#sizzling sensation

[viapu-com]

Add some spice to your dinner routine with our Sizzling Sensation: Thin Chicken Breast recipe. Now cooking can be both fun and scrumptious. #TheTasteYouCrave

[toptenknowledge]

The Top 10 Hottest Fictional Characters in the World: Sizzling Sensations

Hottest Fictional Characters: Dive into the world of make-believe as we uncover the top 10 hottest fictional characters who set our hearts racing and our imaginations on fire. There’s no denying the power of well-written Hottest Fictional Characters. Whether they exist in the realm of literature, movies, or television shows, these characters captivate our hearts and minds, often leaving us…

[drchucktingle]

Greg is enjoying some fun in the sun at a friend’s afternoon barbeque, when a simple request comes in the form of a question: could you grab me a chocolate milk from that cooler? This sets in motion a terrible turn of events, Greg reaching down and experiencing a horrible pain in his back. Rather than listening to his body, Greg pushes through the warning signs in fear, worried that Greg’s slightly younger group of friends will make fun of his muscle pain.

Unfortunately, this puts Greg in even worse shape, calling forth the physical manifestation of the aches and pains he gets after doing a simple task that he wouldn’t even think twice about doing when he was younger, named Rimpo.

Now Greg and Rimpo are working to fix this tangled mess… with some hardcore gay physical therapy.

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on gay living aches and pains action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and sentient sensation love.

----

what a dang day please enjoy new tingler POUNDED BY THE ACHES AND PAINS I GET AFTER DOING A SIMPLE PHYSICAL TASK THAT I WOULDN’T EVEN THINK TWICE ABOUT DOING WHEN I WAS YOUNGER out now on amazon and true buckaroo tier patreon

[yandere-kokeshi]

— it's mate

Pairing: yandere tentacle-monster x gn reader

Summary: coming home angry from a bad day at work, you started to have fun with yourself. But some tentacles under your bed also wanted to join.

Warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, and smut: mention of dildo’s, reader watches porn from phone (that's soon forgotten), masturbation, slight choking, tentacles (DUH), anal, creampie in all ends (;)), and hints at eggs. 

Sighing softly, you dropped your bags from work as you entered your home, the exhaustion of the day at the office weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Your dickbag of a boss, Jared, was an idiot. Blaming you for things that were out of your control. Treating you differently than the rest of your team. Teasing too far and being too touchy for comfort. What an ignorant prick. 

It was irritating just thinking about him. 

Watching his ‘unique’ hair toss back, dye a colorful green, and flaunt it like it’s the most amazing thing. Oh, and let’s not forget about the horrible smell of cigarettes. The sharp cologne was worse. 

Gagging was a good way of describing him.

You weren’t hungry. Eating soup at lunch was fulfilling, but you were fulfilling something else. Something more… private. 

Walking into your bedroom, you sluggishly undressed yourself, throwing the dirty clothes onto the floor as you reached for your t-shirt. But you hesitated, stopping in your tracks before, knowing full well you don’t need it. 

It was a long day, and you deserve a treat. A good treat, that’s for sure. 

You flopped on your bed, a sizzling warmth of desire swirling in your stomach. You were unsure where the urge came from, considering that nothing — not even your favorite dildos were in sight to tempt you. 

But it was still there, and it needed to be satiated. 

The soft comforter tickled your bare legs, making you bite your lips. You snaked your hands up your stomach to your chest, fondling your now-hardened nubs. It sent chills down your spine, but it wasn’t satisfying your needs. 

You reached beside you, unlocking your phone with swift fingers, and began your search; the reliable porn site you used all the time when days were too rough. 

Quickly finding an appealing video, one that you knew would get you off, you pressed it — feeling your thighs clench uncontrollably at the excitement. 

As the video continued, you chewed your lips and snaked your hand underneath your laced underwear; feeling wetness pile. Your head falls back into your pillow, your fingers barely grazing your hole.

You felt your entire body flush. Electricity sends signals down your legs and into your sex. Within seconds, one of your hands went up to fondle your sensitive nipples. Gripping at them, you swirled a finger around your areola. 

Goosebumps rode over you. 

Gasping, you stroked your hole before entering it — slowing the pace as stretching, slight pain came, then quickening it another second later as pleasure and hotness envelops you. 

“Fuck–” you rasped out, pleasure shooting through you and the rope in your abdomen tightening; a clear sign of your closeness. 

Your phone slid beside you, the voices and sounds turning you on more than ever. You quickened the pace of your rubbing, swirling your juices in your sex with your two fingers. 

Suddenly, a faint feeling — a sliding, wet object wraps around your ankle, yanking it closer to the edge. Even with your fingers, you were too occupied with wanting to finish. But yet, something else joined in. 

Black tentacles rose from under your bed, connecting to your ankles and going up your body with a weird sensation: a cold, slick but hot touch. It was pleasing. Odd. Enjoyable nevertheless. 

Cursing out, you turned your gaze down towards your bare legs, seeing black tendrils gripping your ankles. Realization hit you like a bat, and you snatched your legs up, scrambling to sit upright. 

But the darkness grew bigger – pooling around your legs, dragging your form down slowly as they gripped your thighs, skin pulling at the sounds of suction cups pulling at them. 

It was pleasant, fulfilling, just like your desire. Despite your racing heart.

It made no sound, but the pressure increased until your legs parted willingly, and you lay back against your pillow. Yet, you let out a surprised gasp – feeling a black tendril immediately coming up and gripping your neck. 

The thick appendage swirled around your face, pulsing in a way as it was leaving a type of sticky substance onto your cheek — It stopped at your mouth, almost asking for consent before forcing it into your parted lips.

You gagged, but mewled as an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body, right under your skin like thunder. 

Cool and insistent, the pleasure seemed to touch you everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Something purred loudly from the blacks of your room. But you couldn’t pay attention to the almost-ancient voice. 

The tentacle in your mouth began to pump slowly, moving further down your throat. You gagged loudly, and when you tried pulling it out, the slick but hot-to-touch skin rose a large growl from the abyss of your room — the sound echoing itself into your very soul. 

You found yourself mewling in seconds. The thick, iridescent tendril between your legs started to tease you; purring loudly, as if it was enjoying your tensed body and gagging state. 

First heat then cold prickled your skin from the inside, all the while the creature remained between your bent legs. 

You knew you should be afraid, yelling for help, but it felt so good. You were so wet.

Then, what felt like a thick, serpentine tongue lapped curiously around your sex, tasting you, before the very tip pressed against your hole and you yelped. That same numbing, tingling, intense hot and cold, almost like when you tasted alcohol for the first time, began to swirl around your hole, tracing the lines of your puffed sex, and finally dipping inside you.

You moaned in pleasure, toes curling, as the creature moved rhythmically in and out of you, licking over your nipples when it pulled out, then returning the pressure to your inner walls until you were dripping and shuddering. 

It seemed to like it when you moaned, pushing deeper and gripping your thighs with its strange, tentacles which joined in your other hole.

“More…” breathed a deep and echoing voice, the walls of your room itself echoing the demand. 

You were stuffed in each way. 

The tentacle in your mouth started to jerk quickly, the tentacle slapping against your chin with every thrust. You moaned, feeling pleasure sweeping through you, you wanted to say more. Please give me more. But you couldn’t. 

Not when you’re stuffed to the brim. 

Spit dribbled down your chin. Numbing your skin as it face-fucked you; the movements becoming uneven, and the creature, somehow, groaning in a non-English language. 

“Such a pretty thing…”

The voice rang in your ears, your throat bulged as a muffled scream erupted from you — feeling pulsing ropes coiling around your arms, legs, and thighs; wrapping each of your limbs tightly and spreading you wider as you rose faster to your needed climax. 

Suddenly, an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body under your skin like electricity. 

And with that, the length, deep-throating you, sent hot strings of fluid down your throat; coating your tongue with salty, but delicious fluid that was entirely making you crazy. 

“Yesss….” came the echoed voice, one tendril tightening around your leg as another was playing with your nipples, “Swallow us whole, pretty human.”

Your eyes were watering, as you swallowed the continuous hot, thick fluid down your tightening throat. You couldn’t breathe, all your holes being used.

Seconds went by, and before you know it, the creature slid itself out of your abused throat — you let out a low-pitched whine, not only at the fact of not finishing, but wanting to continue.

Your struck nerves were going through the roof, and the creature was enjoying it.

“No need to be upset,” the creature cooed, “You’ll soon finish. Just need to prepare for the breeding process, mate.”

The voice hummed as your eyes widened. But, it left with no room for questioning or begging, because when it said that, you were quickly repositioned — you now being on your stomach, face being squished against your pillow, and feeling a rope slithering down your sleek back. Assuring you as to what’s about to come. 

Your heart lurched as you felt something much larger, thicker, took the place of the thin tentacle, the head testing against your entrances until your spine arched, and you moaned loudly against the writhing darkness around you. 

Then, in one brutal motion, it seated itself inside you. 

Its lengths filled you, and something pressed against that spot as its movements crescendoed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

You moaned shamelessly, “Yes–! More!” 

The surrounding air got warmer, the movements behind you slightly rougher as each tentacle took turns — one going in, another going out, and vice versa. 

“All ours.”

The growls it revealed sent shivers into your soul. And you were taking everyone like a whore. 

Pleasure like you’ve never felt before swept through you, and you bit into the sheets, moaning like a good ol’ breeder as drool smeared across your hot skin. Strong, and thick tentacles surrounded your waist, arms, and thighs as it pounded into you faster as it growled loudly. 

And finally, you broke. 

You came with a scream, back arching, hips lifting, and hands gripping the wet sheets. Your body spasmed, the rope in your stomach snapped, and the fire spread along your body; sending you over the edge.

“You take us so well — sooo tight.”

And with that, the creature climaxed — hot, thick, and filling cum filled you to the prim. Many tentacles nuzzle your neck, jaw, and help pull your sweaty hair out of your forehead. 

It purred as the fluid filled you still. You felt the tentacles still pleasuring you, sliding in and out of your spent holes at a tortuously slow speed. Even though you were full, you felt hot liquid dribble down your thighs and onto the bed. 

The creature chuckled, a slimy-like tongue licking your sweat. It seemed to enjoy your taste.

“We promise to provide the best treatment for you – after all, we are not done.”

You didn’t say anything, even though you wanted to. You simply allowed exhaustion to wash over you, claiming you instantly as your eyes fluttered closed. 

The next morning, the birds chirping and the morning light shining in your room, you grunted at your sore body. Still feeling the same hotness as you felt before. At first, you were so sure it had to be a dream.

But as you looked down, seeing circled hickeys stained onto your skin, and the sheets stained with liquid, it proved you wrong.

Before you could get up, and use the bathroom to clean yourself up from the very messy night — you felt a thick appendage wrap around your ankle, yanking you back into the bed. And before you could speak, something beat you to it.

“Didn’t we tell you we are not done? We need you as our personal mate.”

Goosebumps rose, and the very ache inside you throbbed. 

Before long, you were at it again — all your holes used, your ass and main hole used as breeding grounds as your mouth was used as a bucket holder. And yet, you couldn’t ask for more than a perfect thing. 

You couldn’t say anything, your voice was worn out too long ago that you had forgotten. 

And yet, just as you placed your hand on your belly, hours already passed as a small tentacle affectingly swirled against your fingers, you felt your tummy quite larger; a hint of its impregnating grounds already working. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

Tags: @finleyrambles , @juciybeef. @valeriasbaby ,

[teamatsumu]

all eyes on you. (seijoh 4 x reader)

warnings: pure smut, not even an iota of plot, swearing, fem!reader, voyeurism, fingering, masturbation, implied group sex, slight degradation

word count: 1k

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead

“H-Hajime,” Your voice trembles and breaks, body arched and wound up tight. Your nails dig into his forearms enough to leave marks, but you’re not sure he minds, considering his fingers only speed up inside you and he moans deliciously in your ear.

Iwaizumi has your back against his chest, and your legs hooked over his. He spreads his legs, simultaneously spreading yours, his unoccupied arm wrapped tight around your waist to hold you in place and keep you nice and open for the three pairs of hungry eyes that are trained on your naked, sweaty body.

“Touch her clit,” Hanamaki whispers, his hand working over his own exposed cock. He is leaning back on the couch before you, looking more bored than anything, but his eyes are sizzling with heat, unblinking, and his hand on his cock is urgent. Your breath stutters, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or because Iwaizumi chooses that moment to curl his fingers inside you.

“Don’t tell me how to please my girlfriend.” Iwaizumi grunts back, free hand reaching up to cup at your breast almost possessively. Nevertheless, his fingers slide out of you with a wet squelch and reach up to toy at your engorged clit. Your legs jerk and you gasp at the change in sensations.

“Don’t get snarky, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa’s voice does not match the playfulness of his words. It is husky and low, and he too is playing with his erection. The head is deep pink and weeping with precum, proudly showing just how aroused he is. How can he not be? With the show Iwaizumi is using you to put on.

“She loves it so much, see? Look how pretty she looks.” Oikawa continues, voice turning softer now, more teasing. It almost doesn’t feel like a compliment. Like he is demeaning you, but it only turns you on even more. You can’t believe this is something you enjoy, the jeering way he was talking about you. Iwaizumi never did that. You whine, eyebrows creasing.

“She likes that.” Matsukawa somehow sounds just as sharp and teasing as Oikawa. He has been quiet this whole time, only watching. He hadn’t even undressed, choosing to instead stick his hand in his pants and slowly stroke over himself. Deep down, you longed to see his cock too, knowing because of the jokes the boys made over the years that he was more than well endowed. But you are too shy to voice your desire. You are already doing something you couldn’t have imagined in a million years.

“You assholes are lucky you’re even watching this.” Iwaizumi quipped. “Don’t be ungrateful.”

He keeps his fingers moving on your clit, unwinding his other arm from around you to fill up your empty hole again. You gasp and arch again, one arm reaching back to grip tight on his hair while the other continues clawing at his skin.

“Tell me how you feel, baby.” He coos, knowing you are getting closer.

“Tell us how you feel.” Oikawa interjects, grinning when Iwaizumi shoots him a glare. His hand speeds up, anticipating your release and wanting to reach his high at the same time.

“I-” You weep, tears escaping your eyes to coat your cheeks instead. “I- Hajime!”

“Sshh, I’ve got you.” Hajime kisses the skin just below your ear, a spot that he knows is sensitive. “You’re doing so good, baby. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Everyone’s looking at you. You’re so sexy.”

“You are, Y/N-chan.” Oikawa speaks again. “Can’t believe I’ve never seen you like this before. Been missing out.”

