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notjustjavierpena · 7 months

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Swelter

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A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

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#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

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obscure-imagines · 1 year

Text

wet dreams - Zoro

🍃staring. Zoro Roronoa x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, wet dreams, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, praise, exhibitionism (sex outside in the Crowsnest), cum play/swallowing, fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick zoro, fingering, overstim, mutual orgasm, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.

🔫 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.7k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, pwp, acquaintances to lovers, etc…

🍀 mlist + an. I showed Sanji and Mihawk some love so I figured I might as well adore my big three and make it a full set with Zoro.

Zoro is exhausted. His body feels heavy as he lumbers around the ship, his footfalls a little too loud on the wooden deck. His eyes are practically shutting on their own, but he resists the need to nap.

He's been having problems lately... when he sleeps.

While he's able to keep himself mostly in check around you during his waking hours, his mind - and body - have been betraying him in dreamland.

He's woken up five nights this week with the soft sounds of your moans etched into his memory and his pants ruined with the sticky truth about his feelings for you.

Naps had once been a time of rest, but Zoro has been anything but restful since Luffy convinced you to join the crew two weeks ago.

Zoro hates feeling like he's not in control. He hates the way you seem so real in his mind's eye, only for him to wake up and watch you acting completely indifferently toward him- as if he didn't just watch you go down on his cock in explicit detail- as if he didn't just try to fuck you so hard you couldn't even walk-

Being around you is something like torture. His tongue gets tied, his heart races, and he's unable to hold a conversation with you about anything unrelated to piracy... and even then, he stumbles over his words and gets frustrated with himself.

You're just too beautiful.

The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.

He does his best to be the last to go to bed, out of fear that someone will walk in while he's sleeping and hear his problem, hell, he wouldn't be shocked if they could even see it.

It's not even midday and Zoro feels like death. It doesn't help that it's hot out. The wind feels practically nonexistent. Everything is stale, sweaty, and full of tension. Even Sanji, who usually dresses in formalwear, has stripped himself of his button-up, opting for an undershirt instead.

Then there's you. Your shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and Zoro has to tear his gaze off of you every time you get within his line of sight. His cock is practically throbbing in his pants anytime you're nearby- anytime your soft scent lingers in the air when you walk past.

"You look like shit."

Zoro sighs at Sanji's words, refusing to look at the chef who's come to lean on the rail next to him, staring out at the sea.

"I mean it. And I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously moss head, you look like you need some rest," Sanji presses on. "When was the last time you had one of your famous Roronoa naps?"

"I wasn't aware they were famous," Zoro sighs, this conversation is making him even more tired.

"We all know you get a little scratchy without your beauty sleep," Sanji smirks. "Go on, get some rest. It's a shit day, and it will be even more shit if you're in a bad mood. I'll wake you up for dinner."

Usually, Zoro wouldn't do anything Sanji suggests, he wouldn't even entertain it- but the idea of a nap is having a visceral effect on him. He's reminded of the exhaustion that's overtaken him, and the harsh sun is only making things worse.

Zoro lets out a deep breath. "I guess I could use a little shut-eye."

You let out a loud whimper as Zoro drags his tongue across your neck, holding you close on the deck of the ship. Above, the stars are twinkling, but to the swordsman, all that matters is you. He can hardly see anything else, his mind completely blank except for the feeling of your hand stroking his cock.

"I need more," you tell him, applying just the right amount of pressure.

He's tried dissuading you from sucking his cock, but you're absolutely insatiable for him. Stroking isn't enough, and the promise of filling you up all nice and snug doesn't satisfy you either- no, you want him in your mouth, and you're very verbal about it.

Who is Zoro to deny you?

With a sigh, he agrees, and you sink to your knees immediately.

God, you look beautiful like this.

Your thumb strokes the head of his cock, rubbing through precum as you bring your mouth closer.

You're always a bit of a tease, licking at him gently, pumping his shaft. Zoro can't help but release a small groan, eyes fixed on you, waiting.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Zoro moans, his head lolling back as he enjoys the feeling.

"That's it, angel," he tells you, reaching down to grab at your head, helping you find a rhythm. "Just like that."

You take him so deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much too easily. The feeling of you choking around him has Zoro's abdomen clenching, and a familiar sensation is growing in his balls-

It's as if you can read his mind, your hand snaking up to massage his most sensitive area while you continue practically gagging yourself on his cock.

The sound is absolutely obscene, and Zoro's never heard anything so pretty.

"If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to cum," he warns you, wanting to hold out to finish in your perfect, needy little cunt-

The way you suck on him even harder makes Zoro think you want him to cum. You want him to release down your throat, want to swallow him up like the good girl you are.

Again, who is Zoro to deny you?

"Fuck, angel," he groans, orgasm rising even faster. "You're always so good for me."

You whimper loudly around his cock, stroking your tongue along the vein that runs the underside of his length while squeezing his balls, and that's all it takes for him to cum.

He lets out a grunt as he shoots his load down your awaiting throat, his brows knitted together in concentration and something close to overstimulation. He whispers your name, over and over like a mantra while you suck him dry, eager for every single drop he can give- you're his greedy little angel, and he loves you with every fiber of his being.

You pull off of him when he's done, staring up at him with eyes that reflect the stars above. Then, you stick out your tongue, proving to him that you'd swallowed all he had to give.

Zoro can't help but reach for you, lifting you back onto your feet so he can grab your face and press his lips against yours eagerly.

He treasures the moments you're in his arms, and there's something so satisfying about the salty taste on your tongue-

"Dinner!"

Zoro sits up so fast he nearly falls out of his hammock. His heart is thundering in his chest, and when his eyes quickly dart to the door, he sees that Sanji hadn't bothered to enter, only called out a word of warning.

Swallowing thickly, Zoro looks down at his pants. He can feel his cum, hot and sticky against his skin, his half-chubbed length angrily confined by pants.

Zoro's not sure who's more upset about being woken up from his dream, himself, or his cock.

Luffy has already gone through half the food by the time Zoro saunters into the dining area. The swordsman's eyes are downcast while he takes a seat next to the captain, and you're kind of glad for that- you want to watch him, but you doubt you'd be able to make eye contact with him right now.

Your skin tingles with the forbidden knowledge that you now have. Your mind keeps replaying the scene you'd walked in on not half an hour ago; Zoro, asleep, his brows knitted together, your name on his lips.

You hadn't stayed long upon finding him in that state, your skin too hot with the realization of what you'd just witnessed, and now, that fevered sensation returns.

You've always had a bit of a crush on Zoro, but you'd never in your wildest dreams imagined that it could be returned. Out of everyone on the ship, Zoro interacts with you the least. He practically avoids you, and you've just spent two weeks thinking he doesn't even like you-

No, this changes everything.

The man with green hair lifts his gaze, and your eyes meet momentarily, only for you to look away, skin flaring again. Your heart is practically beating out of your ribcage, and you can feel your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core.

You'll have to do something about this. You're not sure what- but... you definitely can't go much longer with this kind of unresolved tension. One dinner with a dripping pussy is enough.

You decide you'll have to confront Zoro, and something tells you that you'll thank God for doing so.

Once everyone is asleep, you slowly tiptoe out of the sleeping quarters. Zoro has been staying up late, keeping watch in the Crowsnest, and you feel like that's a perfect place to talk with him. There's no way he can escape... unless he jumps into the ocean and risks his life- but you don't think it will come to that... or at least, you hope it doesn't.

Carefully climbing the ladder, you think of all the things you can say to him. You're not sure where to even begin, and as you make it to the top, poking your head through the manhole to stare at Zoro's broad shoulders, all the words you'd planned slip your mind.

He hasn't noticed you yet, and it takes closing the ladder cover for him to finally hear you, whipping around with his hand reaching for one of his blades.

Zoro freezes. You both do.

Then his hand drops to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought..." you bite at your lip, "I thought you might want some company."

He gives you a quick once over, then turns to look out at the sea again. "I'm good."

"Why do you act like you hate me so much?" you sigh, ignoring his dismissal and moving to join him.

"I don't act like I hate you."

"You hardly talk to me."

"I'm not a big talker."

You let out another exasperated sigh. There's some truth in what he's just said. "Then I'll talk."

"Go ahead."

Staring out at the sea, you're once again at a loss for what to say. After a few moments of silence, you decide to just... put it all on the table. "I walked in while you were napping earlier."

Zoro goes rigid next to you.

"What were you dreaming about?"

He's quiet, then he turns to look at you. "Sword fighting."

"I didn't think you'd actually lie to me," you frown.

"Who says I'm lying?"

"I just- I don't think sword fighting would lead to you moaning my name over and over."

Zoro looks out at the sea again. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert."

"Trust me, I don't," you assure him. "I'm kind of curious about what we were doing in your dream."

He sneaks a glance at you, and there's a hint of a smile that curls onto his pretty lips. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Maybe... maybe I've been having 'sword fighting' dreams too. We could... compare notes, or something."

Zoro lets out a laugh, shaking his head. The chuckle dies down into a groan. "Fuck." He grips the railing tighter, taking a deep breath. "You really wanna know what we were doing in my dream?"

"Yes, please."

The swordsman turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were down on your knees, sucking the fucking soul out of my cock."

If your panties hadn't been ruined at dinner, they're definitely ruined now. "I was?"

"Uh huh. You were begging for it. Begging for every last drop."

Your mouth practically waters at the idea. "And did you give it to me?"

"Of course I did," he says softly, scanning your face. "How could I not?"

"Should we..." Your skin heats at the words about to come out of your mouth, "Can we make that dream real?"

Zoro sucks in a shaky breath. "I think I have a better idea."

"A better idea than me sucking your cock?" You're shocked.

"You're always so good to me in my dreams, maybe I want to be good to you."

Your pussy throbs at the insinuation of what he's saying. Most men would jump at the chance to have your mouth around them, but it looks like tonight, the swordsman wants to be the one pleasuring you-

He's just like the Zoro from your wet dreams, and you have a suspicion that when it gets down to it, he'll be even better.

You can't help yourself any longer, you practically launch your body at him, throwing your arms around his strong shoulders while his hands catch you. Your lips meet as if it's the most natural thing in the world, a soft groan escaping him when you swipe your tongue across his mouth, already eager for entrance.

The kiss deepens, and his hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush to his chest. It feels absolutely insane to be actually doing this in your waking hours- nothing your mind could conjure up compares to the real Zoro-

You can feel his cock already pressing against your hip and it makes you whine loudly, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup him through his pants. He's as big as you imagined he would be, and your pussy flutters with interest.

"Zoro-" you whimper, already needing more.

You've been waiting too long for this, for him-

He groans. "Say that again."

One of his hands joins yours between your bodies, but his slips under the waistband of your shorts, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties.

"Fuck, angel, you're already soaked-"

"Zoro!" you moan, louder this time.

"Tell me you want my fingers."

"God, I need them," you gasp when he leans in, pressing kisses and tracing his tongue along your throat. "I need you inside of me- any of you, I just- I need you!"

"Good girl," he says smoothly, pushing your panties to the side.

His fingers make contact with your dripping cunt, and he teases your pussy lips, just dipping inside enough to coat his skin before he circles your clit.

You cry out, squeezing his cock harder-

"Enough of that," Zoro practically slaps your hand away from him. "Tonight is about you. Let it be about you."

"Fuck, you're too nice to me-"

"Trust me, you deserve it." His fingers sink into your pussy and you moan loudly, leaning forward to begin peppering his own throat in kisses. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he begins pumping his digits in and out of your wet core.

You can already hear yourself- the sick squelching of your pussy as he works you open. His palm rubs against your clit, creating a delightful pressure that has your legs shaking and your toes curling.

"You sound so pretty."

Who knew he'd be such a sweet talker.

In the exhibitionistic privacy of the Crowsnest, with the crew sleeping soundly below, Zoro is showing you his true colors, and you couldn't be happier.

No one has touched you like this in too long- but then again, has anyone ever actually touched you like this?

You can't believe how close you already are to cumming. Your skin tingles and you moan louder against his neck, moving your mouth up to suckle on his earlobe.

Zoro groans, and the sound goes straight to your aching core.

"Close already?"

All you can manage is a nod, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into your wet hole. "Please-"

"You can cum for me," he tells you. "I wanna hear it."

You can hardly even stand on your own. If it weren't for his strong form, steady under your grip, you're sure you'd be falling. His free palm is on the small of your back, keeping you snug to his front while his fingers work you closer and closer-

"Zoro," you whimper again, feeling tears in your eyes from how tight the coil in your stomach has grown.

"Be a good girl and let go for me. Come on, I know you can do it."

You let out a strangled half sob as your high slams into you. Your entire body tingles with electric energy as your core clamps onto his fingers, which continue inside of you, working you through your orgasm. You shake against him, digging your nails into his shoulders while you whimper and moan, lips pressed to his throat.

"That's it," he praises you, a steady guide through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

You nearly black out, only for his fingers to slow inside of you, drawing you back into your body. Zoro removes his hand from your pants, and you listen to him suck his digits clean, letting out a small groan at your taste.

"Can I lay you down?" he asks next, tone gentle.

You nod, unable to speak. Zoro softly helps you onto the wooden floor of the small Crowsnest, staring at you with dark eyes that seem to sparkle in the moonlight.

He slowly undresses you, watching as you lift your hips to help him remove your shorts. Your shirt and bra are next, and he's careful to set them nearby before removing his own clothing.

"You still want to do this?" he asks.

"There's nothing I want more."

Once he's naked, Zoro gets between your thighs, holding himself over you while you wrap your legs around his hips. You grab at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.

His hard cock is too enticing for you not to touch, and soon, you're gripping it while your tongues battle. His moans are music to your ears, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his length to smear his skin with precum.

"You know-" he swallows thickly. "After today, after watching you cum on my fingers, I might not last that long."

"That's okay, I won't last long either." Your pussy is already aching for him again, and from the way his cock twitches in your hand, you know he's as into this as you are. "Just fuck me Zoro, please."

He kisses you deeply, allowing you to guide him to your wet hole.

He's big, but you're soaked, and slipping into you is much too easy. He sinks all the way in, his hips flush to yours when he bottoms out. You moan into each other's mouths, and you grab his face, wanting to keep his lips on yours as he begins to thrust into you.

"Fuck, Zoro, it's so good-" you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around him to earn another sound of appreciation.

"Angel, you're fucking perfect," he agrees, pace already quickening.

