#scribbles and thots

[cocomere]

One of my favorite Daz lines is from a wild tangent I went on with a friend (Juice, aka Chime from the askblog) in which an emperor Tommy variant accidentally befriends Daz and Raine. He does this via being the exact amount of sus and nice to create a situation in which Daz feels that it's safest to confess what his deal is. He's not sure how long it will take for him and Raine to get tracked down by the T3-- the pair of them just kinda Appeared in emperor Tommy's world and have to just Deal With That.

Emperor Tommy gets a nickname of Pav (part of the name for the emperor butterfly!) and is quasi "adopted" by the Council. He also gives them titles and land, leading to a scenario in which fucking Daz is a landed duke, Day is another duke, and Lee has a special title because (as a mod training to become an admin) he's essentially the heir to Sanctuary.

There's actually a lot of really fun things that stemmed from it-- Aster + Raine + Theo's hobbies, incredibly heartfelt gifts, the Was-Taken sons and also Day taking exactly zero shit from anyone, etc.

But this makes me cackle.

Daz: that's what makes this so fun! I'm either your mind eating itself or a nightmarish blend of Tommy and you, and you're not sure which is worse!

Daz gets the local Dream thrown in prison (a normal one, not the Vault) in part because he fucking gaslights him into thinking Daz is a hallucination.

Daz does not let up on this, even after getting him thrown in prison. Daz wants to grind this man's mind beyond dust and into atoms.

It's a very silly crossover AU, and then we one-upped the silliness with the one I affectionately call Shrimp Color Kaleidoscope. It's a more normal royalty AU, and then Dream is there as the leader of a group of mercenaries. He's chill, and also has a sixth sense for danger/vibes that's caused by the equivalent of having no spiritual firewall.

I love him dearly, because he's smart enough to go "ooh something feels weird over this way" when he randomly appears in Pav's world (alongside the prince!Tommy from his world, who he's like 'oh that's a brother' about) but not smart enough to follow it up with "maybe I shouldn't go snooping around a bunch of scary people!"

And thus he accidentally discovers the Council, but it's fine because he actually thinks Lee is adorable and should ABSOLUTELY be protected.

...and also that Daz is scary. Like, he thinks Daz is awesome, but definitely not someone to cross under ANY circumstances.

The name is a joke because that Dream gets The Vibes(tm) of stuff from the universe, or shrimp colors/emotions. The downside to that is that in the event of anything along the lines of the Egg, he has ZERO defense. Spiritual firewall is there for a reason.

[bcyhoods]

could I please request steve and shy!reader and her first time staying the night at his place? lots of timid cuddling and just overall sweetness? I loved your first steeb drabble!

ohemgee yay i’m so glad you liked it!! thank u for for such a cute req, i hope i did it justice🫡 | 1k fluff, gn!reader

You were going crazy, without a doubt. You’ve already finished showering, but you’ve been locked away in his bathroom for 15 minutes. The pep talk you’re giving yourself in the foggy mirror does nothing to calm flutter in your stomach.

“Everything okay, honey?” You hear Steve call from down the corridor.

“Yes—Yeah, I’m okay!” The words are rushed and clumsy as the nickname runs through your head on repeat. And while you’re about to sleep in his room for the first time, it’s too domestic for your racing heart. You hope he doesn’t notice.

Giving yourself one final nod of scarce confidence, you pull open the door and softly let it close behind you. You’re practically walking on the balls of your feet so as not to make any noise.

When you peek into his room, you see the plain of Steve’s back facing toward you. You let your gaze shamelessly trace through the freckles and moles that grace his skin, then to the muscles that tense in his biceps as he fluffs one of his pillows. He’s mumbling to himself as he punches and pulls at the cushion.

Once you push past the door, he turns like he’s a child caught stealing the last cookie from the jar. He’s doe eyed with flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“Hey, there you are,” he sings with a gentle smile.

“Hi.” You timidly wave with a smile just as sweet.

“I was getting worried,” he starts as he meets you by the door, “Started to think you fell in or something.” Steve laughs it off, but there’s a small twitch in his eyebrows that threatens to expose his nerves.

Because while you were in the bathroom, Steve had been giving himself his own encouraging speech. One which also fell quite short, but he was better at concealing it. At least he thinks he is.

Your clammy hand reaches for his, a reassuring effort to soothe both your worries. “No search party necessary. I’m still standing,” you reply softly. He releases a hefty exhale — a mixture of a shaky laugh and a sigh of relief — and gives your hand a small squeeze.

“I’ll be right back. You can sleep on either side, I don’t mind.”

He’s quick to jog out, leaving you to roam every inch of his bedroom.

You’ve been in Steve’s room countless times before, you probably have every trinket and frame committed to memory. But every detail has somehow become more intimate since the last time you’ve visited. Every knick knack is a window into Steve Harrington’s being and by tomorrow morning, you’d become even more familiar. The thought only further warms your chest once your eyes land on an old love note you’d given him, preserved in a framed picture of you right on his bedside table.

By the time he returns, you’re already under the covers with a cheesy smile and patting the empty space next to you.

He uses some sort of excuse so that he can keep a dim nightlight on: Just so you can see everything in case you need to get up in the middle of the night. And Steve Harrington doesn’t have a secret aversion to the dark.

No, Steve Harrington is a romantic, and he just really wants to see your pretty face.

“Are you okay?” He whispers as he settles beside you. He moves to bring the blanket up to your chin and traces the underside of your jaw with his knuckle.

“Yes, I’m okay, Stevie.” You giggle at his concerned expression and reach up to smooth out the wrinkle in his brow before you convince yourself not to.

“Good. Good…just checking.”

And though you’re both laying face to face, sharing the same sheets, he’s entirely too far away for your liking. All you would have to do is extend your arms just a few inches until they reach his shoulders. But really, it’s a few inches too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again lowly, noting the pensive expression on your face.

Your stomach flips and your hand flies to pick at the skin of your lips. Now, you would just need to ask. But it’s so difficult when he’s staring right at you, practically oozing adoration. Now there’s a knot in your mouth where your tongue should be.

“Steve?”

He hums. The knot tightens.

“You don’t have to, but…can you, um—would you want to…” you trail off as the rest of your question dissipates.

“Do you…do you want me to hold you?” He finishes for you. He’s already moving to sit up before you can say ‘please,’ eager to wrap you up in his embrace.

You sit up the slightest bit so that he’s able to slither his arm underneath your head. He’s laying on his back while you’re curled into his side. You rest on his bicep, legs tangled with his own and an arm around his middle as you play with the fingers of his other hand.

