#sprint reader

[honysoytquimalpence]

sprint reader browser extension is hella fun

[milla-frenchy]

The outpost

1k0 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: you take advantage of an innocent soul to make Joel jealous during patrol Warnings: 18+ mdni. Secret relationship, jealous!Joel, possessive!Joel, exhibitionism (kinda), manhandling, pet names (baby, sweetheart), piv, cum eating. No age specified

a/n: this is written for @iamasaddie 's 24h writing sprint 💛 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me 😘💕 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏

"What the fuck are you doing?" was written on Joel’s face when he heard you tell this guy that you were single.

But it was kind of Joel's fault, wasn't it? He was the one who wanted to keep your relationship a secret, having told you he didn’t want to disturb Ellie, while she was probably the least disruptive person in Jackson.

Maybe jealousy could ease him a little. The oldest trick in the book, even in the apocalypse.

So when you sneaked a peek at the patrol schedule in Joel's office and saw this new guy's name next to Tommy's, your interest rose. 

Mark joined Jackson a few weeks ago, and you already felt his eyes on you several times. Besides you could tell that your floral summer dress was his favorite outfit. Especially when you wore it with your cowboy boots. 

You hesitated only for a second before replacing Tommy’s name with yours.

"Why did you put your name on the beginners patrol?" Joel asked the next morning.

"I’m sure Tommy will be happy to spend more time with his family. And Mark seems to be such a nice guy!" you teased.

The color of Joel’s eyes darkened from soft brown to night black.

"He doesn't seem very bright," he bit back.

“Come on Joel, be nice. We were all rookies once," you replied, putting what you knew was his favorite smile on your face. "Even you, Joel Miller."

He scoffed, wrote “Joel” next to your names and followed you to the stables.

Your horses moved side by side while Joel stayed slightly behind. You glanced back from time to time, and Joel responded with a slight nod. 

When you reached the outpost, you showed Mark the log book, and Joel scanned the surroundings with his binoculars. You looked at him for a while, amazed by how handsome he was in that blue shirt. 

The conversation between you and Mark slowly got casual. Your lives before Jackson, your lives in Jackson. And not very subtly, he ended up asking if you were single. 

“Yes, I am,” you replied, eyeing Joel who suddenly stopped pacing the room and stared down at you sitting in an old wooden chair. He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with doubt and annoyance. 

It wasn’t Joel Miller at that moment, the man a lot of people in Jackson still feared. But just Joel, your Joel, and you wondered if you'd pushed his buttons too much, until possessiveness and jealousy took over in his gaze.

“Go check the area, Mark,” he said in a tone that left no room for discussion, grabbed your elbow as soon as the man left, and pressed you against the wall before kissing your neck.

“Single?” he scoffed, “I don’t think so,” he said as he nibbled your shoulder and placed his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, I need you to be quiet, ok? Say “Yes, Joel.”

“Yes Joel,” you whispered between his slightly spread fingers.

“Already done being a brat, uh?” he mocked, but instantly growled “Christ” when you licked his palm.

He pulled you into another room, slammed the door and made you bend over the table. Growing, he took your jeans and panties off hastily, then kicked your feet apart, spreading your legs. You pushed your ass out, offering him a view of your glistening cunt, begging to be claimed.

“That’s what all this was about?” he groaned. “To make me so damn jealous,” he hissed, pulling his jeans down mid-thigh. He bottomed out in one go, making you clench on his shaft and pant loudly.

“Shhh baby, be quiet. You don't want him to hear us, right? Just take it. Silently,” he grunted, thrusting in and out, his calloused hands buried in the flesh of your hips.

“Yeah, just like that, you always take me so well. Always let me use you, let me…. fuck! let me fuck you. Christ, you feel so good wrapped around me, you know this?”

You hummed, carried by his slow but firm pace. The one you preferred, that made you feel like your folds always struggled to welcome him every time he thrust in again. The one that always made you whimper and moan. You never got used to his girth, every fuck felt like it was your first with him.

“He's probably back now, you think he can hear us? Hear you whimper each time I stuff you full of my cock?” 

He grabbed your arms and kept them on the small of your back, using your body and pussy as he wished, his large paw holding your wrists easily.

“You think he's jacking off right now? Thinking about the cunt he can't have, because she's only mine?”

He released one of your hands, then said “come on, baby, give it to me. Let him hear you come on my cock.”

You brushed your clit for a few seconds before exploding, unable to stay totally quiet.

“Oh shit, yeah… shit! I bet he’s thinking about how good she is. And yet, he's got no fucking idea how perfect she is,” he growled, grabbing you and pressing your back against his chest, the sound of skin on skin slapping echoing in the room.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. On your knees, baby… Oh fuck yeah, open up for me, shit. Oh fuck, I'm gonna…” he growled one last time, still fucking his shaft with his fist, the tip resting on your tongue, and then coated your throat in white.

You licked him clean, eyes raised towards him.

Did he know how wrapped around his finger you were? Did he know no man could make a place for himself in your life, in your bed? In your cunt?

“Here, sweetheart. Lemme help you,” he said, just before pushing his tongue between your lips and sharing a few drops of cum left in your mouth, his large, warm palms cupping your cheeks.

You left the room and saw Mark back. 

“She ain't single,” Joel gruffed. “Next time you’re going with Tommy.”

You smiled. The oldest trick in the book for sure.

Even in the apocalypse.

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary

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[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

i neeeed drunk arthur sneaking into reader’s tent for your writing sprint!! 🫶🫶🫶 all the fluff and arthur being touchy yet uncoordinated

Haha this one is so sweet and fun!! Loved writing it!! Thank you so much for your ask, little anon 🫶

A close sound suddenly pulls you out of Moprheus's realm, the darkness of the night still deep and thick as your eyes struggle to open. There's definitely someone outside your tent, a blurred form moving at the entrance.

The flaps suddenly open as the person stumbles inside, boots bumping into the little piece of furniture you use as a dressing table, dragging your belongings down with it. You hear the intruder curse an annoyed "Ah, shit!" and mumble an unaudible complaint.

"Arthur, is that you, honey?" You manage to ask in a sleepy voice, amusement starting to creep onto your face as you're realising what's happening. The outlaw snaps his head in your direction, and you catch his toothy smile even in the obscurity.

"Dar -hic!- ling! I didn't want t-to wake ya up."

He instantly let all the objects he had gathered to clean up his mess go, your little mirror crashing onto the ground. You sigh in a half-amused, half-desperate way. He is so drunk. "It's okay, big boy, come here." You whisper to him, pulling up your blanket and opening your arms.

Arthur doesn't even bother (or remember) to undress. He walks with difficulty to your cot, tripping at every step, hat falling on the ground during his final swing to you. He collapses almost entirely on you and instantly nestles his head into the crook of your neck, his burning body pressed against yours as your arms close their embrace around him. He's all messy and clumsy, the opposite of his usual attentive and restrained self, almost crushing you under him. You can still feel his huge torso hiccup and one of his legs is hanging off the bed. He speaks against your neck, the sound entirely muffled, and you assume by his intonation that he had said he loved you.

"Love you too, sweetie." You coo to him fondly. One of his hands not so subtly reaches for your chest, grabbing one breast and sighing contently. By the weight of him on your chest, you can feel he's already almost asleep, feeling his beatific smile on his face against your skin.

His snoring and heat soon accompany you back to sleep, too.