“Wish it was me,” Hanamaki chimed in. “Wonder what your pretty pussy would feel like on my cock.”

“Watch it.” Iwaizumi warned, but you moaned loudly, clamping down hard on his fingers. Matsukawa snickered.

“You’ve got a whore on your hands, Iwa.” He commented. “She fucking loves the thought of it. Isn’t that right?”

He leans forward, hand moving faster and faster inside his jeans. His words shock you, he is so crass. But it sends a current zipping down your torso, settling like heat in the pit of your stomach. Iwaizumi rubbed hard against your clit, curling his fingers against your spot.

“You want their cocks?” Iwaizumi groans into the shell of your ear, picking up on how aroused you are getting. “You little slut. You’re not satisfied by just me. You’re not even satisfied by them watching. You need them to fuck you.”

You wail as you come, body winding tight as electricity runs up your spine and clutches tight at your lungs. You try to close your legs, to stop Hajime’s hands as they continue to abuse your sloppy pussy. He doesn’t let you, though. His legs hold yours in place as he watches your body writhe. There are groans and curses, as one man after another cums after you, reaching their limit at the sight of your undulating torso, your curled toes, your jaw slacked and your tears still flowing.

Iwaizumi finally pulls his fingers out, running his drenched hand over your sensitive cunt. You jump and whine, trying to push him away, but your weakened limbs are no match for him. He brings his hand down, spanking your pussy and making you yelp.

“Behave,” Iwaizumi nibbles at your earlobe. “Be nice. We have guests.”

Your eyes finally find your audience, their flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You immediately notice the white that coats their cocks, their hands, some traveling up their bare fronts. You flush at the sight, and you feel something in your core stir again.

Iwaizumi pats your thigh, closing his legs and encouraging you to move. He manhandles you to face him, bringing your focus down to his still rock hard cock. Your breath hitches at the little smirk on his face.

“C’mon, baby. Take care of me. And if these idiots wanna keep watching, they’re welcome to.”

No one moves from the couch, straightening to eye the show you will put on next.

[sunflowersteves]

um so getting fucked by logan in public place...i mean getting fucked by logan-

(please know the way i'm salivating over this man is downright sinful.)

author's note || babes,,, i feel u. this man is in my dreams 24/7. i lov u for requesting this <3

summary || basically, you defend Logan and he quite literally goes feral.

warnings || fluff, some angst, anti-mutant rhetoric, SMUT [minors dni], P in V sex, praise kink, public-sex, desperation

Logan was used to being alone. It was second nature for him to blend into a crowd and survey the bustling fullness of the night. Usually, he hightailed to the back of the bar, his eyes studying carefully while he nursed the beer in his hand. 

When Logan met you, though, some things changed a bit. Instead of being at the back of the bar, he usually sat right next to you. While he wasn’t much for PDA and often abstained from it, he still let the hardness of his thigh rest against yours. It was such a simple touch, but you knew how much Logan needed to breathe in your presence. It soothed him. 

Tonight was like any other Friday night. You both wanted to go to the bar for a little bit of fun before another mission killed the atmosphere. Logan usually has a beer in his hand and his other subtly resting against your back. His eyes would bore into yours as he watched you talk about your day. It was always something he looked forward to. The ways that your eyes would sparkle underneath the illuminating bar lights. 

The bar was packed tonight, though. Bodies were practically on top of one another—playing pool, dancing to the stereo, or attempting to chat up someone to take home. Your idea to go to the bar had not just been your own. You could hear Logan’s heartbeat race as someone kept bumping into him—despite the very menacing aura rolling off of him. 

So, in response, you were currently nursing a whiskey all by your lonesome. It wasn’t that you were lonesome, it was much of the opposite. Logan had stepped out of the bar for a quick smoke, wanting to calm the nerves that pricked his skin. Logan needed a breather. He never wanted to leave you by yourself—although he knew you were completely fine. He just didn’t want to. You smiled at him with one of those breathtaking ones that caught his breath. 

“Go. I’ll still be here.” You whispered. God, he loved you. It was so evident, yet the years of having a broken heart shattered his ideas of loving someone again. The pain was etched across his chest, back, organs—everything. Add the number of people surrounding him, caging him in had reached an overwhelming capacity. So, he stepped out toward the back and dragged his cigar across his lips. He let the nicotine softly quiet the aches in his chest. 

You sipped the bitter taste of Jim Beam, your body almost shuddering at the hot feeling of liquor going down your throat. You felt the buzz already—not having much of anything to eat despite Logan asking if you had eaten. He handed you a granola bar in the car. He already knew the answer to his question. During a heated discussion with Scott, you had completely forgotten to eat some lunch. 

Logan was as caring as always—rubbing a hand across your wrist to ask if you had anything to eat today. However, your thoughts of him were screeched to a halt from a presence coming straight toward you. 

“Where’d the big guy go?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at the sensation of a tall silhouette behind you. You didn’t respond, though. You and Logan were used to the comments—usually, fans wanting pictures with the well-known X-men. Those you didn’t mind. Men like these, though? The ones that taunt you for your differences, the ones that make your skin itch.

“C’mon. That mutant scum isn’t here anymore. No need to act so tough.” 

You huffed out of your nose in disgust. There was a sizzle underneath your chest that made you want to scream in anger. You held your ground, though, knowing that it wouldn’t help very much. You knew men like these. Any use of your powers could end up with a call to the police and another article about how “violent” mutants are.

Although, not budging made the stranger even more pissed than he was. “You’re too pretty to be with a beast like him. Didn’t you hear, anyway?” This man just wouldn’t stop fucking talking. “The Wolverine hurts anything he touches. He’s a fuck up. A low life. A fucking animal—” 

Now that comment is what made you turn your head. You had heard enough before you slammed your glass on the bar counter. The man beside you jumped in surprise. A scowl on your lips, nostrils flared. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

Logan’s eyebrows twitched as he heard the snarl in your voice. He burnt out the cigar on his skin—slightly wincing at the sizzle of his skin. Worry surged through his chest at the mere idea of your discomfort. A primal need to protect the thing he loves was fogging his brain. The leather of his jacket was straining against the bulge of his muscles as he sauntered back through the bar. His shoulders were taunted back, surveying the bar as everyone’s head turned to you and some guy. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. You had bunched the collar of the man, lifting him off the floor. Your eyes were wild with anger, your teeth clenched tightly as you spoke to the stranger. “If you ever talk about the Wolverine like that again, I’m going to cut off your head and feed it to your fucking wife—” The boom of your voice echoed through the bar. It was so silent that a pin could drop. 

You could handle comment after comment thrown at you. That, you knew quite well. However, you knew how Logan actually felt about the comments. They called him an animal. A beast. They forced him into something he was always scared of. Himself. You knew him differently. He was Logan. He would make you a cup of coffee every morning, adding a sprinkle extra of cinnamon that he knew you loved. He left fuzzy blankets in his room after the first time you spent the night with him. You commented how itchy his sheets were and ever since, he silently wraps you up in one with an arm attached to your waist. He would place a protective arm in front of you during missions—always assessing the danger to make sure that you would never get hurt. He was so much more than anything they portrayed him as. He was human and everyone—including the team—sometimes forgets that. 

“Darlin’—” You felt your shoulder visibly relax as his large hand enveloped your soft skin. “They’re not worth it.” 

Your heart was beating fast against your ears. You did everything in your power to not throw the man across the room. Your teeth snarled at him—the guy visibly winces, expecting the worst. You slowly lowered him to the ground and let go of his collar. 

“Fucking mutants.” He spits before backing up as far away from the two of you as possible. You turn to move again and the guy gets startled and jumps in fear. Logan squeezes your shoulder to try and ground you once again.

He sees you visibly relax, some regret etched into your features. He knew that you didn’t want to cause a scene but you couldn’t help it. He knew that feeling quite well—when it came to you, he was the same. 

“Let's go home.” 

Logan was silent as the two of you walked out of the bar. You cringed at the pure stillness of the night. You didn’t mean to do more than you should have. It was just an instinct, especially as the vexation flowed through your veins. 

You stop in your tracks for a moment. You opened your mouth to say something which prompted his steps to a halt, as well. “Logan, I’m—” He never let you finish. He grabs your shoulders and shoves you against the brick wall of the bar. You let out a gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours. 

His heart is beating fast, echoing against his ears. For once in his life, someone had protected him. Someone had stood up and defended him. Sure, Charles has done that many times, but not from an act of pure love. Charles believed in him. You loved him. 

He has this feeling in his chest. He wantonly has an itch to devour you. He wants to lick the sides of your body and ravish in the pure essence of you. He’d never had this feeling before—this animalistic, pure affection was pounding against his chest. 

“You just couldn’t help it, huh, princess?” He grunted against your ear. His hands caged you in, one resting beside your head and the other deliciously attached to your hip. His teeth nipped at the skin below your ear. “You just wanted to defend your old man, hmm?” He hummed. 

The hand on your hip lowered to your thigh and squeezed the plush flesh. You were wearing a pretty dress tonight, one that you knew he would rip off later. You just weren’t expecting it now. “I just—” He breathed in the smell of your shampoo and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t let him talk about you like that, Lo.” 

You let out a whine as he growled against your ear. He was insatiable—unhinged. Something was brewing beneath his stomach that he had never felt before. “Oh, pretty girl. You wanted to protect me?” His lips were at the shell of his ear. You nodded. You almost felt shy now, a direct contrast from earlier. 

Your leg moved to wrap around his own, curling right around his hip. He smirked at the sparkle in your eyes. “Yeah, I know, baby. God, you’re just so fucking good to me.” You were both losing your patience from the pliant kissing and stumbling of limbs. You both were desperate and wanting of one another. 

His lips lowered down your neck. The hand that was caged against the side of your head was now pressed up against your breast. You whined, “They can’t—” You gasped as he squeezed the plush flesh. “They can’t say those things. Made me—” He smiles, lips curling into a little smirk. He moves his arm down to your aching cunt. “Made me see red, Lo.” 

Your hips buck into his hand, the wall scratching against your shoulders as you’re shoved more into the brick. “Yeah? Wanted to hurt him, baby?”

He groaned into your ear at the thought of blood covering your hands from destroying the man trying to insult him. It only fueled more of his fire. He couldn’t take it anymore—mouth still sticking to yours in a gruesome dance across your lips. The saliva spread to his beard, messy and filthy. 

“Wanted—ah—wanted to see him pay.” His hand fully dipped between your panties, bunching up your dress as he lifted you up against the wall. It happened swiftly, yet your mind burned with want and need.

“Fuck. You’re so wet.” He teased your slick entrance, making your legs instinctively pull him closer. “Logan, please.” 

He could smell the way you were leaking for him, spreading the slick around with his fingers. He let out a growl and swiftly unbuckled his belt. He couldn’t wait any longer and neither could you. 

“Can’t wait to fill you. Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He moves your panties with his thumb and swiftly glides in his wide girth. You moan in unison, but you swallow his own and yours with a long kiss on his lips. Your tongues swirl together and you could’ve sworn he pulled you even further. You could feel every inch of him inside of you. He moaned at the stretch of your cunt wrapped around him. “Feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna—fuck—gonna make you mine.”

Your head hits the back of the wall and you start to feel fuzzy in the head. “Lo–” You whine. “Love you.” You whisper into the night air. Something hits Logan in the chest and he can’t help but snap his hips into you even further. 

It makes you see stars, but all Logan can think about is how much he loves you. His chest was burning with something different—something more primal than he had ever felt. It made him want to drool, place his head against you, and live there forever. 

“Love you too, baby.” He grunts. He wanted to do this properly—to be a gentleman. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make sweet love to you, and then tell you those three little words. It completely went out the window when you defended him—when you stood up for him like no one else has. You completely had his back and he couldn’t help but let the happiness burst through his veins. “Love you so fucking much. You know that, baby?”

He makes you turn your head towards him to look him in the eye. You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for Logan. “Need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“You love me. I know you love me.” He groans and pumps his cock straight onto your cervix. It makes you squeal at the sensation and he feels the slick run down to his balls. The cold night air made goosebumps on your skin, though, your mind not even noticing. 

“Fuck, I love the way you sound. Don’t be shy, baby.” You fully moan, more than likely the sound echoing across the bar parking lot. “That’s it.” You both were beginning to feel dizzy with love and lust. He couldn’t stop staring into your eyes. He was too immersed in them and he never wanted to look away from them again. 

“Fuck, Logan!” 

“Let go, baby. Let me feel you.” The coil finally snapped as you unleashed the precipice of your orgasm. Your body shuttered against him, all while he was singing praises in your ear. You clench around him so hard that in one thrust, he’s filling you up to the brim. He slowly pumps his salty cum into you, your body convulsing with pure ecstasy. 

You start to giggle in his arms about the whole night. Logan couldn’t help but smile too. You were just too contagious. 

“Let’s go home, Lo.”

He couldn’t help but smile brightly at the thought. He couldn’t suppress the pure joy like he normally could.

“Yeah, okay.” He whispers.

You were home to him. 

He never had to do anything alone anymore. He certainly didn’t have to deal with the demons attached to his hurt heart.

He finally had you.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Five)

CW: Oral (f receiving), squirting, second hand embarrassment

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Thickened hands worked against your flesh, kneading your hips like softened dough, working it between long fingers that itched to feel every crevice of you.

You radiated heat, slick gushing between your thighs, evidence smeared across the dining table as you felt Simon’s hot breath kiss your clit, brown eyes examining your most intimate areas before he finally licked a long stripe against the middle of your cunt, slurping the taste of you into his mouth, staining his tongue with a mix of arousal and sweat.

A guttural breath left your lips as you bucked your hips, two hands quickly ushering them down onto the hard surface as he licked and kissed at your exposure, saliva stringing between your slit and his own mouth as his nose rubbed against your sensitive bud.

“O-h my god,” you hissed at the sensation, whining at the way he slobbered against your mound, his tongue finally reaching your clit as he sucked it into his mouth with a loud sound, gushing around every inch of you with an obscene amount of spit and sound.

He panted against you, practically aching in his own pants as he got off on just tasting you, having you so docile under him, so completely willing under his tongue.

Long digits pressed against your weeping entrance, smearing around your wetness before they pushed inside, your own hand fisted into your mouth as you concealed the pleasured squeal that tore from your dry throat.

Simon pulled away, a hand slapping down against your clit as you winced. “Ain’t doing this if I can’t hear all the sounds you make. Got it?”

You replied in a desperate whine, nodding your head as you urged him back to your throbbing cunt, completely fixated on his touch. The air grew thick with the sound of your moans and the sound of the man devouring you, licking you with a profound urgency.