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” You turn slightly so that you’re peering up at his face, chin resting on his shoulder. It’s an awkward angle and you know it’s going to result in a dull ache in your neck, but you can’t be bothered to care with his lips so close.

“No, no,” he’s quick to rush out, “This feels nice. I like this.”

It’s not until you see his wide smile that you notice the ache in your cheeks thanks to your matching expression. Without giving it a second thought, you push yourself up to kiss him, eliciting a sigh from the boy. It’s lazy, and it doesn’t last for more than a few seconds before you’re drawing back to hide your burning face in his chest.

He pauses to gather his bearings and gives you a kiss to the top of your head. “If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just asked.”

“Shut up, please.”

[skunkes]

[hoofpeet]

the mspaint notes I made last night while being way too excited about Spice btw

[cupajoscafe]

apparently 2023 is the year i draw death note smut

[randum-famdoms]

JK Rowling’s books are a building. And she stopped after creating shitty, waterlogged, deeply structurally unsound blueprints and half the scaffolding. Then left it to the elements (aka her Twitter), damaging it nearly beyond repair.

And the fandom looked at this, and put on hard hats. And they tore down that scaffolding, and took those blueprints and changed it into something that would work, and they built the most beautiful building you’ve ever seen.

The building JK Rowling designed was deeply flawed, it would never pass inspection, it would collapse under its own weight and lack of structural integrity within seconds of being built. The aesthetic design was tragic and hideous and offensive. But the fans looked at all of that, and said to themselves, “this building is fucked up, it will never be good if left like this, and everything about it is terrible and makes zero sense. But goddamnit, I have trauma and I can fix it because it must be done and no one else will.”

JK Rowling may have designed that original building. She may have had the initial idea. She may have built that unfinished scaffolding. She may have drawn those blueprints.

But this building is no longer JK Rowling’s.

[candycryptids]

We farmed Emerald Gwibers on and off today and sometimes our friends AFK in the FC house during breaks….

So while Chuu IC would never do this, the idea of her snapping pictures of one of her FC’mates and sending a picture to his partner with just “come get ur man >:c” was… super hilarious to me. Needless to say I did this in a bit of a hasty rush but I had fun uvu

Bonus stupidity under the cut;

Bunch of us hit the wall while our competent BLM bunny explained mechs to us, and Van just hung out doin the bees knees until she was done, then he pulled Aggro and also black flipped perfectly into the kill wall. Very Chefs kiss.

[gloopdimension]

Dedusmuln would probably go and work herself half to death trying to go and get extra supplies and foods for Pongormie. Wayne and somsnosa have to put sleepy waynelarvae on her just so she'll sit still

[pisspope]

been trying to get better at a drawing bc there are so many Ideas In My Head and surprise! doing something daily makes u better at it

(mid art under the cut: just making a progress report for my own edification)

[buckyalpine]

Bucky can’t lie

A smutty thot. Imagine the avengers fucking around with a lie detector test, testing how well the super soldiers were trained. Steve failed instantly while stating his own name, blushing from embarrassment. Bucky was shoved into the chair next.

And he was disgustingly good.

The wires were attached to him within seconds, with questions flying left right and center. He crossed his arms over his chest with an eyeroll, answering the most ridiculous questions each person would throw at him.

"What the hell Barnes, there's no way, you can't be serious"

The super soldier smirked, while the others watched the needle scratch on the paper steadily, not a single signal indicating he was lying. It was going great until Tony's eyes lit up with a brilliant idea.

“Wait. Get y/n in here”

You sauntered into the room, scrunching your face seeing Bucky hooked up to the machine, while the rest of the team stared at him intently. The faintest uptick scratched onto the paper making Steve cock an eyebrow while Bucky's expression remained the same.

"What am I doing here and why's Bucky-

"Shh, just stand there. We're trying to see if we can get Bucky to fail a lie detector test. Alright, new question. Is there anyone in this room you've thought about naked" Tony asked while all eyes stared at Bucky, the soldier biting his lip.

"No"

"Hm" Tony nodded, continuing. "Is there anyone in this room you've thought about having sex with"

"What kind of questions are you asking, pervert" Bucky exhaled through his nose, his finger tapping against the seat.

"Just answer the question Barnes" Tony smiled sweetly, grinning when the needle already started to move a little higher than before.

"No"

The needle ticked higher making Bucky huff, ignoring the way his face heated up when you stepped closer to peer at the paper.

"Interesting. Slight deception detected there Barnes, you sure about that?"

"Yes" Bucky forced through gritted teeth, managing to keep the needle from jumping around too much.

"Here, let me" You smirked, pulling Tony away from the seat, gazing into the soldiers eyes while he threw you a cocky smirk.

"Think you can do better doll?" He sassed while you shrugged, the scent of your perfume already making hi sweat.

"Have you ever thought of kissing me?" The needle jolted before Bucky could even open his mouth, making the others screech while Bucky shook his head. "Liar"

"You ever thought about me naked? You like watching me out on the field?"

"No" Bucky's pulse raced, his pants starting to feel too tight, the test scribbling wildly.

"Okay this mf lying" Sam snorted while Bucky's flushed cheeks grew hotter.

"Really? You ever think about me on my knees for you? Sucking your cock?"

"No" The needle nearly jolted off the sheet, making Tony cackle, clapping his hands madly while Steve blushed and chuckled, torn between watching his best friend's walls crumble and running out of the room with your questions getting filthier and filthier.

"You think about cumming down my throat? having me swallow all of you, telling you how good you taste?"

"No"

"You think about having me naked on your bed, soldier? Moaning for you? Screaming your name?"

"You think about stuffing me with your babies Jamie? Getting me pregnant with that serum running through your veins?"

"You want me to call you daddy baby? How about Sergeant"

"Do you want me to be your slutty baby, drip all over your cock"

"N-No" Bucky gritted out again while Sam threw his hands up.

"You're not fooling anyone dumbass, I think you broke the needle" The machine nearly gave way with a high pitched whizz matching Bucky's racing heartrate. You grinned, getting up from your seat, making him pant.

"Do I make you horny baby" You slinked onto his lap, making Bucky finally break his resolve, his hands flying to your waist.

"Fuck yes. C'mere" He hissed, ripping the wires off and tossing you over his shoulder with a spank while Tony peered over at the paper with a satisfied smirk.

"No lies detected"

[beefrobeefcal]

the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller

Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,

Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.

and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled

[bcyhoods]

hi miss cece babe! love the new blog, very cutie! i do come to you with a request if you like <3 shy!reader getting steve harrington flowers on a bad day of his <3 been obsessed with shy!reader, just too soft <3

u are so cute and u sent this a while ago SORRAY. this is just a short little thing to help get out of a writing rut!

talks about migraines (brief allusion to vomiting but nothing more than a sentence)

Steve could be extremely prideful at times.