[enviedear]

MNDI. ADULT CONTENT

JASON TODD has always been a man of action, more comfortable with his efforts than with his words. but when it comes to you, he’ll say anything just to hear you. it’s your voice—those quiet, almost hushed intonations, and those bated breathless sounds—those wreck him in ways he didn’t think possible. he craves it, like he needs it, needing to hear every gasp, every soft moan, the way you breathe his name when you’re close to falling apart.

he’s learned what makes you tick, too. the spots that draw out the little whimpers he can’t get enough of. when he’s hovering over you, his mouth tracing down your neck, kissing your pressure points. he’ll slow down just to hear how your breathing changes, how it gets shaky the second his lips hit that sweet spot above your clavicle. sometimes he’ll tease you on purpose, dragging it out, using his fingers or mouth in that maddening rhythm—slow, deliberate, almost lazy—just to watch you squirm and hear the frustrated moan you let out when you can’t take it anymore.

and it’s not just about touching you. when he’s inside you, it’s a whole other level. he’ll thrust in slow at first, setting a torturous pace just so he can savor every sound that slips from your lips. the way you say his name, like it’s the only thing grounding you, drives him near mad. he’ll lean in close, lips brushing your ear, his voice low and rough as he whispers, “c’mon, baby, let me hear you.” and the moment you do—when you can’t hold back anymore, when your moans fill the air and your nails dig into his skin—jason’s gone. completely lost in the way you sound, in the way you’re unraveling beneath him. lost in the beauty of you, natural and unabashed. perfect.

he’ll push harder, faster even sometimes, not because he’s in a hurry but because he’s chasing that moment where you’re so overwhelmed you can’t keep quiet. he’s selfish for it, he knows. but you keen so pretty and pull him so close, so right. when you finally shatter, when your voice ceases and you’re gasping for him, it’s like a switch flips in him. he’ll growl your name, holding you impossibly close to him, giving you exactly what you need, because for him, it’s all about hearing you fall apart. he finds nothing better than being enough for you, hell, too much for you.

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

[stottlemorgan]

Teamwork / Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Summary: Arthur helps you fish. Tags: 18+, MDNI! Pure fluff and suggestiveness. A little bit of flirting at the end. It's CUTE. Word count: 1,096. Author’s Note: This was a request for the lovely @fictionalcowboylover for my mini prompt writing sprint! I absolutely LOVED writing this, thank you for the wonderful prompt, dear! <3 Ao3 Link. All photos above are sourced from Pinterest.

"I got somethin'! I got- Arthur!" Your voice breaks as your reel starts to whizz and click rapidly.

Arthur's eyes widen and immediately, his own rod splashes into the water's edge as he discards it. Sloshing over to you, he squeezes one hand around your hip and brings the other over yours to clutch the handle as you desperately try setting the hook.

"Give it a swift upward tug," he instructs, pushing his hand down on your hip, silently telling you to flatten your feet into the mud, which you do. You tug to no avail. Frustration bursts from you in a tight breath as whatever you have caught tries to drag your reel and rod straight from your avidly grasping hands. Arthur frowns in a slight confused disapproval,

"A swift tug, girl. Like-" he shifts position, wrapping his arms around you. With a firm grip, he envelops your hands in his, halting the whirling spool and starting to turn it back. As he reels, he rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath puffing into your hair. Pressing his chest to your back and pushing his hips into your rear, making you yell softly, he tugs up and back in a quick arc but the effort seems to not phase the fish, "shit, you've caught a big one."

"I told you!" You huff back at him, turning your head to speak against his cheek, his stubble scratching your chin. Arthur grunts, giving another harsh tug, forcing your body to make the arc. His hips push into the layers of your skirts and you gasp, "Arthur!"

"You want the damn fish or not? Concentrate, woman."

Suppressing the shiver that wants to worm its way up your back, you take a deep breath and grip the rod, turning your head forward again. With a grit of your teeth, you turn back the reel with Arthur's help. He hums, "That's it, you got it, keep goin'." His arms tighten around you, and he bends his knees a little, tucking them into the backs of your own. Your mind swims with the solidity of his body encasing yours but atop that avidly skims the eagerness to catch this God forsaken fish.

"Get ready to pull, alright?" Arthur asks lowly, and you nod quickly. He sinks his feet further into the mud and gives a noisy huff into the crook of your neck, "Okay, pull!"

Performing an effortful draw, Arthur shoves his hips into your backside and pulls your arms up, motions which you mimic. Arthur laughs triumphantly as he feels the ardency of the fish give a little. Determinations sweats your brow, and attraction bubbles in your seat where Arthur's denim-clad groin is stiffly pressed. You squeeze the rod between your arm and ribs, lifting, groaning. Arthur gasps against your jaw, reeling roughly,

"Good girl, real good girl- Okay, okay, here we go-" He urges your hands to hold tighter, reeling steadily. You buzz with far too many forms of excitement.

"Arthur, it's gonna slip-"

"No, it ain't, jus' keep on. You got one more in you, c'mon, pull!" Arthur grits and with a simultaneous groan, you both pull. Almost stumbling backwards, the two of you squint as a large thrashing fish flips into the air, swinging on the end of the line and splashing cold water over your faces.

With a surprised croak, you sink the rod further back between your arm and side as the mighty fish causes your rod to bend southwards. Arthur releases you and snatches the fish from the air with his eyes wide and mouth agape, "Christ, what bait were you usin'?" He guffaws, flipping the fish over in his palms with a hefty slap, "S'a monster."

A pleased grin spreads over your features and you bounce on your feet, your hands clenching into excited fists, "Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! Jus' look at that bastard!" Your boots squelch into the sopping mud and you place your rod down before moving closer to Arthur, peering down at the giant fish.

"I'm lookin', darlin'." Arthur smiles at you with a chuckle, scooping the hook from the fish's mouth, "S'a big ol' Pike you caught. Take a look." He holds out the fish and you take hold of it carefully, cradling its weight with your forearms and hands, your face the picture of pride and delight. Taking in a soft breath so as to not let the blooming affection in his chest overtake your moment, Arthur turns away and crouches toward his satchel. You tilt your head, watching him for a moment before speaking, excitement still stealing your breath,

"Hey, what're you doin'?"

"You jus' caught your biggest fish yet. I thought you might wanna document it," Arthur answers gently, retrieving his camera from his satchel and readying it. You giggle and stand a straighter, holding the fish a little higher and baring your teeth in a grin. Through the viewfinder, Arthur takes in your mussed hair, your breathless elation, the pinking of your cheeks from the effort and pride. He swallows, feeling the need to take another breath just to look at you before snapping a couple of photographs, one of which you purse your lips and lift the pike higher, pretending to kiss it. Barking out a laugh and shaking his head, Arthur leans down to pack away his camera.

Giving you a little squeeze at your waist, he looks at the fish, "You keepin' 'im or lettin' 'im swim?" He asks, his thumb rubbing up and down on your waist, moving the fabric of your dress against your skin. You take your turn to swallow, and start off the small distance to the water's edge.

"Think I'll let 'im swim, he gave me enough today." You reply fondly, bending forward in front of Arthur and letting the pike wriggle its way back into the water with wild whips of its tail, making you giggle as it wets your face. Arthur's hand remains on your waist as you straighten back up and tilt your head to look up at him, the shiver you had quelled earlier on fully rippling through your body at the sight of the shimmer of the sun reflecting off of the water and into his eyes, illuminating them. He gazes down at you for a long moment before deciding to plant a soft kiss to your temple, and you freeze. The tumult of feelings stirring within your gut grows wilder. He chuckles, patting your side, before speaking into your hair, "Wanna try 'n' catch another?"

You dumbly nod.

Tags for my sweethearts: @thundermartini @zae-heeyyy @pinescent-and-gingerbread @frillydolle @arthurmorganist @thesweetestapplepie @thoughts-of-bear @kayyqua @thedilfdiaries - Apologies if I miss anyone, just dm me or comment below to have me tag you <3

[mattsundaes]

hi deeee i hope you're having a good weekend so far!! no pressure but itoshi sae denying reader's orgasm / teasing please? it would maybe kill me actually HAHA

18+, itoshi sae x reader

"sae—"

"no."

"sae."

you don't care about the way it comes out as more of a whimper than anything else the second time, not when you're on the verge of tears against the desperate echoes of pleasure burning their way down your spine.

but he ignores you, ignores the way you try to spread your legs wider, hips rocking backward for any modicum of relief.

he's got you pinned firmly beneath him, prone against the tangle of his soft sheets, his hips pressed into the globes of your ass and his cock lodged to the hilt in your slick, aching heat.

your cunt clenches uselessly around the stretch of his immobile cock. but even if he feels your attempt at desperation, he ignores it, refusing to move.

he's been at this for nearly forty minutes now—he fucks you slow and deep, picking up speed until you're babbling his name with your fingers fisted in the sheets as you careen toward the outer edges of your climax.

when he stops, he does it without warning, pulling his cock out and leaving you woefully empty as your pleasure flies past its exit and evaporates.

and then he holds you here like this, until you're squirming and begging him to fuck you.

you're starting to drool on his pillowcase, the material growing wet against your cheek.

"can you just—" you whine.

"can i what?" he asks calmly, toying with the sleeve of your shirt.

