#the eye with the blown out pupil is always a little more pink than the other

[skunkes]

who is / whats the story with mateo? he looks wicked cool

not much, he was meant to be a sort of antag to one of my main 4 ocs I had in high school, but those ocs also didn't have much of a plot. he was the demon counterpart to my angel oc

he was sort of a proto talon in that i really wanted to make Guy Who Sucks oc after already failing once (with al) and then i failed again because, well, its very easy to want to make a guy who sucks not suck anymore.

demon, meant to interfere with angel's angelness. has worm tongue/worm inside his body. can stretch his neck out (body horror warning i suppose) for more worm antics. uses the worm to drain you of your essence via stomach. can speak thru the worm. maybe he IS the worm. scorpion tail. enjoys humans ! has a "human" form, eventually chooses to just hide out on earth forever as a very strange human

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Best friend steve showing you how to finger yourself but it’s just so goofy and unserious but like soooo hot

18+

(characters are high but all consensual.)

Honestly, if anyone had had to ask, you weren’t sure how you would have explained it. How it started, whose idea it was, how the topic of conversation even came up.

But there had been a joint rolled, some of Eddie’s special strain and then you were a few puffs into a second shared with Steve before your shorts were lost at the bottom of his bed.

You were both giggly about it, eyes half lidded and lazy but that all changed when you’d stripped, the boy’s eyes going a little wide, pupils blown as he looked at all the skin on your bare legs.

Your t-shirt covered you for the most part, a ratty old band shirt that had a hole in the collar and it hung just past your underwear, a pair of stupid pink things with a bow on the front.

Less than sexy. This wasn’t sexy.

It was— it was?

“Like this?” You asked, a little breathless, a little embarrassed, but there was laughter in your throat and you weren’t sure what you were even asking because Steve couldn’t even see what you were doing. “Fuck, this is stupid.”

You were against his pillows, the film forgotten in the background, the bowl of popcorn and gummy worms spilled on the floor. Steve was still at the bottom of the bed, sprawled out on his side as he watched you, the dopey smile on his face turning slack because you had your knees hiked up and your heels pressed to his sheets. Your hand was down the front of your underwear, clumsy fingers searching for something you’d told him didn’t really work for you.

You don’t know why you’d told him that.

Steve adjusted himself, his growing cock pressed to the mattress as if he was supposed to hide the fact he was turned on. He wasn’t really sure if you’d be more offended if he wasn’t. He didn’t know the rules when it came to getting yourself off in front of your best friend. So he kept it a little light, laughed breathily and asked:

“You’re such a dumbass. Are you even touching your clit?”

His words buzzed through you, a simple question but bordering on the dirty talk you heard on the late night channels that you always kept at a low volume. You squirmed, shrugging, unable to take your eyes off of Steve. He was watching your hand move, fingers swiping through your folds under the soft cotton and you felt yourself get a little wetter.

You wondered if he could see, if you’d have a little damp patch between your spread legs.

“I think so?” you claimed. “I don’t— it’s just, it’s too slippy to feel anything properly. They didn’t teach us this is sex ed, you know.”

Steve inhaled sharply, breath stuck in his throat like a chokehold. You watched his cheeks burn, a pretty pink glow across the high points of them and you wondered if he’d move closer, if you asked. His hand was lying near your ankle, fingers twitching.

“No, I know— shit, uh—“ Steve swallowed audibly, shifting again, hips moving uncomfortably and you wondered if he was hard, if he was turned on too. “Just— move in circles, be a little softer, Christ, babe. You’ll… you’ll feel it.”

So you did, two fingers exploring slowly, up and down between your spread folds, moving a little higher until you jumped, the pads of your middle and pointer touching a little bump that made your leg jerk.

You laughed, feeling stupid, feeling floaty, bone lazy and searching for another type of high. You crinkled your nose, lashes fluttering as you touched that spot again and again. Slow circles, soft and timid.

“Oh,” you murmured, mouth parting.

You were still watching the boy.

Steve pressed his lips together, watching you back, gaze flickering from your hand underneath the pink cotton to your face, the pretty way your eyes went hooded and dark.

“Yeah? Feel good?”

You nodded, grinning at Steve’s words, head feeling dizzy at the sensation that was building, a hook in your stomach that was pulling tighter and tighter. A laugh bubbled from you, elated, high. “Yeah, s’feels good.”

You thought you heard Steve let out a soft noise, a moan, maybe. He swore, head falling slightly, his forehead bumping the bed before he went back to staring.

“Will I come?” You asked, still smiling, still feeling buzzy. “Like this? If I keep doing this?”

You were squirming again, chasing your fingers and Steve was watching open mouthed. He’d moved, finally, the rock hard evidence of your show evident in his jeans. Steve was too far gone to try and hide it now, the length of him aching and when he dragged the heel of his palm over himself, you keened, eyes tracking the movements.

“Yeah, fuck— yeah, just keep doing what feels good, okay?” Steve voice was hoarse, wrecked sounding, pretty sounding. “You’re doing real good, babe.”

