#his shoulder stretch marks 🥰🥰

[raphaelsrightarm]

For bayverse turtles head cannons could you do their kinks, like top 3 or top 5 kinks please if you’re comfortable with that? Also love you and your work! 🥰🥰🥰

Long time no see haha I appreciate your patience with me for all this time but here are some of my ideas for them...

I kept most of these gender neutral but there are a few that are gendered a bit more for a female s/o

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY

Leo:

Voyeurism- consensually of course - Leo loves watching you touch yourself, plain and simple. Especially when the two of you first started being intimate. It showed him all the ways you like to be touched, showed him what feels the best to you. The further the two of you go into your relationship, it turns more into him simply loving the way pleasure looks on you. It doesn’t matter if you use your hands or a toy, he loves watching you get yourself ready for him.  

Tantric Sex - He loves intimacy, and he sees sex as a way of really feeling close to you. And yeah sometimes he needs the relief that a good fuck can give, there are nights when he just wants to feel you. To have you wrapped around him, arms looped around his neck to pull him closer  telling him of your adoration for him and him telling you the same. The journey for him can be as satisfying as the destination. 

Edging - This can go both ways for him, he loves both bringing you to brink before denying you, only to continue building you up before he finally makes you cum. But he also loves to do the same to himself, mostly by pleasing you. Whether it’s with his hand or mouth, you’ll notice him slowly stroke himself, never fully giving into his own pleasure until he absolutely can’t take it anymore. He loves to make that high even more intense when he finally chases it.

Bondage - This guy loves control. He also loves this because it shows how much trust you put in him. He sees it as its own unique form of intimacy, to allow him to tie your wrists above your head and to know that he wouldn’t do anything but please you. Afterwards, he always feels closer to you knowing how deep the trust runs between the two of you.

Heels - I’ve always thought he is a fan of legs. Doesn’t matter how thick or thin, short or long, he loves legs. Which is part of the reason he loves to see you in heels so much. They just bring out your legs in a way that drives this poor guy insane. He also secretly loves the sound of heels against the floor

Raph:

Biting/Giving Hickies - He is obsessed with seeing anything on you that marks you as his. He may not be able to be beside you at all times to keep others away, but a nice hickey on the side of your neck would work just fine. He's possessive

Spanking - Because he is an ass man, expect him to be touching the butt, a lot. He loves watching it jiggle after he smacks it and to feel how soft you are under his hands. He may also spank the kitty, if you're down with that of course…

Degradation - This will only happen to the extent that you allow it. Though he would never make fun of your body or anything like that. He loves to call you 'his whore' while he's fucking you so good the only thing you can do is agree (there are also times when he would ask for you to say it yourself).

Thigh-fucking - I'm not gonna lie, this man has an obsession with thick thighs. I'm talking cellulite and stretch marks. He loves all of it. This would be used mostly when the two of you start having sex, because let's be real this guy is PACKING so it'll be best to take things slow. He'll lift your legs up to his shoulders, and you'll cross your ankles together and just watch him get off, bonus points if you tell him how sexy he looks while he does it.

Facials - This one can go along with his obsession with giving you hickies, though this one obvisouly is much more private. He just loves the visual of it all, ya know? Staking his claim, basically. He's a possessive guy, and he tries to tone it down outside the bedroom, but he allows it to come through HEAVILY behind closed doors, and this is one of his favorite ways, by having you on your knees in front of him, his cum traced across your mouth ........

Donnie:

Sex Toys - This can span all the way from vibrators to restraints even, when he has the time to go all out with you he will absoluately take advantage of that if you're down. One of his favorites is to use a vibrator on your clit while he fucks you slow, so slow that it drives you isane, but believe that he'll have you taken care of multiple times before the night is over

Overstimulation - So this can go hand in hand with the passage above, he wants to see how much you can take, and all four of them were blessed with a high sex drive, he can go as many times as you need him to honestly. He loves the nights that leave you in a trembling mess underneath him, your nails digging into his skin with tightly you're holding onto him. It also secretly brings a swelling pride to his chest to know that he's capable of bringing you there

Phone Sex/Nudes - Let's be real this guy gets busy; there are times where he can't see you in person but trust that he won't let that complicate things too much; he loves to hear you say the filthy things you want him to do next time he's with you as he strokes himself, legs spread wide. If you were also comfortable with sending him pictures he would be ALL over that; even has a seperate folder for them that is heavily locked down

Thigh riding - Imagine sitting on his lap in his desk chair, kissing him as his hands roam up and down your body before they land on your hips, guiding them back and forth but not allowing you to go any faster than he wants you to, all the while he's whispering all the things he wants to do to you while you whimper into his ear, pressure building up higher and higher; yeah, he's a fan of this one

Choking - He'll usually only do this when his focus is completely on you, one hand between your legs while the other is squeezing the sides of your throat. Breath play can intensify an orgasm, and he loves watching it race through you even stronger. There are even times when he's alone that he'll do this for himself but you don't find that out unitl later

Mikey:

Praise - This can go either way for him, honestly. He loves to praise you but loves even more to be praised himself. He needs to know how good he's making you feel, and for you to vocalize that to him would only make him want to go even harder. Complimenting his body especially would drive him insane.

Begging - OOOO boy, this one kills him. He loves hearing you ask for what you want, it helps him feel much more confident in whatever it is the two of you do knowing just how badly you need it; also to hear the person he loves beg him to touch them, kiss them, fuck them, it drives him absolutely inSANE

Massages - His love language is touch, so being able to run his hands over your skin is quite possibly his favorite thing to do anyways, but having you laid out before him, whining the longe rhe goes on, though the both of you know he won't be able to deny you for long...

Face-Sitting - This one I feel a bit self explanatory, this guy is a munch, any possible way you let him eat you out he's going to go for it

Semi-public - A secret part of him loves watching you try to stay quiet even when your on the brink of your orgasm. He also enjoys the risk that's involved with possibly getting caught in the act especially when your legs are on his shoulders and all you can do is whisper broken up words begging him to go harder ahdkashdkjaskdfskj

[novaursa]

Hello! So grateful you have opened up your requests 🥰

Could I get one of cregan showing his wife, targ!reader, the wall for the first time?

The Wall

- Summary: Cregan takes you to see the Wall, and Silverwing comes with you.

- Paring: (wife) targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: The reader is bonded with Silverwing.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

You feel the northern chill in your bones the moment you step foot beyond Winterfell. The air grows heavier, colder, as if the very breath of the Old Gods wraps around you, sinking its icy tendrils into your flesh. It is a different kind of cold—more relentless, more biting than you have ever known in the southern lands of your birth. But then again, you expected nothing less when you agreed to accompany Cregan Stark to the Wall.

Your husband rides at your side, his fur cloak draped over broad shoulders, a sight that fills you with warmth. His face is set with the solemnity that marks his heritage, but there’s a softness there for you—a softening of his eyes whenever they meet yours, a gentle squeeze of his hand on your arm when the wind howls too sharply. His presence beside you feels like a shelter, a warmth against the harshness of the North.

“I’ve waited long to show you this,” Cregan murmurs, his voice low but carrying over the wind. There’s a rare lightness to his words, a pride that makes you smile, despite the cold biting at your cheeks.

“You speak of it as if it’s something magical,” you reply, teasing him gently, though you feel a hint of excitement bubbling beneath your words. The Wall is something that has lingered in stories and songs, a place you’ve only heard about. Yet now, you are about to see it with your own eyes.

“Some might say it is.” He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, sending warmth down your spine. “It’s a sight unlike any other. Even your dragons have their limits when it comes to the Wall.”

Your heart gives a little tug at his words, reminding you of Silverwing, the great she-dragon bonded to you since your youth. You’ve heard the stories too—of how Silverwing, despite her strength and size, refused to cross the Wall during the reign of Queen Alysanne. The tales had puzzled you, and a part of you wondered whether the creature you shared a bond with would behave the same when you reached the ancient barrier.

As the hours stretch on and you grow closer to your destination, the Wall finally emerges on the horizon—a towering monument of ice and stone, glowing eerily under the weak northern sun. The sheer size of it takes your breath away. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, as though it will shield you from the awe that grips your chest.

“There it is,” Cregan says softly, his hand brushing against yours. His voice holds a note of reverence, as if the Wall itself is something holy. “The edge of the world.”

You stare up at it, the enormity of it humbling you in a way nothing ever has. The Wall stretches impossibly high, a barrier that seems to separate not only land but realms themselves—the living and the dead, the known and the unknown.

But what captures your attention more is the sound of wings cutting through the cold air. You turn your gaze upward just in time to see the massive shadow of Silverwing circling above. Her pale, silvery scales shimmer in the dull light, a contrast against the grim, grey sky. Yet, even as she soars closer to the Wall, you see the familiar hesitation in her flight. She slows, wings beating in slower arcs, her great head turning toward the ice as if sensing some invisible barrier.

“She remembers,” you whisper, half to yourself, half to Cregan.

“Aye,” he agrees, watching with you. “The Wall holds a power older than all of us.”

You urge Silverwing with a thought, your connection with her as strong as ever. She flaps her wings harder, drawing closer to the Wall’s towering height, but just as before—just as the tales told—she stops short. Her massive body hovers in the air for a few moments, and despite your urging, she will not go any farther. The invisible force seems to push back, a resistance neither of you can break.

A quiet frustration stirs within you. “She won’t cross it,” you murmur, though you already knew this might happen. You watch her large, majestic form retreat just enough to hover out of reach.

Cregan, who has been observing quietly, steps closer to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warmth. “Perhaps she knows something we don’t,” he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. “The dragons have their wisdom, even if we don’t understand it.”

You nod, leaning into him. His presence calms you, as it always does, and you relax into his embrace. But then, something shifts.

A low, rumbling growl echoes through the air, and you turn your attention back to Silverwing. The dragon’s wings beat harder, her growl growing into a roar that vibrates through your chest. She lowers her body, as if preparing to charge, and you feel her agitation through your bond—a new determination, a will that wasn’t there before.

“What is she—” Cregan begins, but you hold up a hand, silencing him.

Silverwing surges forward, her massive wings flaring as she approaches the Wall once more. This time, there is no hesitation. The invisible force that once stopped her seems to buckle under her will, and you watch in astonishment as Silverwing pushes through the barrier. The cold air whips around you, stinging your face, as her great form crosses over the Wall, her wings carrying her higher into the northern sky.

“She did it,” you breathe, hardly able to believe what you’re seeing. You can feel her triumph, her exhilaration, as she soars over the frozen wasteland beyond. It is as if the Wall’s ancient magic has finally yielded to her strength—or perhaps to something deeper, something connected to you.

Cregan’s hand tightens on your waist, and when you look up at him, you see the awe in his eyes. “You’re the first Targaryen to make it past the Wall,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Silverwing wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.”

Your heart swells at his words, at the pride you feel through your bond with Silverwing and the warmth of Cregan’s affection. You turn in his arms, your fingers brushing against his cold cheek before you kiss him. His lips are warm, soft, a contrast to the sharp cold around you.

“Perhaps she knew it was time,” you whisper against his lips.

“Or perhaps she follows her rider,” Cregan replies, his voice low and tender as he pulls you closer.

You stay like that for a long moment, wrapped in his embrace, as the Wall looms behind you. Silverwing’s triumphant roars echo in the distance, and for the first time, you feel as though the North has truly welcomed you.

[giannan04]

Hi, can you please do a fluff featuring Han Jisung x Chubby Fem. Reader? Reader feels insecure about her body so Han makes her feel loved🥰

Of course! I’m on the chubbier side myself so I can definitely relate. I hope you like it🥹💕

You were lounging in your room, boredom settling in as the rain tapped softly against your window. The day had been long, and you found yourself caught in a cycle of self-doubt. You've been feeling insecure for the past few months. It started ever since you went with your boyfriend, Jisung, on his band's world tour. Stays, the group's fandom, were so beautiful, and you began to compare yourself to them. You even started to wonder why Jisung chose you as his girlfriend out of all the pretty girls he could have chosen.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted your thoughts, and you sluggishly got up to answer it. As you opened the door, you saw a small package lying on the welcome mat. Your heart fluttered—this was the delivery you'd been waiting for. You had ordered a bunch of new clothes online, hoping that the clothes would make you feel better about yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this new clothing would be the change you needed.

