you to know that he cherishes you, that he loves you and that he cares for you.

SMUT

Dalton is a big fan of proving you wrong, but with gentle persuasion. When the two of you start hooking up and dating, he will not put on too big of a show because he's scared to hurt you. He'll start slow, let things escalate at their own pace. He'll pull you closer by the hand for a kiss, surprising you by how he does that so effortlessly. He'll bring your body closer and wrap his arm around you to keep you pressed against him while you cuddle. He'll pull on your ankles to get you closer to the edge of the bed. He'll flip you over on the bed after a little warning that barely gives you enough time to register what he did. He'll hook his arms under your thighs to stop you from squirming away after he makes you cum and he doesn't want to stop just yet.

As much as he wants to chase the high, to show you just how much he can do and how far he can take you, he does it all gradually. He checks in often, maybe too many times at first. Tons of "are you alright? you good, you wanna continue? did it hurt, are you okay?" will be spoken to make sure he doesn't hurt you accidentally. He'll be careful not to hurt you, unless you ask him to.

He's flexible and he will adjust to your body. He'll make it work. You don't have to worry about it. If he can hold his opponent down like a pretzel until they tap out, he certainly can do the same to you. He'll push on your thighs to hold your legs down. He'll spread your pussy open and grunt at how you react when his nose bumps against your clit or when you whimper while he licks your puffy pussy lips. He'll pull on the skin of your cheeks to keep your ass open so he can access what he craves. He'll praise you when you help him, making it easier for him to fuck you good like you deserve.

On the topic of flexibility, he'd love to help you out with yours if you want to. He'll teach you exercises and show you how to relax your body. He'll also respect your limitations. You won't catch him be mad when you say your stomach is in the way or that you struggle to ride him so he has to use you as a fleshlight while you're on top. However, you will catch him rolling his eyes if you say you can't open your legs wider while he knows full well that you do when he's fucking you.

He loves when you sit on his face, no matter how many times he must remind you that he can take it, that you won't hurt him, that he can hold his breath long enough until you coat his tongue with your wetness. He enjoys every second of it.

He's loud. Dalton is a grunter. He grunts when he's fucking you deep with slow but rough thrusts. He grunts when he pulls out so he doesn't cum too fast at the heavenly feeling of your pussy on his hard cock. He grunts when he feels you gag around his cock. He grunts when he tastes your pussy on his tongue and feel your clit pulsate while he sucks on it. He's so fucking loud and he will do whatever he can to make you as loud as him. He wants you to get lost in the moment and forget about your fears and insecurities. He wants you to ride the waves of your orgasms with him until both of you forget how to speak and you can't take it anymore.

The things he must have seen and touched during his career in the UFC make it so that he's unbothered by extra skin to move around, or pretty much anything of the sort. He'll find a way to always make it work and he won't complain. In fact, he loves it. He loves feeling your body on him. He loves the skin-to-skin contact, the closeness. The sweat, the friction, the more he gets the more he wants.

He swells with pride and happiness when he sees you trying to process of the aftermath. Out of breath, flustered, shocked, stuck somewhere between needing three business days to recover and wanting to do it all over again right away. He loves seeing you fucked out of your mind, blissful and satisfied. Dalton loves knowing that he's the one helping you get there, helping you feel so good.

And he knows you love admiring him just as much. The feeling of worship is very much so mutual. He adores the marks, pearls of sweat and trails of euphoric tears he leaves on you. And you adore to watch his muscles and veins bulge after he's had his way with you.

Unlike his trainings of his fights, he doesn't end up in a human sized bucket of ice, but he loves the ritual of cleaning up in the shower or taking a bath with you. He loves to gently touch your body, paying close attention to where his hands might have left bruises earlier. He loves to show you his love with his touch rather than with his caring words or worried questions. It makes Dalton's heart flutter when you do the same, when you soap up his toned body and you wash away the mess of sweat and cum you made together. It often ends up with the two of you going at it again, or simply just jerking each other off with no intention to cum but rather to just feel closer and relax while the hot water heals your bodies.

To put it briefly, Dalton is built for the plus size girlies. He's got the strength, he's got the stamina. He's got it all to make you feel good, to make you feel like you're the hottest person alive because, to him, you very much so are. He cares for you and wants to make you feel comfortable. The more he explores your body and the more he discovers what you love and how to make you moan louder and cum harder, the freakier he will become. Dalton likes it hot and dirty, but he also loves it deep and passionate. He's gonna adapt to what you like and what you can physically do. He's gonna put in the work. He's gonna do what it takes to make you cum so hard you feel like he knocked you out in the best way possible.

[lovebugism]

hi hello angel! i have a prompt request <3 “it’s nine in the morning, are you seriously already in swimming trunks?” with steve x punchy... i imagine some cute scenes by steve's pool, maybe some sm*t maybe not dealers choice ! i just love those two sweethearts

thanks so much for your request! and for giving me the opportunity to write more punchy x steve!! hope you like it!! — the one where steve buys his summer hating gf a bathing suit (1.9k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

No parents. Big house. The perfect concoction for you and Steve to play Old Married Couple whenever work permitted it. 