The phrase made your hips lift from the bed a little, fingers boring down a little harder now, confidence growing and the laughter leaving your throat as Steve kept rubbing over his cock, looking at you like were made of gold.

“Holy shit, that’s really fuckin’ hot,” he croaked, “you gonna come, yeah?”

You nodded, head tipped back into the pillows, bones nothing but liquid heat now as your fingers slid messily over your clit, your underwear stretched out over the back of your hand. You wondered if Steve could see anything, if the elastic in the stupid, pink cotton had given away enough for him to see the wet folds of your pussy, if he could see the way you were spread out and desperate.

You wanted him to keep talking. You just didn’t know how to ask.

You keened, back arching, fingers fumbling and face scrunching up in frustration. Your foot slipped, nudging at Steve’s arm and he caught your ankle, wide palm wrapping around it as he held you, keeping you grounded. His thumb ran over the bone there, delicate and making you shiver.

“There you go,” he murmured and he laughed when you did, disbelieving and drunk sounding. “That’s it, huh? Fuck, you’re so good, so good. I can’t believe you’re gonna let me watch you come.”

[sageo7]

Okay guys i actually finished it idk why i waited like a month lol. Sorry its kinda shot but Im gonna start writing more Stiles content coming up bc there is a horrible lack of fics on tumblr rn. Send me requests pretty please!!

Stiles was practically fuming on the couch next to you while you sat amongst your friends at one of the movie nights hosted at Scotts house. You had been conducting a little experiment to see how much you could tease him and push his buttons until he did something about it. Stiles was always gentle with you, touching you like you would shatter if he applied too much pressure and it was endearing, for sure… but you wanted more. You wanted him to use you how he needed to; for him to use you for once to satisfy his own needs. Your hand remained on his upper thigh under the blanket draped over both of your laps, innocently watching the movie in front of you to avoid his gaze that had been boring into the side of your head ever since your hand brushed up against him. The whole night has been moments like this, whispering dirty things into his ear and skipping away like nothing happened, bending down to grab things directly in front of him so he could get a peak of your lacy pink panties from under your skirt, and now your hand was inching up his thigh to touch him through his jeans in a room full of your friends. Just when your hand makes contact with the bulge straining against his zipper his hand catches your wrist making your eyes snap back up to his which were dark and heavy lidded, his breathing much deeper than normal.

“bathroom.” Is all he practically growls into your ear before he stands from the couch abruptly walking away. You wait another minute or so before also excusing yourself, none of your friends paying much mind to either of your departures. You creep up the stairs slowly every step making the ache between your legs more prominent and you bite back a moan when you’re practically shoved into the bathroom the door slammed shut behind you.

“jesus stiles.” You say exasperatedly and he just gives you a look and retaliates with “why’re you doing this to me baby?”

“doing what?” You ask feigning innocence and looking away to avoid his eyes but his hand grabs your chin harshly turning you back.

“Look at me. You know what I’m talking about.” he says his hand guiding yours to the bulge in his jeans arousal pricking down your spine at the groan that leaves him from the contact.

“feel what you’re doin’ to me?” He mumbles out his head falling to your shoulder when you cup him properly in your hand. You let out a shuddering breath to recompose yourself and nod “yeah? what do you want me to do about it..?” the question comes out sarcastic and taunting and his hips instinctively move forward trying to rut more into your hand.

“anything.” He breathes out and you shake your head pulling your hand away a desperate moan falling from his lips in protest.

“stiles.. tell me what you want.” you repeat putting more emphasis on ‘want’ and he swallows and nods understanding your meaning.

“your mouth..” he finally manages out after a long pause and when you sink to your knees his words grow more confidence “god I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth..” he mutters his hands moving to pull your hair back away from your face. Your hands move diligently to undo his pants eagerly pulling them and his boxers down, his cock springing free the head already an angry red, beads of precum rolling down the tip. You lick your lips instinctively at the sight and peer up at him, he’s flush, pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape as he watches your every move with rapt attention his hand holding your hair up in a makeshift ponytail subtlely trying to inch you closer to his dick. You wrap a hand around him and his eyes snap shut a guttural moan bubbling up from his throat when your tongue darts out to lick up the precum before taking the tip into your mouth. With a small huff of air you take him further in inch by inch tormentingly slow, but when you nose brushes against tufts of well groomed hair his hips jut forward making you pull away abruptly with a chocked cough. His hands cup your face immediately panic clear in his eyes sputtering out apologies but you shake your head with giggle batting his hands away.

"just so big sti.." you purr out and his anxiety melts away immediately with a borderline pathetic moan. You take him back in your hand, eyes staring up into his while you tug along his dick lowering your mouth to press wet kisses down his length. A few little kitten licks to his slit has his eyes screwing shut hands tightening in your hair. "please.."

"please?" you repeat pulling your mouth away from him "be more specific"

His features scrunch up in annoyance at the taunting still the words spill out of him immediately "no more teasing.. wanna fuck your mouth.. please" he babbles out.