"can you at least take it off."

sae's fingers drift across the back of the jersey you're wearing, over the letters than run from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

it's a three-letter name.

—but it's not his.

sae pissed you off last night, so you showed up at his game wearing one of rin's jerseys.

"no," he says simply, and he finally starts to move his hips, easing out of you slowly before slamming back inside. "you can keep wearing it while you're moaning my name."

[arcane-fox]

Just to Pass the Time

Jackson!Joel x Female Reader Dancing the night away, Joel Miller has his sights on you.

Word Count: 850 Rating: 18+ MDNI Warnings: Reader age undisclosed. Choose your poison. Barely edited. Notes: My entry for @iamasaddie's 24 Hour Gif Mini Writing Marathon!

There he was. Perched in his chair in his usual place against the wall. Sitting idly, entertaining himself by enjoying the music and the scenery around him. He never joined in, just took in the sights and sounds and kept to himself. Doing the bare minimum to participate to keep his brother off his back. 

You could feel his eyes on you watching the way your body flowed with the beat. Dancing with your whole heart. Your skin damp with sweat from moving your hips and your face tired from laughing. Your jeans hugged your hips in all the right places with your hair down, wild and free. Your tight shirt accenting your breasts and your plunging neckline showing off enough skin to catch anyone's attention.  

You locked eyes with him as he gave the most subtle side smirk before looking away, tapping his mostly empty whiskey glass. He was nursing that last sip and fidgeting with his glass before returning back to you. He couldn’t resist with the way you were moving and how you were dressed.

Joel Miller was a ‘just to pass the time’ situation, but somehow you found yourself caught in his web again and again. Maybe it was the softness of his gaze or the pity you harbored for him always looking so alone. It was something you intended to happen only once.

His facade was all business. Serious and protective and spending little time at town social gatherings like this. He was mysterious to most people in Jackson who wrote him off as a grump who was disinterested in anything fun. 

You had given him a chance a few months ago when you were well beyond drunk. And again a few weeks later, when you couldn’t escape the way he drank in your body. And again… the week prior, when that needy ache growing between your legs wasn’t going away.

You recalled how he hoisted you onto the countertop that first time, never losing contact with your ravenous mouth on his. You undid his belt and reached for his hardness, starved to be touched and was pleasantly surprised to find he was packing.

How your fingers twisted into his long curls at his nape as you draped your arms over his shoulders. He was so solid and rugged for a 60 something year old man. The silver streaks in his beard showed like a badge of honor and you liked how they prickled at your skin. He was a catch if anyone could get past his prickly demeanor.

How you wrapped your legs around his waist while he hiked up your denim skirt, letting his hand drag up your thigh and his fingers slide into your panties. He fingered you with his expert touch until he made you beg for his cock. 

He wasn’t a man of many words, but you didn’t mind. His deep groans were music to your ears, and you liked that he didn’t waste time. Just got right down to it, and did a damn good job of it too. Fucking you senseless in the bathroom of the Jackson recreational hall. 

Joel Miller could fuck.

While you flitted around the dancefloor being carried by the lively melodies and the alcohol's influential touch, you could feel his gaze on you. Familiar and not unwelcome. The pull that you knew you were not going to be able to resist for much longer. 

He was sneaky too, trying to act busy with his drink. He looked more like some sort of chaperone sitting on the sidelines. You knew him better now. Knew his tricks to lure you in and still you didn’t mind falling for the bait. You let him watch knowing how hard you were making him while he stirred in his seat. Feeling the tiniest bit of guilt for teasing him. 

And that's how you ended up the way you did. The way you always did when Joel was horny and you were already soaking wet with your arousal, eager to have him filling you yet again.

Your slow walk towards him as the song ended and the subtle nod towards the bathrooms was all he needed. He was a gentleman after all, never pushing for more than you wanted until you signaled it was time to play. 

He tipped back the last swig of whiskey and sauntered behind you, acting casual despite his hardness getting uncomfortably tight against his denim.

“Not past your bedtime yet, Miller?” you tease as he follows behind you discretely. As you look over your shoulder, you see his eyes trailing up after lingering on your ass.

He keeps his cool and chews the inside of his cheek to suppress the smirk that wants to grow across his face.

The door locked shut behind him and his mouth was on you in an instant. Devouring your body with his tongue and discarding your clothing with abandon. 

Another night to be ended by the mercy of his cock.

A girl could get used to this... just to pass the time of course.

Tagging a few Joel moots if you wanna read something short 🫶 @pedgito @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @thedilfdiaries @magpiepills

@toxicanonymity @cuppajoel @joelspeach @pedropeach @almostempty

@evolnoomym @beardedjoel @baronessvonglitter @guiltyasdave @whocaresstillthelouvre

[toxicanonymity]

spectators

Tommy Miller x f!reader (500 words) Tommy Miller masterlist Blurb for @iamasaddie's 24 h writing sprint 🩷 WARNINGS: 18+ Degradation kink, slut-shaming, infidelity, ref to dp incest. Mean!Tommy

It was bold of you to show up at Tommy's son's ballgame. A single woman in a short sundress turned a lot of heads... especially when you were rumored to be carrying on an affair with the Miller brothers. You had no business being there, and the side-eyes from other community members only turned you on.  Crossing the lawn, you waved to Tommy, and he barely acknowledged you in response. He clenched his jaw, then gave a short nod and a seething stare past you.  He was manspreading on a cooler, drinking. As you got closer, he swallowed and shifted his eyes away from you, holding his beer between his knees in a way that had his arms guarding the perimeter of his lap.

Your knee nudged his wrist, making space for yourself, and when you moved to sit on his thigh, he stood up and said, “I don't think so, sugar. You lost your goddamn mind?” His gaze scanned the spectators, and his cheeks heated as he noticed the other parents whispering.

You pouted and complained, “You treat me like a doll, you know. You just pull me out of the toy chest whenever you feel like and then expect me to stay hidden.”

“Sounds about right, doll face,” Tommy answered. “What'd ya expect, a boyfriend?” He scoffed. “Spreadin’ your legs, beggin’ to be used... wanna be more than just a hole? Fuckin' act like it.”

“Okay....see if I spread'em next time,” you threatened. "You wish I was sitting on it right now, don't you?"

Tommy chuckled and stepped back. “Yeah, okay. Shit, look at you trottin’ out here, half naked. Lookin’ for dick anywhere ya can get it, huh?”

“Clearly I started at the bottom,” you snapped back. 

"Who's next, Seth?" Tommy asked.

“Maybe I need some more alone time with Joel,”  you mused.

He didn't take the bait. “He don't want nothin’ to do with ya outside the bedroom, sugar,” Tommy claimed.

Face burning, you threatened, "Who else knows the Miller brothers like to rub their cocks together?....What would the rest of Jackson think, knowing how much y'all love to cram your big dicks into the same cunt and fill it up... the way y'all cum so fast when you're together..."

Tommy raised his eyebrows with a smile into the distance. "You'd love that, wouldn't ya? Tellin' everybody what a filthy whore you are?" He looked you up and down and pulled up his jeans, resisting the urge to adjust himself. "How one cock ain't enough for your used up snatch..." His gaze settled on your breasts and their efforts to bust the seam of that dress. The sun was setting, and you relished the way his eyes consumed your body. His chest expanded as he took one last look at your tits. Then he turned his head, spat on the ground, and said, "get the fuck outta here."

“Try not to stare,” you said, and turned to walk away. When you had made it only a few steps, you bent over to pluck a flower, and Tommy got an eyeful of your bare cunt, glistening with a milky glaze. 

-

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thank you for reading!