His fingers worked inside you, gummy walls breached with your slick as he rubbed against them, feeling against all your sweet spots as he curled deliciously, eliciting a raspy moan from you.

Simon would die right here, suckling against your clit as he caressed your cunt, moulding his fingers inside you before he could replace them when you were ready, with his cock. The tangy taste subsided against his tongue, his spit mixing in with your slick as he worked against the hood of your clit, nerves rattling against his pink muscle as he smiled when your thighs wrapped around him closer.

Your knees crossed around his head, desperate for the building high that coiled in masses, simmering in the pits of your stomach. Sweat built at the back of your legs, working in teams to swim down your salty flesh, sizzling into the nape of Simon’s neck as he worked against your heat, caressing it with hot, wet kisses.

“I’m close,” you murmured out, almost falling on deaf ears as he focused on the taste of you, his hand giving a reassuring grip to your thigh as you whined and spluttered around foggy air.

“That’s it, honey, taste so fucking good,” he slurred, almost pussy drunk on you as he growled back a gasp for air before resuming. Your fingers coiled in the ashy brown roots, tugging the base upwards as you writhed, spitting out expletives in an attempt to cool your orgasm off, fuelling your body with the absolute pleasure your neighbour was providing for you.

You came with a pornographic sigh, almost resulting in a wail as you convulsed around his fingers, sweet sap spilling from your heat as it splashed against his forearm and the lower part of his face. You swore you could hear Simon moan as he lapped at it, the overwhelming need for release taking over you as you writhed under his harsh grip, no doubt subtle sweeps of purple would paint against your skin later.

You finished with a loud cry, your legs shaking as the muscles twitched and worked down the upcoming high you just experienced, a satisfied grin lacing Simon’s face as he pulled away, tongue darting out to lick at his drenched lips before he pulled you into a kiss.

He was stained with the taste of you, working your own slick back into your mouth as he worked his lips against yours, stubble rubbing against your stache area as you clamped nimble digits down on his forearm, feeling the pure form of muscle he had worked years for. You both pulled away with a pant, eyes crossed on each other, lashes darting up and down as you let out a dorky laugh, suddenly self-conscious.

“Was that okay? You feel al’right?”

“Simon… I literally squirted.”

Your face burned with humiliation at your own crude words, his own laughter filling the damp air as he rubbed against your thigh affectionately. It had been a while since Simon had done this, too busy with deployment and working, focusing on himself and his team. He never had time for any of this, he wasn’t even sure if he had time for it now. All he knew was he strangely enjoyed your company, pulling him in with a quick glance and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

He fetched you water as you hopped off the table, a slight wobble in your step as you hobbled over to the couch. You noted your desperate need for a shower as you readjusted your nightgown, the fabric stained with sweat and your own wetness as you shrugged off the grimy feeling.

You almost felt like you were moulding into his couch as you twitched uncomfortably, skin coated with a light sheet of salty perspiration as Simon raised a brow. “Do you want a shower? I can clean up and join you?” His tone was gruff but his eyes were gentle, almost softening into a darker shade of brown as you smiled, offering him a polite nod as you scurried off.

Silk left your skin, the back of your neck smothered by your hair that had tangled into a knotted mass, a grunt leaving your pursed lips. Your stomach settled with flushed tingles, nerves coiling through your veins, pumping into your bloodstream as they streamed to your cunt, subtle throbs beating in your clit as you imagined Simon nude, steam slicing through the glass pane of the shower as flesh tangled between wet limbs, lashes clamped with water as he fucked into you, strong hands holding the backs of your thighs as he guided you along his length with ease.

You heard the front door open, rushing you back to the presence as you examined your hair from behind, in desperate need of a brush. You turned the sink on, opening his cabinet to look for anything to wash your face with before landing on a basic line of skincare, a gel cleanser staring back at you, almost mocking you. You fumbled with the lid as you scrubbed away at your tender skin, eyes burning with the animosity of the face wash before thick suds followed down the drain.

You could hear Simon’s voice, almost calling out to you as you flicked off the tap. Fluffy grey cotton wrapped around your frame as you huddled out of the bathroom, following his voice.

“Did you need me?” You asked, barely looking up as you readjusted the towel around you, tucking it in.

“Ay, Simon didn’t tell us he had a missus waiting at home.”

The voice was painfully unfamiliar as you let out a squeak, eyes bolting towards three unruly men standing in the living room, your neighbour nowhere in sight. Your face paled as your eyes bulged, fingers gripping the material that barely covered you as you took in Simon slamming the front door shut, a hand slapping against the back of a man’s mohawk as you rushed away, humiliation exuding through you as you cowered away in his bathroom, wet tears of embarrassment streaming to the surface of your eyes as you let out a painful whine.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

This is not the best piece of work I apologise my beautiful people. :’)

[woozyvee]

fried eggs and pillow talk

felix x female reader

wc: ~5400

content: coworkers au, smut, fluff

synopsis: it's not like you meant to fall for the charms of the office flirt and follow him home after a night out with your coworkers. either way, you are now left to deal with the consequences.

an: domestic lixie. hyunjin is felix's roommate. this is surprisingly soft, mayhaps i have a big fat crush on yongbok. stayed up past 4am to finish this bitch because fuck sleeping, amirite? (i'm not). anyway, enjoy!!

⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊

Pounding, piercing, disorienting pain.

For a good few seconds, that is all there is. You realize that this sensation is concentrated to your head. No, actually, your stomach, too.

After a few moments more, you remember that you have other senses, as well, which allow you to feel your sweat dampening the sheets embracing you and to hear the melodic songs of birds outside.

Lastly, you're struck with the idea that you possess the ability to open your eyes. It kind of makes the ache sizzling within you a little angrier and so you have to struggle some to pry your lids apart, but you eventually succeed. Though, as soon as you do, an expanding part of you wishes you hadn't.

Because you're met with a familiar mess of blond, frizzy hair.

In the same way that the early morning sunrays sting your eyes, memories from the previous evening come pouring in to sting your brain. You drown in flashing impressions of Felix's toothy smile as he buys you a drink, his hand holding yours as you stumble through the bar and past the prying eyes of your coworkers, his breath against your mouth as he swallows your moans while he fucks you into his sticky sheets.

Oh god. No no no.

You feel yourself freefall into awareness, stomach turning as you fully awaken into your grueling hangover, head pounding in time with your heartbeat and room spinning slightly. Or maybe you're still drunk, you can't tell. It doesn't help to sit up but it's an instinct, as you dizzily try to assess your surroundings.

Clothes are scattered messily across the floor - you're naked, he's naked. Felix's shoulders rise and fall steadily where he lies with his back facing you - he's asleep. The sun is bright outside, casting the room in a white, blinding glow - the busses have definitely started their schedule for the day. You remember Felix telling you his roommate is out of town - you could make your escape unnoticed. Your stomach grumbles, bubbling uncomfortably - you need to use the bathroom.

Having determined your first quest in the escape plan, you slowly uncover yourself from the duvet, standing up on unsteady feet. Your hands shoot upward to cradle your throbbing headache, eyes squinting to find your way into the bathroom as you try to ignore waves of nausea that threaten to pull you under with every other step you take.

It takes a distressing amount of time to settle your upset stomach, eyes closed to concentrate on not throwing up and feet planted firmly against the floor to prevent yourself from falling off the toilet and onto the cold, tiled floor. As you stand up, you swear gravity shifts and you grip the toilet to maintain your balance. For a moment, you seriously consider not flushing to decrease the risk of Felix waking up from the sound but quickly realize that it's a ridiculous thought and press the button, your headache pulsing in time with the loud noise.

What meets you in the mirror is nothing short of a walking, talking, swollen monstrosity and you quickly look away, cringing. After washing your hands and splashing your face with some cool water to counter the beads of sweat traveling down your forehead, you make your way back into the bedroom.

You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you see Felix, still unmoving atop his bed. Your narrow glare jumps between the articles of clothing spread around the floor. It is time to let the second quest in your escape plan commence.

It is certainly easier said than done to crouch down and pick your strewn-about clothes up when your sense of balance is thrown completely out of whack, let alone to stay standing on one foot at a time as you try to dress yourself while simultaneously keeping bile from rising from the pits of your stomach. It only takes a few times of bending down and standing back up before your ears are ringing and your headache is creeping its way forward to probe at the sides of your eyeballs, feet stumbling clumsily across the floor. And all you can think about is how the hell you are going to make it all the way back home like this.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when a hand lands on your shoulder and a disorienting jolt shoots through your body at the surprise.

"Wha-"

The only reason you don't fall over is because another hand comes up to steady you, holding you firmly until you've regained some semblance of balance. The hands have a sturdy grip on your upper arms and you can feel your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest when the hands slowly turn you around to face their owner.

Felix's eyes are barely open, eyebrows deeply furrowed and yellowish hair closely resembling a bird's nest atop his head once you face him. Somewhere far, far back within the tangled knots that are your mind, you resent the fact that despite looking like he was clubbed across the head, Felix looks nothing short of unarguably attractive.

Those swollen, pink lips were busy kissing you last night, you annoyingly remember.

He says nothing and neither do you, unsure of what to tell him in your half-dressed state, shirt still hanging from your fingertips and zipper still wide open over your crotch. Gently, almost blindly, Felix's one hand travels down your arm to take your shirt from your hold and drop it on the floor again. You can't protest through the tightened walls of your throat. With one hand on each of your elbows, he begins walking and steering you toward his bed. In order to not fall over as you stumble backward, your hands instinctively shoot up to grip his elbows as well.

"Felix," you rasp, finally finding your ability to verbally object.

"Shhh," is all you get as a response.

Just as the backs of your legs reach his mattress, Felix stops before slowly pushing you down, making you sit. He doesn't stop there, completing his task by guiding you back to lay on his bed again and pulling the covers over you before standing back up, fingers rubbing across his eyelid.

"Felix-"

"Sleep," he orders, his already deep voice even deeper now that it's laced with leftover fatigue. It makes something tingle beneath your skin.

When you seemingly give up on protesting, Felix stumbles away, probably toward the bathroom and you can't help but watch his bare butt as he does.

You'll resume your escape plan once the opportunity arises again, you think, determined to not stay here and prolong the embarrassment of your careless, drunken decisions. So, when you hear the distinct sound of water spraying from a showerhead on the other side of the wall, you inwardly pump your fist in triumph. Your chance to sneak out came easier than you thought.

But your eyelids are pretty heavy, you realize. And Felix's mattress is really soft. And the sound of him showering is kind of soothing. And before you know it, you're being swept back into an ocean of slumber.

* * *

Waking up again is slow, it's comfortable, it doesn't feel like suffocating in dizzying pain. You turn, hug the sheets tighter against you, head weighty where it sinks into the pillow. Sleep beckons you back into its grasp, to pull you far away from the reality of Felix's bedroom.

Shit.

You jolt upright, eyes darting around the room. Felix's room. Which you were supposed to escape from.

He is nowhere to be found. The sound of showering that lulled you to sleep is long gone, replaced with a heavy silence. The light swimming around in the room has turned a shade warmer, telling you that the morning has passed and long since turned into day. Your headache has nearly vanished and you no longer feel faint or nauseous. How long were you asleep for?

Your shirt and socks are not discarded on the floor anymore, now neatly folded on the bed beside you, next to a stack of seemingly clean clothes from, you assume, Felix's wardrobe. There's a sticky note on top of the pile and you reach over, grabbing it.

'Drink the glass of water, take a hot shower and put these on.' There's a smiley face at the end.

You look around and, indeed, a tall glass of water stands on the bedside table. Your heartbeat picks up in your chest and you feel somehow flustered, a bit overwhelmed by his kind gesture, even though it's small. It's still thoughtful.

The water isn't as cold as it probably was when Felix poured it up but it feels nice on its way down your throat, nonetheless. You don't hesitate to follow the instructions you were given, obviously abandoning your previous plan of making an escape. A shower sounds too nice, right now.

You take your time washing up, pleased to find that Felix has conditioner on his shower caddy. Less pleased when you unintentionally wonder if he only has it there for girls that he brings over, it being almost halfway emptied. You swat the thought away before the bitter taste of it can spread its way too far down your throat.

Felix's fresh, baggy clothes feel nice against your clean, moisturized skin. Much nicer than you think your clothes from last night would have felt; tight and smelly.

After hesitating for a moment, you fold the rest of your clothes and place them next to your shirt and socks on the bed, making sure to hide your panties on the bottom, in case Felix were to see. Which is admittedly a bit silly, considering that he has not only seen you naked, but been inside you. Still, you insist.

It's nerve-wracking to walk up to his bedroom door, especially when you start hearing that sounds are actually emitting from the other side of it, suggesting that he is very much there. But this makes you realize that he probably heard you showering, which means he already knows you're awake. You think that is what gives you the courage to open the door, hand slightly shaky around the handle.

You have an uninterrupted view into the open-plan kitchen from the gap formed by his door, where you quickly see Felix hard at work, engulfed by the sounds of something frying atop the stove as his back faces you. His hair looks washed now, closer to how you're used to seeing it every day at work.

Cautiously you move into the living space, feeling your heart jumping its way up toward you throat, climbing further with every barefooted step you take. You hate how you feel your hands trembling at your sides.

It's when you reach the closest counter that Felix happens to turn his head and see you. He's surprised for a second, before a warm smile spreads across his face, bright eyes looking you over. Your heart stutters in its climb up your trachea.

"Good morning, love. Sleep well?"

Love. Why does he think he can just call you that now?

You swallow, lick your teeth. "Um-" Your voice catches in your throat and you clear it. "Er. Fine?"

Felix's eyebrows arch skyward and you watch him purse his lips to hide his amusement, before turning to the jar in his hands. You chew your cheek, provoked.

"Hungry?" He glances your way.

You nod tentatively, noticing that eggs are what he is cooking on his frying pan.

"Coffee? Tea?" he asks, observing you expectantly.

"Um... tea?"

Again, he tries to prevent a smirk from forming across his lips, sort of failing. You think the insides of your cheeks might start to bruise from how you're chewing them.

"What's funny?" you dare asking, somehow riled by his amusement.

He cannot help but to break into a grin this time, snickering some. "Nah, it's just- You're so... I'm not used to seeing you this shy. You're usually so feisty."

You stutter in your stance, feeling your wide eyes blinking at him.

He takes in your form once more, where you're stood rigid against the corner of his counter, something fond swimming around in his eyes. "It's cute."