You hum in approval his neediness making your mouth water and you wrap your lips around him again. Your tongue swirling around his tip snaps the last of his well upheld restraint and the hand buried in your hair pushes you further along his dick. Every movement is lead by his hand, wide eyes staring down at you his grunts and groans spurring you on to just let him guide you.

"i'm so.. fuck baby.. oh my g-" his words get less coherent with every motion hips thrusting forward every few times to meet your lips. It doesn't take much more before he's murmuring out small praises and barely intelligible versions of "i'm close" his eyes roll back slightly, cock twitching in your mouth before warm spurts of his cum slide down your throat and drip past the corners of your mouth. He releases his vice like grip on your hair slowly and you pull away swallowing heavily. Neither of you speak for a few seconds to catch your breath but he reaches his hands down to help hoist you back to your feet wrapping his arms around you securely.

"i love you angel." he mutters out against your hairline "so perfect for me"

[anemos-orca]

Zhongli's Dragon, Part 2: Appetizer

◆I did not expect so many people to like this story so far wowowow <:3 !! this part ended up being a bit longer than expected, but nonetheless still good :D◆

◆cw: smut ft dom!zhongli x sub!reader, reader is half dragon, breeding kink (?), size difference, oral (reader giving), pet name use (good girl), swallowing, probably more qwq

◆NSFW under "Keep Reading"

series tag: #◆zhongli's dragon

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◆A/N: For reference, reader is a dragon girl :D you have little horns on your forehead that point up and back, long thin fluffy ears on the sides of your head, sharp teeth, clawed hands, little dragon wings, and a dramatically long fluffy tail with two rows of dorsal spikes similar to te scutes on a crocodile tail.◆

You felt frozen in time. It was as though the heat of the moment had paused everything in the universe except for the two of you.

Zhongli couldnt help but to chuckle at just how flustered you were as his gloved hand ran down to the small of your back to pull your body flush against his, causing you to yelp in surprise. He tenderly stroked your long, silky-soft ear between his thumb and index finger as he gazed down into your blown out pupils, "You can breathe, (y/n), there is no need to be so shy. Must i point out the obvious?" he taunted, slowly lowering his face so his lips were only a breath away from yours. You took a deep breath, daringly placing your clawed hands against his chest- it was warmer than you expected, inviting, even.

"I-I dont know what you mean, but..." you trailed off, the tip of your lengthy tail wagging as it snaked around his thigh and gently squeezed, egging him on, "Id like to be informed, i-if you dont mind." A gentle smile crossed your lips and your half-hooded gaze met his.

Your brave attempts at seduction were more than successful, earning yourself a light kiss on the lips as his hand left your ear and lifted your chin to meet his. He was much taller than you, so he still had to bend down, but he didnt mind at all- in fact, he preferred it. Zhongli always found it amusing how you looked up to him with those big doe eyes, your cheeks always tinted a light pink and your voice nothing more than a sheepish peep. The way you flinched at even the most gentle of touches- a light pat on the shoulder, a kind nudge, even when he offered to fix the messy fur on your ears when youd arrive late due to sleeping in (which was a common occurance. Being a nocturnal species of dragon, you often found yourself accidentally staying up far too late into the night)- it never ceased to remind him of just how adorable you truly were. Though he would find it difficult to admit, every once in a while Zhongli would fantasize about making you his. The mental image of your pretty little face making lewd expressions, your soft voice panting his name, your body craving his as much as he craved yours- it only made him all the more protective and possessive of you.

You eagerly kissed Zhongli back as though you were starved of physical affection. He easily took notice, the hand that was once on the small of your back moving up to tease the insides of your wings, causing you to gasp and fall onto his chest, "Z-Zhongli..!" embarrassed, you blushed heavily and attempted to lift yourself off of him, but his firm hand told you to stay where you were as it continued to play with your sensitive wings.

"Please, allow yourself to relax, (y/n). There is no need for such struggle," he cooed, his voice hot against your neck before his lips connected with your soft skin. You lifted your head a bit more, allowing him easier access. You whimpered and whined as he licked, sucked, and gently nibbled at your neck and shoulder, practically eating you up. He fondled your wing more intensely while his free hand squeezed your inner thigh, pushing a soft moan from deep within your throat. Zhongli knew exactly how to rial you up, and you expected nothing less. Only dragons knew just how sensitive to touch the inner wings were. You leaned further onto his chest, holding his upper arms with your hands to ground yourself as the heat of your core grew to an uncomfortable point. As if out of your control, one of your hands moved down to his hip, your claws tracing a feather-light trail before landing on his hip dangerously close to the hem of his pants.

"So eager already, are we?" he teased, his forked tongue licking up the full length of your neck before his teeth landed on your ear and gently nipped at it. Your breathing deepened and you nodded, your fingers fingers slightly dipping under the band of his pants.