You carried the package inside, feeling excited as you carefully opened it. Inside were a few new items you had picked out: a crop top, some jeans, and a dress. You decided to try them on, hoping that the new styles might put your insecurities to rest.

First, you slipped into the crop top. It was a sexy black halter top. You smiled, anticipating how sexy you were going to look. However, as you looked in the mirror, your excitement quickly turned to disappointment. The top fit tightly, drawing attention to your stomach. Also, the top was cut way too short. You knew it was a crop top, but this one revealed too much belly. Your stretch marks, which you had been trying to ignore for as long as you could remember, seemed more noticeable than ever. The sight of the unsightly lines on your stomach brought tears to your eyes as you traced them with your fingers. You tugged at the fabric of the top, hoping it would hide the things you felt insecure about, but it only made them more visible. Sighing heavily, you took the top off and tossed it aside.

Next were the jeans. You squeezed into them, but they felt constricting, especially around your thighs. The way they clung to you seemed to accentuate the very areas you were self-conscious about. You stared at your reflection, feeling a pang of frustration as the jeans pulled and creased in all the wrong places. They made your thighs look even bigger than usual. You quickly removed them, adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes.

Finally, you tried on the dress. It was a beautiful light pink sundress, but it did nothing to make you feel better. It hugged your curves in ways that made you uncomfortable, highlighting the acne on your chest and shoulders as it did so. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling overwhelmed and disgusted by the sight. You had hoped these clothes would make you feel better, but they only magnified your insecurities. You felt worse than ever, your self-esteem plummeting.

Feeling defeated, you threw the clothes back into the box and shut it with a snap. You were going to return these clothes as soon as possible. You sat back on your bed, scrolling through social media for a distraction. But as you flicked through Instagram, the flawless images of influencers and models with perfect skin and slim bodies only intensified your insecurity. The comparisons were relentless, and you couldn't shake the thought that Jisung, your boyfriend, might feel the same way. Did he wish he were with someone who looked more like those models? Was he ashamed of you? The idea kept picking at you, deepening your self-doubt. You threw your phone on the ground and buried yourself in your covers, bawling. You weren't sure how long you'd been crying, but it must've been a while as you heard Jisung walking in the front door. He always left the studio late.

"Y/n? I'm home," he called. You stayed silent. You were afraid that if you opened your mouth, he would be able to hear that you had been crying.

Jisung kept calling your name until he reached the bedroom. "Hi, babe," he smiled when he saw you, running over to give you a kiss, which you returned half-heartedly.

Jisung knew something was wrong. He was always able to sense when you were upset. He looked at your face, immediately noticing your wet cheeks. It was obvious to him that you'd been crying. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You opened your mouth to say something, but you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm not enough," you cried. "You deserve someone prettier, someone skinnier. Why did you choose me out of all the girls you could have had?" You placed your hands in your face, sobbing.

Jisung's expression softened with sadness as he reached out to gently cup your face. "Listen to me," he said, his voice tender. "You are more than enough. You're beautiful just the way you are, and I love every part of you." The warmth of Jisung's hands on your face didn't even make you feel better. You shook your head, not believing him.

You tried to turn away, but Jisung held your gaze firmly. He tightened his grip on your face only slightly. His gaze was gentle and loving. "When I look at you," he continued, "I see your beautiful curves, the beautiful print of your stretch marks, and the unique features that make you who you are. I adore your thick thighs because they're part of what makes you uniquely you. They're also so sexy to me, and I love the way they feel in my hands when I squeeze them, and how soft they are when I lay in your lap. I cherish your stomach and the way you carry yourself. Your acne, your stretch marks—they're part of your beauty. They're not flaws; they're what make you special to me." Jisung had started caressing your body as he told you this. You didn't notice, but you started smiling. This was one of the many reasons why you loved Jisung; he always knew how to make you feel better.

He pulled you into a warm embrace, his touch reassuring. "You don't have to change a thing. I love you just as you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Your imperfections are part of what makes you beautiful. You'll always be the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

As he held you close, his words began to soothe you. Jisung's words were a gentle reminder that your worth wasn't defined by your appearance or by what you saw online. It was defined by the love and acceptance you shared with him.

In his arms, with his heartfelt words still running through your mind, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were enough.

Jisung looked at you and smirked. "Now, get undressed so I can show you how beautiful you are to me."

[zwhoreo]

Hi!! I absolutely love the way you write Luffy, especially his affections!! Can you write some headcanons maybe of all the little affectionate touches or gestures he makes when you’re together? 🥰💖

ahh that means a lot coming from one of my fav writers I follow!! shoutout kitty you're so cool <3 also i loved this request and I'll definitely be taking inspiration from this list i made for future fics

luffy and affection - luffy x gn!reader headcanons

fluff

summary in request, a compilation of my ideas for how luffy would show affection in your relationship

contains: three sections - hugging, kissing, sleeping

words: ~ 550

________________________

Next to quality time, Luffy’s main love language is physical touch, so he’s extremely affectionate and needy

It doesn’t matter if you’re usually not into touch, or if you’re really affectionate, whatever kind of person you are, your relationship with him will have to be full of affection and physical contact. That’s how he shows love and appreciation

clingy, loves to cuddle, likes to talk to you just inches away from your face, because he loves you so much

Here are the ways he shows his affection in hugging, kissing, and sleeping…

Hugging 

Would like to hug you constantly even before you had any feelings for each other, and even more after, it’s just his instinct

Especially after something scary or intense happens on an adventure

Will hug you whenever he feels like it, and often he’s sort of just attached to you

He has no sense of personal space and likes to be pressed against your body as much as possible

He’ll try to climb on top of you, even if you’re smaller than him

That thing in the show where he hugs someone around their face with his legs on their shoulders? He’ll do that and knock you over

That thing every Luffy headcanon has, where he’ll stretch his arms and grab you/launch himself toward you from across the deck? I agree

Kissing 

Maybe… an oral fixation? (Freudian psychological term for someone whose mouth is a highly erogenous zone, who always wants to be chewing something or keeping their mouth occupied for comfort and to soothe nerves)

^ So he likes to kiss you all the time, and especially so if he’s feeling any type of strong emotion (excitement, joy, stress, sadness, anger…)

Like i said, no personal space, and so, as he talks to you just inches away, he’ll take you by surprise and lean in for a quick kiss whenever he feels like it

He’ll kiss, chew, and suck on your fingers. Not in a sexual way, it’s just because he gets to hold your hand and occupy his mouth at the same time

Sleeping

In canon, Luffy seeks out touch in his sleep. So this will be no different for you, and even more, as he can’t settle unless some part of his body, preferably all of it, is touching yours

He will hold you so close and tight that you feel sore the next morning.

I saw a headcanon somewhere that he’ll use his stretchy limbs to wrap you up and tangle himself with you, and i agree  

His leg will be over yours, his arm around your waist, his hand in your hair.

In his sleep, he plays with your hair, when he’s having vivid dreams he sometimes pulls too hard and wakes you up

Although there are times he sleeps with his head buried in your neck or chest, or yours in his, more often than not his face is directly pressed against yours

^ This is too close and sort of uncomfortable for you, but Luffy loves it, and you’ll have to adjust to the sensation 

^ His mouth will be pressed next to yours, and he sleeps with his mouth open, a sheen of his saliva coating your lips and chin when you wake up

^ His eyelashes will twitch and tickle your eyelids as he dreams

^ Your cheek will be covered in little teeth marks

^ His snoring will be loud, but you’ll get used to it

^ His heavy breathing on your face becomes a comfort for you

Even in the common awkward or uncomfortable positions of the night, you’re going to have the best sleep ever

[delphi-dreamin]

Hiya sweet thing 💕

May I request threesome Headcanons between MC, Solomon and Asmo or MC, Beel and Belphie 🌻

Love you darling heart. 😚😚

Saadie, my love, you have created a monster. I had to physically stop myself because I could have gone on forever. Once I got started, the words just wouldn't stop.

I...may have gotten a bit carried away. 😳

Anyway, threesome headcanons! 🔞 Minors, kindly fuck off 🥰

Attic Club Sandwich

What could be better than one demon pleasing you? Two. Who are somehow telepathically linked and focused entirely on you.

You don’t know exactly how the twin thing works, but they somehow each know exactly where the other is going to be, what the other is going to do, and use that to enhance your pleasure.

They each have their favorite places to touch and tease you. Beel can't get enough of your neck and shoulders, kissing, sucking, biting at the sensitive skin and drawing beautiful little whimpers and moans from your delicate throat. He also thoroughly enjoys the soft skin of your tummy, squeezing and kneading and lightly pinching the fat there, however thick or thin the layer, he loves it.

Belphie adores your thighs. Of course they’re perfect for napping on, plush as any pillow and warm against his cheek. But he also loves licking a stripe up your inner thigh, kissing and nipping playfully to elicit a response from you. When you arch your back, he greedily bites down on the spot, just to hear the blissful cry you give him. He loves your tits almost as much. Perfect for laying his head on, or nuzzling between, the velvety flesh tender and responsive when he squeezes and caresses, and he loves the little yelp you make when he takes your nipple between his teeth and bites.

But when you have the two of them together? Laying back against Beel’s expansive chest, his mouth on your shoulder and large hands gripping your waist, with Belphie between your thighs, kissing and biting his way to your core? It's a close to heaven as you've ever been in hell.

Usually, Belphie fucks you first. He’s not as big as his twin, and he prefers getting to feel just how tight you are around him before you’re stretched and relaxed for Beel. And he's wonderful at working you open, taking his time to really warm you up, getting at least two orgasms out of you before he lets Beel take over.

And when Beel takes over. He’s huge. We know this. Even after Belphie’s prepped you, he’s still a stretch. A delicious stretch, but he’s careful to take his time and make it as good for you as it is for him. He isn’t as rough as Belphie can be, knowing how easily he could hurt you. But between Belphie's hands and mouth on you and his cock splitting you open, the noises you make for them? He can sometimes get a little carried away.

They both love looking at the marks the other gave you, Belphie admiring the purple ring that Beel’s teeth left on your shoulder and Beel gently caressing the deep red hickies his twin left on your thigh. They’re both happy knowing that you make their twin so happy.

Laying between them after is so comforting. Resting your head on Beel’s chest while Belphie’s curled against your back, both of their hands resting possessively on your warm skin, their breath cool and reassuring as they dream peacefully. Knowing just from their touch how much they both love you.

Yeah...I may have gotten carried away. 🙈 Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! 💖

Taglist: @sassykattery @sparkbeast20 @attic-club-sandwich @kyungjoon-do @consolationblog @rensphilia @flemmingbamse

[miss-celestia13]

Mask On

Jake x MC - Smut One-Shot

The lovely @hacked-by-jake asked if I could write a smut scene inspired by this meme. I said yes, it’s been a while, and it was a lot of fun; I missed writing smut 🤭 all credit to HBJ; I wrote it, but it was her meme that inspired me enough to do so!

It's sex against a window! So they can watch themselves. And Jake can enjoy the visual of MC coming apart for him while wearing his mask.

It’s also available on Ao3.

With that out the way, I hope you enjoy it 🥰

The MC here is my Manon from Marked Me Like a Bloodstain and other stories. But you don’t have to read those to be able to read this. This is more of an “in another life, we might’ve done this instead” type of thing. It doesn’t fit their current timeline and can be read as its own story.

It is a dual POV. The names are in bold when they change.

———————-

The elevator ascended in slow motion. Or felt that way to Manon. She was a ball of frenetic energy as she stole glimpses of Jake from her periphery and edged ever closer. He was remarkably tight-lipped despite the filth that spilled from his lips a mere 24 hours before they arrived.

They were rising to the top floor of a swanky apartment complex he’d brought her to from the airport. She’d known he had a base home hidden in the city and was aware he had money stashed in secret accounts and cash buried in multiple places in Duskwoods forest. However, upon seeing this fancy building, she realized he was wealthy as she caught sight of the formally dressed doorman who required ID on entry and observed the expensive marble floors, polished to a dazzling shine, as they walked over them.