The sound of skin on skin fills the night air. You open your eyes, looking up at the moon and stars. It feels natural to be with him like this, under the watchful eye of the heavens-

Your nails dig into his shoulders when his hand adjusts your thigh on his hip. He drives deeper into your wet hole, and each thrust has your head spinning.

You can feel him everywhere, and it's the first time you've ever really felt full, complete.

"Zoro," you whisper, gaining his attention as you draw his lips back to your own.

You get lost in him. His cock is filling you perfectly, and his lips feel like they were made to be on your own.

That familiar tightening in your lower abdomen builds much too fast, and each thrust has Zoro grunting and moaning even louder-

"Fuck, angel, I'm close-"

"Me too," you assure him, pressing your forehead to his own and staring into his eyes. "You'll cum with me, right?"

He can only nod as you slip your hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit-

Your core tightens even more around his thick length and Zoro lets out a deep moan-

"Shit," he mutters, "where should I cum?"

"Inside," you insist. "Cum inside, I'm on birth control, please, I want it, I need it-"

Zoro's hand balls into a fist on the wooden plank by your head, and he groans. "Can't wait-"

"Me neither," you whisper, eyes closing as the feeling ravages your body, "Cumming-"

Zoro buries his face against your throat as you both reach your highs. You can feel him painting your inner walls, making you even more full than you already are with his cock- it's the most delightful feeling.

Your toes curl as he fucks you through it all, his pace even harder than before, if not a bit erratic. The sounds he's making will be something you never forget, and you cling to him like a lifeline, tracing his muscular shoulders and gasping-

It's as if your orgasm lasts ages, and when Zoro's motions finally begin to slow, it's hard to even catch your breath.

He begins to press kisses along your throat again, working his way to your ear, and then your mouth.

You can't help but grin into each soft press of his lips against your own.

"You look happy," he muses.

"That's because I am. Are you happy?"

"Very."

Your smile widens. "So we're done not talking and pretending to be indifferent to each other, right?"

"Completely done."

"Good, because I don't think I could go back to that."

"Me neither," he admits.

"I like you a lot."

Zoro presses another soft kiss to your lips, his pretty eyes twinkling with emotion in a way you've never seen from the swordsman. "I like you too."

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you liked this, check out my fics for Sanji and Mihawk :)

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#zoro roronoa #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa smut #roronoa zoro smut #opla smut #zoro opla #opla zoro #opla #one piece #one piece smut #one piece live action #zoro x reader

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heavenbarnes · 6 months

Text

@abcdbleh you little beauty 🫶🏼 this is in the “cellular-device-universe” | p1 p2 p3 p4

you had managed an incredible feat, what with bringing your older bf!simon around to the idea of sex over the air waves.

you’d effectively achieved the impossible.

well, something you’d thought impossible given who he was as a person. some guy, simple guy, practical and not remotely interested in anything he doesn’t think worth his time.

that’s the thing- when it comes to you?

everything is worth his time.

you could tell him that you’d booked an all expenses paid couples trip to the fucking moon and he’d have your bags in the car before you’d even finished speaking.

he likes that look on your face when you’re happy.

you’d imagined that getting him to send you videos whilst he stroked his cock would be difficult, but now your hidden folder is bursting at the seams.

you had no idea how easy it’d be to have him send you photos in just his briefs, tattooed arm barely illuminated by low light as his large hand gripped himself through the fabric.

but here you were.

laid back in your bed, awfully roomy without a hulking great simon to take up three quarters of it, your phone was pressed to your ear.

“what y’mean, love?”

the deep, rolling rumble of his voice would probably do it if you tried hard enough. you could have him read the menu from the local chinese takeout and make do. he just had that effect on you.

“i mean- i want you to touch yourself and talk me through it, si”

you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, a stuttered little exhale and a crackle over the line. he was in the middle of nowhere (far as you were concerned) but he could still find it to keep you satisfied.

simon would never have you settle for less.

the quiet you could hear on his end wasn’t nerves, you knew him well enough to immediately detect- inexperience?

there was very little simon didn’t know how to do in the bedroom but bring any virtual factors (like a cellphone) and he just needed a couple directions.

he needed an order.

“si, i want to get off to your voice, the sound of you touching yourself- i want you to cum and i want to hear about it in excruciating detail”

you could hear how scratchy his military grade blanket was, woollen and likely older than you, being pushed down his body.

no shuffle of clothing, he was already stark naked in his cot. he’d been with rest of the 141 long enough, you just assume they’ve all seen each other in their entireties. sharing rooms, sharing showers.

you can’t think about that kind of thing too long. the implications that come with it.

the sound of simon spitting in his palm drags you out of steam filled visions, kyle asking your boyfriend for help getting his back, johnny watching wide-eyed but waiting for his signal.

anyway- anyways, the sound of his large palm dragging along his cock had you back in the present for good. you could almost picture the way his foreskin would be rolling down the head.

“already s’fuckin hard for you”

“i bet”

a bet that’d make you a billionaire.

you could count on simon for a lot of things but as sure as the sun rises in the east, that man would be hard for you.

you’d say a gentle breeze would do it. he’d say only if you were blowing.

cheek of him.

faint sounds, faint sounds of his hand tugging on himself but you needed more. you needed it fucking filthy and unmistakable across the line that he was doing one thing.

“more spit, si- need to hear it”

and you could, spit mixed with the leaking pre-cum that was running from his head. soon the sound was circling your eardrums as he worked up a steady rhythm.

“been lookin’ at y’little pictures”

deep sigh as he said it, like he was thinking back to you in compromising positions. you could almost see him with his eyes drifting shut, phone between his ear and shoulder whilst both hands preoccupied by his cock and balls.

“can’t hardly wait to get home to you”

as one hand stroked along his length, running his fingers over the head, the other would be cupping his heavy sack as he rolled them both in his palm.

“y’been teasing me, sweet’art”

large feet would be planted on the threadbare mattress, his thighs tensing the more he tugged himself off. you knew he’d be imagining you in his lap, doing all the work for him so he could focus on running his mouth.

“jus’y wait till i get m’hands on you”

your heart was in your throat with every word he said, you’d no doubt he’d stay true to his word. you had visions of him throwing the front door open and telling you to run.

finding you crawling across the bed to duck down the other side but his grip tightening around your ankle before you could get away.

you had to leave that feeling in the pit of your stomach before you got lightheaded but, as usual, simon knew you better.

“what’s goin’ on in that pretty head f’yours? thinkin’ about all the nasty things i’ll do t’you?”

a squeak of a moan slipped out of you, back arching in the bed as simon chuckled down the line. he always knew exactly what he was doing to you.

calculated man, comes with the territory.

“first thing i’m gonna’ do is stuff my cock in’y, got a couple’a loads saved up just f’you”

you couldn’t imagine how, all the filthy videos he’d been sending you. thick load after thick load spilt over his chest, his thighs, the shower drain.

but, then again, you’ve yet to find a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

“gonna’ keep y’in that fuckin’ bed till y’begging f’mercy”

you could hear it on his voice, the strain that was behind it. he was close, closer than ever but you couldn’t stop him once you got him going.

whenever he was on that precipice of bliss, the things that’d come out of his mouth could turn you inside out.

“gonna’ cum f’you, sweet’art- need you to-“

the blood was rushing so hard in your ears you nearly missed his words as they tapered off into broken moans. nearly missed.

“what d’you need, si? tell me, whatever you need it’s yours”

distant filthy sounds of a wet palm sliding along his cock was ever present in the background of the call. a long sigh drifted from his lips as he spoke.

“tell me t’cum, please”

jesus fucking christ.

there’s no coming back from the sound of simon riley begging.

“cum f’me, simon- need to hear you- make a mess f’me, baby”

the sound that left his chest was filthy, a deep groan intertwined with the sounds of cheap mattress springs. breathy stuttered moans broke through, your name a constant on the tip of his tongue.

he sounded desperate, no doubt still stroking himself even as his hips lifted off the cot. he wasn’t about making it easy on himself.

everything he did was for you.

listening as he rode it out, you could hear him still muttering between the other debauched sounds.

“fuckin’ take it, s’fuckin’ good f’me”

anther broken cry of your name only confirmed it. in simon’s eyes, he wasn’t pumping his cum across in his chest, he was pumping you full of it.

he’d gone too long without the feeling of you wrapped tight around him, only knowing the rough drag of his palm. he’d give anything to be in his bed, buried to the fucking hip in you.

simon’s breathing evened out, broad chest rising and falling with a sticky sheen across it. you could even make out the sound of his head hitting the pillow.

“fucking ‘ell, sweet’art- how was that?”

nothing if not an overachiever.

“perfect, si- you did absolutely perfect”

if he was with you he’d been keening into your touch, a soft side of him that only you were allowed to see.

softening further in his afterglow, you wrapped up with praises and promises to be waiting for him soon as he got home.

your entire body felt like it could sink through the mattress as you curled into his side of the bed, letting the scent of him overwhelm every part of you.

eyes shutting on their own, you’d nearly hit sleep when your cellphone buzzed on the bedside table. a little bleary eyed, you reached for it in the darkness.

“si sent a photo”

your heart sped up, teeth digging into your lower lip as you slide the message open. your screen went from light to dark in an instant.

thick thighs spread apart, toned barrel chest, tattooed arm, and a slightly scarred chin in the shot. in this light you could see it, so faint but still there, the streaks of cum dripping down the lines of his stomach.

the grip on your phone was so tight you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had shattered in your hands. in the corner of your screen, those three dots were taunting you.

your phone buzzed, you could almost hear it in his voice.

“could really do w’you here to clean me up, sweet dreams sweet’art”

#clinically insane need to be studied unsettling to some inexplicable to others #i need him more than i need air in my lungs #older bf!simon #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley drabble #simon ghost riley drabble #simon riley blurb #simon ghost riley blurb

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yummymitzy · 15 days

Text

By your side

Summary: Who knew that nightmares could lead to a night of cuddles?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

WC: 2,473

A/N: I wrote this when I was high off my ass😭

————♡————

Natasha found herself to be incredibly independent and she maintained her routine well. But she noticed that ever since the day you got settled in the compound, she grew more and more distracted. And apparently she wasn’t the only one who took notice.

She couldn’t help it, every time you passed by her, she always felt her heart rate increase as a sudden warmth encases her body. She always wondered what it was she felt about you, it was hard to distinguish.

Natasha hated that you had that effect on her, she didn’t know what was going on, she never felt this way before. She hated the fact that her heart yearned for you when you got sent on missions, and she hated she would do anything to have your smile directed towards her.

It took Natasha weeks to finally distinguish the feeling as love, but the denial built up. Love was for children, so why was this feeling so overbearing? The butterflies that fluttered in her stomach whenever she heard your laugh across the room, she’d always wish it was because of her.

————♡————

It was a late night in the compound, the soft moonlight shining through the windows. Natasha was perched on one of the kitchen stools, her head rested in between her hands while she was deep in thought.

She was a night owl, it wasn’t something she always liked but it brought her some peace. The nightmares she had were practically burned into her eyelids every time she closed her eyes.

That was definitely the not peaceful part of being a night owl, but other than that, she loved staring out into the night. It brought her a sense of comfort as the sounds of the city echoed in her ears, the lights of buildings far too bright but still beautiful.

But this wasn’t one of those nights, Natasha didn’t know what changed. It was another terrible experience that the red room had brought her, other than being on the table for her graduation ceremony.

The graduation ceremony was an experience that Natasha prepared herself to talk about, knowing well enough that it had to be brung up soon. And it did, with Bruce.

But this memory, it was just inexplicable. She felt like the words were just getting stuck in her throat before they even came close to being vocalized. Not that she couldn’t explain it, but she couldn’t express it.

Sighing, Natasha dropped one of her hands onto the cold countertop, her warm skin screaming in relief once it came in contact with it. Her finger tips tracing the marble lines with a soft touch.

The half glass of water beside Natasha was completely forgotten as she was practically drowning in her head. Her mind slowly drifted to you, was she ever going to confess to you?

Hell, would you even want to start something with somebody like her? She was closed off with many barriers, and yet you managed to break them all down without even realizing it. You quickly grew her trust possibly ten times faster than Clint, and he was the first one she ever opened up to!

Natasha loved how you were just so kind, you were like a puppy who just got adopted. You always blew her breath away whenever you’d be the first to greet her, or when you’d silently hand her a plate of food whenever you cooked for yourself.

She wondered if that was all casual, it was just you being friendly, right? There was no way you reciprocated those feelings, you were nice to everybody, you just didn’t to leave her out? Natasha honestly prayed for that to not be the case.

She sighed once more as her other hand fell from her cheek, her head slumping slightly as a wave of exhaustion flew through her. She desperately needed sleep, but she couldn’t bare the thought of another nightmare, especially when the images were still deeply engraved in her head.

Natasha’s throat felt dry and scratchy as it felt like she had been munching on saltine crackers. Her eyes slowly drifted towards the glass of water before she reached out to it. As she was drinking the remains of the liquid, the sound of the floorboards creaking with light footsteps echoed the hall, making her ears perk up. Who else would be up at this ungodly hour?

Her eyes narrowed, trying to make out the dark figure that was approaching the area where she sat. The darkness making it especially harder for her when the only source of light was the slight glow of moonlight shining through one of the many windows.

Natasha quietly set down the now empty glass on the counter, her mind screaming at her to stand up or do something. But her body didn’t make a move to stand up. Her eyes were trained towards the hallway as she waited for the figure to finally step into the soft glow of the night.

It was you. Every fibre of her being froze as her breath hitched, the sight of you as the moonlight kissed your face, enhancing your features.

She quickly averted her gaze and looked down at her fingers which were still tracing the streaks of grey that splayed across the counter.

Natasha came to the assumption that you hadn’t caught sight of her yet, as she listened to your footsteps trail past her to the cabinets that held all the glass cups. Soon enough, she heard the ringing of glass cups and water being poured into it.

Her verdant eyes slowly lifted from her fingers, before placing her sights on you. Slowly traveling up your figure from behind, huffing a quiet laugh at your choice of pajamas.

As she was still gazing at you, Natasha slightly shifted in her seat. The quiet noise catching your attention, as your head shot up from your full glass of water before your lips even touched the rim.

Natasha’s eyes widened a fraction before she instantly eased up. She watched as your eyes flicker around the area around you both, before they landed on her, and she swears she saw them soften at the sight of her.