He’d jump into action headfirst even if it meant a swift blow to his temple or a demobat bite to the abdomen. More often than not, he’d reap the consequences days later in the form of a dull headache or a singing pain in his bones, in addition to the scars and bruises painted on his freckled skin. Whenever you’d ask about it though, he’d give you a charming smile with a quick, “I’m fine. You should see the other guy.”

It was usually enough to quell anybody’s concerns, safe for your own ever-worrying mind, but even then, it would soothe you just enough. He never did it out of spite or malice, he just didn’t want to worry you. Plus, he wasn’t weak. He could handle it.

Today just wasn’t his best effort, he supposes.

The pair of you were supposed to go out today, but this morning he woke up with a particularly nasty migraine that wasn’t letting up any time soon. And no witty remark was able to save him from your doting presence (which he was quite grateful for).

You’re sat beside him on his bed, pushing away the strands of hair that stick to his forehead.

“‘M sorry,” he says meekly. His complexion is pale, face screwed up in discomfort, and a sheen layer of sweat coats his skin. Any food that he was able to get down would just fight it’s way back up.

The apology makes you frown. Your hand hovers over his stomach, a featherlight touch out of fear that it’d make matters worse. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you reply softly.

He reaches for your hand with his own, gently bringing it down to fully rest on the swell of his stomach and sighs in relief. The gesture gives you goosebumps. You remain this way for awhile, your other hand combing through his hair, until he’s able to drift off.

The first time he wakes up, you’re laying a warm, damp rag on his forehead and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek. You’re telling him something, but he’s not awake enough to understand. Though his headache seems to have dulled.

When he awakes again, the throbbing sensation in his head is thankfully nothing but a memory. Faint hums and the whistling of a kettle motivate him to get out of bed when he sees new items sitting on his bedside table.

You’d gone to the store to get some aspirin, which now sits on the wood beside a cup of water. But it’s not that he’s interested in, not really. Beside the medicine, with a blue ribbon around its neck, sat a vase filled with daisies. A flimsy piece of paper rested against the glass that read For Stevie :) in your handwriting.

With a gooey smile on his face, he pads into the kitchen to find you. Your back faces him as you pour liquid from the kettle into a small mug. He calls out your name, and the second you turn around, he feels his insides turn to mush at the way your face brightens.

“Oh, you’re awake!” You recoil at the momentary loudness in your voice. “Are you feeling okay?”

Steve nods and pulls you into his arms. His thumbs dip under the hem of your shirt to caress the skin of your waist. “Better, now. Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hum in response as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“And thank you for the flowers.”

Suddenly, you feel heat rush to every swell and curve of your face. You didn’t expect him to explicitly mention a few flowers. And now you’re embarrassed.

“They’re feverfew. They’re supposed to help with migraines,” you reply into the cloth of his t-shirt in an effort to hide your nervous, lovesick grin. But the silence that follows makes you queasy.

That is, until he moves to cradle your face in his hands to deliver a firm kiss to your lips. The kind that makes you feel lightheaded, the kind that makes you grasp tightly onto his biceps to prevent you from floating away. You sigh once his soft lips move away from yours and you feel his breath fan your skin as he breathes out a laugh.

“Oh no, you’re running hot. Do you have a fever?” He teases.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

The Ninth Crewmember

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: You are the ninth crewmember aboard Icarus II, and as the journey wears on you begin to find it harder and harder to ignore your feelings for Capa. Maybe it would be easier if he'd quit dragging you into bed with him...

Warnings: Smut, mentions of reader taking birth control pills as well as other medications, mild angst/pining, nightmares, literal sleeping together, the fun kind of sleeping together, Capa is a bit of a dick but also a sadboi, teasing, begging, use of "good girl" (whoops), bad puns

A/N: Can you tell that I struggle with titles haha? Anyway, finally getting around to cross-posting this from AO3 in my continued attempts to fuel @cillmequick's Capa thots 😉

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your fingers hovered over the panel, looking for the button you were supposed to press. They were all clearly labeled, but there were so many of them that you were having a hard time locating the one you needed. Your index finger moved hesitantly closer to a square near the bottom right of the panel.

“Not that one.”

Capa’s voice behind you made you jump. He sounded… not exactly annoyed, but tired by having to explain again what you were supposed to be doing. Your cheeks heated up as he leaned in close, chin hovering just above your shoulder as he looked at the panel.

“That one.”

He pointed at a button in the lower left, which, embarrassingly, was flashing bright orange and labeled “TEST” in all capital letters. You felt the need to apologize, but held your tongue. Capa went back to doing whatever it was he had been concentrating on before, at the other end of the room. The space he left in his wake felt oddly noticeable.

“Okay,” he said, taking his time to flip a couple of switches above his head. “Ready in three… two… one…”

You pressed the button as he finished counting down, and instantly the room in front of the control chamber was filled with spots of twinkling light. They seemed to dance over every surface for just a moment. The display lasted for less than three seconds, but it was breathtaking even in impermanence. 

You looked over at Capa, your eyes still shining with the beauty of it, only to see him calmly taking notes. His expression was carefully neutral, lips pressed together as he scribbled with short, purposeful strokes. 

“Capa?” you asked.

“Hm?”

He didn’t look up as he continued to record his observations, and you didn’t wait for him to before continuing.

“Do you think the real thing will look like that?”

Capa stopped writing for a moment, and seemed to consider your question seriously before answering.

“No,” he said finally, putting his stylus down and fixing you with a gaze that made you breath stop. “Even after watching a thousand of these simulations, I don’t think that any one of them could ever capture the true beauty. What it will really look like.”

You were standing a few feet away from him, fixed in place by his intense gaze. Something about Capa had fascinated you, from the moment you’d stepped aboard Icarus II. His bluntness, maybe, or the way his eyes seemed to scan over everything in front of him, as if he were reading it all - people, data, situations - like they were a book. And you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make your heart swell whenever he did it to you.

“You and I will be some of the only people to ever live who will see something so magnificent,” Capa said quietly. “We should count ourselves lucky.”

You nodded in agreement, too entranced and too afraid of flubbing your words to reply.

“Thank you for your help,” Capa continued. He went back to note taking, as if he hadn’t just been waxing poetic about life and the universe. “You can go.”

Capa’s words rang in your head as you made your way to the medbay. It had been hours since you’d left his lab, but the weight still seemed to resonate. A beauty unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. You reflected on the thought as you reported to Searle, to help with a few things before going to bed.