A thousand questions swirled in her overactive mind, but she kept it all inside as the elevator came to a sharp stop. Jake turned to her, a bashful smile curling the corners of his full mouth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It might be a bit of a mess.” He said, sounding uncertain.

She sidled closer, slipping her hand into his to squeeze, and smirked as she replied, “After all we’ve been through, do you really think a little dust will frighten me?”

He chuckled, lovely and deep, and she fought off a shiver as he led the way out the open doors and into a red-carpeted hallway. The beat of her heart went out of time as they approached a black door, and Jake took out his keys. She let go of his hand and stepped back, pretending she didn’t notice how his hand shook as he turned the key.

An eardrum piercing, loud, robotic screech sliced through the peaceful quiet between them, and Jake hurried inside, beckoning her with a hand as he punched in the code to shut off the alarms.

“Well, that would wake the dead, never mind frighten off an intruder.” She joked to lighten the tension, settling on Jake’s shoulders as he loosed a sigh once the alarm silenced.

As he said, “I couldn’t let myself get caught unawares,” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck, continuing, “It had to be loud enough that I’d hear it through my headphones.”

She nodded as they kicked off their shoes, surveying the expansive apartment as Jake locked the door. Her eyes skipped the other closed doors she assumed led to his bedroom and the room she’d seen in their first video call. The sparsely furnished space held little personality; the most dominant feature was a massive dark couch by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She suspected the stretched around the whole building.

“I’m guessing they treat those windows in a way that allows only you to see out and prevents anyone from looking in?” She asked when Jake seemed anxious about her thoughts on how he once lived.

He gave her a sly smirk and slid a hand around her waist to guide her into the living area before he spoke. She watched him in the window reflection.

“You guess right. I can’t have a drone appearing outside and catching sight of me.”

She wanted to cry for him, but knew he wouldn’t want her pity. Manon did what she did best—distracted him.

“And where do exhausted hackers sleep when they finally run out of caffeine?”

With a suggestive brow waggle, she turned to face him and grinned so extensively that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could see her wisdom teeth.

Jake laughed, stepping closer and staring at her as he said, “We sleep wherever we fall. But I assume you’re looking to rummage through my bedroom. Unfortunately, you’ll be disappointed. There’s just a bed and a gun safe in there.”

“You really know how to get my blood going. Guns and a bed? What more could a girl want? Come on, show me!” She teased, grabbed his hand, and tugged until he allowed her to drag him behind her.

He laughed as she flung open the door and came to a stuttering halt.

“I warned you. I rarely used this room,” he said.

She cast her gaze around the ample space and shook her head. He hadn’t been lying. There was only a double bed and a safe cunningly disguised as a nightstand decorating the room. Or so she thought. Her feet were moving toward the black and white object hanging on a hook beside the bed. It was in her hands before she could recall giving her body the command to move.

Jake had worn the scuffed and cracked Guy Fawkes mask during his video calls. Without thinking, she turned it over and pulled the elastic attached to the back and shoved the mask over her head. It severely limited her peripheral vision, the hard plastic cut into her jaw, and it smelled slightly sweet and sour. A blend of chemicals and sweat, she thought.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts she didn’t notice Jake had gone wholly still as though petrified.

“Don’t tell me you actually wore this on a regular basis? It’s terribly uncomfortable. I thought it was just for me, so I wouldn’t be able to describe you if Bloomgate ever got off his ass and did some work!”

There was a long pause, and Jake seemed to take a steadying breath as she cut her eyes to him. He practically trembled as she frowned at him.

“What’s wrong? Is there some strange rule that only you can wear this mask?” She enquired when he only fisted his hands and groaned softly.

He shook his head. His pupils had blown wide, black swamping the blue, and his fingers spasmed at his sides as though he wanted to reach for her. It hit her like a slap, and she grinned behind the mask, adopting a nonchalant stance as her muscles went loose and she sauntered closer to him.

“Are you going to answer me? Or has an invisible cat caught your tongue?”

It was as if she electrocuted him. He shuddered, blinked heavily, and said in a sheepish tone, “What were the questions?”

She choked down a gleeful laugh and swished her hips as she approached him. Her dress swirled around her knees as she moved and she lay a hand on his chest to feel the rapid fluttering under his skin.

“I asked if you really wore this mask while working, Jake. Keep up, love.” She taunted, tilting her head and tapping her fingers over his pounding heart.

Jake reached up and rested his hand over hers as he shook his head, grinning freely, saying, “It’s an annoying accompaniment to my lifestyle. I have faith in my ability to prevent people from getting through my intensive security measures. Still, if someone manages to view me through the webcam, they won’t see anything they can identify.”

“Clever. Handsome, intelligent, and you have a filthy mouth on you? Are you real, or am I dead and in heaven?” She said in a sing-song voice, edging into his personal space until her senses were filled with him. She reached up and shoved the mask up so it rested atop her head.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and replied, “I don’t know about that, but I’m real. It’s you I’m wondering about.”

She smirked, winding her arms around his neck as she said, “And what are you wondering about me?”

Jake drew a deep breath, pulling her closer, eyes flicking to the mask on her head and back to her again.

“You’re wicked, infuriating, and so beautiful. I’m terrified I’ll mess you up.”

With a purr in her voice, she said, “If you don’t mess me up, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

It wasn’t what he meant; she knew his fears of dragging her down with him, but she was prepared to fight for him. The air between them was electric. A thrumming current seeped under her skin and made her restless; her eyes dipped to his mouth. His gaze did the same to her, neither wanting to break the spell as the delicious tension threaded through them.

She felt like a moth at a candlelight vigil whenever she was around him—overwhelmed, unable to keep still, and desperate to share his light.

He pressed his forehead to hers. They were sharing breath, and her lips tingled as familiar impatience itched at her and demanded she push up on her toes and close the distance.

Time seemed to halt as she waited for him to make a move; her voice was little more than an airy breath as she said, “Do you want to kiss me now or later? Or both?”

His response was instantaneous. “Both.”

She chuckled, low and throaty, and said, “Good answer,” before taking the lead and digging her fingers into his hair to pull him down to her.

The first brush of his lips on hers was the sweetest. His deep groan as she plastered herself to his front and silently encouraged him to kiss her forcefully sent a wave of lovely heat rolling out from her center. He listened to her unspoken demand, much to her delight.

His hands splayed wide on her back. One slid up to cup the back of her neck, the other settled on the base of her spine and tugged her flush against his rapidly hardening cock. She almost whined as his bristled mouth bruised hers, coaxing her open, and his tongue slipped inside to slide along hers as she sighed in relief.

Glittering, scalding heat surged through her, turning her liquid between her thighs and making her hands shake as she lightly pulled his hair as though to drag him inside her. She forgot about seeing his hacker hideout as his sharp teeth nipped and his plush mouth ruled hers.

She wasn’t a religious woman, but when he kissed and touched her like this, she felt like she was holy. The silly, dramatic thought made her smile into his addictive lips as their breathing grew labored and their hands wandered.

She didn’t know where to touch first. All of him. Preferably draped all over her.

Her fingers roamed along his broad shoulders and back again, climbing up his neck to cup his bearded jaw as his tongue flicked in her mouth and his hands gripped her hips mean.

Chemistry sizzled between them like a pot of rich, thick molten chocolate begging to be indulged and she was nothing if not a greedy woman. His knee parted her thighs, and she whimpered as it pressed against where she burned for him.

The skimpy underwear she wore was already soaked as she wriggled against the hard length trapped between them and gave into the urge to grind down on his muscled thigh. Sparks shot through her like tiny lightning strikes. Their kissing turned wet, sloppy, and utterly filthy.

A thrill shimmered down her spine, setting her entire nervous system alight and making breathing difficult. What little air she could suck in. Jake stole it right from her mouth. Heat built to a blaze inside her and her empty cunt clenched in complaint as his hands moved to grasp her ass and began kneading her until she was in a frenzy of sensation and painful anticipation.

She nipped at his plump bottom lip, teeth sinking in and pulling, a whine leaving her as she felt him smirking into it. Her pulse flickered in her neck. The shake in her hands turned to a quake, and she needed him to touch her. She needed him to fuck her before she came out of her sweat and gooseflesh adorned skin.

He tasted wild and sweet and felt like home. A place she’d long given up finding until he appeared in her path. She was desperate to have him inside her.

Jake felt Manon’s distress as her body shivered and tautened under his hands. He hadn’t expected that her wearing the mask would have such a profound effect on him. His painfully hard cock twitched as he teased her tongue with his and bent at the knee, sliding his hands down the back of her parted thighs to grab hold of her and hoist her up.

Her legs wreathed around his waist and locked in place. Captivated by the little sounds she made and the way she fit perfectly into all his hollow spaces.

Her enveloping body was a warm embrace of sunshine, wrapping around him like a cocoon and melting the night’s chill from his bones. The heat emanating from her scalded him as he blindly walked over to the wall of windows and pinned her against it.

Freeing a hand, he flattened it on the window beside her head as his other hand tapped her thigh. She hesitated all of a second before catching on and unwound her legs from his waist as he reluctantly parted from her mouth to help her stand on weak knees. His heart trembled in his panting chest as she looked at him with eyes full of trust and smoky lust. Their emerald color had darkened to evergreen as she licked at her swollen lips and waited for his next move.

He eyed the mask perched precariously on her head and decided. She liked it when he bossed her around.

“Turn around, step back, and face the window.”

He moved away to give her space and smiled when she immediately did as he bid. The flimsy dress she wore had buttons from the neckline to the hem, all down her front, and his fingers itched to tug it open, but he held it back as she met his eye in the window reflection.

“Good. Now, put the mask on, Sweetheart,” he ordered in an undertone he barely recognized.

He watched her as she swallowed thickly and shifted on her bare feet. Time slowed to a crawl as he observed her hands lifting and grabbing the mask, slipping it down to cover her face as he nodded in approval.

A sparkling, fizzing sensation trickled down his spine and swirled in his lower back, sweeping through all of him and he was hard enough to hammer nails as he swept her long hair up in hand. He let the pale strands rest over her shoulder and dropped his head to the side of her throat he’d bared for his teeth.

He ran his nose down the elegant column of her neck and inhaled her warm, spicy scent and let it feed the desire racing through his bloodstream. She trembled as he brushed his lips over her rattling pulse and bit down. He banded an arm around her to keep her upright as she gave a muffled moan and her knees failed her.

The scent of her arousal, heavy with musk, was a humid warmth cloaking them both as he sucked and bit her skin, a swipe of his tongue over the small hurt so she murmured his name. His cock jumped at the sound of it. There were so many emotions packed into that four-letter name of his. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved them yet, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

He glanced at the window as his hands moved to her full breasts and cupped them, enjoying the weight of them in his palms as he watched them in the night dark window.

Manon stopped seeing the incredible view of the city as Jake teased her sensitive flesh, nipples stiffening to hard peaks, and the wetness between her legs turned to a drenching flood.

If he didn’t have that devouring look in his eyes, she would feel foolish wearing the mask, but his feverish touch and harsh breathing conveyed his desire was at a level she had never seen from him. Excitement turned her legs to water as he grasped the neckline of her dress. She gasped in shock and giddy pleasure as he tore it wide open. The fragile buttons were no challenge for him. They popped free and clattered off the window as he hurriedly dragged it down her arms and exposed her nearly naked body to his starving eyes.

Sweat trailed down her face as she ignored the ache eating away at her fast failing patience. Her mouth went dry as she saw his reflection take off his t-shirt and jeans, hands fisting at her sides as she waited for his move. His boxers and socks soon joined the rest of clothes on the floor and his fiery body melted into hers from behind.

She ground her ass against his hard cock. Wetness dripped down her inner thighs as her mind skipped ahead and she needed him inside her before she exploded from the ardour burning through her. She luckily didn’t have to wait long before his large hands were on her again.

He latched his fingers into the elastic back of her mask and firmly pulled her head back. His other hand slid around her hip and traveled to her weeping cunt, teasing her soaked folds through her underwear. His fingertips traced the shape of her like a rhapsody, each taunting stroke composing a symphony of desire that echoed through her entire being.