“Nat?” Your voice hushed into a gentle whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder that you would alarm her. “What’re you doing awake?”

“I could say the same about you.” She dodged, her head tilting to the left as her tone held a playful manner.

“I was just honestly craving for some cold water. But what about you, Nat? You look really…” You paused as you pursed your lips in thought, afraid of offending the Russian woman sat in front of you.

“Exhausted. Especially when I clearly see that the glass in front of you is dry, water is long gone. How long have you been up?”

Your tone voices out your concern as your feet absentmindedly leads you to sit in the stool next to Natasha, your knees brushing together as you could feel the heat radiating off of her.

“Not long.” The words flying out of her mouth almost immediately. The action making you furrow your eyebrows as you turn your head to peer at her side profile.

She was gorgeous, even in the dead of night, hell it made her stand out even more. The moonlight blending in with her scarlet hair, making it into a more beautiful hue. Her cute button nose and her raised cheekbones kissed under the moon.

“Mmm.. You know you could talk to me right, Nat?”

The nickname made Natasha’s heart leap, it sounded so good when you said it, she yearned to hear more of it. Processing your words, she let out a soft sigh, her gaze floating away from her pale skin as she stared ahead of her.

“Yeah. Its just..” She drifted off, a blank look on her face as she stared into nothing. Your face contorted in concern on the other hand, your hand hovering over her shoulder before placing it, thumb rubbing tiny circles.

Natasha let out a breath, whatever it was that she was thinking about, you knew it was definitely personal. “You don’t have to talk about it right now, Nat.”

You had an idea what it could be about though, especially with the distant look you could recognize anywhere in her jade eyes. A nightmare, or at least that’s what you assume it is.

There was a few minutes of comforting silence between the two of you, all you could hear was Natasha’s slightly labored breaths and the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

“I have nightmares too,” Natashas head snapped towards your direction, her eyes still holding the blank look but a hint of curiosity. She wondered where you were going with this. “I never overcame them. There’s some days where they just packed a harder punch, and other days they just seem to quiet down. But they never left.”

Natasha stayed quiet, soaking in your words as she tries to understand the point you’re trying to make.

“I know you have them too, and I don’t want to push it with you and make you tell me what’s going on. That would just make me feel like a jerk.”

The hand on Natasha’s shoulder felt heavier, she didn’t know if it was you or because she had just realized how comforting your touch was.

“I just want to let you know that you could always come to me. Even if it would be in the dead of night or not, my room will always be open to you. I deeply care about you, Nat.”

Tears slowly welled up in Natasha’s eyes as her gaze met yours, her eyes glittering with tears making the green in her eyes pop.

You take the chance and examine her features once more, the tip of her nose starting to flush a subtle pink along with her cheeks.

The both of you bask in the silence once more, her eyes moving past yours to stare at your necklace, feeling overwhelmed by your gaze. You understood her, probably too much, it was always hard having to get over a nightmare you had moments prior.

You waited a few moments more before slowly reaching your hand away from her shoulder to her other one, pulling her into a soft embrace.

Your arms gently encasing her firmly, but not firm enough to where she feels suffocated. Feeling her shoulders slump and her breathing starting to even out, you rest your head above hers, feeling her breath hit the skin of your neck.

One of your hands reached up towards her hair, combing through her red locks, from her scalp to her ends. You stayed like this until you feel Natasha’s body slump into yours with dead weight.

Sneaking a glance at her face, you finally noticed she was asleep. She looked so graceful when she slept, as if she never had any worries to begin with. You wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to ask her out. Taking a deep breath, you reached under her, before lifting her up bridal style, taking her back to her room.

————♡————

You were exhausted, every limb of your body was screaming for you to just jump into your bed. You and Tony managed to save the mission before it failed, but tons of HYDRA agents jumped the both of you in return.

Finally stripped of your bloody suit, you limped your way to your bed. With each step you took, the drowsiness started becoming more overwhelming.

You fought to keep your eyes open as you draped the comforter over yourself, your body immediately relaxing from its tensed state as you laid sprawled out on your back.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to slowly shut and your breathing eventually evening out. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

But there was still a part of you that was conscious, even through all the exhaustion. You soon heard your door creak open and close with a small sound of the handle spinning back into place.

Quiet footsteps made their way towards your bed before it all went silent. You felt a shiver run through you as you felt eyes on you. Unbeknownst to you, those pair of eyes belonged to the specific Russian whom you gave permission to your room.

Natasha hesitated, she was stood at the foot of your bed. It had been a week since you gave her that offer. Every day since then, her nightmares had gotten progressively worse. She had thought about going to you sooner but then would back out, afraid to be a bother.

Tonights nightmare wasn’t any different from the rest, but she managed to wake herself up before the worst came. Now here she was, next to your bed as she watched the soft rise and fall of your chest while you lay sprawled out like a starfish.

Natasha clenched her jaw, still deep in thought. Should she really take up your offer? She could always go to the training room and let it all out there.

She sighed, rubbing a palm over her face as her eyes start to flutter. She was too deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed how tired she really was.

Letting out another heavy sigh, Natasha took a step forward and sat on the edge of your bed, scared you’d wake up if she’d put anymore weight.

But that thought flew out of her mind almost immediately once she felt a yawn crawling its way up her throat. Natasha gently grabbed the covers that you were buried beneath and curled up next to you.

As if sensing her presence, your arm found its way under her neck and around her back, resting on the curve of her waist and effectively pulling her closer to the warmth of your body.

Natasha’s eyes shoot open as they instantly land on you, wondering if you’d been awake the whole time. But the steady fall of your chest and the quiet snores coming from you seem to answer her question as she lays her head down on your chest.

The comforting sound of your heartbeat and breaths lulled Natasha as her eyes fluttered, but yet she still fought to stay awake, wanting to bask in the moment before she has to face you in the morning.

Natasha shifted impossibly closer to you as her arm reached over your waist and her leg intertwined with yours. She was practically bathing in the warmth that your body gave off, as her nose nuzzled into the juncture of your neck.

To her, it was honestly a dream to even be this close or intimate with you, especially with her infatuation. Soon enough, she was drifting off into a peaceful slumber, by your side.

#black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #marvel #mcu

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 | kitten braden x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | being a peep show girl can be sort of solitary work, so it's nice to spend the day with miss kitten... and your time together proves to be not only profitable, but a chance to act on a secret crush.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only!!), voyeurism/exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex, girldick <3, penetration/top!kitten, creampie, come eating, titty sucking, brief transphobia (t-slur), friends/coworkers to lovers, lots of filth with some feelings in there too c:

You laid back across the massive velvet ottoman, sighing as you glanced at Kitten— she was laying on her stomach but propped up by her elbows, feet kicked up and crossed as she wrote in her journal with a fluffy-tipped pen.

“What are you writing?” you asked her.

“A letter,” she answered sweetly, tilting her head a bit, “to my friend Charlie.”

“Will you tell her about me?” you asked with a smile.

“I already did,” she answered, “just here— sometimes they have me working with other girls,” she read aloud from the page, “like today, I’m paired up with the biggest slag in the whole place—”

“Fuck off!” you laughed, grabbing one of the nearby pillows and smacking her in the back with it, and she grinned at you. “You didn’t really say that, did you?”

“No, of course,” she rolled her eyes. “I told her that I made a friend. That was what I said about you.”

You felt a little warmth in your cheeks as you sat up, tossing the pillow away— the whole thing was set up to look like a slumber party, so pillows were plentiful. Of course, you’d never actually worn lingerie and heels to a slumber party, nor had you ever had a sexy pillow fight… but you probably would have if you were getting paid then, as you were now.

Speaking of, it was only a moment after Kitten finished her letter and tucked the journal and pen away that the red light flicked on— and you knew you had a customer on the other side of the glass.

“Well, hello Mister,” Kitten greeted with that sultry voice of hers, and you smiled as you knelt on the plushy surface beneath you, turning your body towards her but keeping your eyes on the barely-visible silhouette behind the wall.

“Look at you two,” a deep, rough voice praised as you smiled and moved a little closer to your companion.

“Do you like to watch girls play with each other, Mister?” Kitten asked coyly, running her fingers up your arm delicately.

The gruff voice chuckled, a scratchy sort of sound as it came through the speaker. “You’re a couple of naughty little birds, aren’tcha?”

You giggled as you shook your head, before tenderly laying it on Kitten’s shoulder. “No, sir, we’re very good girls— we like to do exactly as we’re told.”

“Mm, bet ya do,” he replied.

“Care to introduce yourself, Mister?” Kitten asked quietly. “We like to know who we’re talking to.”

“I think you two are the more interesting ones,” he replied. “What are your names?”

“I’m Kitten,” she answered, seeming even more coy as she said that, “and this is my friend Lovely.”

“Lovely indeed,” the man growled. “Just a friend, eh?”

“Well,” you feigned hesitation, looking up at Kitten and biting your lip, “sometimes we… experiment.”

It was all about the innocent act— you weren’t sure why, but it drew them in like moths to a flame: Kitten had always specialised in this, looking and acting like a little naive ingénue before revealing her dirty side. You were used to the more classic stuff… you know, just acting like the most horny, whorish creature who ever lived. You liked this more, especially since you didn’t have to do it alone.

“And today we’re having our special playtime,” Kitten continued, moving in closer to you but keeping a teasing distance between you— for the customer’s benefit, of course, not yours. So why was it having an effect on you? “Would you like to watch?”

“Yeah,” the man said instantly, “wanna see you ladies kiss each other.”

You smiled and sat up to eye-level with her, both of you shutting your eyes and leaning in. The kiss was gentle and sweet, your fingers carefully brushing over her hair and then cupping her face as your lips moved together. It was almost routine now, with how much you’d kissed each other today… almost. You still felt your hips shift slightly, a hot feeling gathering between your legs.

The man groaned in approval through the speaker, but it was Kitten’s teeth brushing over your lip that made a chill run up your spine.

“Fuck, your tits are getting hard, aren’t they?” the man noticed— you hadn’t even realised it, but yes, your nipples were starting to poke up through the lace. “Play with ‘em, Kitten.”

Slender, delicate hands ran up your body, carefully teasing your breasts at first before starting to really properly grope them; you moaned softly at the feeling, deepening the kiss and feeling yourself try to press in a little closer to her. You were already so needy for friction of some kind, and you held on to Kitten’s thighs as you tried not to grip them too hard.

“Betcha wanna put those pretty lips on her tits, don’t ya, Kitten?” the man presumed. The kiss broke quickly, making you almost lean in for more before you came back to reality.

“Yes,” Kitten sighed, “I do— and they’re so beautiful, do you want to see them?”

“‘Course I do, fuck,” the man groaned.

She was slow about it— she was slow about everything. That was the idea, after all— to run the clock as best you could so they’d keep paying for more. Her fingers delicately pulled down the straps of your lingerie, leaving little goosebumps behind as you sighed with anticipation. She gently tugged the top down until your tits were free, and all three of you groaned a little as they were revealed.

She held them again, and you loved the feeling of her touch against your bare skin. Leaning down, she teasingly licked the bud as those big blue eyes blinked up at you sweetly. You wanted to keep holding her gaze, but you couldn’t help your eyes falling shut with pleasure when she swirled her tongue around your nipple, holding tighter onto your breast before closing her lips around it and suckling.

“Fuck,” you breathed, but you smiled— not just from the feeling, but from realizing that your time would’ve run out by now if your customer had only paid once. He must have added more coins to extend the time… teasing works, it seems.

She moved her mouth to the other nipple as you moaned louder, your hands sliding up her legs to run over her sides, her back, even teasing her tits to try to make it fair. You couldn’t help it: you just wanted to touch her everywhere.

“You don’t quite fit in those panties anymore, Miss Kitten,” the man noticed, and she blushed a little as she pulled back from you and bit her lip.

“W-well, I can’t help that,” she defended, and you felt your chest deflate a bit at the sight of how hard she was, the tight lace looking like it was restraining her as the leaking tip bobbed up against her stomach, obscured slightly by the see-through material of her babydoll lingerie.

“Mm, maybe your friend can,” the man suggested. “I bet you know how to use your mouth, don’t you, Lovely?”

You tried not to seem too eager as you reminded yourself internally that you needed to go as slow as you could get away with. You nodded and started to sink your head down into Kitten’s lap, before stopping and looking at the mirror again— almost losing your train of thought when you saw how hot you looked together in the reflection.

“Would you like to see me use it, Mister?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah— show me what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Kitten leaned back slightly, giving you a little more room to reach down and tenderly slide the panties down her pale, smooth thighs. You tried to be real cute about it, just giving one little lick to the tip and giggling proudly when it flexed up towards you for a second. “Oh! Does that feel good, Kitten?”

“Y-yes,” she breathed. You did it again, purring at the moan she let out; she watched you with that pretty mouth fallen slack and smeared with pink gloss, throat bobbing for a second when you met her gaze and even gave her a little wink that your customer couldn’t see from this angle.

You licked all the way from the base to the tip, hoping to cover the whole thing just with your tongue before you even did anything else. You teased her for a while, trying to hear her little mewls and whimpers over the sounds of the man’s moaning through the speaker.

Wrapping your lips around her fat tip, she bit her lip and dropped her head back with a sigh.

“That’s good,” the man groaned proudly, “y’like that, Kitten?”

“Yes,” she panted, starting to push your head down so you would take more, “s-so good…”

“You can stop now,” he decided, and you both hesitated before you pulled away and sat up. Poor Kitten, she looked almost heartbroken at getting cut off like that— you would’ve given anything to make her come…

Sitting up, she reached for your lips— you hoped she would kiss you again, but instead she wiped up where some of your lipstick had smeared, and you felt almost shy again as she did it. Such a sweet gesture had no place in a job like this.

“C’mon, let’s see how wet little Lovely is after that,” the man demanded, and Kitten pulled you into her lap— your back to her chest, her arms wrapping around you— as she slowly spread your legs for you. “Fuck, soaked through the panties, did you?”

“Did you?” Kitten repeated in a surprised whisper just to you, slipping two fingers down to tease you and feel the wet patch on the lace. In your defence, these things weren’t really built for absorption, were they?

“Lemme see that pretty hole, then,” he ordered. “Show me her cunt.”

Kitten gingerly pulled your panties aside, and you caught in the reflection not only how soaked and swollen you really were, but how absolutely wrecked your facial expression had become.