A blazing blush blooms across your face and your eyes turn to dart across the tiled floors, avoiding his stare at all costs. Another deep chuckle tickles your eardrums. "Shut up," you manage, but there isn't much bite in your tone.

"Yes, ma'am." You can hear the grin in his voice.

For the next five minutes or so, you watch in silence as Felix moves around his kitchen, preparing two cups of roasted green tea and plating the eggs from the frying pan. After one pinch of salt atop each egg, he places one of the plates next to you on the counter, followed by a fork and your cup of tea.

"Watch the tea, though. It's still hot. Might be best to give it a minute."

You follow his advice and reach for the fork. The two of you take your first bites in tandem. He watches you chew, then swallow. Your eyebrow twists at his shameless stare.

"Is it... edible?" he asks.

You blink, puzzled. "Yes? I- like eggs."

He nods, suddenly sheepish. "It's just- I'm not the best cook, so- Aside from the brownies I bring to the office sometimes, I- really don't make much else..." He chuckles at his own expense.

The corner of your lip twitches. "It's fine, Felix. The eggs're good," you reassure him, scolding yourself for finding his timid smile endearing.

You proceed to eat wordlessly, forks clinking against your plates as you do. You keep catching Felix looking you over, though, yet he seems unbothered by it as he doesn't stop. After about the tenth time or so, you arch another eyebrow in his direction.

"Why do- Is- What is it?"

He simply shrugs, plump lips curling upward. "Nothing. My clothes look nice on you, is all. I like it." He grins.

You feel your throat tighten and look away, unable to stop yourself from considering how many other times he has told somebody the same thing. Shaking your head, you shove the last big bite of eggs in your mouth, chewing silently with a deep crease between your brows.

"You okay?" You can hear the questioning arch of his brow in the way he asks the question.

"Fine," you mumble around the food in your cheeks.

"You sure?"

Your eyes turn to glare in his direction, meeting the slightly puzzled look on his face reluctantly. As you chew, you cannot really help the words that bubble their way up your chest, something inconvenient having formed them from somewhere in the backrooms of your mind.

Right after you swallow your bite, your mouth speaks of its own accord. "You had conditioner in your shower."

Felix blinks. "Yeah." He smiles. "It smells nice, right?"

You lick your teeth. "Is it yours?"

His head tilts sideways, making him look like a puppy. "Yeah?"

A sigh. "Is it- Was it- Ugh, never mind." You turn to your empty plate, fiddling with your fork, embarrassment catching up to you and effectively shutting you up.

"Huh? I don't get it."

Trying not to roll your eyes, you face him again, finding genuine curiosity there. It takes a while to structure the words in your head and even longer to make yourself utter them out loud.

"It's just- Usually guys don't use conditioner, especially floral ones and so... It just made me wonder. That's all."

For several long seconds, Felix simply watches you, no less confused. "If I have a girlfriend?!" He sounds mildly bewildered.

You cringe. "Not exactly..."

Silently, you watch him dissect your words in his head, turning them over, examining them closely. It's when you see a light of understanding flicker in his eyes, a delighted twitch catching at the side of his mouth, that you quickly turn away, not waiting to see the entertained smile growing on his face.

"I used to have longer hair, remember? Used bucketloads of conditioner back then. Just have some left over, now." You can hear the amusement in his voice and feel a shame-fueled heat crawling its way up to settle in your cheeks, finding that his words are making sense. "So, who'd you think I'd have it there for?"

You turn to shoot him a glare, provoked by the obvious glee shining across his features.

"Felix," you warn.

"Yes, love?"

Your heart seizes at the familiar pet name and you hate how he seems to notice, grin stretching further between his prettily freckled cheeks.

"Just- drop it," you grumble.

His head tilts to the side. "But I don't want to. I'm curious."

Your eyes narrow at him. He's unperturbed. "You know," you relent. "Just... girls."

He hums, unyielding. "Yeah, I know, but like, why'd you think that?"

Your head jerks back some, quizzically, considering the prodding look on his face. "Well, y'know, you're flirty. It just made sense for you."

It's Felix's turn to jerk his head away, seemingly taken aback. "Huh?"

You scoff dramatically, not suppressing an eyeroll this time. "Oh, come on. You flirt more than you actually work at the office. Especially with Sabae."

Felix's brows twitch. "Sabae?"

"Uh, yeah," you assert, as though it's obvious. "Literally every day. Even last night! Sometimes Laura, too. Since her desk's beside yours, I guess..."

"Laura?" He questions, but he no longer looks confused, a smirk slowly finding its way back onto his face.

"Yep. Not to mention Becky. You think it's a coincidence she always gets her coffee at the same time as you?" you ask, a bit incredulous.

"Becky," he repeats, grinning down at you.

"Yes, Becky," you confirm, unamused. "What? Are you denying it? That you're a flirt?"

"Am I not allowed to be?"

You frown, feeling somewhat caught with your pants down. "I- I didn't say that."

"Not directly, but sometimes one can say things without saying them, y'know what I mean?"

"You didn't answer," you steer the conversation back. "Are you denying that you're a flirt?"

"Are you denying that you're bothered by it?"

"You didn't even ask."

"Are you bothered by it?"

You huff and Felix keeps smiling, looking much too amused for your liking.

"I asked first."

"Will you answer if I do?"

"Fine."

"I'm not denying I'm a flirt, then."

The words catch in your throat at Felix's knowing expression. "I guess, I'm not denying it either, then."

"Denying what?"

You all but groan and he only giggles. "That it- peeves me, a little," you mumble, humiliation creeping up on you as you eye the floor beneath your curling toes.

As the delicate touch of steady fingers brush hair back behind your ear, you flinch, looking up to see Felix standing closer.

"You forgot to mention yourself, though," he points out, something soft in the way he beholds your face.

"Hm?" you question, feeling your heart skip within your rib cage.

"I flirt with you too. All the time. You haven't noticed?" He smiles, fondly.

You avert your stare again, fiddling with the soft material of the shirt draped around you. "Of course I noticed. But you flirt with everyone, so..." you shrug.

Felix mulls this over as his hand moves to hold the side of your neck, gaze shifting between your eyes before landing on your throat. His thumb brushes softly across the skin there and he watches the movement as you swallow, humming. Your mind inevitably floods with blurry images from the night before, his hands roaming your body, holding you against him, lips kissing you with a sloppy tenderness that feels too sweet as you're reminded of it. You wouldn't be able to move right now even if you wanted to, body completely frozen. But you don't want to.

"You're the one who's here, aren't you? Not them," he doesn't drop the topic, voice lower now than it was before.

"That- doesn't mean they haven't been."

"They haven't," he asserts without hesitating and by the way he says it, you're convinced he's telling the truth. The admission makes your lungs clench.

Saying nothing, he seems to await your response.

"O-kay," you give, voice small.

His sunny grin comes back, slightly lopsided, fingertips gliding gently along your skin as he lets go of you and steps back, grabbing his plate to turn toward the dishwasher.

Only once he pulls away do you realize that you're breathing heavier, and quickly force yourself into action, taking your own plate with one hand and the mug of tea with the other.

Following behind him, you watch him place his plate in the dishwasher before turning around and grabbing yours, winking at you as he does. You back away, situating yourself where the counters form a corner and take the first sip of your tea. It's nice, soothing. You think your nerves desperately need it.

Felix reaches for his own mug then, leaning sideways against the counter to face you, mirroring you as he takes a sip of his own.

"D'you like it?" he asks.

"The tea?"

"Yeah."

"Mm-hmm," you nod, honest.

He taps the side of his mug with his nails, scrutinizing you. You curl and uncurl your toes, chew your lip, anticipating what he is about to say.

"For how long has it bothered you?"

You suck in a breath, startled. "Felix," you scold.

He cannot help but smile wide. "C'mon. Humor me."

"No."

"You shoulda told me."

Your eyebrows contort. "Really? Why?"

He looks away, smile wiggling on his face. "I'd have liked to've known."

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "Of course you would've. Which is why I should've never told you, at all."

"Hey," he pouts.

Genuine unease seems to bubble somewhere in your stomach and you find yourself turning around, facing the countertop instead of the man now behind you. You feel exposed, in a way you rather would not and start doubting yourself. Even if everything Felix has said is true, it doesn't mean that your night together meant anything to him. It doesn't mean that girls from outside of the office don't frequent his place in a similar fashion to how you are now. And quite frankly, you feel a bit pathetic for even caring. You slept with a really handsome man who has got heaps of charisma, what did you expect?

"Hey," he repeats, voice smoother now, close to your ear. You stiffen as his hands find their way around your waist, underneath the fabric of his shirt, splaying themselves across your stomach. His front meets your back and you gasp quietly, shivering at his warm breath on the side of your neck. "I'm sorry," he nearly whispers, voice deeper than you knew it could be. Your nerves tingle.

His hand travels upward to hold your breast, testing the weight of it gently, squeezing it with care. Air hitches in your throat, almost making you choke.

"I'll stop," he says, fingertips teasing your perked nipple delicately. A wave of arousal shoots down between your legs and you unintentionally squeeze your thighs together.

"Wh-wha-" you question, unable to focus, to understand.

"I won't do it anymore," he clarifies, starts to leave faint kisses against your pulse, the hand not on your breast sliding downward to probe at the edge of his sweatpants hanging around your hips, his boxers. You try not to flinch but fail. He sighs into your neck.

The hand holding your mug comes down on the counter, spilling some tea over your fingers while placing it there, uncaring of it as your palms plant themselves atop the marble in an attempt to steady yourself. You sigh, sinking into Felix's frame behind you, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic of his boxers.

"W-won't do what?" you somehow remember to ask, nearly vibrating with anticipation as soft fingers weave between the short hairs surrounding your sex.

"I won't flirt with them anymore," he declares, his one hand rising past your breast to slip through the neckline of his t-shirt, digits widening to wrap around your throat, holding it gently. "I do it 'cause it's fun but I'll stop. Only you, from now on."

You can't decipher whether he means what he says or not through the fog of pleasure clouding your judgment, biting back a moan as he applies gentle pressure against your throat to make you lean your head over his shoulder. You comply, easily, putty in his hands. More warmth pools between your legs and you squirm.

"I-I'm getting your underwear all wet," you tell him, somehow apologetic despite everything. You remotely realize that Felix's manhood twitches against your ass, then.

He exhales a muted laugh into your warm skin. "Good girl."

You huff, equally unamused and aroused. "Sh-shut up." Your backtalk morphs into a whine, Felix's fingers teasing at the swollen lips surrounding your slit.

"Mmm," he hums, kissing your jaw and you shudder in his arms, needing him to touch you properly. "Want me to touch you, hm?" he asks as if he can read your thoughts, voice low over your cheek.

"Y-yeah."

Another peck against your skin. "Alright. Since you're so pretty, I will."

Finally, his fingers dip past your lips, gathering the results of your arousal before gliding gently across your clit. You jerk in his arms at the contact, enjoying the way he tightens his hold around your throat to keep you still, thighs involuntarily tightening around his hand.

"Spread your legs for me, love," he requests, fingers unmoving against your pulsing clit. "I'll make you feel good, I promise."

Shakily, you oblige. "Okay," you sigh, throat bobbing against the palm of Felix's hand as you swallow.

His digits resume their movement, tentative as they slide across your swollen nub and you can't help the tremble in your heavy breaths.

"You really are wet. And warm," Felix marvels, circling your clit softly, steadying you as you mewl in his embrace. "Uhh, I really wanna bury myself in there again," he confesses, fingers sliding down to gather more of your wetness before resuming his movements against you.

You can feel your pleasure building, burning and twisting somewhere deep within your abdomen, heavy and tangible.

"How does it feel, love?"

"G-good," you moan, helplessly grinding your cunt against the pads of his fingers as he touches you. "Fuck, uhh..."

"I know," he reassures you, trying a gentle squeeze with his grip around your throat. You whimper, overwhelmed. "You're doing so good, sweetie. Just relax, I've got you."

Your cheeks burn, likely searing against Felix's skin, heart growing with warmth at his gentle words. In the delirium of your pleasure, you find courage that you don't expect to, hidden words crawling their way up your tongue.

"Felix," you huff, breathy and needy.

"Mm?"

"I- uh, I like you."

You unmistakably feel a grin forming against your skin, Felix's arms squeezing to hold you tighter against him. "I know, my love."

His circles over your clit don't let up and before you know it, you're hurdling toward your release, muscles tightening all throughout your body.

"Oh- uh- I'm-"

"Let go, just let go. I'm here, I've got you."

And you do, seizing within his arms, eyes rolling up past your eyelids, throat tightening around a strained cry of pleasure under the firm hold of Felix's hand, heart beating aggressively in your chest as your nerves tingle euphorically. Your sex pulses against Felix's digits as he helps you ride your way through your orgasm, slowing his pace gradually into a gentle motion until your mind comes back down into reality.

Your chest heaves, body slumping helplessly into the one behind you. As your legs squeeze together and your hips jerk away, Felix lets up, slipping his hand back out of his boxers to hold you over your hip.

"How was it?" he asks, voice thick and gruff.

"M-my ears are ringing. Fingertips're tingling."

"Pretty good then." He's smiling into you still.

You sigh. "Yeah, pretty good."

Not releasing his grip, Felix grinds against your ass and you let him, still jelly in his hold. He carries what is at least a semi within the pants he's wearing, sighing a warm breath over your neck. "God, I wanna fuck you. Bend you over this counter, come inside you."

"Y-you should," you egg him on.

He only manages to groan before the sound of keys jingling catches your joint attention. You freeze together, waiting and assessing the threat before daring to make another move. And as you hear the keys being inserted in the lock of the front door, the two of you fly apart like repelling magnets. You catch yourself against the counter in front of you and Felix backs away toward the dishwasher, picking his now lukewarm mug of tea back up.

Your eyes lock across the kitchen area and yours widen, panicked. You try to ask him what to do by simply gesturing with your hands but all he can do is shrug, taking a shaky sip from the mug in his hands. You sigh, bewildered.

"It's only Hyunjin," he tries to console.

Your jaw slackens in perplexity.

You hear the front door open down the hallway, then slamming shut as you lean back to grip the counter behind you.

"Hey, Felix," comes a greeting.

You watch Felix shoot a strained smile toward his friend, who's in his line of sight but hidden from yours. It takes some effort to swallow the saliva pooling in your throat. "Hey! You're back. Didn't realize it's already two o'clock."

"What? Got up late?"

Felix shoots you a wary glance. "Eh, yeah. A little."

"Hey, everything good?" Hyunjin asks as his footsteps pad down the hallway and before you know it, his figure appears around the corner.