One of Searle’s duties was handing out supplements, and he often asked for your help with making the deliveries. Icarus II was a very large ship, and your fellow crewmembers were usually spread out in the various quarters and chambers. It was faster to do the job with two people.

Before heading off, you worked on separating various pills into small plastic cups, one for each person. There were quite a few pills that everyone had to take every day. Space travel was hard on the body, and it was difficult if not impossible to get all of the necessary nutrients from the food you had aboard. Even with the gardens and the ability to have fresh vegetables, you all still had to take a lot of supplements. 

You finished doling out the vitamins, and then opened the final bottle of pills. You, Cassie, and Corazon also received one other daily medication: an oral contraceptive. You dropped three little pills into three little cups.

As you replaced the bottle’s lid, your mind drifted again to Capa. The weight of him hovering just behind you, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wondered if he had any idea that he made your heart flutter just by being next to you. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it. Capa was incredibly hard to read, but for some reason that only made you want him all the more. Your thoughts wandered, imagining things that you knew would never happen. His hand reaching out to you; the feel of his fingers against your waist; his beautiful blue eyes rolling back as he-

You slammed the bottle of pills down on the counter, banishing the fantasies before you could get too wrapped up in them. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. The birth control pills were mandated for female crewmembers, but they were precaution rather than permission. Nine people cooped up together, for years. It was better to prevent any potential problems from happening. It was only logical to mitigate the risk. But that didn’t mean that relationships were encouraged.

And besides, you told yourself, it's not like Capa would be interested anyway.

You picked up the little plastic vial with your pills, and tipped them all into your mouth, swallowing quickly. 

They burned your throat on the way down.

Capa’s eyes looked almost white in the vivid yellow light of the sun. He looked at the dying star, and you looked at him, breathless again at the way he seemed to silently consider everything in front of him. The edges of his thumbs ghosted over his lips as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if to get just a bit closer to that magnificent light.

You were sitting in the observatory, Capa’s empty vial of pills placed precariously on the edge of the bench between you. It had taken you quite a while to find him. He often stayed up late working in his lab, and it was almost rare to see him outside of it. He had been your last delivery, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit with him awhile before heading to your quarters.

You’d been wrong, of course; it hurt more than anything to sit next to him and not have the courage, or the recklessness, to reach out and touch him. As he looked on with amazement at the pulsating sun, you tore your eyes away from him to peer out as well. Dark webs of red and black stretched over the star’s surface. It was strange to think about - how up close it all looked so different from how it had back on Earth. It took up the entire viewing window; so large that it almost felt like it could swallow you at any moment, despite still being millions of miles away.

As he leaned forward, Capa’s dog tags dangled in front of his chest. You wanted nothing more than to grab them. Wrap your fingers around the thin cord holding them, and pull him to you until you both tumbled off the edge of something and into the blazing unknown. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips. Chapped from the heat of the sun.

“It’s getting late,” you whispered, hoping that he would break the spell so that you wouldn’t have to. “You should get to bed, Capa.”

“Hard to when the sun’s always right there, isn’t it?” he asked, cryptically. 

“I guess it is,” you agreed. “But you should still get some rest.”

Capa nodded, and rose from the bench, crushing his empty cup in his hand. He looked back at you, seemed as if he was about to say something, and then left the room without uttering a word. You let out a rough breath, shaking even as you were bathed in the glowing light.

A noise woke you up from your fitful sleep. You’d had a lot of trouble closing your eyes in the first place - probably because of the way your heart was still hammering in your chest, and the way your mind was racing from the events of the day. Still, it was odd to hear any sort of noise at night. Usually the hallways of the ship were deserted, as the crew all slept in their separate chambers. You listened closely, trying to identify the noise through the haze of sleep still clouding your senses.

You heard it again: a muffled banging followed by what sounded like someone struggling. 

Curious, you got out of bed and padded softly across the floor of your small room. The door slid open soundlessly, and as you stepped out into the hall you heard the noise a third time. Now you could clearly tell that it was coming from across the hall. Capa’s room.

You hesitated for a moment, closed fist raised and ready to knock. He probably wouldn’t want you to bother him, but what if something was wrong and you ignored it? You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You knocked.

Another muffled sound came from inside, unintelligible. 

“Capa?” you whispered, lips pressed as close to the door as you could manage. You didn’t want to wake anyone else up.

There was no answer.

Well, you were already here. You might as well go in and make sure he was okay, just in case. Pressing the small button to open the door, you slipped quietly into his room. The door slid closed behind you.

Capa’s room was entirely dark, unlike the faint, recessed glow of the hallway. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they finally did you could see Capa asleep in his bed, thrashing against some unseen threat. He was having a nightmare.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed. You shouldn’t have barged in; this was his personal space. He was vulnerable, and clearly going through something unpleasant. Knowing Capa, you felt certain that he wouldn’t want any of the others seeing him like this, including you. His brows creased and lips pressed feverishly together in his sleep. You turned to leave, feeling foolish.

“Who’s there?”

The sound of Capa’s voice behind you made you freeze. Just like earlier, in the lab, a shiver inched down your spine at the thought of facing him. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“It’s me,” you responded, turning around.

He was sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist. Shirtless. You felt your face heating up, and were relieved that he couldn’t see your eyes widen in the dark.

“Oh,” said Capa softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um… I heard something and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Against your better judgment, you took a few steps toward him as you spoke. There was a chair next to his bed, and you sat in it, leaning forward on your elbows as you tried to read his expression. The lines of his face betrayed nothing, as usual.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.

Capa swallowed before answering, his eyes flitting up to land on your face. Even in the dark, somehow they seemed to shine. You wanted to look away. You knew you should. But looking into his eyes felt the same as the rushing weightlessness of looking into the sun.

“I’m fine,” he assured you. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”

You nodded, a little surprised he had opened up to you..

“Me too,” you admitted.

Capa seemed to understand what you meant, without you having to say it. He didn’t look away from you as he spoke.

“It is frightening,” he told you. “To be face to face with all of it. The beauty. The scale, unlike anything you’d ever seen back on Earth.” Your mind flashed back to Capa in the observation deck, eyes wide open and leaning forward toward the molten sun. You had thought he was fascinated, but maybe it was something more like the magnetic pull of fear that made him inch closer. 

“But I meant what I said earlier,” he continued. “We are lucky to be here.”

Silence hung between you for a moment. 

“I’m sorry for letting myself in,” you said finally. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t be,” Capa said. “It’s nice to be checked up on.”

You smiled softly, even as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your hands on your knees and stood up from the chair, then leaned down to look at Capa one last time. He was still sitting up in bed, propped on one elbow, facing slightly toward you. A breath caught in your throat as you reached out and placed a hand on his bare shoulder.