He closed at Family Video the day before while you slaved over a fourteen-hour shift — just so you could have the weekend off together. The aching bones, tired feet, and frustration-induced migraine were worth it, though. Because it meant waking up in the arms of your boyfriend without either of you having to be in a rush come sunrise.

And even though you remember falling asleep with Steve’s arm wound tightly around your waist — because you spent a good five minutes arguing about the way his palm laid on the pudge of your stomach — you wake up with the boy nowhere to be found.

You rouse before you’re ready to that morning, freezing without the furnace of Steve Harrington and furry chest holding you. You curl beneath his plaid sheets and bury your face into his navy blue pillow. The lingering scent of his musky cologne and floral shampoo does little to quell your yearning.

You decide to go on the hunt for the lost boy.

Still in your pajamas from the night before — a wrinkled Hellfire shirt, a rather modest pair of cotton underwear, and smudged makeup you were too tired to take off the night before — you trek through the empty Harrington household.

“Stevie?” you call for him. Your only answer is an eerie silence. You try again. “Steve?”

He’s not in the bathroom or the upstairs den. He’s not in the living room downstairs, either, or in the adjacent kitchen. He’s quite literally nowhere, and the feeling of affirmed loneliness settles like a brick in the pit of your empty stomach.

Turns out, No Parents, Big House was only fun when Steve was there to share it with you.

You convince yourself he’s probably out getting breakfast for the both of you and didn’t want to wake you up before he left — because he’s way too sweet for his own good. So you decide to busy yourself in wait for him. You pour yourself a coffee from the bubbling machine, sloshing the heady brown liquid into a Snoopy mug you found in the back of the cabinet.

The sliding glass door a little ways behind you whirs violently when it’s opened with a too aggressive hand. The sound of it makes your heart lurch with fleeting panic. Your head whips over your shoulder in the direction of the sound. Drops of coffee spill onto the marble countertop as you flinch.

Steve enters the house then, wearing nothing but a pair of red shorts and black sunglasses — his lean torso and accompanying umber chest hair totally on display. He’s beaming like the yellow sun outside at the sight of you. His honey eyes twinkle with mirth as his hand pushes his RayBans to the top of his messy hair. 

“Oh. Hey, babe,” the boy greets with a tightlipped grin as he shuts the glass door behind him.

With one hand on your racing heart, you shove the coffee pot back into place. “Where were you— It’s nine in the morning, Steve! Why the hell are you already in swimming trunks?”

Steve’s gotten used to how loudly you speak sometimes. It’s usually when you’re happy, sometimes when you’re angry, and on the rarer occasion that something’s frightened you. He likes when you’re enthusiastic and talking his ear off, though, because he hates when you get quiet.

If loudmouth, glittering, sunshine-coated Punchy is ever not talking, something very, very bad has happened.

“In my defense, I’ve been up since seven, alright?” Steve contends, laughing softly to himself. As he walks further into the kitchen, you see he’s adorned his outfit with a pair of rubber sandals. They flip-flop, flip-flop against the tile with every stride. “I went for a run, took a shower, got you coffee—”

He motions to the cardboard cups sitting side by side on the island countertop. The former has been relieved from its lid and most of the sugary content inside. The latter is still intently covered in attempts to keep it warm. In your fleeting alarm and distant heartache, your eyes completely missed them.

“Oh…” you hum quietly in response, still clutching the warm Snoopy mug in your cold hands. “Thank you…”

You walk the short distance to the kitchen island and set the ceramic cup on the counter. You pop the lid off the lukewarm coffee — already adorned with your usual two creams, three sugars combo. You pour the liquid into the mug until it’s filled to the very brim. Steve watches with a distant smile as you take a careful sip from it, mindful not to spill it.

“And since it’s such a nice day outside, I wanted to get a jump on it and head out there,” the boy continues with a shrug. He leans his head to his freckled shoulder as he grins down at you. “I was waiting for you to wake up so I could spend it with you…”

You mirror his too cute posture, tilting your own head and peering up at him through your lashes. Bits of mascara are still smudged around your eyes as you blink up at him. “Well, that’s very sweet of you, Stevie.”

He wraps you in his arms, two golden limbs winding around your waist. Your shoulder presses into the center of his bare chest when he pulls you into him.

He watches you take another slow sip of your milky brown coffee — always so attentive in the way he gazes at you, like he’s checking to make sure you’re okay. You don’t make a face like it’s burned you or like he’s gotten you the wrong order, so he smiles. 

“Go get your swimsuit on, alright? We’re poolin’ all day today, babe.”

“Ew, no. Gross,” you grumble, shrugging your shoulder as you halfheartedly writhe in his arms. “I wasn’t made to be outside, okay? I am not a creature of sunshine, Steven.”

His pink lips jut softly out as his brows furrow. “Hm. That’s weird. ‘Cause you’re my sunshine.”

Your nose scrunches up at him, obviously discontent with his compliment.

The look makes him grin. “Exactly,” he coos before leaning down to kiss the tip of your rumpled nose.

“I don’t even have a bathing suit here! Or, like, at all.”