Next: Concessions (Joel)

Joel and Tommy sharing masterlist

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ GRACIE'S MASTERLIST (FORMULA 1) ♡

SOCIAL MEDIA AUS:

♡ laps inside your head -> carlos sainz x fem!singer!reader

♡ when it happened to me (we hug now) -> lando norris x fem!teammate!reader

♡ breaking point (lucky number nine) -> lewis hamilton x fem!rookie!reader

♡ bet you wanna love me now -> lewis hamilton x fem!engineer reader

TEXT AUS:

♡ pretty little things on pretty little girls -> ft. lewis hamilton, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris

♡ sleep on the couch tonight -> ft. carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, lando norris, and daniel ricciardio

♡ i love you, i'm sorry (that's just the way life goes) -> ft. lewis hamilton, franco colapinto, lando norris, max verstappen

♡ twenty-one days (practically a lifetime, if you ask me) -> ft. lando norris, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, oscar piastri

♡ can you come home? i need you. -> ft. lewis hamilton, lando norris, max verstappen, daniel riccardio

♡ runnin' with my dress unbuttoned -> ft. lewis hamilton max verstappen, lando norris, kimi räikkönen

♡ silent treatment (cruel, cruel girl) -> lando norris, max verstappen, ollie bearman, kimi räikkönen

DRABBLES + HEADCANNONS

♡ i'm a shameless caller (she's a full machine)-> lando norris x fem!ex!reader

♡ after midnight (can't be a good girl) -> ft. carlos sainz, max verstappen, daniel ricciardo, and lando norris

♡ six-thirty alarms -> lando norris x fem!yogainstructor!reader

♡ pretty in pink (amour mio) -> kimi antonelli x fem!balletdancer!reader

♡ hometown glory (some things never change) -> george russell x fem!childhoodbf!reader

♡ the sand, the sea, and that goddamned orange dress -> carlos sainz x gf!reader

GRACIE'S THOUGHTS

♡ lewis hamilton x fem!sportsmedia!reader

♡ ollie bearman x gf!reader x hickies

♡ lewis hamtilon x fem!assistant!reader (2) (3)

♡ frano colapinto x reporter!reader (2)

♡ lando norris x gf!reader x hair-pulling

♡ kimi antonelli x gf!reader x prom/formals

[twola]

Ok so, something I've seen a few times is the male premature ejaculation trope...but I don't think I've ever seen anyone write a women have a premature orgasm? 🤔 like..maybe Arthur has been away for a long while and reader is just overwhelmed/stimulated from finally being able to touch each other after so long apart? She gets embarrassed by it, but our sweet outlaw of course assures her it's fine (and maybe feels slightly proud that he has that effect on her 🥲) .

No worries if this one doesn't strike inspiration!

(P.S gonna take a moment to just say thank you for all the stories you have blessed us with. Your works have fueled so many daydreams and I cherish them dearly. Hope you have a good trip!)

He'd been away for so long, long enough that when he returned, it was everything you were not to drag him outside of camp. No, you had to wait for your lover to settle back in - to commune with Dutch, to unpack his bags, to cajole with the other men.

Meanwhile you were fit to burst. You sat simmering, near aggressively sewing as Arthur took his time making his way over to you. He nicks his head toward the wooded area and you immediately toss down your sewing and follow him.

"Come 'ere, darlin'." Arthur drawls, and you nearly jump into his arms, immediately leaning up and pressing your lips to his. He slowly spins you so that you are leaning against the tree, and your kissing devolves from sweet to sultry as you open your mouth to him.

Moaning into his mouth, you hold onto his biceps for dear life as you plaster yourself against him, holding on to him as if he would disappear again.

He works his leg between yours, his strong thigh pressing against your pelvis as his tongue wrestles with yours. He groans into your mouth as you mewl.

You grind your core against his thigh - maybe it was the time away, maybe it was the excitement of him being home, maybe it was the sheer desperation, but you nearly scream into his mouth as you come, jolting against him as your fingers dig into his shoulders.

He pulls back, astonished, and you pant, holding onto his shirt, mortification settling in. Your cheeks blaze red as you look downward, unable to continue eye contact.

Arthur grabs your chin with one hand and makes you look up at him. A sly, near satisfied smile graces his features.

"Ain't you the most precious little thing?"

[themeraldee]

Mind Over Matter

[Masterlist] [AO3]

18+ Only | 4k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Supe!Reader with telepathic and mind-altering powers. Less established relationship and more fuck buddies. Lewd mental images. Office sex (kind of?). Exhibitionism (also kind of?) Overstimulation. Creampie.

Summary: As the only telepathic, mind-altering member of the Seven you take Homelander for a vivid ride in his mind during an important meeting. Homelander can't handle being reduced to less than his perfect manicured self and he decides to teach you a lesson.

Written for this request💚(thank you for the inspo!)

Boring. Boring. Mind-numbingly fucking boring. 

Ashley’s testing out her new ‘VP of Hero Management’ wings that Homelander graciously gifted her and what does she do with them? She parades around the meeting room, putting up a front of a resilient and driven businesswoman while on the inside her heartbeat is in the hundred-tens and her muscles are strung so tight he could shatter them with a flick of a finger.

Now she’s wasting their time with this? So much for filling in Madelyn’s boots with someone capable. 

He rolls his eyes.

She’s pitching ideas for the last missing member of the Seven, one they’ve been lacking since Translucent’s funeral. His eyes quickly flit to you sitting to his right side, taking up Deep’s mantle ever since his timely departure. At least you’ve proven yourself to be a worthy member with some quality skillset.

But these fucking options? What is this? When did good old classic superheroes turn into strange curiosities fit for a circus freak show. First an animal whisperer and now another invisible freak? 

Looking around the rest of the room, he grits his teeth. The rest of the team doesn’t even fucking care. Why does it always have to be him, maintaining the standard everyone should adhere to?

“Nope. Not happening.” He dismisses the presented slide with disdain.

“S-sir, we could really do with the boost in our 18-32 demographic. Invisi-lass has already hit 20 million followers on Instagram. Our forecast shows an uptick of 5%.” Each stutter of her voice is even more grating on his ears than the obnoxious click of her stilettos. 

“Right, a bunch of fucking pre-teen girls wishing they could disappear like her. Fantastic. They’re not gonna come out in support of us, Ashley.” He’s had enough of everyone else thinking they know what’s best for the team, what’s best for him. “Instead it will hurt the biggest demographic—my demographic—because everyone can clearly see that we only care about optics. A female majority in the Seven? Give me a fucking br—”

Moan. That was a fucking moan. Homelander whips his head around to look at the rest of the room to see anyone else reacting. Nobody is paying fucking attention. His mind is playing tricks on him.

He looks at you again. Even you’re making him look bad, sitting at your spot at the Seven’s table all uninterested just like the rest of them.

“Sir?” Ashley’s voice rings the clearest.

“I said no. We don’t need Translucent 2.0. Find something better—” He chokes on the last letter, eyes widening a fraction when he hears the distinctive sound of fingers running up and down a wet pussy.

It’s the loudest thing in his head. Jesus Christ, if that doesn’t make his cock throb.

“Find someone better.” He repeats with a scathing enough look that Ashley—nor anyone else—dares question his restlessness.

The squelch of a soaked cunt is still loud in his ears, the brazen repetition of the lewd noise tinges the tips of his ears pink. He swallows, shaking his head clear of the sound instead trying to focus on the rest of the presentation.

The intermittent nature of the sound is enough to disturb his attention. He throws you a cautionary glare. Not that it does much besides egg you on. The teasing tilt to your lips makes him want to get up and teach you a lesson. 

The sound of soft groans in his head makes Homelander squeeze the armrest, just about stopping himself from ripping it clean off.

Ashley clicks a button on her remote and the screen changes. Moan. Homelander’s barely paying attention to the new recruit candidate. They are as unremarkable as the others.

“Homelander.” You sneaky devil. You’ll pay for that one for sure. Timing that sinful pleasure-infused sound of his name at the same time as Ashley asks for his opinion.

He barely grits out an irritated no. His tongue flits out to wet his lips as his mind fills with the images of a sopping wet set of lips eagerly waiting for his rapt attention.

It takes him everything to stop the wanton moan from escaping his lips when he turns to look at you but instead the image of you naked from the waist down, sitting on top of the table right in front of him steals his mind away from reality.

He has to shake his head clear before he gets lost in the vivid image you’ve planted in his head. Oh now you’ll definitely get what’s coming to you.

It’s impossible to escape the literally mind-fucking you’ve trapped him in now. Thank fuck for the hard cup in his suit. Without it he’d be flashing a hefty erection to the rest of the team. 

If he wasn’t horny out of his mind he’d be impressed with how far you’ve come with your skillset since you’ve become a part of the team. What started as implanted ideas and fleeting moments you’ve turned into vivid and believable scenes, an outright reshaping of his view of reality. The way you could easily manipulate what someone saw—or believed they saw—was pretty fucking hot if he had to say so himself.

His voice quivers when he denies yet another proposal but nobody dares pull him up on it.