"I-I want... to taste it..." you nervously pleaded. Zhongli sat up, a lustful string of saliva momentarily webbing between his tongue and your neck.

"You want to taste what, (y/n)?" he said, a devious smile playing at his mouth. His thumb ran over your lips before pushing into your mouth, swiping over your teeth as if to examine them. The simple action caused you to whimper, betraying just how needy you had become and just how much power he had over you. "If you would like something, you must be more specific. So, do tell me what it is you so eagerly want a taste of?"

Youd be lying to yourself if you said his teasing didnt turn you on 10x over. You opened your mouth for his fingers, baring your sharp little teeth for him as though you could read his mind, "Please, I-Id like to taste you, Zhongli..." you said, breathless. Your tail tightened around his thigh and your wings twitched with apprehension, the feeling of his thumb and forefinger caressing each and every inch of it causing you to let go of any dignity you may have still held onto.

Zhongli lifted an unsatisfied brow as he pushed his thumb against your forked tongue and lifted your chin up for a better view of your adorably needy expression, "Hmmm... I still dont quite understand what you are getting at, my dear (y/n). What part of me, exactly, do you so hungrily want a taste of?" he demanded, fingering the inside of your cheek open. He knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as much, but the sight of you so desperately begging for it amused him and caused a sense of power to flow through his already aroused mind.

You couldnt help but to whimper, your fingers wrapping around the edge of his pants as your brows slightly furrowed together. You couldnt take it anymore, his intoxicatingly arousing pheromones pushing you past the point of no return. You needed him, needed to taste him, needed him to use you. "I want to taste your cock, please, i want it in my mouth, to feel it on my tongue, i want you to hold my horns and fuck my throat like im nothing but a toy," you burst out, surprising even yourself.

Your eyes widened and your ears flattened back as you realized just how desperate you sounded, but before you could even speak, Zhongli's tongue dove into the far corners of your mouth in a passionate, rough kiss. You instantly melted into his dominant grasp, kissing him back with furvor and moaning into his mouth as his strong hand ran up the inside of your thigh, squeezing and massaging in all the right places. Your fruitless grasp on Zhongli's arm tightened as he bucked his hips against yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he was. All of the combined arousing sensations made your lower stomach tighten. He kissed you ferventhly, tasting and feeling every corner of your mouth with his tongue before breaking the kiss and stepping back, leaving you cold. Your body begged for the return of Zhonglis firm hands and for more attention, causing you to whimper as your eyes meet his.

"I must say, you have more than earned what you beg for," he chuckled, amused by your neediness. He motioned for you to hop off the desk and get on your knees before him, and you followed his command without hesitation. Your claws wrapped around the hem of his pants a final time to tug them down, freeing his already precum slicked member from their cruel confines. It didnt matter that you had never mated before- your instincts took over the moment his mouth watering pheromones flooded your mind.

"S-so big, I...." you licked your lips hungily as one hand found itself already stroking his length, "I need to taste it, please, Zhongli," you whined, earning a smirk from the tall-statured archon as his hands wrapped around your cute little horns. Your claws dropped to hold his thighs as your gaze briefly flicked down to the tantalizing treat just inches from your nose.

"Open wide, (y/n)~"

Without so much as a word, your mouth opened and your forked tongue lolled out, hot strands of saliva making it all the more inviting. Zhongli grinned at the sight, pulling you by your horns to land your mouth over the throbbing tip of his cock before beginning to fuck your face, "Mmmh, good girl," he groaned in pleasure.

You never broke eye contact with him as he fucked deeper and deeper into your throat, though it was evident that you were as blissfully cock-drunken as you could get at the moment. The way your tongue traced every vein, every dip, every curve, the way your lips sucked so eagerly with each pull he made out of your throat, only to reward him with a breathless, slutty moan as he bucked back into your mouth, the way tears welled in the corners of your eyes and drool made messy trails down your chin- it made it so, so hard for him to not pin you down and fuck you without mercy right then and there.

Your grip on Zhongli's thighs intensified and your whimpering moans became more frequent as he pulled your horns harder and sped up, his head tilting back as he grunted with bliss, "Mmh, (y/n), your throat is so tight around me..." Zhongli growled, his cock twitching as the thrusts gradually became erratic, "Be a good little girl and swallow every last bit of my cum," he shakily said between merciless thrusts. You nodded and he managed a couple more rough thrusts before pushing your head all the way down his impressive length, filling your mouth with his hot seed. You couldnt help but to gag as Zhongli's throbbing tip hit the back of your throat, but you fought against the sensation and sucked the last remnants of his salty nectar out of his still twitching member, swallowing all of it just as he commanded.

Zhongli kept himself inside your mouth for a few moments more, gazing down as though to memorize the incredibly lewd, satisfied face you were making. He eventually pulled his hips back, a steaming strand of saliva webbing from your drool-laden lips to the tip of his still hard cock. You panted, your heart racing and your belly full, and looked up to him. He crouched down, wiping tears from your eyes and slobber from your lips with a sadistic smirk painted across his lips.