“I bought you one,” Steve shrugs.

You squint at him. “No, you didn’t…”

“Yes, I did,” he singsongs. “It’s in the dresser with my swim trunks. The—”

“Bottom drawer,” you finish for him, still a bit monotoned with contempt.

It makes the two of you grin like a couple of lovesick idiots. There was hardly anything more domestic than knowing how someone organizes their wardrobe — sharing a part of it with them even more so. But the gooey, warm, marshmallow fluff thought is swiftly eclipsed by your distant disdain for the bathing suit he bought you.

It’s not even that it’s ugly or anything, because it’s actually quite cute. It’s made even cuter by the idea that your pretty boy got it for you — that he saw it and thought of you because he loves you. But it goes against everything in your personal Punchy Doctrine. 

You never really learned how to swim, and the sun is your arch nemesis in the summertime — because your pretty all-black outfits do not fare well in the heat. You hate bikinis even more. Mostly because you feel like they’re a direct result of the patriarchal male gaze and your body is nothing if not a symbol of protest.

But you do love Steve. And Steve isn’t like the assholes that used to ogle at you in your swimsuit or sneer at you for not having a flat stomach.

Steve loved you, and you loved him back, so you decide to humor him and wear it despite everything that tells you not to.

“Ooh,” the boy singsongs when you walk through the sliding glass door. He’s already sprawled out on one of the lounge chairs beside the glittering blue pool. He’s tossed a towel over the one beside him for you and preemptively dragged it several inches closer. You laugh as he announces to no one, “Look how pretty my girlfriend is!”

“Shut up,” you grouse and shut the door behind you.

The early morning heat is tolerable, but still all consuming. The humidity sticks to your bare skin with an inescapable grip as the sun pierces every inch of you it can touch. You’re already mourning the cold of Steve’s house. Not a creature of sunshine, indeed.

“Do you like it?” he asks, squinting at you through his sunglasses.

You cross your arms as you peer down at him. “Do you want me to answer that honestly or…?”

“It’s perfect for you! What do you mean?” Steve argues, his voice several octaves higher as he rises from his seat. He swings his legs off the side of it and uses his glasses to push back his wild honey hair. His hands gesticulate wildly as he continues. “It’s black — which I know is your favorite color — and it’s got spiderwebs on it because I know you’re into… spiders, and… weird stuff…”

“And what about the cutouts on the side, huh?” you tease in a lilt. “What’s that for?”

A boyish grin tugs at Steve’s pink mouth as his eyes flit to your hips. The high-waisted bottoms are slatted along the sides to reveal large sections of your skin. Your hips pokes out beneath them, not quite as slim as the designer intended. You wear your pudge with pride anyway, especially with the way Steve looks at you. His eyes twinkle with lust and adoration and sunshine.

“That was just a little treat for me,” the boy confesses with an innocuous shrug.

You scoff. “Right.”

“Well… for what it’s worth… I think you look really pretty, Punchy.”

You meet his sincere glimmer with a beam. Your eyes trail over his muscular form, marveling silently at the way his chest glitters golden beneath the sun and how his trunks bunch up to reveal more of his thighs.

For a second, you can’t believe he’s yours — that Punchy ended up with Steve The Hair Harrington. But then you realize that he is yours, and that you can kiss him silly because you’re his, too.

“You look really pretty, too, Stevie,” you gush as you launch yourself into his lap, a bit more aggressively than you intended to.

He huffs at your sudden weight, but hugs you back when your arms wrap around his neck. He eases the both of you back into the lounge chair, with you resting most of your weight on top of him.

“You plan on staying like this all day, babe?” he asks, laughing and hoping you’ll say yes.

“Yep,” you affirm before the words leave his mouth, half-muffled because you’re talking into his neck.

“Even if it gets too hot?”

“Especially if it gets too hot,” you joke. You pull back from him slightly to find the boy smiling at you, one eye squinted shut to hide from the sun. You beam back at him, brighter. “You’re too sexy not to hang on to, Steve Harrington. I don’t think I can let you go.”

“Good,” Steve hums back. His fingers squeeze the sides of your hips, warm and reassuring. “I don’t think I want you to me go.”

[ratsinyourskin0]

beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

God he’s so fine I can’t get over it 😮‍💨

So, This is my first post on tumblr, any advice or constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Sorry for bad grammar and punctuation, I kinda made this randomly.

Gyutaro smut, Fem bodied reader, semi public sex, light bdsm (hair pulling, mild teasing), 2.1k words, I genuinely don’t know what else to add.

———————————————————————

You work as a courtesan in the red light district, you’ve been here.. so long, it feels like it’s been a century.

You’ve noticed life has slowly lost its taste- the exciting adrenaline that comes with the feeling of being in the red light district now tastes bland and flavourless; everything just molds together, the faces of the men you’ve lain with look the same, the same actions, the same sizes, the same warm skin.. death would be more interesting than your current life is. Everyday like clockwork you awake, tend to the house, and prepare to service clients. you put on your layered kimono and begin applying your makeup, a thick layer of white makeup to cover your skin, you darken your eyebrows and then apply some red eyeshadow, and finally the red lip-tint.