Her head lolled against his chest as he shoved the lace covering her aside and met no resistance as he plunged two fingers into her tight cunt. The strangled moan that left her seemed to bounce off the walls as she felt herself clenching to keep him from leaving her body. Slick and so hot, he groaned. She couldn’t think as he played with her like he’d always known her body.

Her pounding heart and rushing blood muted all sounds as those fingers moved within her taut heat and she ground herself into his hand at his whispered urging. Her cunt clasped and unclasped as he grazed her clit and sent a trail of wheeling stars scattering across her bare skin.

The hand holding her mask slipped to wrap around her throat and the gentle squeeze he gave her was a warning of what was to come. She couldn’t wait for it. The simple action sent her heart thrumming, and she panted into the plastic covering her face. Any discomfort it might’ve caused blasted away by Jake’s obvious delight in it.

His touch unraveled her like a tightly bound scroll, releasing a cascade of longing and urgency that surged through her veins like liquid flame.

Suddenly, he removed his hands from her and stepped away, leaving her swaying as her head spun and she blinked stupidly as he whirled her to face him and ripped the mask off her. He dropped to his knees in front of her and did the same with her underwear, lifting her ankles one by one to help her step out of them. He tossed them both aside without a care as he crowded her until her overheated skin met the cold window. She hissed in shock as her head thudded back to meet his ravenous gaze.

“I want to taste my name on your tongue as I fuck you,” he said in a voice like a growl.

She squeezed her legs together to counter the ache as her empty cunt clamped around nothing and her essence glazed her inner thighs.

She formed three words, but they were enough. “Fuck me then.”

His smirk was salacious. They pounced on each other, and he quickly caught her. She extinguished his midnight chuckle with a dirty kiss and he trapped her between him and the window. He reached under her to palm his cock.

Her hips tilted as he ran the fat head of him through her saturated folds and sank inside her so fast she had no time to prepare as he stretched and filled her so completely she didn’t have room for the air in her lungs. Her nails clawed at his shoulders, mouth agape and gasping as his hand smoothed loose strands of damp hair away from her sweaty face.

The maddening pressure built and built as he remained unmoving to let her acclimate to his sudden invasion. Her hips rolled, and she used his shoulders for purchase to lift and drop back down, taking him to the hilt, both groaning as she slowly softened for him.

He muttered her name as he let her breathe and studied her face as she shook in his arms. Part of her worried the treatment on the windows only went so far and someone in the building across from them might get the show of a lifetime. But most of her didn’t care if that was true. Let them watch.

Jake had gone still, muscles jumping and quivering as she made soft little noises of frustration as that intense pressure demanded a release. Her skin stuck to the glass and there was an audible sound as he peeled her off it and he at last moved. Shallow darts of his cock inside her to open her up and rile her further.

His strength thrilled her, no strain as he hefted her up and finally, finally slammed her down on his rigid cock. Her rapturous cry of pleasure sliced through their heavy breaths and the vulgar smack of flesh meeting flesh. Fingers dug into her ass as he fucked her, planting violets and giving him more leverage to ruin her.

Every deep caress of his cock inside her dripping cunt set her ablaze, a wildfire of untamed passion consuming her as she surrendered to the exhilarating storm of sensation. When he kissed her, she clung to his hair, fingers weaving through the black strands until she could use it to hold him captive against her whining mouth.

He tasted like sin, felt like heaven and looked like hers all at once, and she could only hold on. It was as though someone had flain the first layer of her skin to expose her nerves. Even the whisper of air pressing against her skin as his hand braced on the window sent a bolt of fire down her torso.

His lips branding hers, his thumping heart that matched the beat of her own, and the heady, clean scent of his skin. She wanted to never forget a single detail. They had earned this. Through blood and sweat and fire, they had earned this and she would be damned if she didn’t take all he offered her. Tension coiled in her core as his thrusts fell out of rhythm and each one shunted her up the window.

As his tongue teased hers, she yanked on his hair, feeling owned by him and getting swept away. Drowning in the blistering sea of their shared desire. The heat in her abdomen grew out of control, but it was nothing compared to the fire she had kindled in Jake. All the awkwardness in him had vanished, and he fucked her like he’d never get the chance to do so again.

He stole moan after moan from her. The sanity eroding tension coiled and coiled until it drove her to the brink of insanity and made it impossible for her to breathe. Her stuttering hips, his thick cock, and her clenching cunt were all she knew, her throaty cries smothered against his stubbled lips as they rubbed her mouth raw.

Hovering on the brink of shattering, Manon sobbed and rocked her hips, freeing a hand from his hair. She worked it between them. The tense skin of her stomach flickered as her fingers ghosted over it and she kept going until she swirled them around her swollen clit.

“Fuck, Manon,” Jake cursed as her inner walls clamped down hard on his cock, making her smile.

A little helpless sound spilled from her as she toyed with herself and the tension in her drew so taut she arched. Jake pounded into her mercilessly, giving her no room to calm down. The sensations and lust were so intense her mind fractured with jagged white light and she struggled to withstand the tremendous pleasure ricocheting through her.

Her body convulsed as she circled her clit and pushed herself to the precipice. Jake sobbed into her mouth as he felt her clench around his cock, burying his face in her neck as his forceful thrusts slowed a little. Bursts of darkness speckled the edges of her vision as her orgasm sparked its warning.

Relief glimmered at the back of her mind as her back arched again and Jake lifted his head to see her face. His voice was a sinful melody she’d been searching for from the beginning of time.

“Come for me, Sweetheart. Take me with you.”

Any thoughts she had left disintegrated at his words. Her fingers swiped that bundle of nerves deliberately again and again. The rough glide of his heavy cock inside her threw her over the edge and she splintered into a million glistering pieces. His kiss smothered her warbling moan of his name as her cunt spasmed around his cock and sucked him in deeper, dragging him down with her as he slammed home one last time and they soon sank to the floor as his legs failed him.

Her twitching, useless body slumped and practically merged into his as he lazily drank from her mouth and ran soothing hands down her slick back. She felt every jump of his cock as he spilled into her, and her inner walls fluttered as the scalding waves of her release rippled out from her core.

How long they sat there in a complete knot of disheveled limbs, kissing and touching. She didn’t keep count. Just reveled in it and in him, as he silently told her he loved her. She shivered from the chill settling in the room at some point and he instantly broke away from her lips, concern in his cobalt eyes that she rushed to comfort.

“I’m just a little cold. Take me to bed and warm me up again.” She winked and smiled softly as the worry in his gaze cleared and he gave her a proud smirk as he eyed the bite mark he’d left on her neck.

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, but made no move to get up. She caught sight of the Guy Fawkes mask, and an enticing idea popped into her mind.

“After we sleep a bit and you’re able to go again, it’s your turn to wear the mask.”

A startled laugh burst from him as she nodded seriously and fixed her features into a haughty expression as he said, “Is that an order or a punishment for making you wear it?”

She gave an indolent shrug, committing his smile to memory and hoping to make good on her promise to christen every room in his apartment before they left for Duskwood. There was only one thing left to say.

“It can be both if you’re into it. Pain and pleasure, Jake,” she said in an imperious tone that made him shake his head and she patted his shoulder, jerking her head toward the bedroom door as she finished, “Come on, let’s get food and some sleep. You’ll need your strength later.”

——————————-

Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time. If you comment or reblog, thank you so much for that as well❤️

If I have time, I might write another part where Jake wears the mask. But I am busy with many other stories, and it won’t happen anytime soon.

I hope Sunday treats you well!

[pearl-blue-musings]

too good to be true

Hiiii I’m low key obsessed with this song and I felt he was the perfect person for this 🥰 just a nice gentle morning with him

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x reader

A/N: post time skip, feelings from my selfship, post sex

Word Count: 620

Droplets of sweat dry on your skin as the smell of breakfast being made wafts into the room. The sheets still smell of your slow morning love making and his drifting cologne from the night before. The room is softly lit from the cloud filled sky filtering through the blinds. You groan slightly as the forming bruises on your hips and ass wake you up more than the smells in your nostrils or the man resting against the door frame. His shirtless frame has bite and scratch marks which you can barely see from the sleep in your eyes. You want to kiss at his chest but then remember that your own chest is uncovered and heavy. He might not imply it, but your boyfriend is more of a tits guy than he lets on.

With his mug of coffee in his hand and a gentle smile on his face, Tsukishima admires you quietly. He had snuck out of bed after your morning session to make you breakfast, thankful that his day doesn’t start until the afternoon. The look of love and adoration on his face is something he never thought would be possible in all of his life. At times you feel like this is a dream you don’t want to wake up from; and he the same. It may be overcast right now, but that is not how he feels when he’s with you. When your eyes lock onto each other, god he thinks you’re the most beautiful creature in the world, tired, naked, hair a mess. You groan and with sleep laced in your voice greet him with a, “good morning, baby.” You stretch your arms and he’s tempted to take you all over again. Tsukishima strides over to you and sits beside you, kissing you on the lips.

“You need to brush your teeth.”

“And you need to not expect too much of me this early,” you retort back.

Kei merely chuckles and pecks your lips again. He places the mug on the nightstand to cup your face and deepen the kiss. The both of you moan and groan into the kiss, getting lost exploring your bodies again. His kiss is possessive but his caresses are feather light. Your fingers trail through his soft golden blond hair before breaking apart for air. Tsukishima is about to get up when you hold onto his wrist. “What is it?”

You bite your lip and look away briefly, your insecurities and anxiety coming to the forefront. You breathe deeply before finally asking, “do you regret this? Knowing me?”

Kei sighs and pushes himself off the bed, grabbing your hands to bring you to standing. You’re thankful for the rug underneath the bed as the cold wood floor would have you shivering. “Look at me, all of me.” You do as he says and scan his nearly naked body up and down. He’s gorgeous, you think, littered in bruises and scars from volleyball and life. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. He takes your hands in his and rubs calming circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. “I don’t let just anyone see me like this. You are the only person I want to see me in this way. And whatever your dumb brain cooks up,” he pokes your forehead and you pout with a giggle, “is simply not true.”

You sigh and release your shoulders. “I know, it’s just…all of this is scary for me. I don’t want this to be too good to be true. What if I’m dreaming?”

“Then we both are, stupid. Now come on, you know I don’t cook but it is our anniversary, so come get your food, love.”

[nerdieforpedro]

Gimmie a Show

Tim Rockford x plus size wife AFAB reader

Summary: Tim gets from home late from work and has something for you.

Warnings: Tim fresh out of the shower (hot damn 🥵), slight body worship (maybe), oral sex - female receiving, unprotected P in V (wrap up IRL), creampie, aftercare, snuggles 🥰

Word Count: 757

Notes: Where this came from, it seems to come all from the haze of horny I’ve been in lately. I also read a new fic by @magpiepills last night 🔥 and a wonderful Frankie read written by @morallyinept as part of her summer Pedro boys Drabbles (I need to catch up on so much 😭) so…influence? lol

Main Masterlist / Tim Rockford Masterlist

You’d been awakened by the sound of running water. The shower you presume. Rockford always washes the day away before coming to bed. Part of his ritual when getting home, no matter late or early. He always comments that he wants to at least feel clean in his own home from the cases he investigates.

Normally he’s tired, maybe a quickie prior to going back to sleep or before work in the morning. But not this. The detective has stepped out of the bathroom fully nude, purposely being a bit loud with putting the toothpaste away and closing the medicine cabinet a bit harder than usual in an effort to wake you up. He could have just shaken you awake or tapped your shoulder. If he did that, he couldn’t make an entrance, give you a bit of a show. The grin on your face is evident as you pull off your nightgown and the both of you are exposed to each other.

“Hell of a way to wake a lady up Tim.” The lust in your voice is masked by your chuckle. His crooked smile descends quickly as he captures your lips in a frenzied kiss. Your bodies miss each other, the short sessions meet the need in the interim but you miss his hands slowly dragging over your breasts, kneading them while he moans into your mouth. Your legs wrapping around his waist before he pushes them down and works his way down your body, trailing kisses before flicking his tongue at your sensitive bundle of nerves. Tim always alternates between that magic mouth of his and his skillful fingers forcing you to call nothing but his name into the dark of the night.