"My, my, (y/n). You were such a good girl for me," He cooed, leaning in closer to lick the now dry, salty tear trail from your cheek. The way his long, forked tongue swiped over your face made your core throb- and Zhongli took notice. His hands dangerously roamed your thighs and he leaned into your fluffy dragon ear, his voice husky and low.

"Now, you must agree, its only fair that i get to do a taste test as well~"

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[lunarduty]

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙇𝙎 𝘾𝘼𝙏𝘾𝙃 𝙁𝙄𝙍𝙀

☾ john price gets off on eye contact.  JOHN PRICE X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. female reader. WC | 610 x

he sees it as a respect thing. a polite thing. he always makes direct eye contact with whoever he’s speaking to - doubly so when it’s you. triple if you get shy under his gaze and shift your focus somewhere else. the floor, the wall, a button on his shirt. anywhere that isn’t john’s eyes, where he always keeps the FURNACE of his desire. hidden carefully unless you know just where to look.

after he kisses you, he likes to pull back immediately to watch the aftershocks. the light tremor of your lips, flush of cheeks, tongue peeking out savor the taste of him - but most importantly, your eyes. they’ll blink open as if john were the morning sun and he just loves watching them focus in on him, pupils blown open, brows quirking up when you notice his own gaze seems far more HUNGRY than it did before he kissed you.

he’ll find your gaze across the valleys and peaks of your body. when his hands are gripping your hips still. when his fingers stuff you full and his tongue is relentless - that’s the best time to angle his eyes up. you’re either rolling yours into the back of your head, or john had just caught you staring at him and he gets to RELISH in the embarrassed but aroused expression you wear. he’ll twist his fingers to the left, flatten his tongue against your clit, and his own eyes seem to unfocus when your moans hit his ears.

and then you turn the tables on him, and john allows himself the simple pleasure of watching you (as if he doesn’t already). the cute pink of your tongue, warm and wet on his cock, would already be damn near enough to make him bust in a second. but then you glance up to john, as if wanting praise or encouragement, and then he can’t stop talking. can’t shut the fuck up. not when his words make you look up at him so pretty and john has to exercise his iron will to stop you before cumming right in that hot mouth.

john allows you break from his intense gaze when he fucks you. it can be intense - he can tell by the way you grab him and hold him. by the way your spine arches and your breath hitches and john lets you close your eyes and hide away against his chest as he thrums against your body. but he’ll keep watching you, should his focus permit. with every HARSH thrust of his hips, your jaw seemed to drop open even further and he has to resist the urge to stuff his fingers inside. or your skin starts to flush a deeper color and john can't resist admiring the kaleidoscope of you.

it is not until you’re about to cum does he prompt eye contact. a hand coming to grip your jaw, uttering your name between tight grunts, and waiting until they flutter open before his hips pick up the pace. john has seen that familiar hazy light in your eyes when it’s all a little too much - it’s as familiar to him as breathing, BRANDED onto his heart. your fingers dig into his back and you cry out his name and john just keeps his gaze on yours until his own orgasm rips through him and he has to squeeze his eyes shut against the tide.

he keeps the eye contact all the way up until you finally fall asleep, pride and love swirling in his chest like a hurricane. and john counts himself as the luckiest man in the world that he gets to do it all again tomorrow.

[takami-takami]

Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess. 

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention. 

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry. 

Or something like that. 

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever. 

End scene. 

You're not getting that confession, though. 

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose. 

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points. 

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks. 

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?" 

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity. 

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying. 

You decide to be an adult. 

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out. 

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high. 

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out. 

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked. 

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person. 

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers. 

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm. 

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity. 

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot. 

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!" 

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—" 

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face. 

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours. 

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon. 

"We should talk."

[eepwriting]

hello there 💖 your friendly iii loving reader here again.

popping in to see if you have time for a new request; I would love to read your take on slightly subby iii fic where reader, who loves when iii dirt talks them, tries to give him a little dirty praise in return. possibly calling him a good boy? possibly putting a hand on his throat to see how he reacts?? would love it if it takes him by surprise and he unexpectedly loves it 🤭

thanks again so so much for your time and your amazing writing 🤩🙏🏻🫡

My Good Boy ✶ III x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, dirty talk, praise, light choking, no plot, we get right into it bby

ANONNNN im smooching you on the forehead for this!!! I love it, thank you for your request!! 🤍🤍 More of a blurb btw. Also IM SO SORRY I’ve been gone. I literally thought about this blog everyday and have felt so bad but I think I’m back 😎

!! mdni !!

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“You love it, baby, don’t you?”

III’s mouth rests against your own as he speaks. “Love it when I stretch you out, huh?”

You wanted to answer, you really did but it was almost impossible to get the words out. The way he slowed the pace of his hips, making sure you felt every possible inch of him, combined with the filth coated words he spoke had you practically choking on your breath.