“Shit, s’a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” the voice praised darkly, groaning again when Kitten used her fingers to spread your slick lips and give the customer a better look at your opening.

“Should I rub her a little more, Mister?” Kitten asked sweetly, starting before he’d even agreed to it.

Your back arched up as she ran her finger over your clit, teasing it with gentle circles. You shut your eyes and sighed, losing control of your hips as they rocked into her touch. “R-right there, Kitten,” you pleaded softly, but apparently your customer had other plans.

“Put two fingers inside her,” he ordered Kitten, making you whine in frustration at the separation from where you were most sensitive.

She was careful about it— she had to be, with her nails— but it still felt intense as she pushed her fingers inside you, even just two stretching you quite a bit as you moaned lowly. They moved slowly and deliberately within you, and her heavy breathing began to tickle your neck as your legs almost tried to push together from the sensation.

You were starting to really get into it, moaning and rocking against her as she kissed your neck and played with one of your tits with her free hand. So, of course, he had to stop you again. “I wanna see you fuck her,” the man said suddenly, and your heart skipped for a half-second. It had never gone that far— you didn’t even know if she did that— but you felt your channel clench on her fingers at just the thought.

“Oh, my— you’re very dirty, aren’t you, Mister?” Kitten noticed.

“Just do it,” he insisted, “wanna see how she looks with a cock in her.”

You could hear the coins rolling in the slot, so you obeyed; it ended up with both of you kneeling a bit on the ottoman, her body still slotted behind yours, your heavy eyes transfixed on the reflection— and ostensibly on the man on the other side— as she looked down at where she was about to enter you.

“So hot,” the man praised, but you could barely hear him— you just heard Kitten softly ask you if you were ready. Instead of answering or nodding, you just started to slowly sink down onto her, making both of you moan. “Yeah, fuck,” he went on, and Kitten suddenly grabbed your hip to keep you steady, guiding you just how she needed until your ass was flush against her lap and your back was pressed to her chest.

“Oh,” you breathed, melting slightly against her as you both adjusted to the feeling. Slowly, she started to move— and you moved with her, less like thrusting and more like writhing. It was sensual, it was sexy; it was driving you fucking crazy.

She ran her tongue along the edge of your ear as she grinded against you, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. “Fuck, Kitten,” you mumbled under your breath, arching your back as her hand slipped down over the front of your body, reaching between your legs to start teasing your clit.

“Yeah, like that,” the man agreed, breathing heavily himself. “So fuckin’ dirty…”

You moved together in perfect harmony, her body seeming to fit so naturally against yours— and inside it. She moaned softly by your ear, a little deeper than you were used to hearing it, and you shuddered with delight as you imagined that was how her real pleasure sounded.

“Feels good, does it, Lovely?” he prompted, his grin obvious in his voice.

“Yes,” you moaned loudly, “yes, so good…”

You were so sensitive from being essentially teased all day, from the joy of pleasing her and the effortless way she played with your body like her toy. Still, it was a little embarrassing how quickly you became overwhelmed with the feeling.

She moved a little faster, egging on your needy moans and holding on tighter to your hips as she filled you just right. “Oh, fuck,” you yelped, feeling the pressure start to build as you tried your best to push back against her thrusts and get her that much deeper.

“You like how she fucks you, eh?” the man taunted.

“Yes! Yes, she’s amazing,” you panted, biting your lip as you fought the urge to beg Kitten for more.

“Never been fucked by a tranny before, have ya?” the man asked with a rough laugh.

You reached back behind your own head to hold onto the back of Kitten’s neck, pulling her closer so you could lean in to whisper in her ear— the ear your hidden watcher couldn’t see. “Don’t listen to him, Kit,” you breathed, “you’re so fucking beautiful. I’m so close.”

She turned her head and kissed you, sloppy and needy with heavy breaths passing between your lips to hers and back; it was all getting blurry and sweaty and that feeling just kept getting heavier and sharper as you rocked your hips back against hers. Every movement pushed you just that much closer—

“Fuck, I’m out of coins!” you heard the voice announce, but you were barely paying attention— until the red light suddenly went off. Then, both of you stopped, panting and breaking away from the kiss to look up at the light. You waited a moment to see if it would turn back on, only to glance at each other and begin to laugh as you realised you weren’t going to be hearing from your visitor again.

“We can stop,” Kitten noticed— but she didn’t move away, she only looked at your eyes, and you saw a hint of nervousness in hers.

“I don’t wanna stop,” you admitted in a whisper.

“Me either,” she smiled, speaking under her breath as one of her hands came up to hold your face sweetly. “I don’t ever want to stop.”

You kissed her, and the whole thing felt different without anyone watching. Sweeter, softer— you loved feeling her smile against you, and you smiled back, until she started to move again and your lips dropped to a moan. “Oh, Kitten,” you breathed, writhing against her as her hands moved all over you, touching anywhere they could reach. She pet and teased your thighs with one hand, pinching a hard nipple with the other, until you were shaking with desperation.

“You’re easy to please,” she noticed with a teasing laugh, trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder, and you groaned through a grin.

“Easier when you’ve had me worked up all day,” you admitted. “Kissing and touching you for hours but never getting to come… you should see me when I get home from work, Kit, I can’t stop touching myself— beat my poor clit all night, soak the sheets—”

“Poor thing,” she clicked her tongue at you, and you shivered again.

“You never got naughty after work?” you pressed.

“I didn’t say that,” she mumbled with a smirk, and you laughed softly. “I thought about you… about how soft your lips are… your sweet tongue…”

“I wanted to taste you, Kit,” you blurted out, excited that she might have had the same fantasy. “Fuck, I wanted someone to tell us to do it today— to make me put my mouth on you. I wanted it so bad—”

“It felt better than I imagined it,” she admitted.

“God, I wasn’t— I didn’t even do it like I wanted,” you admitted with a groan. “I wanted so much more…”

“Show me,” she begged— it almost reminded you of those men you had to listen to all day, except unimaginably perfect.

You sat up and spun around in a moment, pushing her down onto the ottoman with a sigh. She smiled at your eagerness, only to moan when you instantly dove down and licked her again— but harder and faster this time, with a wide tongue and a dark stare up at her.

“O-oh, darling,” she praised, but could only choke on a moan when you wrapped your mouth around her and sunk down in one quick motion. Yes, you choked, but you wanted to— you wanted as much of her as you could get, any way you could get it. “Oh!”

You hummed happily as you sucked hard and bobbed fast, too desperate for any teasing now.

“You are a dirty girl,” she cooed, holding onto your hair as you stroked what your lips couldn’t reach and did your best to pleasure her every way you knew how. “You can taste yourself, can’t you?”

You hummed again, agreement this time, and she tightened her grip on your hair.

You could only take a few more minutes of that— your poor cunt was dripping, flexing on nothing, desperate to be filled again. “Fuck, I need you,” you explained as you pulled away and climbed up to straddle her lap, that grip on her now guiding the swollen head to your entrance. She looked up at you with the slightest smirk around her open mouth, and you could tell she was aching for you, too.

Sinking down, you both moaned loudly— and you almost whimpered when she went even deeper than she had before. Balancing your hands on her chest, you tried to adjust to it as quickly as possible because you had absolutely burned through all your patience already.

When you were ready to move, the pace seemed to pick up right away: in a moment, you were a blur on her, lifting yourself over and over as each stroke created the perfect friction against your sensitive walls. You rode her hard and fast, desperate for release, letting your head fall back at the feeling. “Oh, Kitten— y-you feel so good—”

“You too, dear,” she breathed, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly— your fingers interlaced with hers, and you held onto them for balance as you bounced on her. “You too— so warm inside…”

“Fuck, fuck!” you whined. “Wh-what if someone puts in a coin now,” you panted, “and sees us doing this?”

“Then they’ll probably blow in their britches,” she suggested with a grin, and you laughed before another movement forced her tip right up against your spot, making you gasp again.

“G-god, don’t make me laugh, Kitten— I’m so close, I’m so fucking close—”

“I know,” she breathed, “I know— I can feel your little pussy, squeezin’ me—”

“Fuck,” you whined.

“What if we came together, darling?” she suggested as she panted under you. “Wouldn’t it be filthy, if I came inside you?”

“O-oh, fuck, perfect,” you moaned, “it would be perfect, Kit— please, please—”

“Yes,” she hissed, holding your hands tighter. “Let’s see you come, darling— no faking it like you do for the boys.”

“Gonna come,” you promised, nodding fervently as you felt yourself moving (inside and out) completely on instinct.

It made you shake all over, it made you bite down on your lip and dig your nails into her hands; it was sharp and hot and you had never felt anything quite like it… probably because you’d never had the patience for being on the edge for so long. You didn’t want to be too loud, not only to avoid getting caught but to make sure you could hear her and the precious way she moaned as she spilled inside you, her hips shakily bucking up into you when your own strength failed.

Slowly, it came to a shaky and shivery stop, and you blinked your eyes open to find the world a little blurrier, but sweeter, than it was before.

You sunk down, still holding her hands and sliding them upward as you brought your face to hers, smiling and almost losing yourself in her eyes. She kissed you— slow, soft, both of you still catching your breath— and hummed in delight as you relaxed on top of her.

“That was perfect,” she whispered to you, and you moaned quietly in agreement before breaking the kiss to lay your head down beside hers on the velvet. She turned her face to keep looking at you, and you must have been that way for one of those brief-yet-infinite moments, just looking at each other and trying to soothe your hearts as they raced.

“We should clean up,” you finally sighed, “before someone sees us…”

“How will we explain all that come leaking out of your pretty hole, hm?” she asked with a proud smile, making you bite your lip.

“Maybe I’ll just be very wet for our next customer,” you laughed, barely finding the strength— mental or physical— to let go of her hands and roll off of her onto your back.

You both pulled yourself together as best you could— gone soft now, she tucked herself between her legs again and slipped her panties back up, and you found your discarded lingerie top laying off the side to put back on.

You were about to reapply your lipstick when she stopped you, gently laying her hand on yours, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded softly, “before someone puts a coin in—”

You jumped forward and pressed your lips to hers, tossing the lipstick aside; she hummed against you and pulled you closer, giggling into the kiss in the most adorable way.

Neither of you noticed the light turning on, but you both jumped slightly when another man’s voice— a little higher-pitched and smoother than the last— came over the speaker. “My my,” he purred, both of you breaking away and looking at your reflection in the glass. “Looks like you two started without me.”

“We couldn’t help it,” you panted out as you draped your arms around Kitten, giving the man on the other side a pitiful-yet-pleading sort of look. “We’re just so worked up, is all… do you know that feeling?”

This was your wheelhouse— needy, horny, raunchy. Much more natural for you than Kitten’s innocent style; but she did just fine with this one, too, leaning in to nibble at your ear as she stroked your back. “Don’t stop on my account,” the man offered, “you two look perfect together.”

“We do,” Kitten agreed in a whisper as you both saw your reflection, before holding your face tenderly and turning it to hers, kissing you harder this time. So much for the teasing, soft kisses you’d been trading all day— you were both smiling and panting into it, falling all over each other until she was leaning back and you were between her legs, running your fingers over her hips and chest until she moaned for you.

“You do more than just kiss, don't you?" the man asked, and you grinned against Kitten's sweet lips as you nodded.

"We do whatever you want," you promised, glancing to the side at him— or, where he would be, if you could see him.

"Shit, almost out of time," he noticed, and you both grinned at the sound of more coins rolling in.

Kitten's hand slipped down the front of your body, into your panties, as she purred sweetly at you. "Oh, right there," you moaned— certainly overdoing it for the benefit of your watcher, but not entirely lying about how good it felt.

Just when she was doing exactly what you needed her too, and getting you all needy again in the process, she pulled her hand away and smirked as you whined softly.

“She’s so wet,” Kitten informed the man with a purr. “See how she’s soaked my fingers?”

She held up the manicured hand, a mix of your come and hers dripping down her fingers as you heard a happy moan from the man on the other side. “Wily minx,” he scolded you playfully.

“Why don’t you clean these off for me, Lovely?” Kitten instructed you, tilting her chin up a bit and watching you as she brought the fingers to your lips and watched you lick them slowly. You hummed at the taste, loving having a secret with her while this man watched, none the wiser. You fluttered your eyes shut as you started to suck them properly, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the digits inside your mouth.

"So naughty," the man praised, "can't wait to see all you girls can do."

More coins, more time; you gave Kitten a knowing look, and her expression in return was understandably a little weary and yet obviously excited. You both knew you had a long night ahead of you, and your heart was already fluttering with excitement. Not just your heart, of course, but your heart most of all.

#kitten braden x reader #kitten braden smut #patricia braden x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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ssahopelessly · 1 year

Text

Sick Leave

Synopsis: There has never been a time where she was ‘too sick’ to go to work.

Request: Could you do a Spencer x BAU Reader where she is sick but doesn’t want to admit it and comes into work? Please?

Warning: SpencerxFemReader, ambiguous relationship, symptom descriptions, sans Spencer’s germophobia, light displays of affection // let me know any I missed!

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

If you had asked me what my problem was that morning, I would have endless options but I couldn’t really decide on which one was actually the front runner. Maybe the inability to breathe properly, maybe the scratchiness at the back of my throat, or maybe it was the headache that seemed to be wrapping around my head like it’s own imaginary gym headband. But maybe, it was the way I still went to work, having taken some medication and telling myself the symptoms would subside. Or at least I hoped they would.

I had stopped by my desk, trying to rub the pressure from my head as I felt a pair of eyes on me, studying me in my state from across the aisle. “Are you feeling okay?” Most sounds had only made my headache twinge in sharp pain, but I was thankful that didn’t seem to be the effect with him. His voice was a cool breeze, wrapping around my shoulders to fight the heat that had rushed over my skin.

“Pfft, yeah. I’m fine.” I tried to dismiss him though, turning to see the rightfully deserved quirked up eyebrow he was casting at me. “I’m fine.” Was another attempt at reassurance that probably would’ve been believable if, in my state, I hadn’t also tried to take a step forward towards my chair, and nearly stumbled on my two feet, almost falling to the ground.

Spencer was soon behind me though, pulling me up onto my feet with an arm around my waist as he pulled me to his chest, safer there than the floor. He kicked my chair further out with his foot as I grabbed onto the desk for stability, the both of us wrestling my body towards the seat.