“Come on beautiful, use me one more time. I need to feel you flutter again for me." Tim’s fingers are curled inside of you, making your hips jerk while he holds your head back and bites your neck. He's hard and dripping on the bed, but won't enter you unless you give him a third orgasm. He wants you slick and ready to take him so he won't need to start slow. His voice rings in your ear after he bites your earlobe. "You can do it. You know you want me to stretch you again. Tell your cunt to quiver."

“Please I can’t, so much. Too much baby.” You cry but he doesn’t relent and your pussy flutters just like he wanted. Your legs are opened wide, waiting for him to enter you, looking down, he’s grinning at the convulsing muscles of your canal. “Tim. Come to me honey.” He follows your beckoning and runs his leaking head across your folds. The expansion is welcome and with muscle memory, your previously tired legs are around his waist as he draws back and fills you deeply.

The sweet friction has you scratching his back as his thrusts move you up the bed. Tim’s pace alternates between steady and rapid in an effort to draw out the activity for you both. He leans back and pushes your legs back, changing his angle of entry and hitting a spot that makes you mewl with your fingers gripping his forearms. You’re so close, and so is he from the way his dick is throbbing inside of you. Rockford’s teeth nibble the back of your calf while his thrusts become more intense and you anticipate his warmth. About half a dozen thrusts in, your walls are painted and you have a bite mark on your calf. It will match the nail indentations on Tim’s back and forearms.

Panting with him remaining inside of you as your cunt milks his turgid member of his spend, you lock eyes with him and smile. He helps you out of bed and over into the bathroom to clean up and you wipe him down as well. He stands behind you as you both look over your bodies in the mirror, Tim much more marked up than you.

“I missed your little scratches all over me sweetheart. Had to get some new ones. I love you.” He kisses your forehead and you cup his face, your fingers playing in his beard that’s gotten a bit more salt with the pepper.

“Put on a show like that for me again and I’ll scratch you anywhere you want Tim.” A slap to your wide ass echoes in the bathroom and you yelp. Soon, you both are back in bed cuddled in each other’s arms and curious when the next show will begin.

Moots who want a show from Tim ⭐️: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @sin-djarin @yorksgirl @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@guelyury @syd-djarin @604to647 @undercoverpena-fics @fhatbhabiee

@inept-the-magnificent @lady-bess @avastrasposts @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

[eviesaurusrex]

Can you do a meet cute blurb with Harry and a totally normal not famous girlie, I’m dying for a cute mushy blurb 🥰

Can you read minds? Because I have wanted to do something like that for the longest time 👀 and because I’m in the mood, here we go. This is set at the beginning of his NYC shows this year!

warnings: none, only fluff, one short mention of Olivia, that’s it

word counter: 2.5k

Harry Styles x University!Reader

;

It had been a busy and more than stressful day back at Parsons; her brain still smoked after hours of theoretical lectures and even more hours in one of the many photo shooting studios the private art and design school owned in their buildings. Her back hurt from the crouching position she had held since their lunch break because the current lecture slot was themed around still lives, and she hated to take photos from a chair. YN needed the constant movement of her body to really focus on her work. But now, everything the photography student wanted was to grab something halfway decent for dinner on her way home instead of ordering another round of sushi and pizza for her two roommates and herself. Well, YN would already be happy if she found something with a lot of salad and veggies without having to spend the entirety of her remaining weekly allowance on the ingredients for a self-made salad. But on the other hand, she wouldn’t have time to spend more money if she hid in her favorite photo studio right opposite the Hudson River or if she grabbed her camera to stroll around New York City in order to fill her portfolio.

The argument inside her head was on fire while her thumbs rapidly typed away on her phone to ask her two roomies if they needed dinner as well. Her feet carried YN safely around the corners and streets of Greenwich, heading straight to the perfectly stocked Target down the street because she knew how things would go if she talked herself into trying her luck at the supermarket only a block away from her home. She would be furious because the best stuff would already be gone, and YN really couldn’t allow another night with take-out.

It was as if her mother’s mouth was attached to her ear to keep the warnings on repeat.

Softly shaking her head to free herself from the sticking thoughts, YN entered Target and hummed under her breath. The young woman fixed the strap of her camera bag on her shoulder, strolling through the first few aisles, eyes wandering over the shelves in deep concentration. Her arm stretched out to reach and grab a box of cereals without hesitation, which found its way into the soft embrace of her other arm before she continued her path through the supermarket; hummed tunes still leaving her lips. It helped that the store’s radio started to play the first seconds of Late Night Talking before a cashier’s announcement interrupted the melody already. But YN knew the song by heart, so it was easy to continue the text in her mind.

With her left arm filled with the box of cereals and a pack of her favorite granola bars, the woman rounded the next corner to finally move forward to her desired section, distracted by her own thoughts and the vibration of her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. YN knew that this could never end good—and she always had been right about it; today didn’t mark an exception because the universe rarely smiled upon her.

A strong chest stopped her steps abruptly, and before YN could follow the cereals and granola bars closely in their journey downwards to the floor, a pair of equally strong hands grabbed her elbows in a steadying hold. Even before her brain could process the situation, her heart already pumped adrenaline through her veins, and her senses were heightened. YN felt the strap of the camera bag slid off her shoulder before she could pull the body part up, and so her left hand rushed to the rescue—just like another set of fingers. They met underneath the bag; her palm connected to the rough fabric while the other pressed against the back of her hand.

None of them had uttered a single word so far, barely even letting out a surprised huff of air at the feeling of impact, but now, a voice spoke up. “Everything’s okay?” And instantly, her head jerked up, and wide eyes stared into the most handsome face gracing this earth with its existence. Only moments ago, she had listened to his songs in her head, had hummed them, had mentally cursed the cashier for interrupting it—though YN knew that the poor soul didn’t have a choice—and now, the bearer of the voice, the creator of the songs, stood right in front of her, holding her elbow not to see her tumble to the ground.

Harry Styles is holding my arm between white bread and baking mix.

If her heart hadn’t worked overtime before, it damn sure did now.

“I… I am so sorry,” she pressed out after finally finding the ability to speak again and clinging to it like a drowning person on a piece of driftwood. “Oh gosh, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t daydream while getting my stuff.” Speaking of which. YN’s eyes had to peel themselves off his face with a small smile playing around his lips to locate her proudest possessions so far. She didn’t even realize that their hands still touched to support her camera and save it from destruction. But Harry Styles—she still couldn’t wrap her head around it—seemingly caught up to it again because his eyes wandered between the bag and her face. “You got it?” His voice was so gentle she probably would’ve swooned if she had heard it on YouTube while watching one of his interviews in the depths of night. But now, YN only took a deep breath—she was raised to be a decent human and had grown into a decent adult, after all—and nodded softly and pushed the strap back onto her shoulder.

She crouched down to retrieve her granola bars which had stopped right next to her sneaker-clad foot, while the man took one step to the side to grab the fallen cereal box. They both returned to their heights at the same time, and Harry grinned down at the box in his hand before showing it her. “Lucky Charms, hm?” YN wasn’t sure why, but she had to chuckle under her breath at his tone. “Thanks.” She took the box and put it back into the embrace of her arm. A basket would’ve been too easy, dumbass, mocked the voice in her head while YN still tried to grasp a hold of her current reality. “Best cereals there is if you ask me. And… well, I have to be rebellious in my freedom.” Now, the woman grinned as well, which grew in its intensity as the singer leaned his head closer to hers. “Strict parents?” YN moved her face in his direction. “A dentist as a mom,” she whispered conspiratorially, and both chuckled like teenagers after they’d shared new gossip.

“But, seriously, I’m really sorry for… this.” The student waved her hand through the air, pointing from herself to him and the surrounding environment, but Harry waved it off with a charming smile. “Would it make it better if I tell you that I would always choose this over paparazzi and unrelenting fans?” YN had to swallow dryly because suddenly, Death Valley was located in her mouth rather than back in California. But she nodded nonetheless, even though the movement held an unsure edge to it. “This is actually making me feel better about it, yeah,” she agreed, and it was true because she finally didn’t feel the urgent need to ask if he wanted her social security number—just in case. Her brain still pressed her to ask. “So… No SSN needed? No injuries and the like? I don’t want to be the reason that Harry Styles isn’t able to jump over a stage without a cast.”

His soft laugh ran through her body like a warm shiver, and his eyes, watching her face so intently, almost let her cheeks fire up in a crimson red. “No social security number needed, no. I’m fine. More than fine, actually…”

Harry’s voice lost itself somewhere after his last spoken word; his mind traveled to daydreams about bowls full of Lucky Charms during a lazy morning, and the sound of her laugh echoed in his head as he pushed himself back on track. He cleared his throat softly. “Is it okay to ask for your name, or is it too bold because we’re standing between Nature’s Own Whitewheat Enriched Bread and…—” Harry looked to his right and grabbed a baking mix out of the shelf to inspect the brand before looking back up to the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. “…—and Betty Crocker’s Red Velvet Mix?” She took a step toward him and got a hold of the package—their fingertips touched in the gentlest of ways, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest—before taking it entirely and letting it disappear between her arm and torso. “I obviously have an advantage right now, don’t I?” Her small, teasing smile drove him almost mad. “You certainly do,” Harry returned and couldn’t help but smile. “Then you certainly can ask for my name,” the woman nodded, and he raised a brow, waiting.

And when he thought her smile almost drove him mad, he wasn’t prepared for the gentle laugh escaping her now.

Damn, was all the singer could think.

“There wasn’t a question,” she teased him relentlessly, and Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “A funny one, aren’t we?” Both tried to hide their grins as he stretched out his ring-clad hand. “Harry Styles. With whom do I have the pleasure?” He watched her as she fixed the strap of her small bag—he suspected it to be a camera bag—before their hands met again; this time in full awareness of their doing. “YN LN—photography student and Lucky Charms votary.”

Both could feel the tingles running up their arms, letting goosebumps erupt on their skins, and finally, the blood was able to run into her cheeks and tint them rosy red. Harry only could think how adorable it made her look, even more so than before. But he couldn’t boast of being unaffected because the singer could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he felt nervousness rising up in his body. At least he didn’t get sweaty hands this easily anymore…

“I fear I might be too bold and daring now, but… Damn. Uhm…” YN raised both brows in anticipation and curiosity. She had never witnessed Harry Styles being overly shy or insecure, but well, everything in those interviews and articles could be full-on show, even though she didn’t think this man was a big fan of pretending to be someone else. So, it let him appear even more charming than before and the woman already dreaded the moment she would have to part from him forever.

After all, what could a world-famous singer want from or with her? Especially a singer who still was or wasn’t involved in a relationship with a certain someone, so… Yeah. YN was just curious about what Harry tried to ask of her—and she didn’t have to wait much longer.

“Okay, bloody fuck it,” he started, and the smaller woman looked up at him with a questioning expression, still unsure what this could be about. “I’m being daring. So, here is the question: Can I get your number? If you’re not taken—happily or unhappily—or already seeing someone, that is, of course. And only if you’re interested in men at all.”

Moments like these were life-defining, world-changing. They always started innocently, but in the midst of the attack, time and space seemed to slow down around one until they almost stopped spinning altogether. YN felt exactly like this, and it wouldn’t even surprise her if she looked around right now and found that everyone in this Target had stopped moving entirely; except for them. But she wasn’t even able to move her gaze from the man in front of her, too enthralled by his presence and asked question, which implied so much more than her mind could process right now.

YN wasn’t even sure how to begin, but her lips were faster than her brain. “What’s with…?” Her lips may have been faster, but they certainly weren’t ready to form a complete sentence. But Harry understood her anyway. “Olivia?” With a racing heart, YN only dared to nod her head yes and watched him sigh softly, fingers raking through his soft-looking mop of curls. “We haven’t made it public yet, but… we’re done. We’re done for a long time already,” he explained, and she could feel how her head nodded in understanding. She didn’t need to know more, so she held out a hand with a reappearing smile on her lips. Harry’s eyes jumped from the palm of her hand to her eyes in a matter of milliseconds. “Well?” Now, a grin started to tuck at the corner of her mouth before Harry slowly began to understand the meaning of it, and a lovely blush graced his cheeks while he got a hold of his phone, unlocked it, and had opened his contact list. The phone found its way into her hand, and YN started to type before handing it back to him.