“Yes, baby…cock always feels s’good. You always feel so good baby.” Your words are breathy, your heels digging into his hips in an effort to keep him close to you. The blush that starts on iii’s neck and crawls up to his cheeks is bright. He lets out the quietest groan and leans down to slot his head in the crook of your neck.

It was rare for you to speak during the act. Whether it be from nervousness to actually speak the filthy thoughts, to not being able to force them out due to overwhelming pleasure, you usually settled for head nods and moans of approval. You had little idea that your words could cause a reaction like that from him.

It’s startling when he flips the two of you, rolling under you and straightening you atop his lap. You let out a small laugh at his swiftness and lean down to press a kiss to his mouth. His cheeks are still a pretty shade of pink and he’s slightly sweatier than normal, stray hairs sticking to his forehead. “I fuckin love hearing you talk like that…wanna hear more, please.” The way his eyes rake over your body make you feel like the most desirable thing to ever exist.

You give him a sheepish smile and circle your hips. Your eyes shut tight, because he somehow feels ever better in this position. A long hum leaves you and your hands land on his chest. It’s good leverage to lift your hips off him and sink down again. “So, so good to me. I love my good boy.” The praise you give him is not one you’ve ever given, but feels the most natural, leaving your mouth with little thought. The loud half chuckle, half moan he lets out might be the hottest noise you’ve ever heard from him. He huffs and digs the tips of his fingers into your hips. “Yeah, I’m your good boy. Fuck…yes.” His hand cups the side of your face, coaxing you down to press a hot kiss to your mouth. Your fingers tentatively trace the base of his throat before wrapping around and gently squeezing. The need to hold on to something was strong.

Another moan from him floods into your mouth and you need to pull away, wanting to watch his face. Watch him make those noises. His eyes are glazed over as he looks up at you, pupils blown wide. His mouth hangs open slightly and his chest heaves. He strains his neck slightly. You squeeze your hand again, a little tighter this time and he eagerly nods up at you, squeezing your hips tight with a high pitched whine.

Oh.

You could definitely have some fun with this.

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YALL IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN GONE

BUT I had so much fun writing this 🫢 thank you once again anon!!!

More to come!

K. Bye bye.

[k2ntoss]

hihihi, back with more jason thoughts <:

very specifically, i saw this reel and immediately had butterflies thinking of it happening with jay 😭

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C2zyAW4BG1O/?igsh=ZzM3MXowdmNxeXZ2

(also the comments didn't help but fuel some definitely thirstier thoughts lmao)

i just saw another reel about this and i'm literally going feral over it, SORRY FOR THE DELAY BUT here we are. it's gonna be short but maybe gonna write more about this later hehehe :3

weekends were calm, at least more than any week day as jason managed to be free from long patrols more often so it allowed him to rest and spend time with his lover and that always ended up in him being dragged to try something she saw on tiktok or in any ig reel, this time it wasn't gonna be different and jasom knew as soon as you showed up with a big smile on your lips right on the doorway of your room.

"i'm gonna take a guess and say that you just found something you want us to try and that it's either something spicy or some new recipe you found around and that will go wrong" jason says as soon as you open your mouth and he's pretty much right.

"i did found something but it's not really spicy" you start, hands playing with your phone before you walk into the room "and not all of the recipes i've found go wrong, jay" this time your hands rest on your hips and he looks at you with a small grin and a raised eyebrow, most of those recipes went terribly wrong.

"then what will it be today, princess?" he asks, a small chuckle escaping his lips when you move and sit on his lap as he lays still on the bed, looking up at you with his hands now placed softly over your hips "you said is something not really spicy but i'm almost sure it is something that came out of a thirst trap" and that last part makes your cheeks burn because you've once asked jason to try a trend you saw months ago and it ended up with him pushing you against the bed.

"just shut up already..." you mumble and reach for your pocket, taking out a long piece of pink lace and put it in front of his face "you know how your arms are like... huge? i was wondering if you could let me tie a ribbon to your bicep and you know... flex it?" the hand motions that you make as you try hard not to blush at the way jason stares up at you.

"you want to tie a ribbon to my arm and see if i can break it? is that it, princess?" he asks, knowing there's a bit more behind your request but he wouldn't ever think about saying no to you "go ahead, try it"

his acceptance bring a joyful smile to your lips and feeling you shift to sit over his thighs he takes the hint to sit down too, letting you take his left arm to tie the soft ribbon on his bicep and he was about to flex his arm just to be met with a small frown from you, waiting to see the result.

he does exactly that, his arm barely flexed to make his muscle pop a little when the ribbon gave in with a faint 'pop' just to fall from his arm to leave you slightly surprised, cheeks tinted pink as jason chuckled amusedly "is that it, sweetheart? or do you have another point to prove?"

"i-i mean, can i try with your forearm?" you ask him, pupils blown wide because you knew this was likely to happen due to how big jason was and as soon as he nods with a small grin you're tying a new ribbon to his forearm just for it to break as soon as he balls his fist and squeezes his arm a little.