“You’re definitely not fine.” Was huffed into my ear as I was finally seated, eyes all over me as he backed up slightly, assessing me in my state. The back of his hand raised to my forehead, bottom corner of his lip pulling inward. “You have a fever.” I avoided looking into his eyes as his hands slipped under my ears on both sides of my head and towards the back of my head, somewhere near where my hairline met my neck, fingertips pressing into the skin in their vicinity. “And I can feel how swollen your lymph nodes are.” I would blame the potential fever on the blush that rushed to my cheeks, knowing that the way he was holding my head was a bit more intimate than acceptable for simple coworkers. If Derek had held Emily or JJ’s head like this, there would be room for concern or rumors.

“What is that supposed to even mean?” An attempt to breathe through my nose had him recoiling back, the proof that I was congested hanging between us.

“It means you’re sick and need to go home.”

“You’re not even a medical doctor. You can’t make that call.” His stare softened as his hand reached up once more to brush hair from my face to behind my ear.

“Do you want to talk to Hotch or should I?”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to work.” I forced the pout on my lips, knowing my bottom lip jutting out was often how I got him to cave in an argument. But he simply closed his eyes and turned away from me, moving back towards his desk.

“Okay,” was his admit of defeat, “Fine. I just feel like you should go home. Just trying to look out for you.” There was a layer of hurt in his words that made me feel guilty. Spencer buried his nose in a book, practically ignoring me from my side of the aisle, and that might’ve hurt more than his words. No matter how aggressive my cough had become, or how many times I sneezed, not a look, not a ‘bless you’, nothing. It was just an effort to look out for me, we both knew this. But I was stubborn, and it honestly just felt like a head cold. I could work through a head cold with medicine. I had done it before, I could surely do it again.

I’m not sure when, and I’m not sure how. All I know is, I was being woken up by someone shaking my arm, and when I opened my eyes, Aaron Hotchner was squatting down at the side of my desk, a sympathetic smile on his face. Dad Hotch was coming out for me in his smile, a sharp contrast to the stern exterior that usually accompanied SSA Hotchner. “Go home.” Was all he offered, the corner of his lips never falling.

“No,” it came out more of a whine than I had originally meant, my head pounding as I lifted it from where it had been resting on my arms. “I want to stay.”

“You’re sick. And you were sleeping here for an hour. Go home.” Another attempt at pleading with him would have dropped cold on the floor, and I wasn’t going to argue with him when he just explained to me how long I had been out. Gathering my things from my desk, Aaron walked me towards the sixth floor elevator bay, where Spencer joined us.

“I got her from here.” The grudge from earlier had been dropped, as his hand reached for my bag, draping the strap onto his other shoulder that wasn’t occupied by his own work bag. Aaron offered him a smile and nod before reentering the BAU glass doors, the only other company with Spencer and I being the hum of the elevator car as we waited. I kept my arms wrapped around myself, feeling very much like a child in a child swap dynamic. “Told you.” He muttered under his breath as he rocked from his heel to his toes. Rolling my eyes at him, I entered the elevator when it finally showed up, Spencer reaching over for the ground floor button as the door closed us in.

On the few occasions Spencer and I had carpooled to work, Spencer had noted that I tend to park in the same area and I tried to explain to him it was the prime parking spot location, and the banter had fallen off after that. Now, I was happy he seemed to know where I would have parked that morning, his hand reaching into my bag for my car keys. I had wanted to drive, but it was another instance where Spencer seemed to know better than me, and my energy was dwindling to maintain any fight that could start between us.

The drive home was quiet and I was fighting sleep. I would never admit to being sick and/or tired, but I was grateful for being sent home. I was grateful for having someone like Spencer as my coworker and my ‘something more’, but I didn’t know to what extent I was entitled to some actions. “Are you at least going to stay with me?”

“I’m taking you home, aren’t I?” There was a twinkle in the corner of his eye as he tried not to laugh at me, doing a terrible job of suppressing his humor from his lips. I sank further into my seat as we traveled further from Quantico and closer back to the residential part of DC. I had already fallen asleep at work, surely Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if I fell asleep on the car ride home.

“We’re here.” This time, I was woken by Spencer’s hand on my thigh as he had opened the passenger door and was working on getting my seatbelt off of me. Something he couldn’t quite do as my arms were once again wrapped over my chest and my head was resting against the strap as it crossed my shoulder. I just grunted as I reached for my bag that had been at my feet, seeing Spencer had once again placed the strap over his own shoulder to carry it for me. He stepped to the side as I tried to climb out, offering a hand for me to hold when he thought I might need it.

I was still capable enough to unlock my apartment in my state, but that didn’t stop Spencer from wanting to stay, entering my place with me. He placed my bag on one of the bar stools, like he’d seen me do countless times before, then just kind of watched me as I moved through my space. Sleep hadn’t left my system just yet, as I bumped into the door frame into my room, immediately pulling my top off, attempting to throw it towards the hamper. My pajamas had been resting on the foot of my bed and I had fully changed over to those by the time Spencer entered my room, hand in his pockets as he watched me from the door. “You didn’t have to tell Hotch.” I tried to chide him as I pulled the layers of fabric back from my spot on the mattress.

“I didn’t.” I raised my eyebrow at him, his head bowing as he took a moment to laugh under his breath, stepping into the room now. “You fell asleep at your desk. He asked what was wrong and I just told him you hadn’t been feeling well.”

“So you snitched on me?”I climbed into bed, back under my covers because that seemed like the best place for me to be in this moment. If I had been sent home from work, I was simply going to sleep the day away. Spencer sat on the side of the mattress, reaching for the covers to pull them over my body for me.

“Get some sleep.” The look of adoration was so intense, I thought I might actually see cartoon hearts take form in his eyes, his hand reaching up to gently brush the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone.

I couldn’t stay mad at him, not for being overprotective or for telling Hotch. He was doing what he thought was best in an effort to care for me, and where it maybe hadn’t been how I would’ve handled the situation, it was only in my best interest. I reached for his hand as it rested between us now, trying to interlace my fingers with his. He let it happen, his focus seemingly only on our hold. “Spenc-”

“Sleep.” A kiss was applied to my forehead before I laid back against the pillows, watching him as he moved from the bed back towards the door frame, hand lingering over the light switches.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Pressing a hand to my lips, I blew him a kiss as he turned off the lights in my room, a blush rising to his cheek as he cracked the door in his exit. I listened for the sounds of his departure from the apartment, but instead only heard the sounds of him moving through the kitchen, probably making lunch. I pulled the pillow next to me closer, trying to imagine it was him, that it had been him cuddling me into tranquility as I drifted off to sleep.

For the alternate twist on this trope, check out my SickSpencerxFemReader fic here!

Thank you for reading!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #angst #spencer reid x y/n #oneshot #comfort #aaron hotchner #ask fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid y/n

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tarantulasnot · 5 months

Text

Francis mosses is just a milkman, a nobody. But you were a something he wanted, and what's the difference between wants and needs?

CW: weed usage, hair pulling, cum eating, elongated tongue, misuse of shape shifting, Francis is a shy little freak, sub Francis, marking, reader gets stoned and gets an idea,

It's gonna be... 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 👅

You were so nice for a creature. Your smile, although a bit sharp was so mesmerizing. Your morning greetings were so pleasant, and genuinely made his day. He was so lonely, and you're small acts of kindness made him develop a small crush on you.

"Are you alright Francis? Your eyes have been getting darker." He'd shrug, however delighted that you'd noticed. "Mmm... Long shifts." You gave him a sympathetic look, and he looked the other way. "Come over tonight. I have something that might help."

So he came to you that night. He had changed out of his uniform into his button up pajamas, (1950s pajamas are Ebeneezer Scrooge couture okay 😭 lets act like that's sexy), and he approached your door, knocking on it.

Within a few seconds you had opened the wooden door, gazing at him with a smile. "Oh you're here already?" Another smile, it's like you're the original, but so much nicer. "Mmm, need all the help I can get." Your eyes scan him up and down and he shudders, but you shake your head, inviting him. "Take a seat on the couch, I'll be with you in a second." He does as told, but he's so stiff about it. Awkwardly sitting with perfect posture, his legs spread apart, and tapping his thigh anxiously. You return with a soft blanket and a two cups of hot cocoa, and two neatly rolled joints between your fingers. "Oh don't be so rigid, darling."

Fuck if only you knew the things you did to him. "Mmm, sorry about that." Francis apologizes, but you're quick to dismiss it. "I don't want to hear any of that." Settling down to his right, you pull out your lighter, and set the cups of warmed chocolate on the nightstand beside you. "Have you ever smoked weed, Francis?" The way you asked the question was so casual, that he looked almost taken back (this is the 1950s guys.)

"Mmm, well no." He glanced nervously at the joint in your hand as you set the end aflame, pulling on it once and holding the cocoa in your hand. You exhale the smoke and quickly take a swig. "I heard the coughing hurts."

You laugh, and it almost sounds like you're making fun of him. Once again, your teeth flash at him, and he swallows. Francis wonders how they would feel on his neck, his collarbone, his thighs... "Here," Lifting the other mug in your hand, you pass it to him. "If you exhale after a moment and drink this really fast you won't cough as much, if at all." He takes the drink, and sets it in his lap. However his attention is back in you and the way your lips curl around the blunt. You look so graceful about it.

"Here." You pass the joint to him between two fingers, and he copies you. "Now just take a small hit, this is your first time after all." The milkman nods, pressing his lips to it, and of course he doesn't listen. He barely feels it go down so after a solid 5 seconds you press your fingers to his lips and take the weed from him. "That's enough for you big fella."

Francis blows the white cloud from his lunge, and after a solid second of not feeling anything, he gets a scratchy burning feeling, and immediately sips on the cocoa. Afterwards he starts coughing, but it's not as bad as it would be without the drink. "H-Holy shit..." He manages in between coughs. "Damn that..." Francis leans back, his brain already starting to feel the effects. "That hits."

You chuckle lowly, taking another couple of puffs before passing it back to him. He goes through the cycle again before finally both of you are at a good high.

His eyes are dropped, eyelids lowered as he gazes at the wall. "Francis." You whisper, grabbing his attention, and suddenly he's locked in on you. Your hair, your lips, your eyes. God you're just a sight to behold.

"How are you feeling." He blinks at you, before smiling. "I feel great." He whispers. "Really good."

He moves a little closer, pulling the blanket further over himself. "Why haven't I done this before?" He leans his head back against the back of the couch, sighing. You can't help but appreciate the proximity. "Ummm..." He smells good, like deep cologne and the hint of flower in the air. "I don't know, but I'm glad you're feeling this good." Your hand goes to his thigh, landing on his knee and he shudders.

You had to be doing this in purpose. He felt his heart beating faster, and his body felt heavy. The way your fingertips glided over his knee to the center of his thigh, he wanted your hand just a bit further up. He wanted your hands everywhere. Really, he couldn't help it. His eyes fluttered shut as you kept running your hand over his thigh and he sighed heavily. "(Y/N)..." He whispered under his breath, and you took your hand away. You didn't want to push it, or do anything he didn't want.

You would have been an idiot to not notice that Francis had taken an interest in you. His flushed glances as you complimented him on his appearance, even if he was disheveled; or, when you touched his arm as a thank you for helping when you had "accidentally" knocked one of the bottles down.

"Are you alright, darling?" That nickname again, he parted his lips to speak. He wanted to be your darling, he had for a while. "I do like when you call me that." He admitted slowly, and his eyes sifted opened to peer at you. "Do you call anyone else darling?" He asked so innocently, but with a smidge of potential envy. "I don't." You reply simply, and you turn to face him fully. He returns the gesture, and now he's inches away from your face. "Mmm... So I'm your darling then?" He stated as though it were fact, speaking aloud.

Right in front of his eyes this time, your right hand drifts down to his thigh, and he twitches. "Mmm, don't do this to me." He wrenches his eyes from the scene back to you.

"What's the matter Francis?" It's his upper thigh this time that you graze, and it drives him to a point of no return. Already his pants are swelling with the thoughts he can't say, and if it weren't for the thickness of the blanket you would have seen it. However, you can feel the heat radiating from it. "Is there something wrong?"

Francis puts a hand over his eyes, he doesn't want to admit it, but he's already so painfully hard, a bead of precum staining his boxers and all you've done is pet his thigh. "Mmm... No- no." He shakes his head, and he nearly lurches out of his skin when all of a sudden your hand grazes over the spot that's affected the most. "Fuck- I just-" Francis mumbles, his hips chasing the contact, the stiffened member behind the clothing twitching beneath your ministrations. "Please-"

You don't deny him any further. You set your mugs to the side and crawl into his lap, and attach your lips to his. It's like a finely tuned instrument, both of you in sync, your hips moving over his slowly, and your kisses in the same agonizing rhythm.

He tries kissing you sweetly, this is the first time, but he can't control himself that well when it comes to this. "mmm- mm!" Your sharpened teeth bite his bottom lip, and he whines at the sting. But fuck he wants it, he wants those teeth to sinking into his neck, he wants the marks, he wants it all.

So you can't blame him when he grabs your hips and bucks into them, his eyes squeezed shut as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Only to lose when your much longer one, which he hadn't noticed before, fills his. Your mixed saliva drops down his chin and he starts fully thrusting against you practically, his hands on your waist and your assisted pressure. "oh fuck- fuck-" he parts from the kiss to groan into your shoulder, and he sits down, begging into your ear while you did all the work. "Feels so good-"

Francis had been so lonely, so pent up. "Mmm more-" He pleaded, but you felt like being a little cruel to him. He could take it.

Your hand pulls his hair backwards and his hips jerk, a long moan escaping his throat. "You want more?" Your hips went faster and his eyebrows furrowed upwards, sweat at his hairline as you relentlessly dug your hips into him. "Huh, darling?"

The grip you had on his hair was just tight enough to ache and when you shook him around a little bit he couldn't stop himself from crying out. "yes!" He gasped, and suddenly he admitted what he wanted. "Please I want your fucking teeth in my neck- I want your tongue on my chest and-" he didn't even need to say it for you to know what he meant, because he keeps dragging his hips over yours when he has the mind to.

You quickly ripped his shirt open, and he shuddered when you let go of his hair. His tired eyes watched you get on your knees in front of him, his lip pulled between his teeth as you immediately peppered his neck with kisses.