That’s the theme.. red, your kimono is red, your eye makeup and lips.. red seems to haunt everything in your life, the colour red almost makes you feel sick.

The day went by so fast you barely even registered night came, it felt like someone was just possessing your body. before you even notice what your doing you’ve left the walls of the Ogimoto House. you stroll through the streets before the eyes of various men became far too much for you, you turn into an alleyway-- not a smart action, luckily, the men don’t follow you.

You walked for what felt like hours, but in reality it was probably just a few minutes. You eventually stopped in an alleyway.. not by choice, but when you step into a puddle and it’s soaked your shoes, when you look down, you see that sickening red. For a moment, your eyes barely registered what it is; it’s a puddle of blood! When you finally did realize, it’s not because you came to your senses; it’s because you heard a scratchy voice in the shadows.

“Ohh? Hold on, Did a courtesan stray from her house? It’s my lucky day..”

Your head whipped up to look up at the voice—it’s not like anything you’ve ever heard. It sounds like he’s never drunken water in his entire lifetime, or even touched a liquid for that matter. Your eyes can’t help but widen as you see the man or thing that stands before you. His posture reminds you of a shrimp! a large man with pale grey skin, black polka dots and mist shaped marks scattered all over his body. He has short wavy hair which starts out black then fades to green.. you’ve never thought much of green but he makes it so.. beautiful. His sclera are an unnatural colour of yellow and his irises are dark green with the kanji for Upper Moon Six written on, you can see his hip bones.. he’s so skinny he’d look like bone If not for the muscle he has! he wears no shirt and only has on a pair of baggy blue pants as well as a long red cloth wrapped loosely around his arms and neck… he holds two sickles that resemble bone? It clicks he’s a demon.

“Aren’t you pretty? I bet you already know that huh? Well? What are you staring at, never seen a demon before? Or have you never seen someone so unfortunate looking?”

He said “unfortunate looking” with a big smile.. almost like he took pride in his lack of attractiveness, your eyes trailed along his teeth for a second.. so sharp, he could bite a piece out of your flesh effortlessly! your eyes fell back to the blood- you don’t see a body? Maybe he ate it?.. he does have those shark teeth!

“Well? SPIT IT OUT! What are you deaf?”

He began scratching his face so hard it broke skin, his expression contorted into one of annoyance. You felt your hands tremble and your heart race. that’s all you could hear for a moment, the pounding of your heart.

“You little brat are you—“

You finally found the courage to speak and yet nothing came out.

“Y-you.. y—y-you’re..”

you watched his annoyance turn into an amused grin- showing his razor sharp teeth Off almost like a taunt, he walked over and stood face to face, your eyes widened and you covered your mouth almost instinctively.

“What? Was I right? Never seen someone like me? Are you terrified? Or maybe disgusted?”

He laughed and slapped the top of your head, he’s very heavy handed. You feel your body jolt with shock before he does it again and again, it stings more and more each time he does it.

“Poor girl, having to see someone as hideous as me! You must be terrified, but I bet your like all those other pretty women.. you must have me for being in your very sight! So petrified you can’t even speak!”

He gripped your hair so tightly you felt a few strands break off from your scalp, he forced you to look up at him- he has a sadistic grin on his face, his eyes pierce into yours and you feel your heart beat so hard it feels like someone’s drumming in your chest!

“You’re so handsome!”

You finally squeaked out, you aren’t scared.. you’ve never been more attracted to someone if you’re honest! He’s so— different! You’ve NEVER seen anyone like him! You feel your inner thighs begin to heat up as you stare into his eyes- you must look like a lovesick fool! He looks shocked at your words, his grin fell and he stared at you with furrowed eyebrows- he looked almost offended before he gripped your hair even tighter- somehow he looked even more confused for a moment before releasing your hair- that gave you the chance to quickly slink away! He didn’t even follow you, just stared at your back perplexed.

That night when you finally returned to the Ogimoto House, you rushed to your room and quickly changed into new clothes- you’re drenched in sweat! You’ve never felt so giddy in your entire life.. it feels like you’ve just been blessed by the gods! You want to thank whatever god molded that handsome man and allowed your eyes to be worthy of his gaze personally! You pant as your hands tremble, you stared out the window for almost an hour, hoping to see him again! You finally came to your senses and sat on your bed. you almost died! Well.. having your hair pulled isn’t anything new working as a courtesan, neither is the slapping.. you manage to relax just enough to fall asleep at midnight.

That night your dreams are filled with that demon, it’s so real you can almost feel his heavy hands on you.. trailing down from your neck until they meet your breasts, he’d squeeze and flick your sensitive nipples- making you squeak and gasp before he slid his hands down your nude body, all the way down to you’re soaked pussy.. his fingers flick your sensitive clit before he began to pump his fingers into you, he thrusted them in and out at a painfully slow pace, your tongues meet in a passionate dance- he pulled your face away with a grin before pulling his fingers out of you and began to take off his pants, before his cock could be released from the cruel prison that are blocking the pleasure you crave, you wake up with a frustrated groan.