The image of your legs spread right in front of him is inescapable. He sees bare thighs sticking to the table top. Along with a mouth-watering pool of slick right where you sit as your fingers go to town, pushing into your cunt with a need he can’t believe he can’t exploit. 

He’s stopped staring at the screens Ashley presented on as she moved onto stats and ratings. While it just comes across as uninterested to anyone else, he wants to look at that exact spot you’ve planted yourself onto in his mind. It makes it more vivid. His mouth is fucking dry. How can you present the oasis and not let him have a sip. 

He’s shifting in his seat, each movement aiding in feeling a sliver of friction against his cock. He feels how obscenely he’s leaking. Embarrassing, what you do to him. What he lets you do to him. 

The images and visions you send into his mind are nearing crescendo. Each of Ashley’s words is punctuated by a lewd sound. Moan. Filthy noise of your plunging fingers. Groan. His fucking name.

No. 

No. 

He can’t have you enjoy yourself with your shitty little smirk while he’s fighting for his fucking life.

“Enough.” It comes out weak, but to the unknowing it just sounds exasperated. When nobody moves or says anything he repeats himself. 

“That’s enough Ashley.” He’s too frustrated to put on the cheerful aura. Too worked up to perform. “Just-just come back when you’ve got something useful. Don’t waste my time with more of these good-for-nothings.”

Ashley’s polite, business curated smile drops and she tightens her lips into a fine line, turning the screens off with an affirmative, “yes, sir.”

He stands up from his seat after he pushes his chair back. He shakes the image from his head.

“Everyone. Out!” He repeats, motioning with both hands towards the exit with a sweeping gesture.

The rest of the team clearly doesn’t care. They barely paid any attention to begin with. All dealing with their insignificant issues in their insignificant little lives. Even after he brought them all to glory they’re still not grateful.

He feels his own heartbeat rise with frustration, the sick feeling taking over.

His vision turns red when the doors take their sweet time opening fully. He’s ready to laser them off the hinges. Upon opening Ashley gets out first, thank fuck, rushing to keep out of the way as fast as possible.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Homelander stands behind you, both gloved hands land on your shoulders hard, squeezing with a moderate strength. For all your mind-fucking powers you’re still fairly fragile.

The room empties out, doors shutting behind them.

“Well,” he lets you turn around just in time to see that bratty smirk, “you did say ‘everyone out’. I’m just following orders, sir.” Youuu make him want to strangle and kiss you at the same time. 

“Really? This is what you’re going with? Brave. Your sassy attitude isn’t gonna soften the blow sweetheart.” He cups your face pulling you closer to his face. Your hands automatically rest on his biceps, whether for support or as a feeble attempt to push him away he doesn’t really care.

“If you think it’s fun to fuck around—well—then I’m sure you won’t mind if I fuck you riiiight here.” He pushes you back against the table with each step forward, effortlessly hoisting you up with a little throw, making you land on the hard surface. 

“See, honey,” he pinches your chin with his thumb and forefinger and he tilts your head a little to the left. “That camera in the upper corner? Yep that one.” He points at it with his finger just to be sure.

“Now that camera is gonna record eeevery little moan and whimper along with your embarrassing little faces.” He chuckles with his lips closed, already terribly amused at your wide-eyed expression. You make it too easy.

“I was going to keep it to myself, wipe the recording, that sorta thing.” He pulls off his gloves, noticing your eyes follow each movement of his hands as if to brace yourself for what’s to happen.

As you should.

“But then I thought that I might be better off just accidentally sending it to everyone at Vought. So everyone can see what a nasty little slut you are.” His one hand cups your crotch through your uniform. He barely needs his super hearing to catch the squish of wet flesh when his finger presses in the middle.

“Be real, did you really think I would let this slide?”

“I was just doing you a favour!” You squirm under his hand, trying to worm your way further away from him. “You were clearly bored out of your mind.”

Homelander pulls you close, sucking on his teeth with a disapproving shake of his head.

His bare fingers pinch the smooth stretchy fabric of your costume right at your crotch. With his second hand joining the cause he rips the material apart like tissue paper, grabbing the new frayed edges and ripping a hole big enough for the tear to span the top of your pubic bone to the middle of your ass crack.

“Homelander! What the fuck!?” Oh finally, you’re realising the severity of your actions. He grins, ripping the next layer, your colour matching panties, down the middle—making them effectively crotchless.

God it’s so satisfying to see you try to force your legs closed. As well as wedging your hand down the middle. It’s all pointless anyway.

“Come on, don’t cover up. You were so happy to show off all your best assets earlier, gorgeous. Where’s that energy now?” He teases you. He’s being an asshole and he knows it. It’s all so worth it, especially when your eyes flicker to the camera. 

“Eyes down here darling.” He pushes your head back down, not giving you a second to spare before he’s capturing your lips with his. And for all your embarrassment in the moment you still give as good as you get. Really, he thinks this always ends up being some of your hottest sex.

The kiss is messy, pulling and tugging at each other's lips, tongues wet and hot against each other in between the greedy nips and bites at the other ones lips. There’s no time and space for gentle and loving in this moment. He has to stop himself from not shattering your jaw with his hand as he kisses you like a starving man. Each wet kiss and moan makes his cock throb, balls heavy and aching, bordering on painful.

Homelander can’t really wait much longer. He's not gonna get blue-balled by your stupid powers. His cock has been begging for some sweet relief quite some time now. 

Reluctantly he pulls away, hands going to his pants. He leaves his belt on, pulling the zipper down from underneath it, pushing all layers down in one fell swoop.

And wow, already he’s really raring to go. His cock bounces up when it’s released from its fabric prison, grazing your hot flesh on the way up. His mind gets shot with a fuzzy feeling he’s not used to. 

He rests both arms on the table, leaning in close to you with a groan. “Stop that.” He rests his forehead against yours with a hiss. “None of your tricks.” 

“It’s not a trick. It’s not made up. It’s-it’s what I feel. I’m sharing it with you.” 

Eyes widening as he pulls back a bit, staring you up and down with a confused look. So what, you can now broadcast your pleasure? Straight to his pleasure receptors? What in the—

“You can do that?” It’s unbelievable really. 

Nevertheless, Homelander hooks his arms under your thighs pulling you closer to the edge and forcing you down on your back, no matter how much you try to stay up propped by your arms.

“It’s new to me too…” You say a little out of breath as your back hits the table top.

Immediately he grips the base of his cock, flicking the head up and down your slit. The pay off is immediate. His mind buzzes with pleasure he’s never felt before. Is that what it feels like when he teases your clit? 

He can’t wait to eat you out with this new party trick.

Greedy for more of that sparkling pleasure he rubs his cock against your clit with more urgency than you’ve ever seen him do before. Look, he’s always been a good lover to you, making sure you finish each time. But this? This feeling? This more than reassures that you’ll get your fill and more.

The possibilities this opens up are endless. Already curious to find out what else the rest of your body feels like he reaches out to unzip the top part of your uniform, pulling down the fabric of your bra so he can suck on your nipple as he bends over your body.

God, look at him. He feels like a teenage boy touching a woman’s body for the first time. 

His eyes widen immediately as his tongue circles your nipple—both, for good measure. You’re so sensitive. His nipples are nowhere near this level of tingling when you give them some love.

That’s it. He can’t wait. He needs to know what it feel like to have his cock stretch you out. Fill you over and over again.

He nearly comes at the thought of getting to feel that sensation first-hand. His hand trembles when he pulls back to stand somewhat straight as he positions his cock to kiss your entrance. The wet squelch of the two meeting makes you flush. He can feel how hot you’re getting.

“Fuuuck me—you’re even wetter than you were in your little fantasy. Lucky me.” His eyes flutter shut as he pushes into the intense wet heat inch by glorious inch.

And this already feels orgasmic. The hot squeeze of your soft walls is unlike anything in the world. Or… so he thought until a second ago. Somehow it feels even better from your side. This new trick of yours will definitely become his favourite.

It’s really no surprise you jump on his dick anytime the situation allows these days because holy shit is this how it really feels? 

You broadcast all that you’re feeling into his brain, tapping straight into the pleasure centre and lighting it up like a Christmas tree on Times Square. The thick glide and fill is unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. It actually makes him a little dizzy. Having the dual sensation of your wet pussy clinging to him all while enjoying your side of getting filled is guaranteed to make him bust in no time. 