I'm too lazy

@the-lazyyy-artist

#sub francis mosses #author wrote this stoned at 1:49 am #francis mosses smut #francis mosses #tnmn smut #tnmn #francis mosses x reader #franxis mosses x reader smut #milkman smut #milkman #francis mosses tnmn #milkman tnmn #thats not my neighbor smut #thats not my neighbor #smut #unfinished #unfinished smut

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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

Text

Tipsy (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer can’t handle his liquor, or how much he loves Reader. Request: Tipsy Spence asking for kisses and cuddles? - @smutmecca

Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Fluff (16+ for sexual themes) Content Warning: Alcohol mention, drunk Spencer, flirting, kissing, heavy petting, sexual themes Word Count: 750

MASTERLIST

Everyone knows Spencer can’t handle his liquor. Regardless of the reason he prepared to give, most people wouldn’t question why he abstained altogether. They all just assumed—correctly—that it was for the best.

But there were still those rare nights, the ones punctuated with only happy calls home, where even he felt compelled to celebrate.

On one those nights, you let him. You sacrifice your own preferred celebratory activities so that at least one of you can be on your best behavior.

That was a good decision, too, because while you were behaving, Spencer decidedly was not.

From his position next to you in the booth, your boyfriend is pressed against you so tightly he might as well be sitting in your lap. Even with almost no air left between your bodies, he keeps inching closer until his face is mere inches from yours.

“You’re sooo pretty,” he slurs.

You hate how cute it seems.

“Really?” you answer with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Because, while flattering, it was the fifth time he’d said it over the span of an hour.

“Yes, really. It is a fact,” he confidently replies.

Just as quickly, though, his lips turn into a pout when you don’t seem impressed by his astute observation.

“Because—,” he hiccups, “—I’m a genius, actually, and I know for a fact that you are really, really pretty. Actually.”

You can’t stop the laugh from sputtering between your lips. Spencer, partially heartbroken, also can’t help but to join you in the laughter.

After all, you look so beautiful when you smile.

His attention gets caught in the crinkling of your eyes and he is immediately lost in his admiration.

His hands are burning hot when he grabs your face, but you accept the heat. You lean into his palm and watch as his pupils dilate in response.

Your reflection shifts in his eyes, and just before he can kiss you, you whisper, “I’m not a genius, but I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

Downtrodden by the second rejection in a matter of seconds, Spencer is quick to (attempt to) correct you.

“Mmmmno I don’t think so,” he slurs.

Needless to say, you aren’t convinced.

But he looks so beautiful when he is hopelessly in love with you, and so you let it go.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

The surrender ignites a fire in your silly little boyfriend. In an attempt to quell his desire, you offer him a slightly tighter embrace.

Spencer drops his head against your shoulder without delay. His barely-there stubble tickles you when he starts to nuzzle against your neck. Instead of pulling away, you just return a dreamy sigh.

The sound was either the very right or very wrong thing to give that foolhardy boy. As soon as the noise leaves your lips, he turns his face and begins a series of feverish kisses against sensitive skin.

You bite back a moan at the feeling and thank the stars that no one else can see his blatant display of affection.

Half-heartedly, you push him away. You immediately regret it when it has the opposite of its intended effect.

Spencer’s hand begins insistently sliding up the inside of your thigh until he hits the edge of your bottoms.

You jump with an audible squeak. Your knees knock against the table, and, with both arms, you fully shove him away.

“Whoooa—oh my god! Okay, time to go home!”

When you turn to face him, however, the embarrassment is replaced with a more primal feeling.

Because Spencer is looking at you like a man starved. With blown out pupils and a scratchy voice, he growls, “Finally.”

The sound causes goosebumps to ripple over your skin. You try to seem a little calmer, cooler than you are.

“Come on, genius,” you sigh.

On the short walk to your car, your mind immediately starts to wander with what you might do to punish him for the scene he’d caused. Spencer notes your little smirk as you help him into the passenger seat.

“Just wait until we get home,” he taunts.

For a moment, you are excited.

That feeling is fleeting, though. Because by the time you get to the driver’s seat, you turn to find that sweet, silly boy already fast asleep.

You laugh—quietly, so as not to wake him. You find a silent victory in the simple sight of him happily at rest.

In a different kind of way, you can’t wait to get home, because as soon as you do, you know you’ll never get his sleepy figure off you.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

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Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluf #spencer reid smut

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sunnnfish · 1 year

Text

Okay OKAY I wasn’t gonna propagandize the summer hikaru died but ive been thinking a little too much about it. SORRY I’ve been basically recommending a hundred different series. If you think my posts are all over the place you should see my brain. Anyways.

The THING about the summer hikaru died. The many things about it. That are getting to me. Number one the overwhelming feeling of SUMMER. Almost every page has the sound effects of cicadas or rain and sweat on everyone’s bodies. It’s so immersive, to me at least. It’s like it never lets you forget. A constant droning it feels like everyone has to speak a little louder to be heard. Something oppressive lives here, and it’s not just the eldritch horrors.

Number TWO. Grief. But in like that horror way. Mourning somebody no one else knows is gone. I’m just gonna say it bc it’s revealed in like the first 5 pages it’s body replacement. Some.. thing replaces the main characters best friend and it’s like. The twisting feeling in your gut looking at something that you should know but knowing it’s not the same anymore. It’s someone else. Look at this page I can’t stop thinking about it

[ID: A panel from Hikaru ga Shinda Natsu. Yoshiki sits with his head on his desk, drawn so his face and body are streaking down the page in smears of black. Around him float black text bubbles with scratchy text saying "To move on." Then he lifts his head with a gasp when someone exclaims, "Finally! There you are!" End ID]

That’s fucking GRIEF a sinking terrible grief. That nobody in their right mind could understand. But it’s also like. Christ it’s the mitsuba sousuke tbhk dilemma it’s that this new thing is it’s own person too. They aren’t the same but it’s damn near impossible to separate them because they look the same and act the same and desperately want to be the same. They want to be alive.

THREE. Cannot forget the queerness. The queer allegories and actual queerness are intense. Grotesqueness and horror at being different. Feeling like you know something is bad but you can’t help but enjoy it. Gut wrenching desire mixed in with every complicated feeling about losing your best friend while something pilots his body almost perfectly. It’s very fucked up. ALSO. Fear at being found out. Self hatred for being grotesque and different and not what everyone wants. Not what he wants.

Anyways uuuhhhh.yeah the summer hikaru died is fascinating to me. I love the feeling of it. Gives me chills. It’s cool 👍🏻 ALSO THE ART IS SO. GOOD. Haunting. I love it.

#been consuming so many fucked up gore stories lately I am so close to be coming a fucked up gore artist #this series is kinda making me wanna gnaw my arm off #it’s heavy and horrifying. augh #anyways #sunnfish.txt #the summer hikaru died #hikaru ga shinda natsu

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biting-miguel-ohara · 29 days

Text

Comfort - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I’m fighting off the evil brain thoughts so I hope this is good 🫣 I hope it’s okay I mentioned the dysphoria so vaguely. I didn’t wanna make it uncomfortable to read

Written for this request

CW: Reader is dysphoric; dysphoria is described as grossness; mentioned crying; Logan calls Reader handsome; probably ooc Logan; ‘I love you’s; fluff; hurt/comfort; no use of Y/N

660 words

You’ve been lying in Logan’s bed for over an hour before he comes back from training. You hide your face in his pillows, hoping he can’t tell you’ve been crying.

“Hey.” He sits on the edge of his bed, resting a hand on your blanket cocoon. You don’t answer him, just press your face deeper into the pillows.

“Hey.” He nudges you. You turn your head to the side, gazing up at him. Your eyes itch and your head hurts from your crying, but you still look up at him.

Your voice is cracked and scratchy when you speak. “What?”

Logan’s tone softens a little. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head and hide your face again. Unburying yourself from the blankets feels like too much. But you feel so gross, made worse by the heat of both his blankets and the thick sweater you’re wearing.

“Just having a sucky day,” you mumble.

He sighs and moves to lie next to you. After a long, long moment of struggle and indecision, you lift up the blankets and press yourself against his side.

When that only heightens the discomfort, you lay on top of him, pressing yourself as close as possible. You can hear his heartbeat and it soothes the grossness of your mind a little.

Logan gently rubs your back. You tense up for a moment, until you realize he’s avoiding touching your lower back or sides. You hide your face against his chest.

“How bad is it?” Logan’s voice rumbles through you. It gives you something to focus on other than the growing sense of quiet panic in the back of your mind.

“Bad,” you whisper. “Worse than last time. It keeps coming back.”

Logan’s hand stills on your back. “That bad, huh?”

“I feel gross.” Your voice cracks a little.

Logan’s quiet for a moment. You don’t blame him. You’re not even sure what would help right now.

“Well, you look handsome to me,” he says finally.

You turn your head to look at him. “Really?”

“Really. Handsomest man I’ve ever seen.”

The quiet panic in your mind slowly starts receding. You take a deep breath. “Keep talking? It helps.”

Logan starts rubbing your back again. “Slim asked about you today. Thought he was gonna start a fight with me. Just like he used to.”

You nod. It’s hard to relax, but his voice is like gruff magic. You can feel every rumble as he speaks.

“Turns out he got over that once he realized I wasn’t interested in Jean like that.”

A tiny smile flickers across your face.

“Still can’t figure out why he’d think I’d still go for Jean when you were right there.”

Your face warms a little. “You were pretty smitten with her before you met me.”

“Yeah.” Logan presses a kiss to your head. “Before I met you. You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met, and I’ve been alive for a lot longer than anyone here. Not to mention, you’ve got the best damn personality I’ve ever seen in anybody.”

The compliments really make your face burn. You shift against him, moving your head to nuzzle into his neck. Just quietly breathing him in. “I’m your man.”

“You’re my man.” He sounds so sure of it. So absolutely unwavering.

He keeps talking, telling stories about the kids or giving you quiet assurances that you’re his. That you’re his man. That you’re handsome no matter what.

You feel yourself relax against him. There’s still grossness in the back of your mind, in certain areas of your body. But it feels manageable now.

Logan has that effect on you. You know this moment is special. He doesn’t usually give out compliments like this. But it makes you feel warm. He’s soft when you need him to be.

And you’re safe, you’re feeling better, and you’re with him.

You press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too, handsome.”

#wolverine #logan howlett #ftm!reader #dividers by saradika #wolverine x ftm!reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x ftm!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #ftm reader

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toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

tan lines (flatmate!matty x reader smut)

part of summer75, alternatively known as "the 69 fic". bon appetit <3

the flat is suspiciously quiet when you get home.

usually, matty's making some sort of noise - singing, talking to himself, or playing while he writes - or listening to something, the TV or the radio or a record. if he's doing none of these things, the sound effects of whatever video game he's into at the moment are usually audible, assaulting your ears as soon as you step through the front door.

but today… nothing. well, nothing but the air con, providing a slight but welcome reprieve from the blistering heat outside.

“baby?” you shout down the hall, dropping your bag and kicking your shoes off. he's in the flat somewhere, because his car and house keys are still hanging from the tuning pegs on the old guitar head you stuck to the wall for that very purpose, but he doesn't reply. brow furrowed, you wander past the bathroom, knocking the door and opening it to find the room empty. “matty, where are you?”

your next port of call is the kitchen, which you do linger in despite its matty-less-ness, just long enough to down some of the apple juice stashed in the fridge. once the heat in your body is alleviated somewhat, you continue on into the living room, where it becomes immediately apparent that said alleviation was futile; matty's there, stretched out asleep on the sofa, softly-heaving chest illuminated by the sun.

and he's stark fucking naked.

heat floods your cheeks, slightly embarrassed to have stumbled upon him so exposed like this - when your brain remembers he's your boyfriend, though, the heat floods… elsewhere on your body, and before you know it your legs are carrying you towards the couch and settling in a kneeling position beside it. you rest your head on matty's thigh, as slowly as possible so you don't wake him, and look up towards his face. as he is in every facet of life, he's a pretty sleeper, long eyelashes lightly brushing his cheekbones and those beautiful lips open in a slight pout, and you're content to just adoringly watch him dream, heart fit to burst with how sweet he is and how much you love him.

and then he moves, shifting more onto his side towards the sun, and sweetness is the last thing on your mind.

whatever he's dreaming about - you hope it's you - has him half-hard, and it honest to god has your mouth watering. muscle memory, you think; one of your personal favourite mutual discoveries about matty in bed is how much he enjoys getting fully hard in your mouth before he fucks it, weaving his hands into your hair and groaning about how pretty you look sucking his dick, and looking at him right now is upping your desperation to recreate it all to an insane level.

yeah, you need to wake him up right now.

still on your knees, you shuffle up further towards that pretty face; one hand comes up to caress it, the side of your index finger satin-soft against matty's slightly stubbled cheek, while the other is poised right over his dick, ready to stroke when your boyfriend starts to stir. voice singsongy and little more than a whisper, you speak. “matty, baby, wake up.”

matty sniffs, eyebrows raising while his lids stay firmly closed. a noise of vague recognition rumbles in his chest, turning into a light moan when you tentatively drag your nails up the length of his cock - when you circle the tip with the pad of your index finger, smiling as you spread the pre-cum all over his head, matty's eyes flutter open with a satisfied hum. “hi, darling,” his voice is scratchy with sleep, and it's really fucking doing it for you. in contrast to the sexiness of his voice, though, his brow furrows cutely. “am i still dreaming?”

“no, sweetheart,” you giggle, leaning in to kiss him softly. “i'm real, see?”

he huffs out a laugh. “feels familiar,” he kisses you, groaning into your lips when you start to slowly wank him off properly. “fuck, feels good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. thank you,” he beams, and your heart flutters. “what brought this treat on?”

you shrug. “came home to my incredibly hot, incredibly naked boyfriend, and i wanted to make him feel good. why are you naked, by the way, baby?”

“was - fuck, babe, just like that, yeah - was sunbathing, and i didn't want any tan lines,” matty blushes, smiling bashfully while you laugh. “s'pose i was just so content that i fell asleep.”

“and here was me thinking you were doing some new free-use sex thing for me.”

he groans. “don't give me any ideas, sweetheart, especially when you're dressed like that.”

“you like my work outfit?”

“you know i do.”

speeding your hand movement up the tiniest bit, you smile as sweetly as you can muster. “you wanna fuck me in it?”

“christ, you can't just say things like that to me, darling,” matty's hands come up to his face; he shakes his head before dragging them downwards, smiling exhaustedly at you. “s'like you want me to cum immediately.”