“Get some rest, Capa,” you told him, giving a gentle squeeze.

As you moved your hand away, suddenly it was stopped by strong, stable fingers. You looked down to see Capa grabbing your wrist, looking up at you with those damn sensuous eyes. This time, your heart stopped.

“Stay with me?” Capa asked, the barest hint of a prayer in his voice.

“I…”

“Please?”

Time seemed to stand still as you looked at him. A trace of fear in the very corner of his eyes. A few pieces of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, pressing just a bit too tight.

“Okay,” you agreed. The word seemed to carry all of the air in your lungs along with it, out into the vacant night.

You sat on the edge of his bed, awkwardly facing him, and Capa moved backward to make more space for you. Hesitant, you weren’t sure if he wanted you to lie down next to him. It wasn’t exactly a roomy bed, not being intended for more than one person to occupy at a time. You flittered with indecision as Capa settled back into his pillows.

“C’mere.”

Suddenly, an arm was around your waist. And then you were being hooked into Capa’s body, your back pressing snugly against his chest. Capa sighed behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His arm was still draped around your waist, and his lips just barely brushed against you.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky breath, and prayed that Capa couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

The next morning, you woke up alone. You tried to ignore your disappointment. Capa was an early riser; the type to get a head start on the day by spending all hours in his lab, including the ones before anyone else on the ship was awake. You had always seen him as a hard worker, but after seeing him so unusually agitated last night, you now wondered if there weren’t other reasons he barely seemed to sleep.

You looked around the small room for a few moments, reflecting on what had happened. Part of you still couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that Capa had feelings for you, or were you just a warm body to sleep next to? Did it even matter? If it meant you got to press yourself up against him, you honestly didn’t care whether there was anything more to it.

But then anxiety clouded your mind. What if Capa had left because he was embarrassed? Too shy to confront you about the mistake he’d made in asking you to stay with him? He was, generally, very straightforward - but you also got the sense that he liked to avoid conflict if possible. And he was so damn hard to read. You sat up and put your feet on the floor, crossing your legs and squeezing them together. He was driving you crazy, and the worst part was, you were way too much of a coward to tell him about it.

You stood, made a sound of frustration, and carefully left the room - looking both ways before you stepped out into the hallway. It was still early, but you certainly didn’t need anyone seeing you step out of Capa’s room first thing in the morning. Rumors traveled faster in the cramped halls of a spaceship than lightning on a summer’s night. You slipped back into your own room, and got ready for the day. Maybe, later, you would confront Capa.

You spent the day avoiding Capa. Which wasn’t too hard; he really did spend most of his time in his lab. You focused on helping Corazon in the oxygen garden, trying to distract yourself with the calming, white-noise sound of water. It didn’t do much good for your nerves, unfortunately. 

As the hours wore on, you became more and more agitated, and ultimately, convinced that Capa regretted your night together. It was disappointing, sure, but this was really just a testament to why you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. Even if you did literally only sleep with them.

That night, you begged off of helping Searle with the medications; telling him you had a headache and wanted to get to bed. Really, you just couldn't face the thought of handing Capa his little plastic cup of pills, watching as he observed you with his characteristic disinterest. Searle added a few ibuprofen to your medications and watched as you swallowed them down, before telling you he’d handle it and to get some rest.

Eyes on the floor, you headed to your room.

This was not good. You still had years left on the ship, pressed together with everyone in tight quarters. And Capa was right across the hall from you. There was no possible way to avoid him, and yet, how were you supposed to face him after the embarrassment of being ignored and rejected? Your thoughts were still swirling as you reached the door to your quarters, and pressed the button to go inside.

“Sleeping alone tonight?”

The familiar voice behind you caught you off guard. You hadn’t seen him there.

“I didn’t realize there was another option.”

You turned around to face him, slowly. Capa was standing in the open doorway to his room, hands in his pockets and arms unfairly attractive in his light gray tank top. There was just a hint of mischief in his eyes as they slowly swept over you, and it made you feel both anger and arousal.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Capa said, again seeming to sense what you were feeling without you even telling him. “Trey needed my help with something, and I figured you wouldn’t want me to wake you. Ooor want to walk out together in front of him.”

You felt yourself starting to soften, but still gave your best attempt at a pout as you crossed your arms.

“You could have told me earlier.”

“I know. And I am sorry.” Capa took a step back into his room. “Let me make it up to you?”

It was the wrong decision to follow him. You knew this, but you did it anyway. If only to finish the conversation in the relative privacy of Capa’s room instead of out in the hallway where anyone could hear you. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Please don’t be mad?” 

Capa’s room was dark, again, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust. When you could see him clearly, he was looking down at you, careful expression and head cocked to the side as he awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you agreed.

You were rewarded with a small smile from Capa, and instantly your heart melted. You really couldn’t stay mad at him, even if you wanted to. He was just too damned attractive.

“Let’s go to bed then,” Capa said happily.

He tore off his shirt as he walked to the bed, and for a second you weren’t sure how you were going to stay upright. Capa stood by the bed and waited for you.

“Ladies first.”

“I, um…” you began. “Maybe I should get my pajamas out of my room.”

“Mmm, you don’t really need them.”

Capa took a step toward you and reached over, pulling you close to him. At the same time, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. And before you could protest, he was pulling the fabric up and over your head, leaving you only in shorts and a sports bra.

“That’s better,” he smirked.

Capa’s warm fingers landed on your waist, and you felt yourself swoon again. If it weren’t for his piercing blue eyes holding you in place, you were certain you would have fallen over.

Gently, Capa guided you to bed and let you climb in first, before crawling after you. You were spooning again, this time with you lying closest to the wall. With Capa’s body pressed against you, the result was a warm but not uncomfortable closeness. It felt like you were boxed into your own little world, even as the vastness of space threatened to spill in all around you.

Capa’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in even tighter. You settled back against him, all of your earlier tension melting away. This was nice, whatever it was. You had made up your mind to just enjoy it. It had been a long time since you’d been so close to someone. Capa’s long hair tickled your neck and shoulders, and you exhaled as he-

“Capa!”

His mouth was suddenly on your shoulder, kissing rough enough to leave a bruise. You felt heat rush to your face once again.

“Shhhh,” he teased, lips brushing against you. “Don’t want anyone else to hear us, right?”

“What are you doing?” you whispered frantically.

“Making it up to you,” Capa replied, devilishly. “Like I said I would.”

He put his lips on your neck this time, kissing and scraping your soft skin with his teeth. Despite yourself, you let out a small whimper. Capa’s arms tightened around you.