You freeze, as does he when he sees you. His eyes widen and you can only hope that he can't tell that your breathing is a little too ragged, cheeks a little too flushed, and you're thankful that he can't know that your ears are still kind of ringing.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi," you answer, voice meek.

His inquisitive stare shoots toward his roommate, raising a questioning brow before eyeing you again.

"Had a good trip?" Felix asks, gulping around big swigs of tea.

"Uh, yeah," Hyunjin hesitantly answers and you find yourself fidgeting under his eyes that keep jumping between you and the man that just made you come on his fingers, in their shared kitchen.

You can't for the life of you come up with something to say, stomach turning and head spinning at how somehow relaxed Felix seems already, maybe a little sheepish but not nearly as uneasy as you are, as if he already knows what is about to unfold. The cogs turning in Hyunjin's head might as well be visible as he assesses the scene before him, taking in all of your form stood in his apartment. You chew your cheek, squirming in your place in the corner.

"Ah," he finally sighs, something akin to realization dawning across his features as he smiles. He eyes his friend knowingly, hands landing on his hips. "This is the girl from work that you can't shut up about, isn't it?"

Your body goes rigid, only your eyes moving as you cast a quizzical glance in Felix's direction. There's a somewhat bashful grin on his face as he shrugs before hiding behind the lip of his mug. "Well, when you say it like that..." he mumbles, eyes averting down toward the floor.

You don't know what to call the feeling that pops and spreads in your chest, ticklish and exhilarating, a whole new wave of heat flushing on your cheeks.

Hyunjin laughs before turning to you, fully. "Well, it's good to finally meet you."

"Er, y-you too."

"M'guessing I'll be seeing a lot more of you around here, so we'll have time to get to know each other later. I'll leave you guys to it," he says, beaming as he turns and walks toward his bedroom, sharing a secret look with his friend before he disappears behind his door.

Sheepishly, Felix turns to meet your eyes and you raise an inquisitive brow at him. He simply shrugs, mouth blooming into a bright grin. You can't help but be infected, your own lips curving into a matching smile, warmth spreading from your chest and throughout the rest of your body.

Maybe your drunken mistake wasn't so much of a mistake after all.

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[viapu-com]

Fall in love with the tantalizing taste of our "Sizzling Sensation: Thin Chicken Breast Recipe". Perfectly cooked to mesmerize your palate. A divine indulgence you won't resist! 🍗💖

[yourdoorisunlocked]

Because You're Mine ~ Soul Owner Alastor Headcanons

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: Possessiveness, infatuation, obsessive thoughts, power imbalance, slight jealousy, Alastor being creepy asf, and scent marking.

🎙️ The moment you'd arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor's eyes were always on you, sharp and scrutinizing your every move. At first, you'd believed that he hated you, that, if you ever made the grave mistake of being left alone with him, he'd practically eat you alive.

🎙️ But your sweet, confused little mind couldn't be farther from the truth. No, no, no, Alastor had spent weeks since your arrival was made apparent trying to figure out every little thing about you; the style of clothes that you wore, the foods you preferred, what you were looking for in a husband.

🎙️ You didn't need to know about all the strings that Alastor had pulled, just to have you fall into his waiting arms. And the hotel was the perfect place to lure you in to make you avoid the dangers of Hell, and seek out his help.

🎙️ Your soul for Alastor's protection seemed like a small price to pay to not end up being a gory stain on the side of the sizzling-hot road.

🎙️ And Alastor was more than happy to provide any kind of security for you, the demon almost immediately agreeing to your simple terms, an eager smile and waiting hand stretched out for you to shake.

🎙️ Although you'd always had the feeling of being constantly watched, ever since you'd sold your soul to Alastor, the sensation of eyes burning into you had gotten so much worse. Which, quite conveniently, led to his sweet little doe running straight into his comforting hold to run to, more than once.

🎙️ "Don't worry, my sweet little chérie," he'd coo softly into your ear, "I won't allow anything to harm you.”

🎙️ You'd thought that selling your soul to the Radio Demon would require you to do a great many tasks for him, but this? This was much worse than what you had anticipated.

🎙️ Alastor is usually very averse to touch, but when it comes to you, practically nothing is off-limits. He always has an arm around your shoulder or waist, squeezing you closer whenever others get too cozy with you. He just can’t keep his hands off you! 

🎙️ You'd attempted to set your boundaries with the clingy, feverish demon and his erratic impulses - especially when it came to touching you - but a quick tug of a burning-hot chain that linked your soul to him put you in your sweet little place quite easily.

🎙️ The final straw, however, was when Alastor insisted that the two of you share a bed. Soon, you'd started doing just about anything to avoid your Master, scurrying away at any sign of the Radio Demon lingering nearby.

🎙️ He noticed this, of course. But he bore it with an eyeroll and a twitching smile, allowing you your temper tantrum, for now. His darling wife just needed to blow off some steam.

🎙️Yes, Alastor would allow you time to become more used to your arrangements, for a time. But it wasn't until he caught you chatting - and laughing - with the goddamned Devil himself that he finally snapped, and quickly took you aside in private.

🎙️ "I'm getting quite fed up with your little attitude, darling..." he strung you along by a glowing green chain with gritted teeth, and you lurched forward onto your hands and knees. His gaze was dark yet adoring as he stared down at you, wrapping the end of your chain tightly around his claws.

🎙️ "I realize that I've been much too lenient with you, ma biche. Now, do allow me to demonstrate just who you belong to..."

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers

@slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, @susvale, @valentique, @twismare, @robin-the-enby, @v3n7s, @forbidden-sunlight, @leathesimp, @matemor, @groovybear99, @frompeach, @moonmark98, @nyxnightshade7656, @sushigogo, @crowleysthings, @zombiesnips-blog, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @impulsivethoughtsat2am, @ashdaidiot, @crybabycat1, @repostingmyfavs, @reikamasama, @dudesorriso, @speckle-meow-meow, @alastor-simp

@maggotzdilemma, @nonbinaryanarchist0013, @martinys-world, @introvertreader20, @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhha,

@a-small-tyrant, @roxxie-wolf, @crescentparadise, @blubugg13, @alastorthirsty,

@theperfectmangovoid, @jyoongim, @littlebluefishtail, @katlovestoread, @leonotlara,

@cimadreamer

[a-jynx]

care to stay? (astarion x reader)

i'll let you guess, it's kinda angsty!

warnings; a lot of blood talk, injuries, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst to keep it spicy, and maybe some ooc astarion! enjoy!

Sharp whines pierced your skull, licking at the contents inside as your eyes twitched open. Squinting at the ache in your thundering bones, you slowly rolled onto your back, sitting up onto your elbow with a groan.

What in the Hells happened...? Pushing up with your shaking limbs, you staggered, falling into a cracked and crumbling wall. Squeezing your teeth that caused a dull ache behind your jaw. Glancing around, you watched as the flames flickered and danced among the rubble. The crumbling surface around you reeked of smoke powder and copper, along with the putrid stench of smoked flesh. Swallowing thickly at the dirt that coated your throat, you gripped your side while stumbling through the scattered bodies. Flashes rippled through your groaning and thrumming mind.

Your party. Your brain scattered, thinking of everyone within the walls. Shadowheart, Gale, Karlach... Astarion.

Goblins had ambushed you. Shadowheart and Astarion were busy trying to keep them off of you and Gale, whilst Karlach had gone into her fit of rage.

The smoke powder barrel. You remember shouting as the Goblins fire arrow whizzed past your lot, your eyes wide as you all ran towards the exit as the explosion boomed.

Groaning, you dragged your feet through the clutter, your boots catching on jagged stones and the thick, blackened goop of blood stuck to your boots like sap. Swaying towards another door, it's once oak colored darkened from the blast, a handprint of blood smeared across the handle. Wetting your lips, you drew your dagger and shouldered through, only to sigh as you spotted Karlach helping Shadowheart with Gale's wounds.

"My Gods," Karlach laid Gale back against the bed, quickly moving towards you as you stumbled into her hold, not caring about the sizzling as she moved you towards the other bed. "Solider, are you alright? You took the blunt of the blow, if I'm being honest, I'm shocked yet thrilled to see you alive."

You winced away from the burning sensation as your back met the soft, yet dirt-covered mattress. "Thank you, Karlach," your voice rasped, soot still coating it and resting among the blood in your teeth. "Where's Astar-"

"He went to find-"

You jumped as the door slammed open. "I can't find them anywhere! There's more goblin guts and d" his voice staled when his eyes landed on your shaking figure, Karlach's hand still hovering over. "By the Hells! Watch where you're aiming those torches," he hissed, moving to the other side of the bed, his arms over his chest as Karlach rolled her eyes.

"They're fine, Astarion, they're our fearless leader, remember?" Her comment held bite as you winced, searing pain rippled through your melting mind. Astarion's lips moved to speak, his eyes glanced towards you as he gently gasped. Blood leaked from your ears, decorating the mattress and your hair below. Eyes clenched shut as you gritted your teeth, more pain shooting through as if your jaw would splinter.

"Heal them now, dammit!" Astarion shouted as Shadowheart finished healing over Gale, who slowly sat up in bed, groaning and clenching his shoulder. The cleric moved quickly, her hands already glowing a crisp, bright blue before laying them on your temples. More searing caressed your aching skull, yet this time it felt calming. Like that of an animal licking at its wounds. Soothing. Your body shook, feeling the bond shake and mend within your soup-like mind. The sharp whines became whimpers of your own voice. A gasp ripped through your burning throat as the crackle of your rib mended itself back into place.

"Is it working? Will they be alright?" Karlach stood closer to Shadowheart as she sighed, her fingers began to shake. She was growing weak...

"I'm not sure how much more I have in me-"

"You'll continue to heal them until Avernus freezes over if it'll help them," Astarion snipped, one of his hands had moved amongst the blood and dirt, caressing your fingers in a way of saying 'I'm here'. Your chest clenched as a blood-curdling scream wretched through your throat, rattling your still bubbling mind. Shadowheart grimaced, yanking her hands back with a shout, her hands stung with a rose-like red blistering her palms. Karlach gently caressed Shadowhearts' armored shoulder and moved towards Gales' bed, who stood in shock. Astarion had moved to sit on the bed with you, his arms holding onto your shoulders as you shook and cried out.

Her healing had worked, but its' effects worked through each injury like a professional seamstress. Weaving through your veins, smothering in and over your bones' marrow, and licking at your popped eardrums and rattled brain damage from within. You withered in Astarion's grasp, shaking as tears streaked down your dirty cheeks. "I- I tried to save us," your voice shook. Astarion frowned, his thumb brushed against your skin. "Just rest, darling.." His voice was a gentle whisper, his cool skin pressed against your sweat-covered skin. Sighing against his chest, your eyes fluttered close. The soot and dirt caused a soft grimace, yet there was a comforting scent hidden amongst it.

*******

You blinked awake, wincing as you slowly sat up from the bedroll beneath you. "What the Hells," you winced more at the sound of your gravel-like voice. Humming, you took in your surroundings. Soft pillows and carpets surrounded you, a gentle candlelight flittered within the bright red tent. Goosebumps travelled up your skin as you glanced down, noticing your tunic missing and dull-white wrappings secured around your ribs. Crimson blossomed across the wrappings causing you to frown.

Jumping as the tent flaps opened, revealing Astarion with a bowl and prime white wraps resting across his forearm. His movements paused, your eyes met as he sat the bowl down and moved towards you, grabbing your flushed cheeks and slamming your lips together. You gently moaned into the kiss, flinching at pain that shot through your side. "Thank the Gods you're awake," he mumbled against your lips, resting his forehead against your own. "I thought you were gone..." His voice lower, barely a whisper.

With a smile, you rested your jaw against his rough palms, relishing in the callouses he's gained over your time together. "And leave you all alone with Gale? I couldn't." You couldn't fight back the grin as he rolled his eyes, leaning back on his calves and helping you lay back against the cot. "Because you know he'd be insufferable for me to endure alone," he smiled gently, brushing your hair from your eyes. Sighing, you leaned further into the bedroll, Astarion reached back and grabbed the bowl, dipping the piece of cloth into the cool water and dabbing it against your sweltering forehead.

"How're the others?"

"They're fine, we need to worry about getting you back to proper health, my dear," he hummed, dropping the rag back into the bowl. His fingertips dragged gently over your ribs, watching as your body jumped from the soft touches. Your brows furrowed, gently grabbing his flittering touches. "Star... Please,"

"They're alright, my love, I promise.." He sighed, gently undoing the wraps and frowning at the snarled wound. The blast had cut through your flesh like butter. Soot and dirt had embedded itself into your wound and clung to your hanging flesh, it had caused him to cringe inward at the sight of your gnarled flesh. He worked quickly, dabbing the wet cloth against the charred skin, sighing as you flinched away. Wrapping the new bandages, he sat back while wringing out the blackened and bloodied rag. "And how're you...?"

The water dripping ceased as his lips pressed into a tight line, the rag dropped next to your arm as you pushed up onto your elbows. "Star..?" You frowned, rolling onto your non-injured side as he turned towards you, his hand cupped your jaw as you reached up, catching his with a sigh. Tears brimmed his ruby colored eyes. "I thought we lost you when you fainted. There was just... So much blood. Your blood mixed with that dirt and soot, and I couldn't-" His voice caught, choking in his throat as he shook his head. "The mere scent of your blood mixed with such retched things; it made my stomach churn. Caused the bile to claw up my throat."

You stared at Astarion - you both had found safety in one another. Trust had built quickly with how many battles you both had gotten into together, the stories shared amongst with goblets of wine, confiding in one another when everything seemed hopeless. And of course, with your shared comfort came... Feelings.

Astarion hated it.

He wasn't supposed to fall for you, it was the simplest plan for him to follow, yet here he was. On the verge of crying while he coddled you close, his fingertips ghosting over your new bandages. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you tugged him down to the bedroll, racking your fingers through his thick, white curls. You shared a comfortable silence as he wrapped his arms around your chest, as carefully as he could, his hands still trembling. You fitted yourself against his chest, sighing while twisting a wild curl around your finger.

"You can touch me, my Star, I'm not made of glass-"

"No, but you need your rest... I should go-"

"Please... I don't want to be alone," you murmured into his shirt, tightening your arms around his waist as he moved to leave. Blinking, his hands hovered over your shivering skin. His lip slightly trembled before he swallowed thickly. "Ask me to stay," his voice shook as you squeezed him close, feeling your own tears well up. He believed he would hurt you more than help you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." Leaning up onto his chest, you leaned up and pressed a tight kiss to his lips.