Harry laughed under his breath at the sight of the newly saved contact before looking back into her face. “Cult Leader?” YN full-on grinned over her entire face. “I have to at least try to convert people to the Lucky Charms belief, don’t I?” And she never saved herself in a serious manner into other people’s phones if it wasn’t work- or study-related. She loved making people smile or laugh if they saw her name popping up on their screens. “Sounds more like a sect to me, but I can live with that very easily as long as I’m allowed to call you.” Chuckling, YN softly shook her head at him. “You really are a cheeky one, aren’t you? But yes, you have permission to call me. That’s what numbers are for,” she teased and took a quick glance at the watch on her wrist. “Okay, this sounds really shitty, but I slowly have to get going. I have an assignment until eight, which I still have to edit the hell out of, and the subway will be hell if I’m not getting in before five.” She loved living in Brooklyn, but the subway rides were always a hassle if YN missed the tiny but perfect slot between four and five and timed everything perfectly to outdo the tedious rush hour. But Harry—universe bless him—nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure, of course! Don’t worry. I have your number now, remember? You’re not out of this world, only blocks, a river, or a call away.”

Smiling up at him, the woman could hug the entire world, and the happiness rushing through her system still would be almost too much to bear. “‘Kay. Then… I'll probably hear from you,” she grinned, unsure of what to do now. Should she shake his hand? Hug him? Just turn around and leave this aisle of which they still were the only occupants? Harry made it easy for her: He slowly started walking backward, eyes trained unmoving on her. “You said eight?” YN nodded while watching him. “Yeah, why?” But she only got a grin as an answer before he disappeared around the next corner and left a stunned YN behind.

;

I seriously didn’t plan to write this much, but deal with it. And I’m sorry to put her name into this, but I kinda wanted the slight implication of drama because I’m thinking about using this scenario as the base for some smau :3

Hope y’all enjoyed this because I really enjoyed writing it! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

[tommysversion]

"accidentally" getting Joel a shirt thats a bit too small for him that just clings on to his big arms and shoulders. the things i would let game joel do to me watch me bark and go feral over these pixels

Hey Anon! Hope this is okay! It’s only short, but I gotta agree, Joel in tight shirts is 🥴🥰

You’d known exactly what you were doing when you picked out the shirt from the pile of clean clothes. You had a good eye, a good enough eye to know it would fit, but barely. And perhaps that was… exactly your plan.

That you and Joel were… something… was well known around the community. The older man wasn’t so great at public displays of affection, no great declarations or displays, but he was always touching you, always had his hands on your waist, on your hip, keeping you close.

What he lacked in public displays of affection, he more than made up for in private. When you were alone together, his hands were always on you, his mouth barely leaving yours, the words he spoke weren’t always sweet - in fact, much of the time, they were filthy - but you loved it. You loved him. God, you loved him.

He was a little bit scary at times, much older than you, rugged and blunt and quite frankly? He was perfect.

That he was a fair bit older than you didn’t bother either of you in the slightest, but you knew several other women in the community who thought they might be more suited to him. That was part of why you took the shirt to begin with. You weren’t a prideful person, but you knew how damn good he’d look in it, and you kind of wanted to show off that he was with you. Mostly, though, you just wanted to see him in it.

It was an easy enough plan; you passed it over to him, and he put it on, taking his sweet time dressing while you lounged in bed, your eyes barely leaving him. You were still aching from how rough he’d been with you, but it was a good ache. Your throat and collarbones were dotted with bruises, little reminders of your latest moment of intimacy together.

You knew you should probably get up, get dressed, but it was nice to just laze there for a moment, tangled in the blankets, watching him.

“What’re you lookin’ at, darlin’?” His accent always got thicker when he was distracted, after you’d been together in this way.

“Just you.” You admitted, with a small smile, watching him tug the shirt over his head. It clung to him in all the right places, just a little too tight across his broad shoulders. You knew for a damn fact that if he’d turned around before he put the shirt on, you’d see scratch marks up his back from where you’d clawed at him in the heat of your climax.

“Just me, huh?” A small smirk flitted across his face as he buckled his belt, watched you stretch languidly.

“Mmhmm.” You stood, let the blankets fall away from your naked form, crossed the small space between you and pressed your lips to his; your hands traced the solid muscle of his arms, accentuated by the slightly too tight shirt.

His left hand settled on your waist, pulling you closer.

“And why would that be?” His free hand slid under your chin, tilting it up to look at him. You knew almost right away that you were blushing, felt the heat in your cheeks.

“I-“

“Would it be somethin’ to do with this shirt you’ve so kindly found?”

He wasn’t stupid, not at all; he knew exactly what you’d done the moment he put the shirt on.

“… Maybe.” You admitted, hands going to his belt. His smirk became far more pronounced as you tossed it aside; it hit the floor with a low thump.

“Good thing you’re already undressed for me, darlin’.”

You hummed agreement, pulling him into another kiss, looping your arms around his neck to get closer to him.

He stepped out of his jeans, backing you up towards the bed once more.

“Hey Joel?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Keep the shirt on?”

He grinned, more than happy to acquiesce your request.

[rintoki]

luocha's voice is so calming...

imagine fucking him sensually, slowly, lovingly. and his moans are even prettier🥰🥰🫶🏻🫶🏻 filling my heart w serenity and love

MEEEEMDMRNFNDD UR SOO RIGHTTTT HES SO SMFNRKGNDKNFK

he’d look so pretty in white lingerie <3333 and his long hair ngngmgnfngnfjrbf gGGrRRRAAA i wanna comb his hair and kiss his shoulders, watch how easily his skin flushes because of how fair he is. his shaky breaths as you explore his body, slowly undoing the ties and ribbons of the white lace piece, unravelling before your eyes.

but you don’t take off everything, because the white lingerie just looks so gorgeous on him. no, instead it hangs rather messily on him; one strap falling off his shoulder, the panties pushed lazily to one side, the ribbon that was tied over his chest undone as it is now exposed to your hungry touches.

he shouldn’t be here actually, he’s a travelling merchant. but something about you draws him in, somehow he always finds himself coming back to you. maybe it’s the way you kiss his body, or the way you hold him so firmly and yet still gentle, how you always seem to know where to touch him that has him trembling.

“did you find this piece while on your travels?” you toyed with the silky garment, brushing your fingers over the translucent fabric on his hips. “it looks gorgeous on you.”

luocha sucks in a shaky breath, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “i… thought you’d appreciate it,” his voice was soft, eyes following your hands. you were going excruciatingly slow today, perhaps you were appreciating the lingerie a little too much.

the little white panties barely covered anything, already soaked with precum as evidence of how long you’ve been at it. it didn’t take much to push the string that made up the back half of the panties to the side, your fingers massaging the puckered skin of his hole. luocha bit down on his bottom lip, anticipating the feeling of your fingers pushing in and filling him up; oh how he’s missed the feeling.

you watched as the rise and fall of his chest quickens with the anticipation, his hips twitching and pushing against your hand.

“plea—please…” he whispers, and you oblige him. pushing a lubed finger in first, before pulling out and pushing in two. you listen to his quiet whine, his abdomen quivering as he tries to relax and accommodate the stretch. curling your fingers, you search for a spot along his spongy walls, stroking the way you know he likes it.

luocha grips at the sheets, the muscles in his belly flexing when your fingers brush over a particularly sensitive spot and he finds he cannot control the way his legs twitch, nor the high pitched whimpers that escape his mouth.

it didn’t help that your other hand has found it’s way to his cock, gently palming it through the fabric of the panties and his hips bucks pathetically, unsure if it wants to thrust into your palm or push down on your fingers. you smile at his predicament, kissing down his inner thighs and biting a dark mark into his milky skin. it pleased you greatly to see the blonde man in such a state, normally so put together and elegant now with his hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty skin that was flushed a crimson red.

it didn’t take long for luocha to release into the panties, soiling it further as he gasps for breath, body tensing and trembling helplessly beneath your touch. he stares at the ceiling, your warm touch already leaving his body and leaving him cold in the bed. as a travelling merchant he should be glad that you kept your business short, but he can’t help how he wishes you would stay just a while longer.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

HI! How are you? I hope you are fine. Can I request Fezco x reader? Maybe she have big thighs? I'm so insecure of them, I just wanna have Fez😣😣 He is my confort character. (I'm sorry for my bad english but I'm Italian). I really love you❤️❤️You are the best 🥰🥰

Yes of course!

"Love it here." Fez mutters, sinking his cheek into my stomach with a happy smile on his face, his typical shoulders less tense than normal even though he's had a rough day, bouncing around between deliveries.

"Where?" I ask, soothing my hand over the top of his head while setting my book aside, loving the way he gazes up at me through his lashes, a soft and kind look passing through his expression, pupils dilating in adoration just at the sight of me.

"Your thighs." His hands grip my thighs and I grin, no sexual motive behind his words, no hidden meaning or innuendo, just pure love and appreciation for the warmth that they offer him. He rolls onto his stomach, pulling my thighs over his shoulder while wrapping his arms around them, burying his face further into my stomach.

"Why?"

"Soft, I like 'em." He calls out softly, fingers dancing against every stretch mark, every mole and freckle, tracing my skin as if he's memorizing my every inch. He's unbelievably soft like this, unlike his typical stern, tough exterior that breaks the minute he sees me.

"That's nice."

"What? You don't like them?" He asks with furrowed brows, looking up at me with the most incredulous look on his face, as if he's offended by my disinterest.

"It's one of my biggest insecurities." I admit with a bashful look, eyes sweeping away from him as he scoffs, pressing a kiss to every inch of both of my thighs as I watch with a stunned look, wondering how I got so lucky to find a man who's so sweet and so affectionate, curing my every worry.

"Well shut up about it." He grumbles, settling back down between my thighs again. "Don't gotta be insecure."

[larcenywrites]

Hiii! I really like your stories, thank you for what you do for us <3 You recently wrote that you want to write something clean and I just thought, maybe you want to write my request. But just ignore it, please, if you don't want to write it, it's okay!! I was just thinking about how attentive Tony is to his girlfriend and, you know, I'm obsessed with moles for some reason. I know it sounds weird, but I just want to lie in bed with Tony in the morning while we cuddle and he kisses my moles. I'm a little insecure about my body because of them and I just want to see something soft about this thing. Once again, a huge excuse for such a request 💀💀

Aw omg no it’s cute! And don’t feel insecure, I have a fairly big mole right on my cheek (my face, I mean; but I do also have one on my asscheek 🤣)! I have quite a few moles and freckles everywhere so I get it, but now I love them though I think moles and freckles are super cute 🥰 obviously idk where your beauty marks are, nor anyone else’s, and I’m not just gonna use my own for reference (maybe one or two 🤭), so hopefully there’s a little bit here for everyone? Tbh I do focus on Tony a lot as well tbf! I haven’t written in so long I hope it’s okay 😰

Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: none except technically Tony and Reader and naked lol but I don’t explicitly say that | no pronouns used or specified for reader | just cuddles and fluff and kisses 😚

Word count: 920

Tracing over his sun-warmed skin, your fingers followed the rise and dip of his back. The morning light shed over him, illuminating your path between each mark and mole, some flat, some raised, becoming more scarce the lower you went. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he squirmed and arched as your touch drifted down his spine. You settled halfway onto his back, wrapping your hands over his shoulders and affectionately resting your head on the back of his neck.

Your laugh turned into a giggle when he promptly rolled onto his side, throwing you off and backing into you. You only took it as your opportunity to be the big spoon, throwing your arm over his waist and burying a hand in his hair, lining up the dark freckle in the center of your chest to the mole beneath his shoulder blades. Nuzzling into his shoulder, you noticed a group of freckles on his neck and promptly swooped in for a quick kiss.

With a tired hum, he stretched out, tilting his chin to reveal the mole under his jaw that was only visible when he shaved. The back of your finger drifted over his jawline.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled sleepily.