That day goes by like every other day, you get dressed, clean, tend to clients.. but the entire day you thought of the shark toothed demon, a heat in your loins every time you thought of how his hands felt in your hair. That night you go back to that alley in hopes of seeing him again- dressed in the prettiest kimono you own and the most you’ve ever tried on your makeup- you look gorgeous.

“You trying to mock me, Brat? Show off how beautiful you are and how ugly I am? I bet you’d never give a man like me a second glance huh?”

There he was again.. you felt your heart throb- you don’t think you’ve ever been so infatuated and aroused for someone! You have to stop yourself from reaching out to try and touch him.

“No, No! I’m not trying to mock you I promise! And— did you want me to give you a second glance?”

You teased him, maybe that’s smart? He does look quite shocked.. his face goes back to a frown, you can’t figure out what type of woman he wants- all the men you know just like pretty faces!

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N! And you are..?”

“Gyutaro.”

That’s such a unique name! You’ve never gushed so hard for a man, you’ve also never tried so hard.. you can’t believe how much you’ve grown attracted to him in just one night.

“Y/N.. You know I could eat you, right?”

“I do! But it’d be the most interesting thing to happen to me in years.. and I don’t think you will, maybe you can— but you won’t.”

“Cocky, I hate that.”

“Well, the only eating on me you’ll do won’t be the type you’re thinking.”

He looked confused for a moment before a deep grey blush flashed across his face before he grabbed you by the hair once more and pulled you face to face, a deep frown plastered on his face.

“You’re real bold Yknow? or maybe stupid- probably both! I really hate that.”

You sighed and your eyes trailed down to his pants, you see the unmistakable print of his erection.. he’s so hard his cock is throbbing! He must not have many women crazy enough to start flirting with him, you take a small step closer to him and slide his pants down- Gyutaro eyes widened but he didn’t do anything to stop you, You dropped to your knees as his cock sprung out! Demon cocks are certainly bigger than humans. His cock springs out against your cheek, cum beading at the tip of his cock. He has beautiful black birthmarks along his cock as well. You began kissing each mark before you finally wrapped your lips around his cock, looking up to see his face- it’s almost like that set him off, like his mind registered it as you mocking him.. that’s all he needed to slam his cock down your throat, making you gag and grip his thighs as he started pounding your mouth like a cock sleeve.

“Dirty slut.. how dare yo— mhm..!”

He’s practically drooling, his hands knotted in your hair- forcing you to look up at his face with a hard pull as he pumped his cock down your throat, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head from pleasure. Tears begin to pool in your eyes; you feel his cock forced its way in and out of your throat; your vision begins to blur; although if you could see clearly, you’d see his sadistic grin as he watches you cry in discomfort. He feels his cock throb, and he pushes down as far as he possibly can to release his cum; he basically forced you to swallow as he fell back against a wall, panting and gasping while he released his grip on your hair.

Before you could even try to compose yourself you felt his hands wrap around your hips and your cheek press against a wall. his strong hand grip your hip while his other rips the kimono off your body, leaving you in absolutely nothing. His hand kneaded the soft skin of your ass before he gave it a hard slap, making you gasp while he laughed once more.

“Filthy little whore..”

He whispered that over and over again before he finally began fucking you, his cock almost instantly hit your cervix- not a soft brush against but hard enough to leave a bruise! That made you yelp, he laughed and began thrusting into you at inhuman speeds- the stretch make you feel dizzy with pleasure, your legs begin trembling- your brain was so foggy you barely noticed when he lifted you up so you’d stay still.

“Taro!”

“It’s g— never mind..”

He mumbled as he pounded into you, his strong arms wrapped around your body like a coat - Your head fell back against his shoulder, and your tongue lulled out. You went slack-jawed from pleasure. His heavy pants and low moans pressed against your ear as he rearranged your insides. This went on for what felt like hours before he finally released inside you, his hot cum squirting into your ready womb. You cried out in surprise and opened your eyes in shock. That shock turned into a pleasure gasp when his fingers began circling your aching clit, feeling around it before he began rubbing and teasing it. It didn’t take much effort for your orgasm to follow after his—your body went limp in his arms.

He stayed silent before he dropped you onto the alleyways floor. he pulled his pants back on and stared at your trembling form.

“Maybe you aren’t as bitchy as all the other pretty skanks, Y/N”

He stroked your hair like one would a dog with a long coat, although insulted at first at the “maybe”, but the way he said your name made your stomach flutter. he turned his back to you and left the alleyway, leaving you naked to think back on this entire endeavour, you’ve never cum so hard from just one round.. is it because you like him? Or just because he’s something new? Either way this isn’t an experience you’ll forget anytime soon.

Something tells you this won’t be the last time you meet Gyutaro.

———————————————————————-

[puffins-studio]

Nico Di Angelo 💀 Will Solace ☀️

You don’t know how happy I was at the news of their solo book! I been off and on Percy Jackson because doctor who but it been on my back burner. And I found the release date of the book before my bad finals and I just had to act as if I didn’t see if so I could focus , problem is my adhd made me completely forget about the book until the pretty cover came on my to my feed and i dropped everything to read it.