“F-ffuck you're perfect… Jesus a-hah…that's so fucking tight and wet.” He’s really losing his mind now. For a second it feels like he’s the one getting embarrassed on camera with how thoroughly this is reducing him to a bunch of moans and mumbles. But at least he’ll have a fun memory to look back on.  

So he makes the best of it.

This is where all his bravado and cocky words just stop. There’s nothing else on his mind now except the feeling of two hot bodies getting off together.

His hips thrust into you with jagged snaps, unwilling to stay out of your warmth any longer than necessary. His one arm is wrapped around your thigh, pulling you even closer to him as he continuously pumps his hips into you.

The room is a mix of grunts and moans, squeaky sounds of the table legs being pushed forward with each thrust. The huge V-shaped table stands no chance against the hurried and desperate drive of Homelander’s hips.

He takes his free hand to your clit. Immediately hit by what feels like a bolt of lightning inside his brain.

He whines needily, forcing his hand to focus on rubbing your clit in a solid rhythm.

It doesn’t help that you sing for him prettily, little sweet moans as he’s setting your sensitive clit on fire.

He can't resist anymore. The feeling of your clit getting stimulated with his fingers, all while getting your insides massaged with each pass of his cock is enough to make his mind melt. If you weren't his favourite before you definitely are now.

What catches him off guard is your climbing climax. That feeling is familiar yet foreign and interesting enough to add to his own pleasure. And with that there's nothing he can do to hold back. His balls ache too much.

With a whimpered cry he feels the pull of his orgasm taking over. His hips stutter into a pathetic tempo as his cock pulses with his orgasm, unloading one spurt of come into you after another.

“God–fuck s’rry…sorry. I couldn’t—ah, couldn't hold back.” He’s gasping for air, the most he’s ever been winded after sex.

But there's no way he's going to let you go until he feels your orgasm through your powers. He needs it.

“Don't stop, please.” You whimper, the pleading sending a pulse of heat down his gut.

He tries to match the same pace from earlier as much as he's capable. He's still hard inside you. The shivers up his spine from your climbing orgasm are keeping him on the razor's edge of too much stimulation. 

The steady rubbing of your clit makes him grit his teeth, the pleasure of it makes him want to drool and roll his eyes back.

“N’t g’nna” He mumbles through his teeth, watching with wide eyes as you suck on your own fingers, using the wetness to rub and pinch your nipples of your bouncing tits.

He watches as your moans get higher, pushed out in between gasps for air as you arch against the tabletop, your body pulsating and straining against his.

And then he feels it. For a little while he thought you wouldn't be able to have enough control of your powers to transmit the feeling to him, exhausted after a vigorous fucking to give him what he's here for. 

But you do. A burst of hot pleasure melts in between each crevice of his mind, suffocating him with how obscenely strong it feels. The way it reaches into each fingertip and limb makes him nearly fall over on top of you and go limp.

He sucks in the saliva when he feels it gathering on his tongue, his eyes blown black and his body feeling like it's dealing with the aftershocks of electrocution. It's only then he realises he can feel his cock throb and pulse, the tell-tale sign of having just come. Again.

He sucks in a big gulp of air and he pulls out. His cock has reached its oversensitivity limit and now every pulse of your pussy sends a shiver of pain-laced pleasure up his spine.

“What the fuck was that?” He asks, exhausted and falling back into his chair, for once with a heaving chest and gasps for air. It takes a lot to get him winded. Somehow you managed that. Your only response is a weak laugh.

He'd be embarrassed with how ruined you made him feel if his entire nervous system wasn't buzzing with the signals that amount to three orgasms in the span of five minutes.

He pushes his softening cock back into his underwear. Not wanting it to smear the leftover dribbles of come into the fabric of his suit.

Looking at you like this makes him especially glad to have made you the centrepiece in the camera angle. You've propped yourself up on your elbows, catching your own breath. But Homelander can't quite look away from the mess he's made of you.

Your pussy is swollen with the effort, blood rushing underneath the surface. Nice and stretched for his size now, perfect for round two—well, three really—as the small gaping entrance leaks his come in dribbles, collecting on the table. Just like your slick was in the fantasy visual you fed him earlier.

You should be happy he's a generous enough man to make your dreams come true.

Clearing his throat he goes “you're gonna have to clean that up.” His signature sharp grin makes itself known, beyond pleased with the effect he's got on you. Even though you’re the one who started this, abused him with your telepathic powers in ways nobody else would ever dare. You can bet on him being the one to finish it. 

“Huh? With what!” You bite back when you gain some functions back. Sitting up on the table properly. You rush to zip your uniform back up again, not wanting to have anyone else see you as exposed as you are. 

“Your tongue for all I care. Can't have you leaving a mess like that.” He stands up, stretching himself tall, puffing his chest out as if his own cock didn't leave a mess in his underpants.

“How the fuck am I meant to walk anywhere like this? Could you not have just pulled my pants down? Fucking asshole.” You mutter as you hop off the table, ripping the rest of your tattered underwear off so you can wipe as much of the milky white stain and shove the sopping wet fabric into your pocket.

Oh, kitty has claws. Cute.

You stand up straight in front of him, or as straight as you can seeing as you're clutching your pussy so you can’t leak any of his essence down your legs. Or the ground.

Good girl, keeping it all in there like you should. 

“Oh please, you loved it.” The sheepish little ‘maybe’ that escapes your lips is all he needs to kiss you silly. His signature wet and loud kiss that makes your mind hazy each and every time.

He pulls back after one last, surprisingly soft, kiss.

Homelander knows the toll your mind powers have on you, you're tired, overworked and overly sensitive. It’s your only weakness as far as he’s concerned—apart from him of course. And contrary to your belief he does have a particularly soft spot for you. 

He unclasps his cape, wrapping it up around your middle as a cover-up. He picks you up into his arms, bridal style, carrying you effortlessly as he makes his way around the 99th floor, towards his penthouse.

“Hope you've got a clear schedule because I want you to show me what else you've learned to do without telling me.” 

And while originally he threatened you with leaking the footage, he doesn't particularly want you to fill the daydreaming heads of every Joe in the company. He's sure you would. Though the footage will certainly come in handy for a good old Friday movie night in.

For now though? Your job will be to warm the other side of his bed while you get your rest. After that? You're really gonna have to reconsider your stance on a public relationship because there's no way he's not gonna make you his.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole

[pinguwuuuu]

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have to do something about it~”

…..Alright, I’ll see myself out…..

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Grinding through clothes and having to be quiet with Arthur for your little writing sprint? 🤲 (gn?)

OOOOhh yes anon, I have such a kink for this and I will definitely do it justice! Got a little carried away!

(I'm going to publish a few last mini prompts answer this weekend!! Don't worry if your ask isn't answered yet, it's coming soon! 🫶🏼)

The way Arthur handles you tonight is almost too much for you.

Just at the edge of camp, while everyone was busy celebrating Jack's reunion with the gang, Arthur had been quick to steal you away from the festivities and pin you against one of Shady Belle's old walls, barely hidden from everyone. The way he holds you up against it is almost ridiculously easy for him, as if lifting up a bunch of feathers; his hips settled between your legs, arms strongly holding them up and open, you're trapped between this eager furnace of a man and the coldness of the shabby wood against your back.

"H-how many did you had, Arthur?"

"Not that much... Just enough to give me the balls to man up and have my way with ya." He smiles at himself, pathetic bastard. "Not enough to make me forget about all this tomorrow morning, though..." He assures, voice a rough whisper, his lips crashing against yours in a deep and direct kiss, humming when he feels their soft plumpness.

He can't help it, you're just so pretty, so perfect, and tonight, after feeling the sting of saving the son of someone else to reunite a family that wasn't his, to be forced to only observe the love and fulfillment only a blood link could bring, never able to feel it anymore, he couldn't hold himself; craving. Craving for some kind of attention, any kind, from you.

He's already hard in his jeans, he has been for a long moment to be honest, since he saw that grin of yours he loved so dear, since you had whispered those filthy, teasing things into his ears right by the campfire, knowing damn well what you were doing. You should have seen it coming. His hips starts to press against your core, and with your thighs open and your dress pulled up, you can feel the hard line of his shaft grind aaall against your pussy in a long, deliberate movement.