Your mouths moved together. Teeth and tongue clanking and grinding against each other. Astarion's hands settled on your hips, soft circles tugged at your loose pants, his nails scrapping by the edge of your bandages. A gentle shudder ran through your bones as you maneuvered yourself on top of his lap, gritting your teeth to keep the pained moan buried in your throat. Pressing soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, his lips trailed down your throat to the scarred bite mark. Your body moved gently against his lap, rolling circles into his hips before he rolled you off of him, chest heaving.

"Astarion, wait,"

"We're... Resting." His voice slightly wavered, his nails gently digging into your shoulders before he moved to lay beside you. Tugging your body closer, smothering his nose into your hair, deeply inhaling as you wrapped your arms around his chest.

"When you're not constantly bleeding," his voice muffled as you rolled your eyes. His fingers gently pinched at your thigh. "Then, we'll have all the fun you deserve, my darling."

*****

You awoke to quiet murmuring - distant, gentle - as if not wanting to break the silence the moon had brought on. Lighting your pinkie, you moved to light the candle beside your bedroll, only to jump when a pair of arms tightened around your waist.

Astarion's body quivered against your own, his arms tightened. You cringed at the pain shooting through your body, but gritting your teeth, you turned over as much as his grip would allow. Grasping his shoulder, you gently shook the somewhat whimpering elf.

"Astarion, honey, wake up." You murmured into the air, huffing as he released your waist, one arm slipping from around you as it grasped at his tunic, tugging on the slightly tattered tunic. "My star, please," his fangs dipped into his bottom lip, blood dribbled from the nibbled skin. "Astarion, wake the hells up!" You shook him more, ignoring the searing pain as his claw-like nails dug into your skin. His eyes snapped open; a gasp choked through him as tears leaked down his cheeks.

Elvish ripped through his lips before he could even comprehend the words his tongue spilt. Your eyes widened, quickly setting up on your knees, both hands grasping his sticky cheeks. "Astarion, my love, breathe, please." Grasping one of his shaking hands, you placed his palm against your heaving chest, your heart beating heavily. His eyes caught yours, more tears leaked past your hands as you rubbed your thumb against his cheeks. "Breathe, my Moon, follow my rhythm."

His hands trembled against your skin, slowly his eyes blinked as he seemed to finally focus on your eyes. Swallowing thickly, he licked his lips and slowly reached up, locking his hands through your locks. Astarion tugged you into his body, his hands shook as he held you close. His breathing shook as he tightened his grip, making you whimper in his hold.

"Astarion, are you alright... Do you need a minute?" Your voice was low, attempting to keep the peace within your shared tent. You held each other close, gentle kisses caressed his skin as he leaned further into you. "Ask me to stay, and I will." You murmured into his hair, cradling him further into your body. You wanted to shield him away from everything. The fear and anger that tries to eat away at him. He looked up, slowly leaning back, but keeping his hold on you. Astarion licked his lips slowly, a shaking sigh passed through him as he moved to hold your cheeks.

"Care to stay?"

[ghoulphile]

in the middle of the night | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 852 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, man-handling, drabble, masturbation (m), free use (ig??), handjob, somnophilia ➥ summary | "Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake" ➥ notes | forgive me this was written in a sleep deprived haze im gonna go die in bed now masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

"Hh-mm?"

A sleep soft murmur escapes, your mind a hazy flood of sensation as your senses struggle to adjust. Night stretches out before you, the sky a deep velvet - the fine stardust glitter of faraway celestial bodies peeking through wispy clouds. It’s midsummer in the desert; a balmy breeze shifting through the sands and tugging at the coyote hide wrapped tight around you.

Beside you, the low crackle and glow of a banked campfire warms your face, its shadows playing with your blurry eyes. Something feels… off. What, you’re not entirely sure as nothing seems to be out of place.

The threadbare padding of your sleeping mat shields you from the sand - albeit only slightly - and there’s a sharp twinge in your side from a piece of rubble lodging itself against your ribs. One of your feet’s gone numb and prickly from the awkward position you’ve curled up in.

Dogmeat’s snoozing a little ways away with her face tucked into her tail. 

Same as usual.

And the Ghoul’s…

What.

Strong leather wrapped fingers shackle around your limp wrist, grip firm and unyielding. A buzzing electricity dances along your palm, bottled lightning, as you’re made to grip something long and hard.

The heavy weight of flesh; rugged edges and whorls of texture biting into the softness of your skin. Slick friction as it glides through the loose circle of your fingers.

Is that his -- ohmygod, what the fuck.

Shock sizzles, melts like dripping candle wax into a bloom of warmth that punches the air from your lungs. Oozes down to curl between your thighs in a sticky rush as static warmth ripples from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

The Ghoul grunts out a low curse, a quiet hiss of breath escaping through his teeth.

Your thighs clench, the plush fat compressing as you shift.

Oh, that’s… Mm.

Pre-cum trickles down your knuckles as his cock throbs once, twice, his hips bucking forward to sheath himself to the hilt in your tender grip.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters from somewhere above your head, his shoulders bowing in. “Always feels s’good.”

Always --

Your head snaps back, wide eyes darting up.

Immediately, you meet his gaze.

Dark, foreboding; the hooded eyes of a predator staring back at you from beneath a heavy brow like a hand to the nape of the neck. Corralling, claiming. His lips crack open and he smirks - a gash of teeth that threaten to snap.

“Well, hello there, darlin’ - was wonderin’ when you’d wake up.”

“W-What the hell!”

He snorts, the flash of his tongue taunting as he flicks it out across his lower lip

 “As if you don’t know. C’mon, now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

To punctuate his words, he inches forward in a grind, dragging your palm along the length of his cock nice and slow. A low groan punches itself out of his chest.

“Tch. Me doth think the lady protests too much. Acting like I can’t smell how wet you are.”

“I-I’m not…”

“Bullshit. You can’t lie ta me, darlin’. I know just how wet that pretty pussy of yours is getting. If you ask real nice like, I might be inclined ta show you what you’re missing.”

Your clit throbs, humiliation burning bright as you duck your head. Avert your eyes to the stray thread of your shirt fluttering in the breeze. It rankles how correct he is, how well he can read you with that vulture sharp gaze.

You wish you could prove him wrong if only for the principle of the matter.

As it is, there’s nothing you can do - especially when your fingers tighten up around his cock to hear him grunt and your cunt throbs in time with your heartbeat.

Slick wets the seat of your panties and clings to your inner thighs as everything in you cries out for some friction, some stimulation.

To get this man inside of you as quick as possible, stretch you wide and fuck you full.

He chuckles. “That’s more like it,” he says. “Now, are you gonna help me out or not? If so, grip a lil harder otherwise I ain’t gonna feel shit.”

So with a gulp, you do as he says: pop up onto your knees and tighten your fist.

Elongate the strokes so they work up the ragged shaft at a sedate pace, feel every pit and curve. Like you’ve got all the time in the world as you roll your wrist and use your thumb to gather the pre-cum from his weeping slit, smearing it around the thick crown of his cockhead.

All the while his head tips back, the long line of his throat catching your attention as he swallows.

“Phew, that’s just what the doctor ordered.” His eyes glitter cruelly when he looks down at you. “Should’a started doing this when you was awake a long time ago.”

How long he’s been using you like this, you don’t know.

And you’re not sure you care if the needy clench of your pussy is any indication.

“S’all right. Now you can make up for all that I’ve been missin’.”

[soulofapatrick]

They Find Out You're Pregnant: One Piece Boys

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 5.7K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

Y/N's POV

The scent of sizzling spices fills the air as Sanji orchestrated a culinary symphony in the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen. His deft hands move with practiced grace, a dance that spoke of passion and expertise but for once his cooking wasn’t what got my attention. I’m sidling around Sanji, who’s lost in his world of sizzling pans and aromatic spices. The kitchen is his main, a place where he commands both ingredients and flames with the finesse of a maestro. Today, however, my attention isn’t fixed on his culinary mastery. It’s drawn, instead, to the sizeable tub of salted caramel ice cream tucked away in the freezer, calling to me with its irresistible allure. 

With a casual lean, I snag a spoon from the drawer and make a beeline for the freezer. The cold air greets me as I retrieve the tub, feeling its frosty chill through the container. My taste buds dance in anticipation; there’s something about this particular flavour that has become inexplicably magnetic. 

Returning to the kitchen island, I take a seat, propping myself up on one of the stools, spoon in hand. Sanji, ever engrossed in his culinary creation, doesn’t seem to notice my ice cream indulgence. He moves with a fluidity that’s almost hypnotic, each movement deliberate and purposeful. 

I twist off the lid of the ice cream tub, the gentle scent of caramel filling the air. With a satisfying clink, the spoon dips into the creamy goodness, gathering a generous scoop. As I lift it to my lips, the richness of the caramel mixed with the slight saltiness dances on my taste buds, a delightful sensation that brings an unexpected comfort.

Glancing over at Sanji, I marvel at his expertise. Despite my seemingly distracted state, his instincts as a chef seem to extend beyond just the realm of cooking. His attention to detail is impeccable, noticing even the subtlest shifts in preferences. Sanji hums a tune under his breath, his focus unwavering. I continue to enjoy my impromptu dessert, relishing the smooth, cold sweetness against the backdrop of Sanji's culinary artistry. 

As Sanji begins to fry food, the enticing aroma of spices fills the air once more. He orchestrates the sizzle and crackle of ingredients in a symphony of flavours, the tantalising scent mingling with the lingering sweetness of the ice cream. But as I sit there, spoon poised for another scoop, an unexpected wave of nausea washes over me. The once delightful taste of caramel now feels overwhelming. With a sudden heaviness, I place the tub of ice cream on the counter, the thud echoing louder than intended.

Sanji glances over, concern etching into his features as he notices my abrupt change in demeanour. "Are you alright, my love?” His voice, laced with worry, cuts through the sounds of the kitchen.

I manage a weak nod, but the queasiness intensifies. Without another word, I push myself off the stool and dash towards the bin, my footsteps echoing in the galley. The retching sounds reverberate in the room, a stark contrast to the harmonious melody of Sanji's cooking. Embarrassment floods me as I lean against the counter, my breaths ragged, trying to steady myself. Sanji, ever the attentive soul, swiftly moves closer, concern etched in every line of his face.

“Maybe it’s… yeah, it’s the combination of flavours.” I manage between breaths, feeling utterly mortified at the sudden turn of events. An anxiety plating in the back of my mind as I’m late for my period and have been for a week now but that’s not that unusual with the resent stresses. 

Sanji's worry melts into understanding, his eyes softening with compassion. "It happens," he reassures, his hand resting gently on my back. "Sometimes, tastes change unexpectedly. Let's get you some water.” With Sanji’s comforting assurance, I try to shake off the unease gripping me. As he moves to fetch water, a sudden surge of panic knots my stomach. My mind races, the memory of my late period lingering like an unspoken secret.

“Sanji,” I blurt out, my voice quivering, catching him mid-step. His brows furrow in concern. As he turns back to me, his expression a blend of care and curiosity, “I’m late…” I manage to confess, my words stumbling out in a rush. Embarrassment and anxiety collide, painting a flush across my cheeks. 

“Late…?” His voice trails off as he tries to understand me, brows furrowed. 

I tug gently at his wrist, feeling a desperate need for support, for someone to share this unexpected worry with. "I don't know what to do, Sanji. It’s been a week, and… and I don't know if it’s just stress or…”

With my confession hanging between us, Sanji's eyes widen in realisation, the pieces clicking together as my distress becomes palpable. Before either of us can utter another word, another wave of nausea overwhelms me, and I lurch towards the bin once more, heaving with a force that leaves me breathless. Sanji’s concern deepens as he rushes to my side, his hands instinctively reaching for a glass of water. "Here, drink this," he urges gently, his voice laced with worry.

Gasping for air, I manage to steady myself and accept the water, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Sanji's swift actions and unwavering support feel like an anchor in this sudden storm of uncertainty. 

”Come on," he says softly, guiding me towards the nearby couch, his arm securely wrapped around my shoulder. He kneels in front of me, his eyes searching mine with a mix of concern and care. "Are you sure?” 

I nod weakly, the weight of the moment heavy on my shoulders. "As sure as I can be," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Sanji's expression softens, his hand gently resting on mine. "We'll figure this out together," he assures, his voice filled with a determination to be there every step of the way, “I love you so much. We’re gonna be parents.” 

Y/N's POV

The sea breeze whips through my hair as I stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, watching the waves dance beneath the golden sunlight. Another adventure alongside Luffy and the crew—a thrilling escapade filled with laughter, battles and unforeseen challenges. 

But lately, there’s something different. A subtle fatigue creeps in, and I find myself yawning during moments of respite. It’s unlike me, the one who is usually brimming with boundless energy. Yet, I brush it off, attributing it to the rigorous journey. Each day brings its own set of adventures, and with it, an inexplicable weariness that shadows my every step. Yawning becomes a constant companion, stealing moments of wakefulness in between our exploits. Climbing rigging, engaging in battles, and exploring uncharted territories—all thrilling, yet each exertion seems to compound this unexplained exhaustion.

There's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of something unfamiliar. It tugs at my thoughts during quiet moments, a persistent reminder that something isn’t quite as it should be. Yet, I struggle to grasp its elusive form, brushing it aside amidst the excitement of our journey. 

The crew carries on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, their spirits high as they revel in the thrill of the adventure. Luffy’s infectious laughter, Zoro’s unwavering determination, Nami’s calculating mind—all paint a vibrant picture against the backdrop of the vast ocean. Amidst the chaos and camaraderie, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment, a solitary island amidst the bustling sea. My fatigue persists, a constant companion whose origin remains an enigma.

Luffy, with his endless curiosity and knack for noticing the smallest details, seems to pick up on my weariness before I even acknowledge it. He catches me dozing off during our travels, his wide grin turning into a puzzled expression. 

"Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?" His voice, filled with genuine concern, cuts through the hustle and bustle of our adventurous escapades. 

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired. It's nothing, really.” 

Luffy's concern persists, evident in the furrow of his brows as he gazes at me with unwavering attention. His wide, innocent eyes betray his curiosity, searching for answers that even I can't provide. "You sure?" He asks, his voice tinged with a childlike sincerity that tugs at my heartstrings. 

Luffy’s concern, like an unwavering beacon of warmth, persists despite my feeble attempts to brush off my weariness. He shifts closer, his arms encircling me in an unexpected but comforting embrace from behind. His embrace is gentle yet reassuring, as if he could shield me from the exhaustion I can't shake. I can't help but chuckle softly at the suddenness of his affection, feeling a sense of ease washing over me as I lean back slightly, finding an unexpected comfort in his embrace. The weariness that had been pulling me down seems to dissipate for a moment, the warmth of his care a soothing balm to my tired soul.