“I don’t know,” you chirped. “You’re pretty.”

With a yawn, he rolled onto his back. You kept your hand on his waist as when he settled on his back and made you move once again. You sat up on your elbow, rubbing over the soft skin of his tummy and thumbing over the dark brown mole near his belly button.

“You’re pretty, too,” he replied with tired eyes that heavily gazed at you from over his chest. The corner of your lips twisted up with an amused huff. You sat up more to straddle his waist. Instantly, his warm hands were on your arms and feeling their way up to your shoulders. Tony’s gaze stayed with yours as he did so. As his thumbs rubbed over your freckled shoulders in an act of comfort, you reached down to peck at the faded freckle on his wrist.

From this angle, his face was hardly freckled or blotched, aside from the redness in his cheeks from lying facing down in the sun, and the tan spot near the corner of his eye that was honestly more like a cherry-on-top. He was naturally perfect, already cleaned up for the cameras.

“What are you thinking about,” he mumbled, poking your side and playfully pinching at your skin, making your stomach tighten from the sudden contact. As his hand settled above your hip, you couldn’t help but use your arms to hide the line of those beauty marks across your belly.

You look down at his chest as you tried to come up with something to say, and at the very least something that wasn’t exactly a lie. “I read somewhere that moles and freckles go away with age,” you quickly recalled, looking back down at him as earnestly as you could. As if he knew where this was going, the hand on your hip was still able to trace over your stomach, as if checking whether or not they were still there. He hummed in thought as he did, still waking up.

“That’s sad,” he mumbled, pausing before looking back up at you with innocence. “I’ll miss the one on your ass,” he said with an exaggerated pout, putting all the energy he’d built up so far to smack your ass.

“Ow,” you pouted back in a drawn-out whine. That innocent look quickly turned into that usual mischievous grin, teeth showing as you fell into his side again. That same hand kept your thigh straddled over him even as you slid off. With you by his side again, he quickly took his chance to steal a kiss. You weren't sure if he realized your insecurity, but he probably wouldn’t understand anyway. He didn’t have very many. A cluster below his ear, the Orion’s Belt on his forearm; a stray below his collarbone, a mole on his shoulder; an array over his upper back. Unnoticeable enough to leave him without a flaw.

He probably didn’t quite get it, why you trace over his skin, but he copied your sentiment anyway. It was your turn to feel his callousing hands drifting down your back and fingertips knowing the paths on your arm. Nose-to-nose and skin-to-skin, you relaxed under his touch.

But maybe the innocence in his unknowingness made it sweeter. He saw the stars on your skin with his natural love for your beauty, and copied you in playing connect-the-dots because he simply associated it with affection. And if he did it long enough, you could probably find his star sign etched into your being.

“I’ll miss that one, too,” Tony softly mumbled, tearing you from your thoughts as lips met the corner of your own. You smiled and opened your eyes, but you still scrunched your nose at the mention of the mole by your mouth.

“You know, all my favorite models have one,” he reassured you in a more suggestive tone.

“Oh, and who’s your favorite model?” You sassed sternly. His reply was another toothy grin that pressed to your lips.

“You,” he finally said pointedly, making you roll your eyes. From this close, you could see another faded brown spot on his cheek. Taking your hand from his chest, he kissed at even the smallest of freckles between your knuckles, but he didn’t need to say anything.

[pedrito-friskito]

Hi! I loved Fire and Whiskey and the dynamic set up there. Could I request a bodyguard!Joel x reader? Pretty please?

hi nonnie!!! oh thank you 🥺 fire and whiskey is one of my personal favourites too tbh, and I already know Joel Miller is gonna be one of my favourite pedro characters!

thank you for the request! hope you enjoy 🥰

sleepover saturday

expectations

(word count 1.9k)

It was only supposed to be a job.

That was it. An assignment. Get you from point A to point B, alive and intact, get the payout, go back to Boston. Easy. Uncomplicated. No strings attached.

He hadn’t expected you.

When Tess had first described you, he had been expecting someone meek and soft-spoken. Someone who would do as she was told and stay behind him. He certainly wasn’t expecting you, a full foot shorter than him and full of fire that seemed to burn icy hot. The mouth on you alone was enough to give Joel a run for his money.

The first stretch of the trip is hell. Absolute hell. It seems like every building you pass is crawling with clickers, the streets filled with runners. You have to go the long way around more than once, and all it does it set Joel’s teeth on edge.

At first, he can’t wait to get you where you’re going. He doesn’t ask questions, he shuts you down when you try to ask him anything. He doesn’t what to know you; he can’t know you. So he doesn’t let himself.

But then everything changes.

He can’t put his finger on it exactly, when the walls start to fall. One night, you’re curled up at the fire together, Joel taking the first watch, the pair of you sharing a blanket to stave off the chill. You’re asleep, turned away from him, curled up like a question mark, hands fisted under your chin. He finds himself watching you, leaning on his elbow, the shotgun pressed against his back.

You make a tiny noise as you roll over, and Joel stares down at you, watching your face to see if you’re awake or not. Your eyes don’t open, though your lashes flutter with dreams. After a moment, your hand flashes out, fisting in the fabric of his flannel, the buttons pressed between your knuckles. Joel flinches, hunching forward, still waiting your face as your brow pinches, lips pursed as you shuffle yourself closer to him, like you’re seeking out his body heat.

Then he hears it.

“Joel.”

That’s it, just his name, but it sounds like something else. Something he hasn’t heard in a long time.

Something like desire.

He doesn’t say anything, not when you wake the next morning with your head buried in his chest, his arm around your waist. He doesn’t mention that you said his name in your sleep; he can just imagine the way you’d stammer and protest if he even suggested it, and that’s enough.

It’s just a job, he reminds himself. But it’s half-hearted.

Another stretch of the journey, and you’re getting antsy. Things are getting more and more dangerous, it feels, and he’s glad he didn’t have to teach you to shoot; you’re a natural.

The runner comes out of nowhere, grabbing Joel by the backpack and flinging him to the floor. He goes down hard, body slamming into the pavement, before it’s on him. Clawing and shrieking, shredding the shoulder of his shirt, pushing him down so hard he can already feel the road-rash on his back.

The gunshot echoed through his ears, through the street, making birds explode from the tree line. The runner topples over, a mess of blood and gore, and Joel shoves the thing sideways, giving himself a quick once over as he gets to his feet. No bites, he’s clean.

“Are you all right?” you nearly scream, sprinting towards him, still holding the shotgun with both hands. You swing it over your shoulder as you get close, instantly reaching for him. You take his jaw in your hand, turning his head back and forth, looking him over. “Did it get you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, girlie,” he grumbles, grabbing your wrists, peeling your hands off of him. But he doesn’t let go of you. “Nice shooting.”

You grab at his shoulder, inspecting the shredded piece of his shirt, and then move around him, brushing the gravel from his back. It makes him wince. “We should find a place to lay low for the night,” you tell him. “I need to look at your back.”

It’s easy enough to find a place, blockading the door a few floors up in one of the apartments. By some miracle, there’s a can of peaches hiding in one of the kitchen cabinets, and you nearly cry with happiness when Joel cracks it open with his knife. You share the fruit standing at the counter, both of you sloppy with your bites, juice running down your chins. You catch sight of each other, cheeks crammed like a chipmunk, syrup on your lips, and you both just start laughing.

Once the laughter has subsided, you order him to sit and unbutton his shirt. It hurts like hell as you peel it of him, fishing some antiseptic out of one of the first aid kits. “Shit, you really hit the ground hard,” you murmur, and pull a seat up behind him. “This might not feel great.”

“Get it done, girlie,” he tells you, and reaches for the flash he’d stowed in his bag. “I’ll be fine.”

You’re gentle as all hell, and Joel has to stifle the way it lights a fire in his chest. You keep one hand on his good shoulder the whole time, your grip soft but secure. It makes him feel grounded.

You clean the worst of it once you’ve cleaned all the gravel from his skin. Joel grits his teeth, and you murmur apologies, rubbing at his shoulder as you do it.

And then, “I’m done,” you say softly, and Joel turns his head to look at you over his shoulder. “You’ll live.”

He smirks, and reaches up, covering your hand still on his shoulder. He squeezes your fingers and sees something flicker in your expression. Then you reach out with your other hand, brushing the hair from the back of his neck, and lean in, kissing the top notch of his spine, your mouth warm and soft. It sends a chill down his spine.

But the next day, it’s like nothing happened. You’re quiet, which is strange enough, and you keep your distance, a good five feet between you at almost all times. He thinks about making a joke — does he smell, or something? — but he doesn’t think it would land. So he sinks back into the silence; he’s used to it. Yes, the slight warble in your voice had made something spark in his chest, and the soft kiss to his spine had made his whole body feel like it could combust at any given moment, but he had to ignore it.

It’s just a job.

When you finally get where you’re going, you’re welcomed with open arms. They even take Joel in for the night, offering him supplies for the trip back to Boston. He doesn’t plan to stay long, deciding to leave first thing in the morning, rechecking his bags when there’s a knock at the door.

He’s not expecting you to be standing on the other side, but he’s learned well enough that you are not what he expected. He has to step back as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and leaning up against it.

“You need something, girlie?” he asks, quietly cursing himself for the nickname. It just slipped out.

“I don’t want you to go,” you say, and Joel balks.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to go,” you repeat, your voice more sure.

Joel barks a laugh, but instantly regrets the sound at the way your face falls. “We both know that’s not something I can do.”

“Why not?” you ask, and there’s a crack in your voice, something like the warble he had heard when you tended to his back. “Why can’t you stay with me?” You pause, staring down at your hands, fingers now knotted together. “Be with me.”

Joel shakes his head, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. For a moment, he can feel the ghost of the kiss you’d offered. “You don’t want me, girlie. I’m no good for you.”

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. There you are, his spitfire girl. His. He pushes the thought aside. “Why on earth would you say that?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I got…baggage.”

You actually laugh this time. “Don’t we all?”

He starts to protest, but you reach out, curling your fingers in his flannel like you had that night in your sleep. You haul him close, and he lets you, planting one hand on the door beside your head, the other hovering around your waist, not quite sure where to land first.

“Stay with me,” you say again, and he’s so close his chest is pressed to yours now. He can feel you breathing. “Be with me. Please.”

“Girlie…”

“We don’t have to stay here,” you say, and the tip of your nose drags against his, your breath warm on his mouth. “We could go back to Boston, if that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

“After I just got you here all safe and sound?” he quips, giving you half a grin. “Dunno about that.”

“I don’t care,” you say again, and you take his face in your hands, fingers diving into his hair, swiping along the planes of his face. “I don’t care where we go.”

“G—”

His protest is lost to your mouth. You kiss him hard, rough, all teeth and tongue, making that spark he’d felt turn to a damn forest fire in one fell swoop. He gives just as good as you do, sliding both arms around you, crushing you against him. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, and he’s hooked on your immediately, pulling you closer. You groan into his voice, and he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, reaching down to grip your thighs, lifting you up and against him. Your legs lock around his waist, boots hooked against his lower back, and he presses you against the door, your shoulders pressed to the wood.

“I want you,” you breathe out, combing your fingers through his hair. Joel grunts, peeling you off the door again, carrying you through the room, laying you back on the bed.

It’s fast. It’s pawing at clothes, hands tracing scars, mouth meeting and parting and meeting again. You’re just undressed enough for him to move down your body, tasting your sweetness at the source, revelling in the moans he pulls from your lips. You don’t let him down there long however; it’s only a moment before you’re pulling his mouth back to yours, tasting yourself on his lips. He sinks his weight of you a moment later, bites back his own groan as you slide your hand into his boxers.

But he can’t keep quiet when he pushes inside you. It makes his eyes roll back, his forehead dropping against your collar as he moves over you, gripping your thigh as he starts to thrust. You pull him close as he rolls his hips into yours, lifting yourself to meet him.

“Please don’t go,” you breathe out as he drags his mouth along your neck. “Please, Joel.”

He nods against you, grunting as he feels you clench down on him. “I’m here, girlie,” he rasps out. “I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Something in the way you hold him close makes him think you’ll hold him to it.

He hopes you do.