"Oh!" You can't help but moan at it, your hands locking on his shoulders, trying to hold on to something, anything, to keep yourself grounded on Earth.

"Tut-tut, girl, you gotta keep quiet," He reminds you, a smug smirk on his lips, so fucking pleased with himself. He instantly rocks hismelf against you again, his clothed cock rubbing right where you need it against your pulsing clit, the tightness of his jeans emphasizing the hardness and pression of it against the fabric of your undergarments.

You can't stop yourself. You try to muffle it, but another sigh of pleasure is quickly turning into a whine, and he grunts, more quietly than you, barely a pleased exhale.

"What did I jus' say, hm? You want one of these fools come walkin' on us, uh? S'at what you want?"

"It's not that easy!" You protest, voice low but indignated. Wanting to prove your point, you suddenly aim for his neck, lips attacking his flesh, tongue and mouth suckling at his scarred skin, and this time, you're the one grinding your wet core against him.

And feeling you doing it to him, oh Lord, it's a whole other thing. Arthur is losing all sense of decency. He moans like he's been hit by a bullet, sinful hands sliding to your ass, grabbing each cheek with one hand, pressing you even more against him, encouraging your movement.

"S-see? Who's making noise, now?" You tease him with a triumphant smile, still whispering.

"Shut up," He growls, unable to resist anything anymore and hating himself for being that weak. He looks at you, angry stare mixed with so much desperation and lust that the whole world's limits are blurred. Without any more warning, he bends his head to yours and searches for another kiss, tongue sliding against yours, both of your tastes blending, the borders between you and him collapsing even further.

Accompanying the kiss, your body naturally rubs against his in a sensual, demanding move, and he responds instantly. It's a long moment of your two sexs grinding against the other, muffled moans mixed with a few loud pants and groans, Arthur wincing at the pain the frabic is causing him on his cockhead but not stopping for the wolrd, you moaning more and more as his large cock presses and grinds and rubs hardly against your clit. It's almost a competition now, seeing who would pull out the biggest sound from the other.

"Oh, for God's sake, Arthur you have an actual room for this now! Use the damn thing, goddamn it!" Hosea's paternal voice cuts through the air and stops your unholy throes of passion.

The outlaw in question grumbles as all answer, slipping his arms under your legs and lifting you up from the wall in a quick jump, marching as fast as he can inside the sheltering mansion.

There, at least, he would be able to take all the time he needs to treat you like you deserved, and make you pay for those cheeky moves of yours.

[pupkashi]

satoru loves spring

a/n: hi hi ! writing for my lover once more because i miss him dearly <33 please let me know what yall think :3

masterlist

satoru celebrates the first day of spring like it’s a major holiday. he dresses himself in linens and light colors that make his eyes pop and hair shine, his dimples on full display as he smiles at you.

“we need to go feed the ducks! and soak in the sun past six o’clock” satoru is all but radiating sunlight himself as he drags you out the door, beyond happy as he slips his hand in yours as the two of you head to the small park by your house. there’s a bounce in his steps, humming softly as he looks at the fresh leaves on the plants and trees, green finally joining the color pallet of the world.

as the two of you arrive at the park the white haired sorcerer is quick to take the wicker basket from you, laying down the blanket on the grass and taking out the duck feed the two of you had brought. there’s ducks seem to recognize the two of you, (maybe just satoru’s striking appearance) excited quacks as they swim over where you’re situated. the slight breeze brings in fresh air, satoru inhaling as much of it as he can as he tosses the food for the ducks.

his demeanor is more relaxed, there’s a softness to him that seems to only come out during the spring time. the dimples that adorn his glowing smile take residence on his face all afternoon as the two you talk the evening away, giggling and amassing a shocking number of ducks until you run out of feed.

satoru lays back on the blanket, his arms crossed behind his head, watching the clouds pass slowly. he can’t help but smile, especially since he feels your gaze on him, loving eyes staring at him.

“take a picture” he teases, not bothering to turn to face you as you roll your eyes at him. you shove him softly, a small grin on your lips as you lay next to him, blushing when he extends his arm for you to lay on it, pulling you into him. “doesn’t that cloud look a bit like a cow?”

“i was thinking more sheep but i can see cow” you hum, satoru laughs and pulls you closer.

“you never told me why you like spring so much” you comment after a moment of silence. satoru hums in thought, quiet for a moment before he finally answers.

“i like the idea of fresh starts, life being born again after the harshness of dreadful winter” the longing in his voice makes your heart ache for him, but before you can feel bad he turns and looks at you, “plus we met in the spring so,” the charming smile on his face is enough to make you place a small kiss on you nose.

“you’re so poetic, y’know” satoru nods in agreement to your words, you find him too endearing at the moment to smack him. “winter doesn’t have to be dreadful, i think of it as a time to recharge, like a hibernating bear,” you add on, waiting a moment before turning to look at your lover.

satoru is already staring back at you, his eyes soft and full of love as he smiles at you, turning on his side and cupping your face with one hand, crashing his lips onto yours.

“god you make my life so much better” he mumbles against your lips, pulling away after one more peck. “i wanna hibernate with you for the rest of my life,” satoru says, face flushed when you pull him in for another kiss.

“I’ll happily spend all my springs with you,” you reply, it makes satoru’s heart skip a beat as his grins at you, tackling you into a hug that makes you burst into laughter.

the sun sets at seven thirty that day, and the two of you spent the extra hour of sunlight soaking up every last ray, walking hand in hand back home and settling under the covers after a shower.

satoru loves spring, he loves the way the world is seemingly brought back to life after the winter. he loves how the world goes from sad neutrals to bursting greens and bright colors seemingly overnight. it reminds him of you. the way you brought color and life back to him after only the first time the two of you met. his world going from mission to mission being interrupted by crocheted knick knacks and colorful trinkets for his home.

satoru loves spring because he loves you, he loves the way you breathed life into him when he thought it was over. you were his fresh start, his spring.

[stottlemorgan]

hi! Can I please request Arthur Morgan helping us out after we’ve drunk too much? I just want him to hold me 💔💔 thank u sm!!!

Thank you for this adorable request, sweet Anon! <33 I hope I've done it justice, this was written with a very melty brain, so I hope it's cute and funny as I hope for it to be! :]

Arthur Morgan x Drunk Female Reader fluff

“Woah, woah- okay, come on now,” Arthur releases some of the nervous tension in his body through a tight chuckle. His teeth bare awkwardly as he pats his hands over your front, tugging you upwards from the floor on which you had been so clumsily knelt. You squee as he lifts you back against him, and he very almost falls while guiding you through the saloon doors and down the steps, trying ever so hard to make it obvious to the other saloon goers that he isn’t a creep. A goofy yell of surprise sounds from him as you twirl to the faint music from within the saloon. Wide-eyed, he grabs your arms and uses his foot to untangle your legs, preventing you from rolling your ankle in the dirt.

“I got a girl in Barryville–” you giggle, grinning like a madwoman, “can’t get it in her ‘cause she’s too damn ill!” You sing, well, sort of, all he knows is your voice is loud in his ear.

“Alright, Miss. Come on.” Arthur says over the top of your song, exasperated but undeniably mildly amused. He hauls you up onto his mare and you squeal and grunt as your stomach lands against its rump,

“Arthur! I ain’t one’a your bounties! I’m a lady!”

“Yeah, you’re a lady,” he calls out as he swings himself up onto his horse, casting a smirk over his shoulder toward your struggling limbs, “but you’re a lady that ain’t exactly cooperatin’.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Arthur barks out a laugh, grabbing the reins and guiding his mare backwards before turning her toward the road in the direction of camp. He begins to ride and you groan,

“Arthur, you bastard, this hurts.” He keeps the horse in a trot, a tickled huff drawing from him. Setting his mare straight on the path, he glances back only to see you pushing yourself up, trying to adjust into a seated position.

“Woah, hey–! Hey, you can’t just– Miss, you’ll–”

Splat.

Arthur freezes for a moment, just staring at you, face down in the mud, before noticing the growing distance between you both. His horse is still trotting. Quickly and gently, he pulls the reins back, turning her toward a nearby hitching post.

“Arthur Morgan!”