"can i tie another one to your thigh? i swear i'll stop there" you look at him, pleading eyes and a small pout that melts his heart, once again jason agrees and he has to hold back a low growl when you hop down from his lap to sit between his legs, your lips pressed in a fine line as you tied the pinkish ribbon on his thigh and the way your lips part when he flexes his leg to break it without much effort drives him wild.

"are you happy now, princess?" jason asks you, his fingers gripping the edges of the matress while you stay still, thoughts running wild on your mind and he is able to notice the blush on your cheeks.

"can you squeeze my head with your arms?" you ask, ignoring his question and jason can't help but look down at you with a cocky smirk. he knew this would definetely turn into something spicy.

next thing you know is that he has you pinned against the bed, your back bent in a way you were looking back at him as your chest was pressed down, jason's arm wrapped slightly around your throat as he pounded at a rough pace against your body making you moan loudly.

life was good.

[eezeybreezy]

Hobie x Reader where one or the other gets hit by an aphrodisiac? Pretty please? A F*ck or Die sorta situation.

teehee, i might've gotten a little carried away 🤭

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY

Content: NSFW, smut, drugged? unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, cunnilingus

Hobie felt hot, and despite the cool mist of Old York at night, he couldn’t help but burn up. He’d lost focus in a scuffle against a villian, deciding to call it a night after forgetting to pull his last punch. Something called him home, and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything after being hit with an attack of… pink smoke? It didn’t matter now, the canal he’d parked his home at was fast approaching. 

It was just another night for you, reading alongside the waves that rocked you into a tranquil spirit, the water provided a good backdrop to the city's silence — a silence that would be broken by the sound of heavy boots hitting the deck, and a sense of urgency in Hobie’s step that would make you anxious if not for the absolute trust shared between you two. His urgency is confirmed by the swing of the door, snapping you out of your unwinding and set on alert. You look at his face in search of answers, but his pupils are blown wide, eyes frantically searching your face, your body. He looked starved. 

Hobie’s hands itched for you, and he’d finally placed the feeling in his gut upon seeing your unraveled form, lust. Pure, and more intense than anything he’d felt in his life. His spidey sense was going crazy, an alertness and instinct thought to be figured out now replaced with a stronger more pleasant sensation — and he reveled in it. His long strides left no time wasted as he approached your shared bed and he suddenly felt too far away from his lover. 

“Hobie-” you address him, fully intending to carry on, before you notice the way his breath hitches at the sound of his name. It sent a wave of overwhelming, unbearable arousal down his body, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. His hand against your skin was searing, even through his suit, and it took everything in him not to tear every stitch of fabric between you two. He blinks and shakes his head, searching for some kind of clarity but to no aveil. He looks back up at you, and knows he’s not going to be able to resist this urge much longer. The feeling is overwhelming and embarrassing, he isn't sure how to handle it anymore. 

“Baby what’s wrong?” You ask gently, tabbing your book and setting it down on the bed beside you. Hobie's eyes dart around the room nervously before settling on you. His cheeks are still warm, and he can't hide the desire in his eyes. He's never felt like this before, and it's eating him up. Your presence was always calming for him, but now he feels nervous in this unfamiliar state.

"I... I don't know," he mutters, his voice trembling slightly. "I don't feel right."

You search his eyes hastily, then scan his body for injury, but he’s not hurt — besides the usual scrapes and scars. After doing a once over him, you look at the clock.

“You’re home early.” You say looking back to meet his gaze.

"I know," Hobie answers quietly, looking away from you. His breath is still ragged and he's staring down at the floor. "Work was... weird today," he murmurs.

This wasn't like Hobie at all. He's usually confident and in command, but right now he looks and feels so vulnerable, rubbing his hands together nervously as he tries to collect his thoughts. You reach out to caress his face, only to have him flinch at your touch. Your eyebrows furrow harder. 

“Hobie, what happened?”

He couldn’t bear the look on your face, shattered that he’d cower at your touch. Hobie stammers, trying to find the words to explain what he's feeling right now. He's never felt so out of control before.

"I don't know, I just feel this... the strongest urge." He looks up at you, face hot and eyes filled with desire. "I want you, but… I don't know. I don’t want to hurt  you..." His cheeks are still warm and his breathing is still ragged. He wants to touch you, and god does he want to be touched. The desire was starting to physically hurt, what was once a dull ache morphing into a searing burn.

You can see the anguish in his face, “Hobie, you're not going to hurt me, let me help you. What happened out there, don't lie to me.”

You look down at his hands, he’s trembling to the point of shaking. You take his hands and place them on your hips, a silent gesture to show where you stand.

“Bee it’s ok, just tell me what you need.”

Hobie swallows hard and looks away from you. He's scared of what he might do if he lets himself give in to his desires. He doesn't seem like himself right now and he's clearly feeling confused, anxious even.

"I... I was attacked by some villain who uses aphrodisiacs... I don't even know how it happened, but I'm feelin off now..." he says, his voice trembling.