“i wouldn't be opposed,” to prove your point, you speed your hand up again, beaming at the whine that leaves matty's lips and the way his hips jerk up into your grasp. “but you have to answer my question first, sweet boy.”

he sighs, gulping before he talks. “wanna go down on you in it more than anything else right now.”

oh.

you hum happily. “shuffle down the couch a bit for me, then, please, sweetheart.”

matty looks confused, but does as you ask. “what for, babe?”

caressing his cheek again, you beam. “so i can sit on your face. if that's alright with you, of course, my love.”

he blinks repeatedly while you keep on beaming at him, trying to compute your words in his groggy brain; suddenly, his lips are on yours, kissing you with the same desperation he's always kissed you with, as if you're on the edge of slipping through his calloused figures like the sand in his sleepy eyes. “underwear off. now,” he mutters into you - then, a somewhat less gruff afterthought. “please, darling.”

“okay,” you oblige as you stand, leaving your (damp) thong in a puddle on the floor as you climb onto your boyfriend and the sofa. “fuck, this is tight.”

“oi, s’my line,” the smile is audible in matty's voice as he tugs you back towards his face.

you sigh, leaning down to take his dick in your hand again. “shut up, babe.”

“gladly.”

before you even have time to sarcastically thank him, your boyfriend's tongue slices through your soaked core. you gasp out some sort of shocked moan, a wanton sound that mutates into a whimper when his mouth finds your clit and sucks on the bundle of nerves; when you take his dick into your mouth, it's as much an act of keeping yourself grounded as it is an act of getting matty off. he groans into your cunt when you deepthroat him, and the sound makes you simultaneously hurtle towards your own climax and diligently focus on getting matty to his. unlike other times you've found yourself in this position with your boyfriend, though, there's no competition - just two people working as best they can to make their lover feel good.

however, if it was a contest, you would doubtless win; matty's hips are already jerking up sporadically, a primal instinct for friction so he can finish. despite the pleasure clouding your own brain, you focus enough to dig your manicured nails into his thigh to subdue him, and he obeys with a whimper directly on your clit. you have to hand it to him, though - even on the very precipice of orgasm, he's dead-set on getting you off, eating you like he hasn't had a meal in weeks and sending shockwaves of ecstasy through you. he pulls back, very briefly, just enough to warn you of what you already know is imminent. “babe, baby, fuck, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum.”

you stay silent, diligent, aside from a soft hum around his dick and a slight smile; the vibrations from the noise are enough to set matty off, and he spurts into your mouth with a series of whimpers, hips continuing to fuck your throat as he rides out the last of the orgasm. eyes watering and mouth full of your boyfriend, you slide off him with a pop, swallowing his cum and gasping - half for air, half from the pleasure he's giving you now that his sole focus is to make you cum.

and he does just that, embarrassingly quickly for you, that fucking tongue of his making you shake and cry and see stars and soak his face with your release. actually, the orgasm is so strong that you honestly black out for a second - at least, you think you did, because how else would you have ended up curled into matty's chest so soon after cumming, his lips on your forehead and a hand in your hair?

regardless, that's where you find yourself, in the arms of the person who loves you most in the world, both of you spent and sated and so content. there's silence for a minute, save the sounds of east london through the open window and the two of you breathing in tandem, until matty looks down at you with a shit-eating grin on his pretty, soaked face. “so, babe… how was work?”

#mads muses #mads does writing #flatmate!matty #summer75 #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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secret-smut-sideblog · 6 months

Text

Black Out Days

Gale x F! Tav

18+ chronic pain, drug use (weed), unintentional aphrodisiac (slutweed), groping, dry humping, breast worship (f!), fingering (f!), body caging, roughness, sub/dom, tenderness

Tav's pain rising to an unbearable level, she indulges in some found herbs to find relief. But her sanctuary is laced with some heated side effects...

Masterlist

"Please, please I've had enough." She moaned, head resting against cool river stones.

The pain had been spiking over the base of her skull all day in excruciating arcs. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, force her face to be impassive.

Between every horrible thing that had been happening to them, her chronic pain was her own burden to bear. She hadn't told anyone besides Halsin, the sweet man helped her as much as he could with what was available.

Nothing made her feel worse than being a burden, so she trudged on in silence. Still the leader they needed. Gods only know how she ended up in that position in the first place.

Crouching at the riverside, she gripped at slick stones, whimpering. Finally letting go of her lovingly crafted mask of health. Wanting to slam her insolent head into the earth, but knew that would offer no relief.

Scrambling hands reached into her pack. At the goblin camp, she had pocketed a jar of promising looking herbs.

She brought the unsealed jar to her nose.

Musky, sweet, near sulphuric.

Yes, praise the Gods. Halfling weed.

Packing Halsins borrowed pipe, she leaned back on haunches, the new movement making her stomach spin threateningly. If she could stretch this supply out it could sustain her, at least until she could slip into to an apothecary.

Flicking her fingers, she brought a small flame to the bowl. Breathing in slowly.

As soon as the smoke met her lungs, a spreading warmth caressed up the back of her spine. Gentle fingers splaying up, cradling the base of her skull. The agony dulling into a veiled hissing. Still crouched in the grass, but far from where she sat.

Tears of relief fell down her face. Gods, she could breath again. Body pulled down deliciously yet so much lighter.

She sighed, leaning her head back. Taking a moment to get lost in the crisp night air, the sounds of moving water, insects calling for one another in the dark. Finally able to perceive more than her anguish.

Standing, she headed back towards the orange point of their campfire. Body awash in calm.

As she re-entered their little world a new sensation sidled up to her spreaded peace.

A soothing heat slipped down her front, pressing an insistent touch inside of her pelvis.

Oh.

Kneeling near the campfire, she examined the jar more thoroughly. Lifting the bottom, she found a small scuffed label written in scratchy hand.

Halfing Weed; Succubus Spittle 5%

Hissing a breath between her teeth, she closed her eyes in defeat. Fucking goblins.

Slick already pooling between her legs, she groaned in frustration. Of course her savior came with a demand.

Already, she knew this was not nearly enough to deter her from the alternative. But it didn't make it any less vexing.

Hips already rocking against nothing, she was infinitely thankful that the camp had turned in for the night. Even Astarion off hunting for a few hours, at least.

Especially him, she knew he had the skills she needed in this moment. But she didn't want to do that to him. From one veiled mask to another, she could tell he didn't want her that way.

Dizzy with heat, she rose to head to her tent. More than willing to deal with this desire alone. She had a sure hand and a vivid imagination, it would be an easy burden to bear.

Her infatuation with the wizard could be tonight's theater of the mind. Wide shoulders, soft brown eyes, hair that brushed against his clavicle. The veins in his forearms when he pushed up his sleeves, large hands twisting and pulling with blue magic.

She moaned, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Reign yourself in, Tav. Gods.

As if summoning him from her salacious imagination, he emerged from his tent.

Drowsily greeting her, he wandered towards the water pump, kneeling next to it. Pulling the lever, he opened his mouth and started swallowing what of the divulge of water he could catch.

She stood stock still, watching this innocuous moment like a wolf watches a rabbit. The desire pooled in her pelvis boiling over.

Wiping his mouth, he rose back to feet. Seeming to fully see her then.

"Tav, you alright? You seem a little flushed, in a haunted type of way."

Gods forgive her for what she was about to do.

Taking his hand, she wordlessly pulled him into his tent.

"What-" Her body cut him off, pressing hard into his.

Running her hands up his taut back, she buried her face into his neck. The curve of his waist bending up into shoulders making her moan softly.

He was so warm, so solid against her pushing. Smelling of old books and leather. Her hand rising to tangle into his hair, tugging gently.

His body seemed to go weak then, gripping onto her for support.

"Tav, Gods..." He shivered.

His voice bringing her back to herself for a moment, she made to pull away. But his hands held her anchor to him.

"Please, don't stop." He pleaded.

Like a flint sparking, she dove back in. Hips fluid and insistent against his. Gathering his sleep shirt in her demanding hands. Pulling his head back to release his neck to her. Pulsing, biting, suckling into the soft flesh.

The herb removing all inhibition, she was a growling animal against him. Hands pinning and pulling, mouth hungry and salivating.

He fell to knees, and she followed him down. Straddling over his lap, licking an obscene line up his panting throat.

His length already a pillar pushing against her. Hands catching her writhing hips, pulling them flush to him.

Her head fell back then, the friction Gods sent. The slick already pooled in her underclothes welcoming him.

Something seemed to snap in him.

His hands wrenched her sleep shirt over her shoulders. Caging over her body, pushing her down on his bedroll.

"Yes," She moaned, falling open for him.

His mouth pushed into hers, gripping the back of her head.

The heat coming off of him was making her head spin. Intoxicating her body into liquid, crashing against him in waves. All smothered soft calls and silent demanding mouths.

Tangling into him like it was all she knew. All her body could know was getting as close as she could without being inside.

He hitched her leg up over his hip and ground down hard. Groaning in the back of his throat. Chest lit up purple, eyes glowing.

Concern arced through her stifling heat.

She cupped the sides of his face, bringing his eyes to hers.

The question in her eyes reached him. Hips still pistoning, he nodded.

"Please, I want to."

"Then take what you want." She gasped out, leading his head down.

He dove on her breast, licking her hard tip into his warm mouth.

"Fuck," She hissed, back arching.

She tried to reach for his sleep pants but his hand caught her wrist, forcing it above her head.

Pushing her underclothes down her hips, he rubbed hard against her clit. Blurring his hand.

Choking out a moan, she writhed helplessly. His body keeping her pinned and open. Splayed fully against him.

His mouth switched sides, taking up her soft untouched breast. The slurping suckle his tongue pulled against her peak making her mewl.

"Please, Gale. Inside." She pleaded, bucking her hips as much as his hold would allow.

He pushed two fingers inside her, moan muffled against her flesh.

"You're so wet," He groaned.

"You. All you." She moaned, sentences and their structures utterly lost.

But those words must have been more than enough. His fingers began slamming inside her, hooking towards her navel.

Her head fell back, gripping his head to her breast. The force of his fingers rocking her back and forth.

He was the tide and she a ship, unanchored and tossing through the waves.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whined as the pressure in her pelvis tilted up, threatening collapse.

He pulled her engorged peak between his teeth and she was thrown overboard.

Her legs arched up, clamping around his hips. Back bending, the force of the pleasure striking through her was near agony. Completely stealing her voice away, only gasping out choking silent cries. The herbs making her reach new heights, unwinding like a tapestry pulled. Clenching hard enough around his fingers to make him groan.

She collapsed under him, head lolling. Eyes glazed and rolling.

He pulled his fingers from her, licking them clean. Leaning down to nuzzle into her neck, his beard tickling her.

"You didn't-" She started weakly.

"With the state of the orb, I think it's in all of our best interests if I obstained."

"Besides," He hummed, kissing under her jaw. "Your pleasure has more than sustained me."

"Though I am curious, what brought on this most welcome intrusion?"

She hesitated. Not wanting another person, especially him, who has so much to hurdle over already, to worry about her.

"It's this... pain I have. I found some soothing herbs and they helped. A lot actually. But with other effects."

She pulled the small jar from her strewn trousers, handing it to him.

Immediately he flipped it over to examine the bottom, and she groaned in embarrassment.

"See, that's exactly what I didn't do."

Grabbing for her shirt she instead landed on his, pulling it over her head.

He smiled at her, eyes lit up with appreciative glint.

"Ah, of course it looks better on you."

"Cozy." She sighed, the velvet material warming her through. Sleeves swallowing her hands.

He reached inside her pocket and retrieved the pipe, sparking up his fingers and bringing it to his lips.

Seeing her shock, he smiled.

"You're not the only one fighting pain." He knocked his knuckles on the burned circle in his chest.

"Besides, you seemed to be in a peaceful state. I'd like to meet you there, if you'd allow me."

"Deal." She smiled, sliding on knees to sidle up close to him again. "But only if you let me stay the night."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." He smiled at her, scrunching up his nose in that playful way that made her heart gallop.

As soon as he breathed in, she held his chin in her fingers. Pulling his mouth to hers, breathing in the smoke as it left him.

Starting to relax, he pulled her down with him. Sighing contently as she snuggled into him.

"Oh, careful. I could get very used to this."

#dom gale does something to my brain. something uncouth #anyways this is for my chronic pain homies. hiiii #gale x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #screenshot by @dailygale #lyrics from: timefighter - lucy dacus

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miss-bushido · 3 days

Text

make the world safe and sound for you

written for @softsteddieseptember week 3, prompt ‘anniversary’

Rating: G

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

Steve pressed his face to the pillow and groaned. “No, my head hurts. Come back later.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Eddie murmured, pressing a light kiss to Steve’s temple, smoothing back some flyaway strands. “How late were you up?”

Steve groaned, tapping his fingers on the bed as he counted in his head. “Last time I saw the clock it said 4:30 AM.” He had been pulling all-nighters while working to get his Master’s degree. He was only a few months away from being finished with the program, and he just wanted to see the back of it.

Eddie winced. It was 7:30 AM. Normally, Steve would be up by 6 AM, ensuring he would see first thing the text messages or emails from his boss asking him to sub for one of the teachers at a local school. Eddie grabbed Steve’s phone and winced again. There were three missed calls from his boss, and a flurry of text messages.

“I’m making an executive decision,” Eddie announced, sitting on the bed behind Steve. “I’m telling your boss that you’re sick and that you won’t be able to sub anywhere today.”

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands. “No, I can-”

“Honey, I love you, but you’re talking out of your ass. You need to rest. You can’t expect to be effective with less than 3 hours of sleep.” Eddie put his fingertip to Steve’s plush lips to silence any further protests. “I’ll call her and let her know you’re sick, and that you should be more than fine come Monday morning. When was the last time you took a Friday off?”

Steve blinked, his eyes heavy and scratchy from lack of sleep. “Almost two years ago.”

“Exactly. So. Since you’re not going to work today, go back to sleep. I don’t want to see you downstairs before 9:30 AM, clear?”

In spite of how exhausted he was, Steve felt his stomach flutter at the tone Eddie used. “Yes, sir.”

Eddie smirked, unable to resist giving him a kiss. “Let’s save that for tonight, okay?”

“Daddy?” came a small, sleepy voice from the hallway. The bedroom door was pushed open to reveal their toddler daughter Rosie standing there, clutching her stuffed duck. “We’re thirsty,” she said, her voice low and rough in her throat. Her twin brother, Theo, was with her as he always was, clutching her purple sleep shirt with his left hand, his right thumb in his mouth.