But even amidst this comfort, Luffy’s intuition remains unyielding. His embrace lingers just a moment longer, his gaze still searching for answers, as if he could decipher the unspoken truths hidden behind my worn-out facade. His childlike sincerity tugs at my heart, urging me to share what I can't quite articulate.

"I'll be fine, Luffy," I say softly, trying to reassure both him and myself, though doubt niggles at the edges of my words. His concern is a testament to his unwavering loyalty and care, a reflection of the bonds we share as a crew. 

Despite my attempts at reassurance, Luffy's gaze holds a depth of understanding that transcends words. He doesn't press further, but the lingering concern in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent promise to stand by me, no matter what uncertainties lie ahead. And as we carry on with our adventures, I find solace in the unspoken support of a friend who seeks to understand even the mysteries hidden beneath a worn-out smile.

His wide eyes dart between mine, a silent conversation unfolding, his desire to understand evident in the furrow of his brows. And with that unspoken exchange, he reluctantly accepts my explanation, bounding off with a promise to resume our adventure. He heads off in the direction of Nami and Robin who are talking quietly, asking them something that has them squealing and gushing over something and the three begin tot talk animatedly but too far away for me to hear. 

It doesn’t take long for me to find out as Luffy’s is calling for my attention, “Hey, Y/N!” His voice is tinged with excitement. His finger points at something I hadn’t even noticed,— my slightly protruding belly, a subtle change that had slipped under my own radar as I just thought I had put on weight from the feasts Luffy makes Sanji make for us, “I think you’re gonna have a baby!” His exclamation echoes across the deck, his unfiltered joy a testament to his unique perspective on life. 

The crew halts, their expressions ranging from astonishment to joyous disbelief. I stand frozen, stunned by Luffy’s innocent declaration, a revelation that I had yet to fathom. In the moment that follows Luffy’s proclamation, a bewildering realisation sweeps over me. His words—“you’re gonna have a baby”—linger in the air, and as the crew's astonished gazes shift between us, it finally dawns on Luffy that he's not just declaring my news; he's announcing his own impending fatherhood. 

His wide eyes widen further, mirroring the astonishment painted across the faces of our crewmates. And then, in a flash of comprehension, a radiant grin spreads across Luffy's face, an uncontainable joy that sparks a cascade of laughter. "Wait, wait, wait! We're having a baby?!" His voice rings out, his expression a mix of disbelief and unadulterated happiness. 

Without another thought, Luffy bounds over to me, his infectious laughter filling the air. He scoops me up in his arms, spinning us both around in a whirlwind of uncontainable joy. Laughter erupts from him, a symphony of excitement and wonder as he revels in the revelation. "We're having a baby!" His exclamation echoes across the deck, a declaration that marks the beginning of a new, unforeseen chapter in our adventures. 

The crew, initially stunned by Luffy's proclamation, now erupts into cheers and congratulatory exclamations, their astonishment giving way to celebration. Amidst the whirlwind of laughter and cheers, Luffy's sheer delight becomes infectious, melting away any lingering shock. And as he continues to spin us both around, his joy becomes mine, intertwining our destinies in this unexpected, thrilling journey toward parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Thousand Sunny. It's a peaceful afternoon, the gentle sway of the ship lulling me into a sense of tranquility amid our bustling adventures. Zoro, the swordsman of unwavering determination, has always possessed an uncanny ability to notice the subtlest of changes. Today, however, would mark the day he’d discern a change within me that I hadn't yet comprehended.

I find myself sitting at the ship's bow, the soothing melody of the waves a comforting companion as I stare out into the horizon. The day had started like any other, yet a lingering unease gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, a sense of unfamiliarity that dances just beyond reach.

Zoro’s presence, like a shadow eternally by my side, draws closer. He settles nearby, his stoic gaze fixed on the horizon. "Something on your mind?" His voice, gruff yet tinged with a subtle concern, pierces the calm.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the disquiet that has nestled itself within me. "Just thinking," I reply with a forced smile, hoping to brush off the weight of my contemplation.

But Zoro, with his unwavering perceptiveness, doesn’t seem convinced. He turns slightly towards me, his gaze assessing, as if trying to decipher the unspoken layers of my thoughts. His eyes, a testament to his keen observation, seem to search for answers that even I'm not yet ready to acknowledge.

As the day stretches into twilight, I notice Zoro's observations becoming more pronounced. He notices the slightest changes—a subtle fatigue in my stance during practice, a hesitancy in my movements that betray a newfound caution.

"Training not going as planned?" he asks casually, a hint of curiosity laced in his words.

I chuckle softly, attempting to mask the undercurrent of uncertainty. "Just feeling a bit off today, I guess."

Under the tangerine hues of the evening sky, Zoro’s scrutiny becomes more palpable. Each swing of my practice sword seems to carry an unusual weight, my movements betraying a faltering rhythm I can't seem to shake. Zoro, a steadfast presence beside me, doesn’t miss a beat. His intense focus during our training sessions amplifies, his watchful gaze tracking every subtle shift in my stance, every hesitancy that sneaks into my strikes.

“Having trouble finding your footing?” His question, tossed casually into the air, holds a knowing undertone that catches me off guard. I offer a fleeting smile, a feeble attempt to cloak the turmoil brewing beneath the surface but I wave off his concerns. 

But Zoro, with his uncanny ability to read between the lines, doesn’t let the matter slide. His observant nature persists, his inquiries wrapped in the guise of casual conversation, yet laden with an unwavering determination to unravel the mystery veiled within my uncharacteristic unease. As the sun begins its descent, casting shadows that dance across the ship’s deck, Zoro’s gaze lingers, a silent sentinel amidst the encroaching dusk. His dedication to noticing the subtleties, the nuances that escape ordinary observation, serves as an unspoken reassurance in the face of my growing uncertainty.

The day had settled into a tranquil calmness, the colours of the sky merging into a breathtaking canvas of oranges and purples as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Zoro's concern had become a constant companion, a silent understanding that had evolved beyond mere words.

"Feeling better?" He asks one day, his voice holding a touch of solemnity that catches me off guard.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Not quite myself, to be honest," I admit reluctantly, feeling a sense of relief in sharing even a fraction of my uncertainty.

Zoro’s expression softens imperceptibly, a rare gesture from the stoic swordsman. "If something's on your mind, you know you can talk about it, right?" His words, though simple, carry an unspoken promise of support. 

I lean into his touch, finding an unexpected solace in his gesture. Resting my head on his sturdy shoulder, we both gaze out at the horizon, where the sun casts its final golden rays over the endless expanse of water.The tranquility of the moment envelops us, a sanctuary within the tumultuous uncertainty. Words become unnecessary as the serenity of the scene seems to bridge the unspoken gap between us. The weight of my worries feels a little lighter, shared in the unspoken language of companionship and understanding.

“I think I’m pregnant.” I mumble and Zoro's hand, which had been gently clasping mine, tightens slightly at my confession. His gaze, usually steady and composed, flickers with a blend of surprise and an emotion I can't quite place. For a fleeting moment, the tranquility of our shared moment is replaced by a charged energy—an anticipation that crackles between us. His grip on my hand relaxes, only to shift purposefully, cupping my chin with a tenderness that catches me off guard. His eyes, a storm of emotions, meet mine, and without a word, he pulls me closer, closing the distance between us with a possessive intensity.

In that instant, our lips meet in a fervent kiss, a silent affirmation of the unspoken dreams that had nestled in the depths of our shared future. His kiss is filled with a passionate reassurance, a promise of unwavering support and a newfound sense of purpose that we hadn't realised we were seeking. 

As the golden hues of the setting sun paint the sky with their final strokes, our connection feels more profound than ever, transcending the unspoken barriers that once stood between us. The weight of my revelation seems to dissipate in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by an overwhelming sense of unity and anticipation for the journey ahead. 

When our lips finally part, the tranquility of the moment returns, albeit tinged with an exhilarating sense of possibility. Zoro’s eyes, though still reflecting surprise, hold an unwavering determination—a silent vow that together, we will embrace this new chapter, our shared future now intertwined with the unexpected joy of impending parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The Red Force sails calmly across the cast expanse of the sea, the ship’s sturdy frame cutting through the gentle waves with a reassuring rhythm. Shanks, the legendary and enigmatic pirate, is as astute as he is charismatic. Little did I know, he would be the first to sense the subtle shifts within me that heralded a new chapter in our lives. 

It begins with small gestures—a keen observation and a caring intervention—undetectable threats woven into the fabric of our daily interactions. Shanks, with his affable demeanour and keen intuition, notices the nuances I hadn’t yet recognised within myself. 

One tranquil evening aboard the ship, I reach for a glass of wine, eager to unwind after a day of adventure. Shanks, however, intercepts the bottle before I can take a sip from it, “Not tonight.” He murmurs with a gentle smile, his gaze filled with a knowing reassurance. 

Confusion clouds my features for a fleeting moment, but Shanks’ unwavering resolve speaks volumes. He offers no explanation, but his subtle gesture carries an unspoken wisdom that halts me in my tracks. A realisation flickers within me—an inkling that there might be more to Shanks’ intervention than meets the eye. 

As my hand instinctively reaches for the bottle once more, Shanks, with a graceful and deliberate motion, holds it just out of my grasp. His other arm, strong and reassuring, encircles my waist, drawing me closer until I’m pressed against him, our closeness enveloped by the gentle sway of the ship. Before I can voice my confusion or protest, Shanks silences any questions with a tender yet fervent kiss. His lips, a whisper against mine, convey a message that words couldn’t encapsulate—an unspoken reassurance, a depth of understanding that transcends any explanation.

Caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of the moment, my initial confusion dissipates in the warmth of his embrace. There’s an inexplicable comfort in the way he holds me, in the way his lips mold against mine, as if he’s communicating a profound truth without uttering a single word. In that fleeting moment, amidst the whispers of the ocean breeze and the lull of the ship, I sense the depth of Shanks’ concern—a concern that goes beyond a simple denial of wine. His actions, though unconventional, carry an unspoken promise of protection, a silent vow to shield me from something I hadn’t yet comprehended.

As the tender moment lingers, Shanks whispers against my skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. "Be a good girl and stick to water tonight," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and genuine concern. His words carry a cryptic weight, an allusion to something I've yet to fathom. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck, a gesture that feels both protective and intimate. "Don't want to hurt our prodigy," he adds, his tone hinting at a revelation that eludes my understanding.

Confusion and curiosity dance within me as Shanks kisses my jaw once more before releasing me. He walks away, the bottle of wine in hand, leaving me to decipher the enigmatic puzzle he has laid out. His cryptic words linger in the air, stirring a flurry of thoughts and emotions. "Hurt our prodigy?" I mull over the phrase, trying to unravel its meaning amidst the waves of uncertainty that crash within me.

The realisation dawns gradually—a glimmer of understanding emerging from the depths of my contemplation. Shanks’ words, though veiled in ambiguity, carry a hidden truth—a truth that I'm hesitant to acknowledge but can't dismiss. Could it be? The notion takes root tentatively within my thoughts, an unspoken realisation that I might be carrying something precious, something that Shanks, with his astute intuition, has sensed long before I even considered the possibility. 

In a whirlwind of emotions and burgeoning realisations, I sprint to Shanks’ private quarters aboard the ship. The air crackles with a blend of uncertainty and a burgeoning anticipation that propels me forward. Racing through the door, I almost tear my shirt off, desperation guiding my movements as I position myself before the mirror.

 With an anxious breath, I angle myself sideways, my eyes searching for the slightest hint of change. There it is—a subtle curve, a gentle swell that hadn’t been there before. My hand hesitantly hovers over my stomach, tracing the faint outline, a tangible proof of the truth that begins to solidify in my mind. 

Before I can fully grasp the enormity of the revelation, strong and familiar arms envelop me from behind, gently covering my hands that rest upon my stomach. Shanks, with a silent understanding that transcends words, rests his chin on my shoulder, a comforting presence in this whirlwind of emotions. Tears blur my vision, a mixture of disbelief and an overwhelming rush of emotions cascading through me. Shanks' quiet embrace, his unspoken support, serves as a grounding force amidst the storm of thoughts racing through my mind.

In the mirrored reflection, I glance at Shanks, my voice laden with uncertainty, "You're not upset?" His frown, reflected in the glass, catches me off guard, stirring a fresh wave of apprehension within me.

Shanks gently turns me around to face him, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Upset? Y/N, I've never been more thrilled," he confesses, his voice a steady reassurance that eases the knot of worry in my chest. "I've wanted this with you, with all my heart.” His words, laden with sincerity and unwavering affection, wash over me like a soothing balm. In that tender moment, surrounded by the depth of his love and his longing for a future we hadn't anticipated, the flood of emotions begins to settle.

As I process his heartfelt confession, Shanks’ demeanour takes on a mischievous glint. "Now, why don’t you get undressed?" he suggests, his voice a playful tease, though his eyes burn with an intensity that stirs a different kind of heat within me. 

Surprised by the sudden shift in tone, my cheeks flush crimson. "Shanks, I..." I stammer, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected boldness but then again it was Shanks. But before I can protest further, his lips capture mine in a fervent kiss, a passionate affirmation of his desire and unwavering affection. His hands trail down my sides, urging me gently to comply with his playful suggestion. 

In that moment, amidst the emotions and revelations, a sense of exhilaration surges through me—a shared understanding that despite the unexpected turn of events, our love and passion for each other remain as fiery and unyielding as ever. And as we lose ourselves in the passionate embrace, the uncertainties and worries of impending parenthood momentarily fade into the background, replaced by an intense and intimate connection that binds us together in this newfound chapter of our lives.

Y/N's POV

The Thousand Sunny basks in the warm sunlight as a peaceful day unfolds on the seas. The tranquility is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Dracule Mihawk, the enigmatic and formidable swordsman. His presence aboard our ship sends a ripple of curiosity among the crew, but for me, it's a moment of both surprise and delight. 

I rush to meet him as he steps aboard the ship, his sharp gaze meeting mine with an inscrutable intensity. His usual stoic demeanour remains unchanged, but a subtle warmth flickers in his eyes as he greets me with a restrained nod. 

“Mihawk.” I breathe, a mix of excitement and curiosity lacing my voice, “What brings you here?” 