Shrill and breathless, your voice rings out in the night air. It garners the attention of the surrounding nosy townsfolk and makes some of them wince. Arthur squeezes his thighs around the body of the mare, slowing her to a stop with a few gentling shushes. Hopping down, his boots squelching in the mud, he strides towards you, bemusement morphing his expression. You’re panting, glaring up at him, your hair and skin glimmering with wet mud, the dress you’re wearing now a marbling of blue and brown. Crouching down, he tilts his head, a cattish lilt to his voice,

“You’ve really put yourself in it now.”

“You’re not funny, Arthur–” You spit, wiping your face and swatting your mud-caked hands toward the floor, flicking off dollops of chunky filth. Swaying a little, you blink up at Arthur and he can’t restrain the guffaw that he puffs from him. You frown, watching as he starts to reach for you.

“It ain’t like I shoved you, you were bein’ stupid,” he counters with a smile, and as he hooks his arm beneath yours to help you up, you grab at his head. Smushing an obscenely thick and rancid smelling glob of mud into the side of his face. He gasps, eyes piercing as he blinks and just stares at you. You’re not sure whether to laugh, but it bursts from you regardless, rum flavoured spittle sputtering into his face and mouth, adding insult to injury. “You little fuckin–” He grumbles, and you squeal as he yanks you up from the slick floor. Your damp dress tacks to his shirt as he throws you over his shoulder.

“What’re you doin’?!” You squawk, but receive no answer. Everything around you swirls into a warbling sea of colour as he turns and makes off in the direction of his horse. He hikes you up onto his mare, over her shoulders this time, and hauls himself up after. With a grunt, he handles you until you’re sat in front of him, your head heavily resting against his upper arm as he takes hold of the reins. You groan, a shudder of weakness rippling through your body as your sight starts to settle into something less tumultuous.

The ride back to camp is oddly quiet, you seem to have performed a volte-face which causes concern to needle at the nape of Arthur’s neck. He occasionally taps at your face, with a gentle and low “You okay?” and each time he does, the delicacy of your response increases, your face slackening and your gaze aimless. By the time you reach camp, you’ve completely slumped to the side, drooling through his shirt sleeve, eyes closed, seemingly relaxed. A sweet bloom of affection petals the ball of worry that had steadily been tightening in his chest.

Arthur slows to a stop and hitches his mare before getting down, his movements attentive and calculated so you don’t fall from his horse yet again. He keeps his hands firmly around your waist the entire time, and then slips you from the saddle in a few awkward motions. “World’s spinnin’,” you croak, and Arthur raises an eyebrow, a chuckle drawing from his chest.

“Is it?” He asks fondly and you give a slurred and vague word in the affirmative. He brings you to your tent, laying you carefully in your cot and you sink down into it, a little moan leaving you. Different areas of your body begin to ache, dull yet unrelenting. You moan again, louder.

After a long moment of drifting about your inebriated haze, you hear sloshing and the wringing of a rag. You slap prematurely at the air and hear Arthur laugh. He then starts to clean up your face despite your lazy protests.

“Quit grousin’, ‘less you wanna sleep in filth.”

“M’hurtin’ all over.” You huff, your face contorting in discomfort as Arthur tries to scrub away what he can of the dried mud from your face and neck.

“Well, s’not too much of a shock. You did fall off a horse.” He responds quietly, working quickly so as to not receive further batting. Once he finishes with your face and neck, he takes hold of one of your hands. Your eyes flutter open at the feeling. Through your drunken malaise creeps a tingling of fondness. A certain giddiness, and a hope to recall this moment in the morn. You feel the rough skin of his hands brush over your fingers as he parts them and cleanses them of mud also. His focus flits to you as he works, and he speaks softly, intimately, “You’re a silly thing, ain’chu? Gettin’ yourself into all sorts’a messes.”

“Ain’t silly.”

“Ain’t silly?” Arthur echoes you with a wide smile before nodding and pursing his lips in mock thoughtfulness in response to the strop that begins to curl your upper lip, “No, no, you’re right. You’re mighty sensible.” He moves to clean your other hand, his touch consistently mindful. A lull passes between you, the tent filling with a comforting silence as Arthur continues his ministrations and you watch on with sleepy eyes. He pulls away, grabbing a clean cloth, and cleans up his own face. The water glistens over his sheeny, dirty skin and your eyes fall closed when you hear him sigh at the press of the cool cloth to his neck.

On the next opening of your tiring eyes, you’re unsure how much time has passed, but you’re greeted by the landscape of sunburnt skin and thick, dark curls that cascade over Arthur’s bare torso. A lazy but warm coil of attraction curls around the woozy and upset state of your stomach. Arthur’s gaze flits to you, snagging on the shift of your hips and the breath you draw in. His movements slow, but he continues to drag the cold, wet rag across his shoulder, removing the last of the dried mud. “You okay?” He murmurs, tilting his head when his focus lands finally at your face, which is straddling an odd balance of rosy and green. He drops the cloth into the nearby bowl with a soggy thump and scoots the chair he’s sat on closer to your cot. Tucking his hair behind his ears, he leans down, “I said’re you okay? You’re lookin’ a slim bit unwell.”

“M’alright,” you murmur and take another shaky breath, “I jus’...” Arthur scans over your features and with a gentle tut, brushes his fingers over your forehead, pushing your hair back. His tone is hushed, understanding,

“You’ll be fine, s’just the drink. Try ‘n’ drift off, alright?” With a faint smile, he runs his fingers through your hair, though they catch a little in the mixture of damp and clay-clad strands. Your face softens at the gesture, and a flurry of endearment seems to swirl up through the quiet between you. Arthur’s voice leaves him soft and low, “I can check in on you la–” his brow raises and his back locks up straight when you clamber half into his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Your head lands against the plushness of his stomach and you garble,

“Stay.” Arthur blinks for a moment, one hand coming to cup the back of your head, the other starting to rub your back in long strokes.

“Or I can stay, yeah. That– uh, that I can do, instead.”

The longer he rubs your back, the longer you feel his breaths causing his stomach to rise and fall, the heavier your upper half grows in his lap. Arthur finds himself tipping his head down and slouching to get a better look at your fluttering lashes and parted lips. He grazes the pads of his fingers over your cheek and your face twitches. It makes his chest bubble with tenderness and so he repeats the action, chuckling to himself when he receives the same reaction. “Alright, girl. You jus’ rest now.” He mutters, shifting in the chair to get more comfortable, trying desperately not to wake you. Feeling the long night steadily chipping away at his wakefulness, he allows his eyes to slowly fall shut. Tugging you the smallest bit closer as you rest, he positions you snugly, your head to his stomach, your upper half between his thighs. His stroking of your back weakens as he tires, reducing down to just his thumb moving in little circles against the blade of one of your shoulders. He whispers, his head lolling slightly to the side, “Sweet little dumbass.”

After a while, Arthur starts to slump forward over your back, his cheek pressing to your spine. Your gentle snores buzz through you, tingling his skin, and he lets out a drowsy sound, something akin to a laugh. Somewhere amidst the following hours of your shared slumber and the blueish darkness of the night, you fidget and turn and drag him into your cot with you, curling into him. In turn, he smacks his lips and pats your head, gentling you with slurred shushes and a slight crinkle in his brow.

[mattsundaes]

i can’t decide so i leave it to you, sakusa or suna + mutual masturbation pleaaaaaase 🐸

18+, suna rintarou x f!reader

—in which your ex thinks you're too vanilla in bed. and your roommate takes your "30 days of kink exploration bootcamp" joke a little more seriously than you were expecting him to.

“your ex must have fucking sucked,” suna mutters, tongue scraping the inside of his cheek as he stares down at you from where he’s kneeling between your legs on your mattress. 

your fingers still for a moment, two of them curled in the slick inner walls of your cunt, and you blink up at your roommate, breathing out loudly in exasperation,  “why the fuck are we talking about him right now, rin.”

suna doesn’t falter in continuing to languidly stroke his shaft though, thumb sliding over the bead of precum leaking from the tip. he offers you a lazy smile. cat-like, a little too all-knowing.

infuriating beyond your wildest dreams. 

“‘cause i never heard you moan like this for him.”

your lips part indignantly, and he reaches down with one hand, pointer finger pressed to them to shush the words he knows are coming. “don’t argue with me, and keep touching yourself.”

you bite his finger, and his brows lift.

"today's supposed to be mutual masturbation. we can skip ahead if you want, but we have finger sucking penciled in for thursday night…”

he trails off as you take the digit down to the second knuckle, just to shut him up.