Eddie’s heart swelled to look at them. He and Steve had thought long and hard about children after their marriage, and though they were fine with adoption, they wanted to try and have biological children of their own. Obviously, neither of them could get pregnant (not for lack of trying), so they spoke to the women in their lives; Nancy, Robin, Chrissy, Vickie, to see if any of them would be willing to either donate one of their eggs or become a surrogate, or both.

In the end, Chrissy said she would do both for them: donate her eggs, and be a surrogate. It was almost immediate that she became pregnant with the twins. When they were born, Eddie cried harder than he ever had in his life at seeing their chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He couldn’t believe it was three years ago that their little family was completed.

“You’re thirsty?” Eddie asked, holding his arms out for both of them to come in. Theo broke into a big toothy grin and ran over to jump on Eddie, his light brown hair bouncing . Both Steve and Eddie loved their children equally, and they knew the twins loved them the same as well. But Theo seemed to have an affinity for Eddie: following him around and looking very interested when he practiced his guitar. He even accompanied Eddie to some band rehearsals, but never to one of their shows. Maybe when he was older. He listened with rapt attention as Eddie read to them: The Hobbit, the Redwall books, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and the paintings he did, while rudimentary, were clearly influenced by the stories.

Rosie could frequently be found snuggling with Steve: she liked putting barrettes in his hair, painting his nails and putting lipstick on him. Whenever they had a tea party, she put a silver tiara on him and a pair of ruby clip on earrings, telling him, "Papa looks so pretty."

How could Steve resist? How could either of them resist?

While her brother went to Eddie, she toddled over to the other side of the bed. She tossed her stuffed duck up and clambered up, crawling over to Steve. She looked the most like Eddie: she had his brown doe eyes and the waves of her hair were like his, though she took after Chrissy in terms of her strawberry blonde hair color, and the way she smiled. “Papa?” she asked, looking down at Steve. “No work today?”

Steve looked up sleepily at his daughter, unable to stop the big smile spreading across his face. “Not today, baby. Papa stayed up too late doing school work.”

“That’s silly,” she said, collapsing dramatically against the pillows. Steve had seen Eddie do that exact same thing more than a few times, and it always made him laugh.

“Papa is silly, Duck,” he admitted, quickly reaching forward and pulling her close, blowing raspberries on her neck, her shrieking giggles filling the air. He still had a headache, and her shrieks of glee were not helping, but he could bear it.

“I keep telling him that,” Eddie said as he sat back down, Theo leaning against him. Theo had Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, but they were turning more towards green the older he got. His hair was dark brown and straight, and though he was quieter than his sister, the smile he had was pure Eddie. Both of them worried they would have a little hell-raiser on their hands as he got older and got more confidence.

“‘M still thirsty, Daddy,” Theo murmured against Eddie’s chest. He looked up at Eddie with his big eyes. “Choccy milk?”

“For breakfast?” Eddie replied in mock shock and awe. Theo immediately started giggling, tilting his head back as he watched Eddie perform. “There will be chaos if we move choccy milk time to morning instead of dinner.”

“Pleeeeease?” Theo pleaded. “Please Daddy?”

“Yeah! Pleeeeease?” Rosie shouted, jumping up from laying next to Steve, all but throwing herself on Eddie’s back.

“Oh! Attacked on both sides! The treachery! The betrayaaaal!” Eddie kept his left arm firmly wrapped around Theo before he hooked his right arm back to wrap around Rosie. He stood up, both of them in his arms. “Steve! Don’t just lay in bed! Save meeeee!” He yelled this while moving quickly out of the bedroom, giving Steve a knowing glance as he shut the door behind him with his foot.

Steve laughed at the display of his little family, though he was grateful that Eddie managed to get them out of the room and leave him in peace. He didn’t see his phone on the bed, so Eddie must have taken it with him. Which was good, as it meant he could fall back to sleep like Eddie wanted him to.

A few hours later, Steve woke up, feeling the warmth of a small body against his chest. He opened his eyes to see Theo snuggled up against him, snoring lightly. Behind him, Rosie and Eddie were also asleep. Both had their mouths open slightly, right arms above their heads as they slept.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered, feeling happy tears well in his eyes.

#soft steddie september #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x steve #steddie

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valaruakars · 1 year

Text

26 LOVE LETTERS TO KARLACH: A & B (Or, the NSFW Alphabet meme in oneshots)

Karlach x AFAB!Tav/Reader; 1891k; Explicit. Warnings beneath each letter. Ao3 link.

𝔄 - Aftercare Warnings: Cunnilingus, masturbation, hardcore cuddling.

Her lips are wet. Spit and slick. You and her.

“C’mere,” they coax as Karlach sprawls back on the bedroll at your feet, dragging her forearm across her glossy mouth as she goes.

Propped up on her elbows, the laces on her leather pants gape. A wet smear on her thigh catches the lantern light where she must’ve wiped her fingers clean before. Her chest heaves, her bare breasts splay, but above all else, the pulse that backlights her ribcage holds you in a fucked-out trance.

Each heartbeat shifts the gradient. Cobalt at the height, turning indigo as she comes down. Subtle, one color into the next, unlike the way she touched herself to the taste of you and broke with her face buried between your legs, vents on her shoulders breathing blue.

She’s pulsing magenta now, and you’re still just staring. Realizing, distantly, that your knuckles throb because your grip on the tentpole at your back is needlessly iron. Both feet planted firmly on the ground, it’s of no use now for balance—to keep from toppling with your thigh draped over her shoulder, toes curling, legs quaking as her tongue licked impossibly deeper. Your knees are still weak, though. She has that effect.

You blink and there’s the smoldering red, orange, red again. You know it as the color of new love and the flower she picked for you by the roadside this morning; as sunsets spent together, however many are left. You know it, too, as hellfire and blood and all the awful things you came along too late to protect her from. To love her is to wish you could’ve, somehow.

“Everything alright?” she asks, growing worried.

You nod bonelessly—fucked stupid and strangely sentimental, apparently—but that does little to convince her.

Karlach sits up, curling forward to rest her forearms on her knees. The scarred skin of her stomach folds softly above her open pant laces. “Hey…” Her voice is gentle, earnest as ever. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. Well, unless you’re up for it—in that case, I’ll happily provide. But me? I had more of a cuddle in mind if I’m honest. I just want you close.” Uneasy, then: “…If you want that too.”

It’s not surprising. She’s always eager to thread her spent body around you, the smell of sweat, metal and sex thickened by her heat, but a thought finally occurs to you.

Champion, bodyguard, protector—her arms are as good for cleaving bone as they are for holding a lover, but when was the last time someone held her? Made her feel wanted and safe and cared for in that vulnerable stretch before sleep follows satisfaction? In the morning, she’ll ask if you still like her. She keeps asking like sharing a private joke, but you know better. You know her and what anxiety looks like in her eyes, what it sounds like in her voice; how she blooms for you, made vibrant by a little reassurance. You might know, too, how to stay the doubt before it ever starts at dawn.

“Of course I want that,” you croak, cracking a coy smile at your own raw, scratchy voice. Whoever could guess how it got that way? You pad over, loose linen shirt scantly covering the still-damp curls between your legs. “Scoot, please.”

Karlach wiggles over, smile restored, as you sink down beside her. Her arms move to curl around your waist, to pull you into an embrace as soft and warm as sleep has been beside her lately. But your arms thread around her shoulders and you’re the one to pull instead, gentle and more insistent, different than every other night before.

“What’s this about…?” she starts to ask. Her body is pliant, her muscles are soft. Trusting when life has tried and failed to teach her to be otherwise. She goes easily, guided to lay her head against your chest. Settles in that perfect spot where her broken horn clears your shoulder and her ear is near enough your heart. Her breath slips warm beneath the edge of your shirt as she shudders a quiet, “Oh.”

The moment stretches in sweet, idle touches. Your fingers trace the thick keloids up and down her tricep. They card through her dark hair as the lantern burns low, balancing affection’s scales with each absent kiss to the crown of her head. And before her breathing turns slow and even, before her lips part and the arm around your waist grows heavy, she whispers, “Thank you,” as if loving her the way she needs is any hardship at all.

𝔅 - Body Part Warnings: Alcohol use, shitty attempts at seduction; no, he's not being serious (when you know, you'll know).

Wind through the trees, drink in your hands—the campfire crackles and pops, smoke sweet with pine sap billowing downwind. Huddled in a semicircle, the night is still young amongst the five of you left awake.

There’s Shadowheart to her right, kneeling prim and rigid, leading a one-woman argument by the haughty pitch of her voice, but Karlach isn’t listening. Neither is Lae’zel for once, too fixated on sharpening her longsword to be baited into it. Not yet, at least.

Then there’s Astarion, grimacing with each shallow drink he takes from a green glass bottle. It’s never good wine pried from overturned crates, lost and forgotten on the roadside, but it’s wine nonetheless. Always fucking wine, no matter how hard she wishes for cured meats or bruised fruits. They’re cursed with a bounty of it.

Possibly blessed, on second thought, because then there’s you sitting straight across the fire with dark, hungry eyes and slackened lips. Thoroughly sloshed, shamelessly staring; somewhere so beyond yourself that you’ll have trouble finding your way back in the morning.

Nothing’s going to happen. It can’t on account of her engine, neither would it on account of her principles, but Gods, watching you finger the bottle in your lap sings to her imagination. Over and over, you drag it in and out with the faintest wet pop. You do it so slowly that perhaps it could be mistaken for absent fidgeting to anyone else, but not her. You look Karlach dead in the eye with each and every lazy pop, and the intent is very clear.

It’s so stupid—such a sloppy attempt at seduction that Karlach knows she’d be snorting into her fist if she saw it happening to anyone else. What’s stupider is that it fucking works on her. Trashed and desperate make a heady pair, apparently, and for her part, Karlach can feel the blood rushing down, evacuating her brain like it’s an emergency.

“Alright, yes, we get it,” Astarion suddenly groans, then beneath his wine-soaked breath mutters something that makes you peal a giggle. Well, more of a sloppy chortle, really, but the rose tinted glasses are firmly on at this point. Shadowheart purses her lips, finally quiet; Lae’zel clucks her tongue. “Can we perhaps turn the conversation to something, oh, I don’t know, interesting?”

“Like…?” you ask, lolling your head. Slurring, “Far’s I can tell, your only interests are blood, sex, ‘n fancy shoes.”

“Nonsense, darling. My companions have become a great interest to me, as it turns out.”

His eyes flit around the campfire, weighing some invisible odds. They settle on her.

“Dear Karlach, why don’t you tell us your favorite thing about our little friend here?” he drawls, gesturing to you, mid-swig from the bottle she thought you’d emptied a while ago. You start to smile too soon with it pressed to your lips and that little bit left in the bottom drips down your chin. Down, down, fucking down, and her eyes brazenly follow.

“Easy,” Karlach snorts, because she’s horny. “Ti—” she starts to say, because she doesn’t think before she speaks half as much as she should.

But Karlach clamps the word down before it’s all out in the open and you’re too embarrassed to ever speak to her again. It’s one thing to eye-fuck across the campfire and another thing entirely to let everyone else in on it. She fumbles for a laugh to cover it up that putters into a cough, backpedaling hard as she can. “T—‘Tis an easy question, I mean…” Nailed it. “Got a little tongue tied there. Must be the wine. You know how it is,” she shrugs, “really gets to my head.”

“Funny,” Shadowheart hums, “I wouldn’t consider you a lightweight. Come to think of it, I recall an evening when you drank two bottles on your own without ever stopping to empty your stomach.”

“You try eating the food in Avernus for a decade. Got an iron stomach right here,” she laughs, easier this time, as she flexes and gives it a knock.

Languidly, Shadowheart’s eyes drop. Something about it rakes, appraises. “To match the heart, I suppose?” It’s familiar. She’s seen the same look on your thrice as drunk face all night.

“How generous of you to remind her,” Lae’zel sneers, because for reasons unknown, Karlach has found herself on her good side. But this feels like more than that. This feels sharp, spiteful and goading, hanging heavy between the two women so often at odds.

Karlach coughs again as the atmosphere shifts strangely. “Sorry, what was the question?” she wonders too loudly. On purpose. “Oh—right, yeah.” Karlach shrugs like it’s a casual fact: the sky is blue, grass is green, and you are fucking lovely when you watch her sharpen her axe and think you’re being sly. “She’s got the prettiest eyes.”

“Cute,” says Astarion, dripping with disgust, “but are you quite sure you didn’t mean to say tits? You know, a smutty answer was preferred…”

“What? Psh, no! I would never—” Four sets of eyes are on her now, leveling that you’re-full-of-shit sort of stare right at her in various intensities. “Fine, alright,” she sighs. Knows when she’s caught, and when to surrender. “Respectfully: Tits.” And then for some Godsforsaken reason, her mouth produces the words: “Perfect handful right there, I just know it.”

Across the campfire, your lip wobbles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Too much, again, and Karlach sucks air through her teeth for an apology.

Before she gets any further, “That is… the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” you sniffle, flopping bonelessly toward Astarion like you mean to hug him. He’s faster, cat-like as he shifts away and stands, leaving you in the dirt. Literally.

“Whoever thought the bar could be so low?” Shadowheart murmurs, getting to her feet too.

“Yes,” Lae’zel agrees, a rare and beautiful thing, “that is incredibly sad.”

Karlach doesn’t have the presence of mind to think it’s strange that she follows Shadowheart off into camp. Not as you blubber just out of reach, a self-proclaimed ‘emotional drunk’ no longer when here’s the soggy proof.

The good news: She still likes you. A lot. Even as wave your arms to the starry sky and bemoan how the Gods gave their toughest battle to their weakest soldier. Not in reference to the tadpole or the goblins or the inevitable horrors to come, just that you can’t, quote, ‘get your hands on Faerûn’s most perfect ass,’ without getting scorched to the bone.

The bad news: For the same reason said hands are not on her ass, nor is her tongue in your mouth, she can’t exactly put you to bed.

The worse news: Astarion’s certainly not going to help.

He sighs, forlorn, and pouts, “So, no orgy?”

#karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #bg3 #my writing #mdni #god bless the bg3 team for second person narration tbh #was I writing pure reader insert? did I actually have a tav in mind?#you'll never know ✨#also pls clap i made that gif myself 🥺

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