“Do you forgive me?” Capa asked. You could feel him smiling into your neck.

“I-I don’t know.” A sudden surge of boldness swept through you. “You might need to convince me some more.”

“Hmmm,” Capa growled, directly into your ear. “Wonder how I can do that…"

One of his hands trailed lazily up and down your thigh. His touch was feather-light; moving so slowly that it had your head spinning. Without warning, he grabbed the back of your leg, pads of his fingers pressing into your bare flesh.

“Oh-”

The word left your lips involuntarily, and you felt Capa smirk against you again.

“Think I might have a few ideas…” he said.

“Capa, I-” Before you could get out more than two words, his hand had snaked around to the front of your shorts and was pushing past your waistband. Separated only by the cloth of your panties, his fingers pressed against the wetness that was quickly spreading between your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “I knew you were into me, but I didn’t know you had it this bad.”

You arched your back against his bare chest, too drunk on his fingers to formulate a response. And he hadn’t even pushed past your panties yet; he was just touching you through the fabric as you fell apart for him.

“Good girl,” he rasped, sending another wave of euphoria from your neck to your throbbing cunt. “So eager. Want me to put ‘em inside you?”

You nodded, desperate but not trusting your voice enough to speak. Capa slid his hand past the final layer of fabric that separated you, and then one of his fingers was pressing into you. You squeezed your legs together, trapping his hand, and Capa quickly added another finger.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed. 

His fingers curled, pulling at the strings of tension that were already building in your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to scream for him, but knew you shouldn't. The walls of the ship were far from soundproof, and there were rooms on either side of you.

Capa’s thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it as his fingers continued to move inside of you. You were desperate for something to grab onto, but the only thing in front of you was blank wall. You settled for wrapping your legs around his, entangling yourselves together to give you some semblance of being grounded. You bucked against his hand, begging for more friction.

“Forgive me yet?” Capa teased, his breath ghosting over your ear again.

You shook your head no; not willing to give up on the game just yet. Behind you, Capa chuckled.

“So stubborn,” he muttered. “You really want to make me work for it.”

Capa took his fingers away, and you moaned at the sudden loss of him. Not wasting any more time, he grabbed your shorts and pulled them down. You had a brief moment to wonder what you had gotten yourself into.

You’d felt his growing bulge press into your back as Capa had teased you with his fingers, and now you felt him sliding out of his sweatpants. You were both naked from the waist down, and-

“Fuck, Capa.”

He was brushing the tip over your entrance, not pressing into you yet but just taunting with the idea of it. His hand was firmly at the base of his shaft, ready to guide himself up into you.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Capa.”

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“I need you inside me,” you whispered.

“Fucking beg for it.”

With a frustrated whine, you pushed down and back, forcing his cock into your aching pussy. He was such a tease; you couldn't take it any longer. He was so hard he slid right into you, and the stretch against your walls was like heaven.

Without warning, your orgasm broke over you, crashing into your body with an intensity unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was bliss and beauty and all for the man who was ruining you with every touch. You pressed harder, wanting to feel Capa inside of you as deep as you possibly could. You arched against him, head falling back against his shoulder as you rode out the high.

Capa grabbed at your breasts roughly.

“You know,” he began, “you've never been very good at following directions.”

He pulled out of you suddenly, making you gasp as you clenched around nothing. Quickly, you were flipped onto your back, and then Capa was hovering over you, his eyes burning ice blue.

“Let's try that again,” he said, lining himself up as he leaned forward, pressing his whole body against yours. “I want you. To fucking. Beg.”

“Capa, please,” you breathed.

“Please what?”

“Please put it in me! God, I want you to fill me up. Please, please-”

Capa smirked above you, and your eyes rolled back in your head.

“That's my good girl.”

The sound that left your mouth as he entered you once again would have been mortifying, had you been thinking straight enough to hear it. As it was, Capa seemed to drink up your pathetic mewls and breathy sighs. He pumped in and out of you a few times, watching as you bounced on the bed beneath him.

“Should've gotten you in my bed a long time ago,” Capa panted, still pumping into you relentlessly. “I could've been listening to your pretty noises this whole time.”

His face was right next to yours; the stubble on his jaw scratching you with every thrust. You could feel his lips brushing against your ear as he continued.

“Kinda regret wasting all those hours in the lab with you doing actual work. It's a lot more fun for me to press your buttons.”

Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and your fingers tangled in his hair. Capa kissed you roughly on the lips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, falling out of their methodical rhythm.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, yeah?”

You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, pinning him in place.

“Fuck, that's right. Gonna take all of it and beg for more. I'll have you in here every fucking night, on your back for me, screaming so that everybody hears how bad you want me to stick it in you.”

Capa’s mouth was going to be the death of you. You clenched around him, silently begging him to cum. It was humiliating, how badly you wanted to be filled by him.

“Oh, fuck!” Capa shouted, entirely too loud.

He held you tight as he emptied into you, giving a few final, weak thrusts. He was breathing heavily, still looming over you as his chest heaved. After a few seconds, he pulled back to look at you.

“So, does that make up for leaving this morning?” he asked, smirk still plastered on his face.

“I… don't know,” you panted. “I think we might need to do it once more… to make sure.”

You looked up at him, mischief playing in your own eyes. Capa wasn't the only one who could tease.

“Oh yeah? Only once more?” he prodded. 

He reached up to push the hair out of his face, slicked down with the sweat of his exertion. But despite that, you could already feel him getting hard again.

“Well, maybe a few times,” you smiled.

You leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss.

[lunarw0rks]

Hey✨️

could I please get a Alejandro x f!reader 18+ anything?? You can choose the themes, I just need something scandalous with that man since I'm deep in the thots, everything is permitted in ovulation time clearly🐦‍⬛

Thank You!

♱ Interruptions ♱ // Alejandro Vargas

『♡』 masterlist ♡ rules ♡ ask box ♡ ao3 ver. Warning(s): nsfw, explicit content (18+), established relationship, p^rn w/ little plot, v. fingering, p in v sex, unsafe sex, knife play, degrading, dom/sub, thigh riding, manhandling, brat taming, spanking, rank kink, fem!reader // Word Count: 2k

A/N: anything is permitted, you say?! alright bet, anon. this is filth, but this site is severely lacking in Alejandro content, especially smut. happy to deliver (｡- .•) also, probably some inaccurately translated Spanish here, so I apologize.

Frustration had never plagued you worse. Interruption after interruption; excuses followed by more excuses.

Privacy with him had become a scarce fantasy, at least from where you were sitting.

───♡─────────────

Where you were literally sitting, on his lap.