I love them💕 I Want to do an embroidery for them too but I think I might listen to the book again as I can’t pick a favorite line to do. I might also do the other main character and add my headcannon ideas as I feel so proud of these came out!

Hazel

Percy & Annabeth

Jason

Leo

If you want to read my headcannons about their outfits, then it under the cut as I have many ideas.

[ID: The picture is a felt doll that is the shape of a gingerbread man with a big circle head Nico Di Angelo and Will solace. Nico have light color felt for skin, very dark brown hair that is to his shoulders and have a bit of a curl. He have black ties shoes, dark grey rip pants, a black and grey shirt with the skull on it. He have on a sliver studded belt, with beads for the studs, and a chain coming off of it. He have his ad jacket with a Italy flag patch in the right side and a sun patch in the left side. He have Bracelet on the hand with the sun patch sleeves. It a rainbow beaded one and a yellow and black twist. On this other wrist he have a black, read, and blue sparky thread one, a ace flags: black, grey,white, purple. And he have a beaded disability flag colors are black, green, blue, white,yellow, reddish pick, black. Will has light color felt for skin, short yellow blonde. He has ears and a little bit of black felt is peaking out for hearing aids.he have a blue shirt and a fort pocket, a little coco puff is in the pocket, he have on cargo shorts, a yellow orange sweatshirt around his waist, he I have on one blue sock and one read with cream shoes that have on the left one embroidery purple hyacinthus, a lyre and in the other side is a bow and arrow and the symbol of healing that have the single snake. He have camp bead and a sliver bead for the ring on the chain. On this left wrist he have a rainbow bracelet, and a random color one that is blue, light purple and light gray. On his other wrist is a bi flag one pink, purple, blue. And the last one is a matching one with Nico that is black and yellow.:ID]

Headcannons for Will

Star Wars

-I was going for like Star Wars socks, as this boy is either in flip flops or cowboy boots, he rarely wear anything else so he have fun socks to show off when he does

-(Maybe not the first time but maybe one of the first few time Nico said he love Will. Will make the Star Wars reference with Hans saying ‘I know’ and Nico is slightly confused. But then imagining his reaction when he all invested in the movie and then Hans say the line and Nico just stops and is like WILL! And will just start laughing “I couldn’t help it!”)

Shoes

-He only have one pair of sneakers and I was trying to think of something to Blightten up his outfit, and thought the Apollo cabin can’t leave anything plain. So Apollo theme shoe (dark idea is that they belonged to one of his older brothers who painted them and died and Will wanted to bring something that reminded him of his family into the underworld with him)

Coco puff

-Little coco puff in Will’s pocket I can’t decide if the little puff is attached to Will because it a deamon that Will actually helps Nico fight or the puffs are attached to anyone who have the same deamons so like if the little one is bad self confidence, then Will also have to work on his bad self confidence

Beads

-Enough beads for him to have gotten to camp one year before Percy. So he had two good years with his siblings before the wars. Just so he also have a family when his mom is on tour. But I do also think he has a lot of hidden Apollo kid power that he doesn’t know about so he think he weak with a randomly strong small. Like that is until Apollo learns where he went and is like how are you alive. Will “power of love… and really bad nicknames”

Disabled

-I tried to give him hearing aids, they enup being hidden in his hair, I was trying to think of a color that would stand out against the yellow hair as I also thought he would pick a noticeable color, and I wanted with black. Just him going into the underworld with so many extra batteries, but also him and Nico do a bit of asl or just come up with little hand signals.

Bracelet

-Rainbow one, bi vone, matching one with Nico, and a random one from a sibling

Headcannon Nico

Bracelets

-Nico has bracelets as during craft time some of the younger Apollo kids were make some and they all like to make Will some. At the time Nico was there making their matching ones at the time and will was making one for Nico. And then one little kid come up and whispers something to Will he grins. Nico look up because the silences and Will just nods to Nico, then the little kid goes over to Nico and holds up the bracelet and said they made it for him. Will fills in that they want to give it to him and so Nico just like ‘yeah sure’ and hold out his wrist and the kid tie it on before running happyly back to their table. Will leans over like ‘now you can’t take it off’ Nico just looks at him and Will is just ‘how did you think I get so many.” And then the younger kids even some from other cabins make Nico bracelets and he feels honored,

-Random one that is supposed to be the one the kids made him but also slightly Star Wars theme, I was trying to make it with the dark sparkly thread as I can imagine that how a kid see Nico. The other one is beads for the disability pride flag. Either Will makes if for him and he have one too if something with the flag as I love deaf Will and disabled Nico. Or another little kid make it for Nico who also have a disability and that help Nico acc his. I had to add a asexual one too, I can’t help it. Beads so he can mess with them when on edge

Beads

-And I love the idea that nico some how get the camp beads either he steal one each year as he wanted to be apart but hey keep them in a box some place and then after will saying something like he always had a fear of Nico leaving, and to show him he acc camp as home, the next morning Nico walked out of his cabin with the beads. Or Will just keep saving beads for Nico. Like it started as Will keep going around asking about Nico and got upset when he was told he left already, maybe he ask Percy and Percy tell him something like Nico doesn’t like camp. But Will meet Nico in the small window when Nico was at camp before he first ran away and got a little crush that his siblings notice, and then when Michael was giving the beads to his cabin, he give two to will, and just held a finger to his mouth before Will could say anything and say something like ‘you need to hold onto Nico’s bead, in case he comes back.” And so when Will was head he keep asking for an extra one to save for Nico. And he gives them to him at one point, maybe even just leave them by his bed during the 3 days.