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Aftercare

Notes: thanks for the request anon! I decided the aftercare was going to go both ways. Hope this is fluffy enough for you 🥰

Content: 1k words, 18+, aftercare, implied rough sex, LeonxReader, g/n reader, fluff

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. Leon laid down next to you with a huff. His breath was still heavy, his eyes closing with post-release drowsiness. You took a moment to take him in. His blonde hair was falling into his face, gently outlining the sharp angles of his cheeks. His lips were parted slightly as he panted for air. You admired his aquiline nose, so straight and strong, but most of all, you loved his eyes. Light blue and usually so serious, it seemed sometimes like these moments were the only times he ever looked soft.

One eye popped open and he looked at you, grinning.

"What?"

You felt yourself giggling, "that was a lot of fun."

"Yeah?" He propped himself up on one shoulder, pushing the hair out of his face. His biceps curled as he supported his weight and the usually straight lines of his shoulders sagged as he relaxed. He almost looked like a painting. Narcissus or something.

"Yeah," you agreed. He leaned down and kissed you softly. Sweetly. When he pulled away, those blue eyes were so serious again. "How are you feeling?"

His hands were warm as they traced your body, gently tracing where bruises and bite marks were forming. A bite mark on your shoulder was deep enough to draw blood, and it looked like bruises were already rising on your thighs in the perfect shape of his fingertips. You reached up and took him by the jaw, tilting his head towards you so he could look you in the eyes.

"I enjoy all that stuff, you know." You reassured him. You knew sometimes he got scared of his own strength. "Even when it hurts, it feels good. I know you'd never really hurt me."

His fingertips brushed your cheek, eyes softening again.

"You're avoiding the question," he said. You smiled up at him.

"I'm pretty sore. Tired. A little bit overwhelmed I mean... Babe five times? Five times."

"Would have been more if you'd let me," he flashed a cocky grin at you. Then he sat up, breaking the moment of comfortable afterglow. You sighed. You should probably use the washroom, get cleaned up and all that. You went to stand, but your legs shook, refusing to support your weight.

You fell into Leon who supported your weight like it was nothing. His hands held your elbows while you steadied yourself. He helped you to the washroom where you cleaned up a bit, and when you swung the door open again, he was there waiting with your fluffy housecoat.

"Babe, you didn't have to..."

He wrapped you up in it. When you were all cozy, he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into you. He was so warm, so comfortable. He took your hand then and walked you into the kitchen, where he sat you down on a chair.

He pulled the little first aid kit from under the sink and then produced a tube of polysporin from that. He dabbed a bit of the white cream onto a q-tip. You pulled down the shoulder of your housecoat. He wiped the bite mark off with an antibacterial wipe, then applied the polysporin.

"Thank you, Dr. Kennedy," you teased. He didn't say anything. He just smiled up at you softly, then returned to doctoring your battle wounds.

"Do you want an advil for the bruising?" He asked as he packed up the first aid kit. You hummed a negative. He tossed the first aid kit back under the kitchen sink and then crossed over to the freezer. You raised your eyebrows in a question, then almost squealed when he produced two tubs of ice cream.

"Babe is that... No way." You took a tub from him greedily, reading the simple label. "The honeycomb ice cream from that mead place! You didn't have to go so far out of the way just for me."

"Just for you? No, c'mon, these are both for me."

"Over my dead body," you snapped it away from his lunging grasp. You brought your feet up to his hips, holding him off while you stretched your hand as far from him as possible. The chair rocked backwards. His reflexes never failed. He braced himself against the table with one hand, catching your chair with the other. His tub fell into your lap.

You looked at each other, then burst into laughter while he pulled the chair back into place.

"My hero," you teased.

"Grab us some spoons and meet me in the living room," he says, still smiling at you.

You oblige, gathering your fluffy house coat around you. You pulled the last two clean spoons from the drawer and meandered into the living room at an easy pace. He was lounging on the couch, sweatpants and a faded t-shirt hugging the form of his body. One arm outstretched as he flicked through the options. He saw you and opened his other arm, beckoning you to lie with him. You do, resting your full weight on him, knowing he can handle it. Both tubs of ice cream sit on the floor, cracked open and within easy reach.

"Can we watch something funny?" You ask.

"Have you heard of Always Sunny?"

"Ew," you scrunch your nose, "I hate that show. Do not."

He laughed and conceded.

"How about the Simpsons?"

"Okay! But only before s-"

"Before season eleven, I know."

You hummed happily, comfortable in this domestic moment with him. Your hips still hurt, and you were still tired, but the ice cream and classic Simpsons raised you from your sub drop. He stroked your hair, the two of you content in each other's company. By the end of the first episode you were feeling much closer to normal again.

"Thank you for this," you eventually mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream.

"Thank you for always reassuring me. After. I just... Need to hear it sometimes," Leon replied, kissing the top of your head.

"I know." You leaned your head up to him, giving him a kiss. It tasted like cream and honey and sugar. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[toburnup]

3 minute fic: bruise

well, this ended up being the prompt i used for a 20 minute writing sprint, so heeereee you go, friend 🥰 (yes i know this is from AGES ago but better late than never)

A bruise on the inner thigh. That’s all it is. But Eddie can’t stop staring at it, for some reason. They're in gym class and Steve is sitting, legs crossed, on the gym floor, stretching his legs and his shorts have ridden up enough that Eddie can see the light purple mark peeking through. 

He’s so curious about it he feels like he’s going a little crazy.

Did Steve walk into something? Did some girl press her thumb into the spot a little too hard, make him flinch from the pain? Or did Steve somehow give it to himself, press a finger to the spot until the bruise formed.

Eddie can’t stop looking at it. Feels like the bruise is imprinted on his eyes. He finally tears his eyes away and sees Steve looking at him, saw where his eyes were. Eddie knows his ears are turning red and he slowly turns away, tries not to move too quick because that shows guilt, and he doesn’t have anything to be guilty about. It’s a bruise. It’s Steve’s leg. That's it.

Why can’t he look? 

Months later, he sees another bruise on the side of Steve’s neck. This one is a little more obvious to pinpoint the origin of - it’s a hickey, so that means the girl had her lips pressed to the soft skin, nose brushing the cute little hairs at the back of his neck. Pink tongue pressed to the skin, biting down. Eddie wonders if Steve swears under his breath when that happens, or if he grunts low like it doesn’t really bother him. Or maybe he doesn’t make a sound at all. Maybe he just grabs her thighs and pulls her against him, ignores her sucking on his neck.

Usually, people seem to be a little self conscious of hickeys. Eddie doesn’t know, he’s never had one, but he’s seen people wearing light scarves in the middle of summer, he’s seen makeup carefully applied overtop. He’s seen popped collars. But Steve wears his shirt like normal, doesn’t seem to be aware of the evidence sitting on his neck. Or if he is, he doesn't care. Eddie sits behind him in class, can’t stop staring.

He wonders what it would be like to suck on Steve Harrington’s skin. If his cologne would smell better at that distance, or if it would be cloying and bitter on his tongue. 

Steve turns, catches Eddie looking. Like he knew Eddie’s eyes were digging into the back of his neck, pressing their own mark into his soft skin. 

Eddie looks away, looks at the paper on his desk, pretends he doesn’t see Steve at all. 

In the Upside Down, Steve is covered in bruises. All over. Eddie has some matching ones as well, but it’s nothing like Steve’s. Knees bruised from being pulled along the ground, arms covered. Elbows, shoulders. Mottled and dark. Eddie wonders if he's always bruised so easily. Can't stop staring at the one on his chin. 

In the hospital, Eddie looks down at his arms. He has bruises but they don’t match Steve's anymore. They’re small rings of purple and green skin, bruising around needles that are inserted into his veins. Needles with painkillers, and more. More things that Eddie can never remember the name of, just knows that it's the good stuff.

The bruising around his mouth is finally disappearing, the bruising from the tube that was down his throat when he wasn’t awake enough to feed himself, couldn’t quite breathe on his own. 

Steve is sitting beside his hospital bed, hand draped over the side. His bruises have mostly faded, and that’s how Eddie knows just how much time has passed. Steve smiles, small, when he sees Eddie is awake and Eddie feels the betrayal of the heart monitor machine as it picks up, the telltale beeps getting closer and closer together. 

“Someone’s finally awake.”

“I’ve been awake for a while.” Eddie mutters, tries to sit up. Steve half-stands like he’s going to help but Eddie just gets up on his own, breathes heavy when he leans back. 

“Ow.” 

“Yeah, ow.” Steve laughs, and his fingers brush against Eddie’s wrist that’s trapped against the bed. His arm doesn’t want to work anymore, the nerves apparently too damaged to do much else other than rest right now. 

Maybe it’s Eddie’s heart that’s a little bruised. That’s the only explanation he has for the pain he feels when Steve leaves after a few minutes, says he’s sorry that he has to go so soon. Eddie smiles, feels weak as he does it, says Bye softly to Steve’s back as he leaves the room. Then he closes his eyes and feels the familiar dripdripdrip back into his veins, falls into a weird sleep where Steve is covered head to toe in bruises and Eddie has a cloth, washes his skin, washes all the bruises away. 

Months later, Eddie falls in physical therapy. He’s trying to train his legs to do the things they were so good at before - walking, running. He can manage several shaky steps before he has to cling onto the railing, but on this one day, he misses and his therapist barely catches him in time, arm bumping painfully against the railing.

“Shit.” Eddie wants to cry, wants to feel like he’s getting better but he doesn’t know how to do that here, has never had to do this before. Feels so frustrated with himself that he may as well be one giant bruise. 

The bruise by his elbow forms quickly. His skin is pale, he never goes outside anymore, and the purple is harsh against it.

Steve who visits, brings Eddie lunch, points it out. “You okay?”

“I fell the other day.” Eddie says, pulls his sandwich toward himself with his other hand. “It’s not a big deal, just a little mishap during therapy.” 

“Jeez.” Steve chews, swallows. “That sounds painful.”

“Little bit.” 

He’s used to it, Eddie thinks. He’s used to not getting things quite right. 

When he’s back home, Steve visits. Eddie is glad, was a little worried he’d never see Steve again once he was out of the hospital. Wasn’t quite sure if Steve was visiting out of a sense of obligation or if he wanted to see Eddie, see him for real. 

Steve shows up and immediately picks up Eddie’s hand, sees the small oval bruise on his wrist. “What happened?” 

Eddie knows Steve is worried about Eddie doing something stupid, about Eddie picking up a needle. He wants to explain to Steve that that’s not what the hell track marks look like, that those would be up on the soft part of his arm. 

“From my guitar. The neck.” Eddie gestures with his hands, how he holds his guitar. “It’s been a while, I forgot that it hurts like hell.” 

“Oh.” Steve doesn’t drop his hand, just holds his wrist up closer to his face like he’s inspecting it. “Good. I thought - never mind.” 

“I’m fine, Steve.” Eddie says, tries not to let the frustration seep through. And Steve knows it because Steve sort of knows him best now. And maybe he sees the Eddie is feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, tender and unsure. Because Steve slowly raises his hand up to his mouth, presses his lips to the bruise on the inside of his wrist. Makes Eddie’s breath catch as he watches, feels Steve’s breath float across the sensitive skin. 

“What’re you doing?” Eddie whispers, but Steve’s eyes are closed and he’s just holding Eddie’s wrist to his mouth. Pulls it away, just to press it to the skin again, slightly higher up. Kisses, so softly, makes Eddie wonder how his heart can still possibly be so bruised when the rest of him has managed to heal. For the most part.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Steve says, and Eddie can feel the words against his skin. “Every day, I think about it. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” Eddie says quietly, and when he pulls his wrist back toward himself, Steve doesn’t let go. Lets it be the link between them, uses it to pull himself close. Eddie’s on the couch and Steve puts all his weight on his arm, braces himself against the cushions. Slowly presses his lips to Eddie’s cheek, and then his lips. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Steve says again, like he can’t quite believe it, and then his hand is cradling Eddie’s head and he’s leaning in, kissing him again. Doesn’t bruise him at all, holds him so gently that Eddie thinks he could heal a little faster, heal bit by bit, just like this.