He inclines his head slightly, his tone softening imperceptibly, “I wished to see you, nothing more.” As he speaks, I feel a pang of discomfort building within me—a sudden wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me. I try to hide it, but Mihawk's perceptive nature doesn't let it slip by unnoticed. His brow furrows ever so slightly, a minute indication of concern. "Are you feeling unwell?" he inquires, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness.

I attempt to shrug it off, summoning a weak smile. "Just a passing thing, nothing to worry about.” But Mihawk, with his keen observation skills, remains unconvinced. His scrutiny intensifies as he observes me closely, a silent but unmistakable display of attentiveness. As the discomfort escalates, I find myself rushing to the ship's railing, a sudden urge to empty my stomach. The violent bout of vomiting catches both Mihawk and me off guard. 

Concern etches itself onto Mihawk's otherwise impassive features as he moves closer, his hand resting lightly on my back. "This doesn’t seem like 'nothing,'" he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. 

I try to downplay it, despite the relentless churning in my stomach. "Just a bug, probably," I manage between strained breaths, attempting to mask the unease bubbling within me.

But Mihawk, with his unyielding intuition, sees through the facade. "It's more than that," he asserts, his gaze penetrating, seeking answers I'm not yet prepared to acknowledge. The silence between us is charged with unspoken questions, an undercurrent of concern that we both struggle to articulate. Despite my attempts to evade the truth, Mihawk's perceptive nature latches onto the possibility that eludes my own awareness. "Have you noticed any other changes?" His inquiry is gentle but direct, his unwavering gaze locking onto mine. 

I hesitate, grappling with the enormity of what his question implies. "I... I'm not sure," I falter, the weight of his question sinking in. 

Mihawk nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable yet filled with a palpable sense of understanding. "Let's find out," he suggests, guiding me to a quiet corner of the ship where we can speak privately. The rest of the crew disappearing back downstairs to give us privacy as they can gage the seriousness of the conversation Mihawk and I need to have. 

He sits on the bench and I go to join him, sitting next to him, but in one smooth move he pulls me onto his lap with a surprising ease. His arms wrap securely around my waist, ensuring I’m steady against the rhythmic movements of the vessel. His touch, though firm, carries a comforting assurance, ground me amidst the uncertainty that hangs in the air. 

In the cocoon of his embrace, I feel a rush of emotions—vulnerability, anticipation, and a glimmer of hope intertwined. Mihawk’s presence, his unspoken support, is a reassuring beacon of amidst the tempest feelings swirling within me. He leans in closer, his voice a soft murmur against my ear, “We’ll figure this out.” His words, through simple, carry a weight of determination and a promise of solidarity that resonates deep within me. 

With a steadying breath, I meet his gaze, finding an unexpected solace in the depths of his eyes. The unspoken understanding between us weaves an invisible bond, strengthening our resolve to face the unknown together. As the ship rocks gently with the ocean's sway, our private conversation unfolds—a candid exchange filled with a raw honesty that transcends words. Mihawk listens attentively, his silence a canvas for the emotions and uncertainties I pour out.

“I’ve missed my period Mi,” I tell him softly and Mihawk's demeanour remains composed, yet a subtle shift in his expression betrays a momentary pause, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. His touch, tender and deliberate as he brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes, betrays the depth of his emotions, concealed beneath his stoic facade. 

The weight of my revelation hangs between us, a pregnant silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of the ship slicing through the gentle waves. Mihawk’s eyes, usually enigmatic and inscrutable, now reflect a spectrum of emotions—concern, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper that I struggle to decipher. He exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, the depths of his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. "I see," he responds softly, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of consideration. 

As the words linger in the air, a wave of apprehension washes over me, uncertain of how he'll receive this unforeseen revelation. But Mihawk, with his characteristic composure, offers a calm reassurance, a quiet strength that anchors me amidst the tempest of emotions.

“Mi?” I ask quietly, shakily playing with the tufts of hair at the back of his head, twirling them through my fingers and avoiding his gaze as he’s a warlord of the sea, he’s not going to want a child, let alone a child with me. 

Mihawk’s hand, strong yet surprisingly gentle, intercepts mine, halting the nervous twirling of his hair. His touch redirects my attention, guiding my trembling fingers away from their anxious fidgeting. With deliberate intent, he lifts my chin, urging me to meet his gaze, his eyes unwavering as they lock onto mine, "Stop those thoughts," he commands, his voice firm but not harsh, resonating with an unspoken intensity. It's as if he can perceive the tumultuous whirlwind of doubts raging within me, and with his unwavering gaze, he attempts to quell the storm of insecurities that threaten to engulf me.

Before I can offer any protest, any further apprehensive whispers, his lips claim mine in a kiss that silences the racing thoughts in my mind. It's a kiss filled with a passion that defies the uncertainties, a kiss that speaks volumes of his unwavering affection and a desire to shield me from my own fears. As our lips meld in a fervent embrace, Mihawk's kiss becomes a testament to his commitment, a reassurance that transcends spoken words. In that moment, amid the tangle of emotions and swirling doubts, his lips become a lifeline, a beacon of certainty in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties.

The kiss lingers, a bridge between our unspoken fears and the unyielding depth of our connection. Mihawk's touch, his fervent kiss, convey a silent promise—a promise that echoes in the depths of my being, a promise that together, we will weather whatever storms lie ahead. As the kiss concludes, a serene tranquility settles within me, a newfound sense of assurance born from Mihawk's unwavering declaration through that intimate gesture. In the quiet aftermath, his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, a mutual acknowledgment that in each other's embrace, we'll find the strength to face the unforeseen challenges ahead. 

After the kiss, a soft yet resolute glint flickers in Mihawk's eyes as he gazes at me. His hand cups my cheek tenderly, his touch conveying a depth of emotion that words struggle to articulate. 

"Y/N," he begins, his voice a steady reassurance, "I want this. I want this child with you." His words, though measured, carry a weight of sincerity that resonates deeply within me, "You're not alone in this," he continues, his tone unwavering. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together. I'm here, and I'm staying.”

The earnestness in his declaration pierces through my uncertainties, weaving a tapestry of assurance and commitment. His unwavering support, a promise anchored in his eyes and echoed in his words, becomes a beacon of hope amidst the labyrinth of doubts, "We'll navigate this, step by step," he assures, his voice a steadfast anchor in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties. "I'm with you every step of the way.” 

In that poignant moment, Mihawk's unwavering commitment and steadfast reassurance carve a path forward—a path illuminated by the warmth of his unwavering support and our shared determination to embrace the unexpected journey that lies ahead.

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[ghostsangel]

Hi! First off I love the way you write! It’s amazing!!!!

Can I request some fluff and smut?

Simon comes back home from a tough mission and Y/n pulls out the works to make sure he’s relaxed: nice home cooked meal, soak in the tub, and a relaxing massage and Simon gets a happy ending 😏. And they cuddle and fall asleep ☺️

awww i love this so much<3

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

tags/warnings: mdni, fluff, massage, oral (m!receiving), handjob, happy simon

This mission was tough for Simon.

You could tell from his strained voice on the brief phone call you two shared when it was finished. His answers were brief and gruff, and your heart twisted in your chest at the tired strain you heard. As soon as he hung up, you knew you had to treat him tonight.

You cleaned the house, lighting candles that smelled of cedar and tobacco—Simon’s favorite. You cooked his favorite meal, the sizzle of the steak and the smell of rosemary and butter like heaven in your kitchen. You knew it would be better than anything he’d have in the mess hall at base.

You’re just finishing up dinner when the door opens, and you wipe your hands and walk out of the kitchen to find Simon—still dressed in his tactical gear—letting his bag hit the floor with a thud. Smiling, you run over to him and throw your arms around him, shrieking when he effortlessly picks you up and spins you around.

Your fingers work at the baclava and mask, removing them to expose his handsomely scarred face. He smiles softly down at you, but his eyes are tired.

“Welcome home, baby,” you murmur, standing on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his.

He wraps his arms around you, pressing you against him as he kisses you back, the softness of your lips an inviting sensation after a couple weeks away. Breaking the kiss, he sniffs.

“Missed you, love. Did you cook?” He asks, raising his brows at you.

You nod, taking his hand and dragging him into the kitchen. “You sounded tired on the phone, so I wanted to treat you. Gonna eat then let you soak in the tub.”

Simon tugs you against him, nuzzling his face in your neck. “Don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his large hands splayed out across your stomach.

“Yes, you do.” You smile at him and gesture to the table.

Dinner is perfect, and Simon compliments your cooking more than once, making sure you know how much this means to him. He insists on doing the dishes, but you shoo him away, carefully rinsing each plate while he heads into the master bath to strip off his gear.

He sighs as you enter the bathroom, naked chest exposing the hard muscle of his arms and stomach. You’ll never get used to his scars—the way the jagged, white lines run across his bare skin. You kiss the one in the center of his chest before starting the bath.

The water is steaming, and you light candles around the tub and turn off the light. The candlelight illuminates the space intimately, and Simon lowers himself into the tub with a sigh.

“Feels so good,” he practically whines, blue eyes looking up at you. “Join me?”

“I’m going to wash you,” you say, getting on your knees beside the tub and grabbing his favorite scented soap.

He says nothing, only smiles as you begin to wash his scarred body. He hums quietly, contentedly, as your fingers run over his skin. Before you, Simon wasn’t used to intimacy—wasn’t used to being touched. Now, however, he’ll go insane if he doesn’t feel your touch.

You wash the dirt and grime off of him, letting him relax as your fingers work into his muscles. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

“Feels nice. Missed you so much, love,” he grumbled, his hands reaching up to grip yours. “Think I’m done.”

You nod, letting him rise and dry himself off before leading him to the bedroom. “Come on, wanna give you a massage.”

He quirks his brows, smirking at you. “Yeah? Go for it, doll. My muscles are aching.”

You snort at the innuendo and push him onto the bed. He lays on his stomach first, and you straddle his thighs—a task in and of itself as he’s so wide—before slowly beginning to massage his back. He’s tense and knotted, but he slowly sighs as he releases the tension in his body.

Your hands work his shoulder blades, his mid back, down to his lower back. He lets out a grunt as you hit a sore spot, and you pay special attention to it.

“Magic hands, love,” he mutters, rolling over onto his back.

Your eyes drift down his body, resting on his already hard cock. You’ve always loved his cock—thick and girthy, his mushroom tip already leaking precum. Your hands massage his pectoral muscles, holding eye contact with him.

He holds your gaze as your hands move down, past his abs and the v-line at his hips. Your fingers skim the little trail of hair that leads to his cock, and he sucks in a breath when your wrap your hands around his length.

“Need to make you relax,” you whisper, slowly tracing the veins along his shaft. “You deserve it, baby.”

He lets out a groan as you begin stroking his cock, and you lean over it, letting spit dribble onto the tip. Simon’s lidded eyes take in the sight before him, watching your hands move up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, love—you take such good care of me,” he murmurs through gritted teeth,

You grin up at him as you lean over and swirl your tongue around his tip, his hips bucking up instinctively.

“Shit!” He groans, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as you begin to take him in your mouth.

You’re such a good girl for him—swirling your tongue around his length while you take him so deep it brings tears to your eyes. Your mouth is stuffed full of his cock, and his fingers twist in your hair to push your head down. Your nose meets his pelvis and you swallow around him, causing him to let out a string of moans.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ me down your throat,” he grunts, using the grip on your hair to move you up and down his fat cock. “Gonna make me come so fuckin’ fast.”

You moan around him, tears prickling at your eyes and threatening to spill over as he fucks your face. You let him—he deserves this. You squeeze your thighs together, already dripping as his thick cock stuffs your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos as you gag around him, tears spilling over and drool dripping down your chin. “Just like that—fuck!”

He holds you on his cock as it throbs, spilling his load down your throat. A string of grunts and groans spill past his lips, and you let out a whine as you swallow his load.

He pulls you off his cock and smirks at the sight, tears and drool mixing together and dripping down your chin onto his thighs.

“Beautiful, doll.” He tugs you up by your hair, pulling you onto his lap. “Now it’s your turn.”

[slvtforoldermen]

Birthday Morning

Masterlist

Summary: Javi’s birthday morning is always calm, considering it’s the only time of the day he’ll get this tranquility

Pairing: Retired!Dad!Javier Peña x Fem!Mum!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: suggestiveness ;) gasp! Mads not writing age gap for once, oh my goodness!

Word Count: 436 (only a drabble I’m sorry)

A/N: My second one shot for Pedro’s birthday, a gift from me to you to spark our love for him 🩷 I love you all my loves

The light through the blinds from the sun wakes Javi from his dreamless sleep, it warms his back as his eyes flutter open. He rolls over but the sight of his wife isn’t there, just empty sheets. So Javier did what any man would do: he laid there for a few minutes, waking himself up, before pulling on a pair of sweatpants, that were strewn on the floor from the night before, and trundled his way around the house to find his wife.

And the kitchen was where he found you. Multiple pans sizzling and the coffee machine boiling. You’re humming a sweet tune as he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder.

“You smell good,” He murmurs, placing a kiss in the crook of your neck.

“Really, I haven’t showered yet?” You smile and he chuckles.

“Where are the kids?” He asks, noticing the unfamiliar quietness of the house.

“School, I took them in a few hours ago,” You explain. “Thought you could use the sleep.” Javi chuckles again. “Then I got back and thought I should make you some breakfast.”

“Well, who needs breakfast when I’ve got you…” Javi smirks, the bristles of his moustache tickling your neck, both this sensation and his words cause you to shiver.

“Well you’ve got from now until tomorrow morning to have me,” You chuckle. “So why don’t you wait five minutes?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“I managed to convince your dad to take the kids for tonight, but if you get tired of me, then I have no problem going and grabbing them,” You smile cheekily, Javi laughs.

“When could I ever get tired of you?” He asks, placing his hands on the back of your thighs. “They sore?”

“A little… I had trouble walking this morning,” You chuckle. “Had to lie to Bailey’s teacher that I had been riding a bike for too long—“

“Should change my name to bike.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “Then Bailey looked up at me with suspicious eyes and said ‘But mama, you don’t have a bike?’ And then ran off to go play with their friends, so I turned around and said, ‘Better get home to bike, it’s his birthday’.”

“Well, drop off will be extremely awkward tomorrow,” Javi chuckles as he takes the coffee mug from the counter and sips. “Javier ‘Bike’ Peña.” You let out a laugh and kiss his cheek.

“How do you feel, now that you’re old?”

“Oof, you’re not that far behind me,” He smiles.

“Yet, still not 49,” You grin before kissing him softly, you hear the coffee mug being placed back on the counter before feeling his hands slip round your waist. You pull away jut for a second to whisper against his lips. “Happy birthday Javi.”