His mind was somewhere else like it always was when you visited him at work.

Alejandro was a busy man with a flashy rank — there was no denying what you had gotten yourself into. You knew that, otherwise, you wouldn't be there at all.

But the reality of his situation didn't make this aching any easier. You were practically clawing at him for attention. A lingering touch, a verbal tease, any intimacy, for that matter.

The click of him returning his work phone to its stand diverted your thoughts a bit, from swarming you to encouraging you. The hand once wrapped around the phone now found your side again, giving it an effortless rub.

It wasn’t enough — his half-focus.

"Will you be done soon?" The question sounded pure enough, but you knew it wasn't. Another dismissal, and you were going to find a way to get a release, with or without his help.

"Can't make promises, amor, you know that," Alejandro replies, barely lifting his gaze to look at you. Even if he did, you weren't sure he would do anything about your neediness. There was no way he hadn't noticed, not with his over-observance.

Every hitch in your breathing, every gentle murmur to yourself, the way you had a permanent sulk written on your face.

His words were followed by a sigh of discontent from between your lips. You couldn't take it anymore, not after hours of a suffering ache between your legs. Those legs straddled his thigh seconds later, your palm tracing along his shoulders and peck. It was both another tease and a relief, the friction against your clothed core.

The scribbles of his pen intensified as if expressing his irritation with each drag of it. "Maldita sea..." Alejandro mutters to himself, unconsciously bouncing the leg you are sitting upon.

The sudden spring of his thigh results in a whine, then a tense clamp around his clothed shoulder. Your achy clit is pressed further into his toned thighs the more you squirm around it, dooming you to a touchless finish — all derived from something on his report irking him.

Your fingers slid down until you found the hem of your skirt, rolling it up until you've exposed your undergarments. A small splotch of your wetness had soaked through the cotton, leaking onto his pant leg. With every grind of your hips, the slick spreads further — translucent strings of it.

The swirl of release came faster than you could've imagined; no doubt from two hours of clenching your thighs and writhing in his lap. A string of vulgar nothings, the quickening of your rocking hips, and it was over in seconds. At the sound of your loud gasp and unsteady rolls, Alejandro's fingers tightened around your waist to prevent you from tumbling off his knee.

“You made a mess, mi vida.” He had set down the report, letting it slide across his desk and flutter in the air. Alejandro's fingers dug into your flesh more, resulting in a wince. His expression had hardened rather than glossed over; instead of passion, it was authority. "I didn't give you permission to finish, did I?"

The clarity hit you like a truck once you came down from your high. You didn't consider the consequences when so lost in the pleasure, even though it was a hasty decision in the first place.

"I wasn't thinking— I needed you so bad, Ale." You shifted a bit, releasing the grip you still had on your skirt. You had climbed off his lap, suddenly feeling the weight of his displeasure.

With a breathy chuckle, you were yanked backward by the same hem you had just let go of, arms restricted behind your back with his wrists. "No, no, you don't run from this. You can take what I give you. You asked for it, right? Sé bueno para mí... hm?"

The nod you respond with is pathetic and oozing meekness; a stark contrast to your confidence while having his thigh at your disposal. The silver lining to the pleasure in the pain — you had gotten what you wanted. His touch. Hands constricting you, then they're bending you over his desk, and roaming your clothed curves.

Your palms were flat on the desk as you rested your cheek against the smooth wood, catching only small glimpses of his movement in your blind spot. All you could rely on was touch and hearing, heightened now that your eyes were fixed on the wall adjacent.

Flick.

His pocketknife being unfolded, the one Alejandro always kept on him — in uniform or out. The flat edge of the blade danced along your clothed shoulders, straight down your spine to make you shiver. The caress of it resulted in instinctual writhing, which was smothered by his unoccupied hand pressed firmly on your hip, preventing any movement grander than a shiver.

Things had gone too far to plead forgiveness. By now, you knew it was better to take the penances rather than end up earning more for arguing.

A rush of his warm breath enveloped your ear as he leaned forward, modeling the knife in his hand for your viewing, as nothing more than a taunt. "This knife could kill a hundred men, mi amor. Do you understand?"

"You need to stay still," he returned to standing behind you, hiking up your skirt. With haste, he pulled on the fabric of your underwear, cutting through the fabric with one slice. "Otherwise, accidents happen. No queremos eso, ¿verdad?"

The sliced panties slid off your body until they fell to your feet, soaked and now ripped. Your silence wasn't enough, nor was the rapid shake of your head.

He sighed heavily, making his frustration known. "Dime. Use your words."

"No," you breathed, screwing your eyes shut briefly. "No accidents, Colonel."

"Good." His thumb caressed your inner thigh at an agonizing pace, and then his index slowly eased its way into your saturated core. You moaned softly as he curled the digit, solely fingering you to play with the pools of slick.

Alejandro unzips his cargo pants with his free hand, pressing his bulge against your backside. "Soaked for me so soon, you learn quickly, no?" He lets out a sadistic chuckle, arching a second finger and pumping it steadily, watching you writhe from pleasure.

Your thighs are parted wider with a nudge of his knee, not a suggestion but a shove. His fingers pump unpredictably; sometimes slow, other times so fast your body can't catch up.

It's an irresistible torment — one you have to endure if you have any chance of him fucking you right here, right now.

Then, it's the absence of anything stimulating you, his fingers withdrawn with haste. He rolls down his briefs to spring his erection from the tight, restricting cotton. Seconds following, the tip of his length is rutting against you at the same agonizing pace his fingers were. Before you can let out another whine, or anything for that matter, he plunges his entire length inside of your soaking cunt.

Muscles all across your body tense and arch at the sudden fill — whilst your core was relishing in the insatiable stretch of Alejandro bottoming out, the one you had been so viciously craving for hours.

"Fuck," he grinds deeply, tossing his head back when you clench around him. No matter the number of times he's been deep inside of you, he still pleasures you it's his last time. Especially when there's no spare time to waste — like now, on the clock, exposed in his office during daylight hours.

His hips snap rapidly, knocking the air out of your lungs with each thrust. Your walls clench tighter after each jerk of his cock burrowed inside you, arching your back while your fingers clamp around the desk for dear life.

You got what you wanted, after all, but it came at a price. Being fucked-dumb in the middle of his office, doomed for an interruption right as you teetered on the edge of your second orgasm.

The Colonel's fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips firmer with every brutal thrust, "pinche putilla, letting me fuck you like this." One of his palms raises and clashes with your bare rear, enough to make your knees buckle from the twinge. "You're going to cum too, aren't you? Of course, you will, Cariña." Alejandro's words come out a frustrated mutter, one restricted slightly by the grit of his teeth.