Jacket

-Nico get a over size jacket so Will can steal it sometimes. He had a Italy flag patch, maybe Chiara got it from him because they are both Italian. And then sun patch maybe as a slight joke that the Apollo kids got him as he is always with them. And then I tried to do it so it look like he sewed them in himself. Pockets are totally full of chocolate and random rocks he finds, that he offers to Will and younger campers.

[fastcardotmp3]

I gotta say I am such a sucker for Eddie and Steve genuinely not falling in love, not even seeing each other in more than a wholly friendly way, until they're well into their thirties.

No high school crushes, no trauma born romance, just two guys who sincerely did not like each other as teenagers and then grew to respect each other in the face of unimaginable strife, who figured out how to be friends somewhere in the aftermath, who maybe only managed to hold onto each other through cross-country moves and major life changes and stumbles back home and repeat, repeat repeat, simply because there was no greater attachment than having someone who gets it and gets them in an uncomplicated way.

Just friends, although maybe a different sort than Robin is to Steve or the Hellfire boys are to Eddie, and that's a big deal in and of itself for two guys who have more than their fair share of abandonment issues.

Because so long as their relationship is this, friends on the phone, friends who visit each other over the holidays, friends who-- for 18 months when they're both in their late twenties and having parallel professional crises-- live in the same two bedroom apartment in chicago and accidentally adopt a stray cat together, it's a stable thing in two lives that are otherwise anything but.

There's no reason to look at it deeper than that, no reason to really question a change in feeling that happens so slowly over so many, many years until eventually it just...is.

It's no big revelation, although it will become an important choice, but in the moment at the end of a long day of moving Eddie back to Indy where he and Will are hunkering down to write their next joint graphic novel endeavor, something just clicks for Steve.

Clicks into a place that maybe hadn't even existed before this night, sharing a beer on Eddie's new-old couch, music playing because they're too tired to hook up the TV properly, and sitting close after months apart while they've both been busy doing their own thing.

The walls of this little living room in this little house near Butler are still bare and the room is lit entirely by the glow of the kitchen filtering in and Eddie is laughing so bright and big at Steve's updates from the pottery studio where he works downtown and the way Steve suddenly wants to touch him, feel the laughter, taste it doesn't feel as sudden or shocking or massive as it probably should.

It just feels.

He's not drunk, hasn't really had the constitution for it since he passed his 35th birthday, but his body goes soft and warm in a sober replication of such a thing, and he doesn't try to stop the float of his hand to push a curl up off of Eddie's forehead-- hair shorter these days, but no less wild.

"You look good," he says, and Eddie's smile lines dig deep into his cheeks, dimples on full display as he swirls the inch of beer at the bottom of his bottle absentmindedly.

"You look like you could use some sun," Eddie tells him, still grinning, leaning into Steve's touch without an ounce of shame.

"It's November in Indiana," Steve levels him with a look that's second nature, "not all of us spent the past six months at the beach, Munson."

"Fair enough," Eddie chuckles, free hand tugging gently at the collar of Steve's shirt.

Sitting so close. Something clicks.

"Next time," Eddie's eyes had so much life to them when they met all those years ago, it's only grown in depth, the way they flicker across Steve's face tonight, "you'll just have to come with me."

It's not unclear, who kisses who, because Steve decides in that moment that he's going to kiss Eddie in the yellow glow of the kitchen light, but the way Eddie accepts it so forthright, kisses back without a beat of surprise or hesitation, it's almost like Steve just barely beat him to the punch.

He tastes like beer, tastes sun kissed and sweaty from a full day of carrying furniture inside, and Steve feels something that he's come to appreciate head-on in his life in a way he never really got a decade-plus ago.

Peace.

He's got Eddie Munson grinning against his lips, licking into his mouth, both of them all but giggling as the guy crawls into his lap, and it doesn't feel like time was wasted, it doesn't even feel like finally.

It just is.

Time and space and endless ongoing choices that led them here to Eddie's hands cupping Steve's jaw and Steve's grip on Eddie's waist over an old, soft t-shirt.

"You look good too," Eddie breathes, lips against Steve's temple as they catch their breath, a teasing sort of lilt to it that has Steve pinching the skin at Eddie's hip in retaliation because he'd said Steve needed some sun, but it's pretty clear that he's about to start getting plenty.

Eddie yelps and bites Steve's ear and god, oh god, something clicks.

Steve is going to buy this man flowers.

He's going to go into work tomorrow and throw a vase on the wheel to put them in.

[lisenberry]

The sweat on your skin is better than regret on your heart

Part three! (One and Two) I know I promised smut, but I just got really deep into his tattoos. Part four will finish this up, I swear.