The harsh edge of the desk digs deeper against your pelvis, destined to leave a lasting mark as a reminder of your blatant disobedience. Stinging and aching, heightening the sensations you were experiencing. The words he uttered couldn't have been more truthful, either — because you were going to finish, any second now.

Underneath your fingertips, his workspace vibrated; methodical, spaced buzzes of his other work phone. His pumps only halted for a brief moment as he palmed his desk in search of the cell, raising it to his ear when he did. You were about to come undone, and he'd decided to answer the call?

It was torture in its most pleasurable way ― the risk of your moans echoing through the speakers, the deeper breaths and groans Alejandro had to mask.

Your eyes rolled when he jabbed into you firmer than before, daring you to lose your composure. But, based on his rambling to the other line, he truly couldn't risk this one.

As the caller's muffled voice was heard, even to you in your state of extreme restraint, a cloth napkin he used to clean a coffee spill found your foggy view. He stuffed the caffeine-stained linen into your agape mouth for you to sink your teeth into as you gushed around his cock. Your fingers dug into the oak, trembling wildly as your climax overtook you.

Whatever moans or mewls you let out, they were soaked up by the napkin in your mouth, as was all of your remaining saliva. Alejandro's voice had faded into a faint whisper whilst you were in the thick of stimulation. The sounds of your orgasm echoed through your parched mouth and throat, a stark contrast to your dripping core lubricating his thrusts.

Alejandro watched you come undone with a smirk, still engaging the caller with short, nonchalant replies to every question. Oh, how he reveled in watching you like this ― ass jiggling as your body swallows his length, eyes lidded and drowsy, and even with the napkin in your mouth, you're making your best attempt to stifle your sounds.

It seemed like forever, before the phone clattered against the desk again; powered off and with notifications hushed temporarily. You had well-earned this high, after being so good for him. He did notice your attempts at getting his attention during lunch, or when he would exit a meeting and you'd be waiting in the hall for him with ogling sheep's eyes ― how your attempts at masking desperation weakened as the hours passed.

His fingers plucked the linen from between your teeth, allowing him to observe your delirious expression. Alejandro's palm struck your backside again, this time giving the tender skin a soothing rub; his futile attempt at soothing you for taking his pounds so well. The little control he had while on the phone had dwindled.

His thrusts halted in speed, stopping completely when he spurted his cum deep within you. Warm, stringy splotches of his seed coated your walls, spilling down your shivering thighs when he withdrew from you.

This time, the next spank was that of a playful one ― a barely-there smack on the flesh of your inflamed backside. Still, he caressed the marks he left from the harsher ones, feeling the gentle heat radiate off the sore spots.

『 "Next time you want to cum, nena ― you ask." 』

————— ୨୧ ————— divider cred. - cafekitsune

[rennyrose]

(Trigun 80s Dystopia AU) Handful of scribbles- pondering a great many thots (also apologies for the sudden partial nudity pffpfpffffffft)

[thisismeracing]

ok so building in that komh tattoo thot

what if they got their pet names for each other tattooed in their partners handwriting

i.e. hamilton!reader calls mick mouse and he has a tattoo of the name in her hand writing (imo she writes almost exclusively in cursive, sue me)

thank about this liebe or schatzi in micks handwriting on hamilton!readers left wrist where you check for pulse cause mick is her life and you check for pulse to see if someone is still alive

mouse would be located on mick’s neck where you also check for pulse

one of these bitches gets a tattoo and then the other follows suit because they want to match and i respect it

THEY GET THE PET NAME TATS TOGETHER THIS TIME AND THEY ARE THERE FOR EACH OTHER INSTEAD OF THEIR SIBLINGS HOLDING THEIR HANDS

*flashback to last ask*

gina is in europe and mick slams the door open to her room (how did he get here??) and drags her to the tattoo parlor to get the high heel done

and on the entire car ride there mick is gushing about how hamilton!reader got a tattoo for HIM and now he has to do the same

gina is really just doing this for him to calm tf down

back to regularly scheduled programming

the siblings are still there at the appointment but they are more so there to take pictures and document the process

ok imma stop there cause this ask is getting long as hell

☕️

part 1 tattoo thot

"You're really getting a tattoo on your neck?" Gina asks sitting beside Lewis who's watching as Yn scribbles something on the paper the tattoo artist gave her. They were yet unaware that the tattoo would be in Mick's and Yn's handwriting, both just knew the couple was getting matching tattoos. Well, new matching tattoos because they already had done it the last month. Yn sporting the number 47 just behind her ear, and Mick sporting a small shoe in the same location.

Mick nods to Gina, "Yeah, it'll look good," he grins at Yn who playfully rolls her eyes, trying to keep the anticipation of kissing her own handwriting on his neck.

"Your is gonna be in your neck as well?" Lewis asks his sister, but Yn shakes her head.

"Mine will be on my wrist," she turns it up, pointing to the exact place with the pen in her hands.

Mick grabs a pen, writing "Schatzi" in it a couple times, before showing Yn, "Is this a good size?"

Gina and Lewis shared a look finally understanding what their baby siblings were doing. Gina has a grin bigger than her face, and Lewis just chuckles watching the whole scene unfold. He's happy for Yn, though he'll definitely talk with Mick again, just for a measure, because now the German has two marks on his baby sister, two tattoos when he only has one with her.

The artist starts to explain the whole procedure even though they were there just a few weeks back. Mick and Yn are sitting side by side and nod along. They're holding hands, keeping them laced while Mick gets his tattoo. He makes some faces at Yn and holds back the laughter when she winces for him in a particular spot. It doesn't take long. It's a fairly small tattoo, "mouse" in cursive letters. Her nickname for him. The silly little name she's been calling him even before they got together. When it's her turn, things are almost the same. Gina and Lewis from the back filming and joking, and Mick and Yn holding hands.

Mick bends to capture her lips in a quick kiss when she whines about how the first S is hurting. It's in capital letters, and it's his handwriting. He feels a surge of pride watching the drawing getting form. Yn is distracted enough by his kisses and whispers to whine again. And when it's finished they're both smiling at the other.

"This looks so cool," Yn gazes at Mick's neck, his new tattoo covered by a thin layer of protector foil.

"Well, we are done with tattoos for a long while now, yeah?" Lewis quirks his brows, clearly joking with the couple. Yn shows him her tongue, and Mick just shrugs, both silently hiding the fact that they're are already having new ideas.

Yn's body was his temple, and Mick was a feverish devotee. She was his queen, and he was her proud subject. Of course, he would have her eternalized on his skin in a way that everyone could see.

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