Tattoo Artist!Price x F!Reader

He led you towards the back of the shop, past the reception desk and the waiting area, and behind the black velvet privacy curtain.  You were surprised at how clean it was in his workspace.  Welcoming in its warmth.  You expected neon lights and goth décor.  Crystal skulls and gleaming stainless steel.

Instead, it was a palette of rich, earthy tones.  A supple looking camel-colored leather sofa, maps of the ocean and model ships of every shape and size.  A compass rose painted with elaborate detail on the ceiling.  A stained-glass light fixture at its center. 

“It’s beautiful in here,” you mused, as you spun around slowly in a mix of awe and anticipation.  If you were to get a tattoo, it would be the place. 

“If you give me a second, I can draw you up a few ideas.  The ones you showed me on your little phone are uninspired shit.”  He slipped another cig from his pack and tucked it behind his ear.  Always at the ready.

“I’m actually more worried about the placement.”  You bit your lip for courage.  You couldn’t believe you were doing this.  “Could you show me yours?  Maybe that’ll help me decide.”

You sat atop a padded seat that he could recline forward and backward, raise up and down to suit the best position.  It was comfortable and smooth against the back of your knees. 

“I think we can stop pretending why you’re still here.  You want me to help you forget your boyfriend, don’t you?  Work you up so hard—so good and proper—that you don’t remember his name.”

But even as he spoke, he obliged you.  Tugged his shirt off efficiently, pulling it up from behind his neck and shrugging it over the front of his shoulders, letting it come to rest between his wrists.  It briefly looked like handcuffs before he tossed it on the floor beside him.

His hair stuck up in roguish angles before he could smooth it down with a stiff swipe of his palm.   

“No, I want to remember.  Remember this feeling for the rest of my life.”  You couldn’t look away as he stood so close to you, so proudly as if for an inspection. 

At the swath of hair that curled around the thick muscles of his chest and trailed down to disappear beneath the waist of the pants that hung low where his hands rested on his hips.

“What feeling is that?”

“Empty?”  You reached a hand out tentatively to touch the skin along his side.  To move him closer for a better look.  “But free.”

He was inked in a scattering of places, like memories collected over time.  No rhyme or symmetry to their arrangement.  A snake coiled around his shoulder and sunk its teeth into his collarbone.  A black bird with a long neck and hooked beak sat vigilantly on one bicep while a simple, unadorned dagger with wings claimed the other.

Some more weathered than others, it was hard to tell which was the oldest. 

“What’s the bird for?”  you asked, nodding to his left arm.  Below it was written “You’ll never walk alone” in stylized script. 

“That’s a liver bird.  The symbol of the LFC.”  A football club?  You cracked a smile at the boyishness of it.  You wondered if that was his first one, as a lad staking his claim on his body.  And the world.

“And the snake?”  You took your time tracing his right shoulder with your fingertips. 

“I hate snakes.  Scare me to death.”  Brave then, to carry one around with him always, forever creeping up to bite him. 

“And the bees?  You scared of them, too?”  You noted the collection of realistically drawn bumble bees at his side, fresher and with bright yellow colors. 

“Those are for my nieces.  Beatrice, Brenna and Bailey.”  He pointed to each, with a glimmer of softness in his voice as he recalled their names.

As you slid your hands to his hips, you turned him around to view the larger canvas at his back.  Just as disjointed as his front, your gaze fell to a ghostly face. 

More skeleton than specter, it sat on his right shoulder.  It’s teeth were made of bullets, and it stared blankly back at you.  The pitch black in the depths of its eyes unnerving. 

Beside it was a bear, warlike in its posture.  Its face open and fearsome, ready to consume its foe.  A claymore style longsword, with a thistle design at its hilt held in its massive paws.

One last piece balanced out the trinity.  A Knight Templar, crouched in armor.  On one bent knee, in service to a force unseen. 

They felt significant, inked in a similar style and with a fluidity that bound them together. 

“They’re important to you?”

“To be at my back?  Yeah.  They’re the best.”

From there, your fingers moved lower, to a set of four lions sat on their flanks.  You recognized them from history.  They were the Landseed lions of Admiral Nelson’s monument in Trafalgar Square.  They’d once held names too, like his nieces. 

Peace. War. Vigilance. Determination.

But these had arrows in their backs.  You imagined that each one in the count held a significance.  Not a life taken.  Or a victory.  Not something so crass and boastful.  Instead, something lost.

Below each, he’d had a set of coral red poppies added.  Bright and vibrant and new.

“It’s lovely,” you felt a tear drift down your cheek.  You didn’t know why.  It happened sometimes when you were at a museum or a gallery.  Moved beyond words at something beyond yourself.  The unbridled expression of another.

The last was a lone set of crosshairs, in a style so different than the rest.  Thin and unsure, as if doodled in a dream.  Just below his neck.  Dead-center at the crest of his spine.

“What’s this one?” You grazed it gently with your fingers.  Not entirely sure you wanted the answer.

“That’s the one that finally gets me, love,” he growled as he twisted around and held your probing hand in his.  “You’ve looked your fill.  Now it’s my turn.”