Hobie looks back up at you with pleading eyes. The touch of your skin causes his heart to race and his body to flare with desire. He tries to regain control of himself but he finds it hard to resist the pull of the aphrodisiac.

"I want... I need you..." he stammers, his voice trembling. His eyes are filled with both terror and desire as he leans down, feeling out of control and overwhelmed by the feelings flooding his body, but god do your lips look delicious.

He leans down to kiss you, and the desire in his kiss can’t be denied. Hobie's desperate and hungry, his lips pressing urgently against yours. The feeling of your soft lips on his has his heart pounding and his body trembling. He presses himself impossibly further against you, desperate to feel your touch.

Hobie wraps his arms around you tightly, his fingers digging into your hips. He wants to be as close to you as possible, never wanting this moment to end, so he grabs at your ass, earning a gasp from you. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, and hoists you up with the superhuman strength you often forget he possessed. You wrap your legs around his waist on instinct, scared but sure he won’t drop you, his strength further fueled by his desire. He pins you against the wall, holding you with one of his arms and holding your face with the other hand. His tongue danced playfully with yours, his lips hungry and desperate.

You can feel his arousal growing, and your own desire is building as his touch drives you wild. With you in his arms, he moves you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours as he lowers you down to the mattress. He pulls away and looks at you lovingly, his eyes sparkling with love and lust. Hobie knows he isn't himself right now. He's being driven by a primitive desire and he's been waiting for this moment for so long.

Feeling your body against his, he uses his free hand to explore every inch of your body, wanting to devour you whole. “Hobie— baby-  you’re wearing too much.” He’d ripped his mask off upon entering, but he still has his suit on, layers upon layers getting in the way.

"I don't care. I want you now. I can't think straight." Hobie murmurs, his body trembling with desire. Hobie rips your night shirt off, exposing your bare chest. He can't get enough of you, and he's desperate to feel your body against his. He runs his fingers along your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His touch is gentle and caring, but his body is tense with desire. 

“You don’t have to hold back, I just want you to feel better baby..” You say trailing off as you finally get his top off. Hobie throws his shirt to the side and sinks to his knees in front of you, his eyes hungrily taking you in. He takes one of your hands in his and brushes his lips against your knuckles, slowly and seductively. 

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, kissing your hand, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers softly trace along the lines of your hips. Hobie grins devilishly, his breaths are coming faster and heavier, and he's slowly moving his touch further down your body.

"You taste so good," he whispers seductively, planting soft kisses along your stomach, leaving tiny bites along your bare skin. He begins to kiss down your thighs, inching his way closer to your most sensitive area. His hot breath against you is only separated by the thin fabric of your panties, something you’re sure won’t last long. 

His warm tongue trails along the fabric, and before the gasp can leave your lips, he’s ripped the fabric off, shreds fall to the floor as he licks a long strip from your entrance to your clit, placing a wet kiss to emphasize his hunger. 

He presses his tongue flat against your core and properly tastes you and a desperate groan rumbles in his chest, reverberating on your core as he fervently licks at your entrance, occasionally sucking on your clit. One hand continues to grip the sheets but your other hand moves to his hair, tugging at it trying to pull him even closer into you. Your thighs shook, muscles tensing when the tip of his tongue pushed past your entrance to fuck you, his nose brushing against your clit.

“You taste divine,” his voice was muffled and breathy from between your legs. “I can’t get enough of you doll.”

The lewd sounds as he fucked you with his tongue and lapped at you like a man starved should’ve embarrassed you, but you were too far gone to care about anything but reaching your climax. Soon, your walls fluttered around his tongue, back arching as the tension in your stomach snapped, sending a tidal wave of pleasure across your body. You shivered in his arms and he groaned at your release, lapping up everything you had to offer him until the shaking in your muscles subsided.

He moved his face from your cunt, giving a couple final kisses on your inner thighs before speaking huskily, “How bout’ I blow your back out right here, yeah? Imma fuck you straight through this bed…” He hissed in your ear as he closed the gap between the two of you, pulling himself from his pants. 

He groans, grasping the base and holding in a frustrated sigh. Using his knees, he spreads your legs wide and drops his hips, the tip of his cock dragging through your wetness.

“Please,” you beg, your own hips lifting, chasing him, trying to notch his cock at your entrance. He teases you a moment longer, waits for the angle to be just right, and then he pushes into you. Your fingers flex against the bedsheets, mouth dropping open with a moan as his hips press into yours. Your legs twitch, quickly wrapping around his thigh. “Hobie, fuck, oh my gods-”

He laces your fingers together and pushes into you slowly, studying your face for your reaction. You let out a small gasp, struggling to keep your eyes locked with his as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He pins your hand above your hand, keeping intertwined with yours while he picks up the pace, driving his length deeper into you. He throws your legs over his shoulders and drives deeper and deeper, hitting that perfect angle inside you. You look up at him as he continues fucking you, chest slick with sweat and eyes crazed with each slam of his hips.

“Tell– Tell me how good it feels, baby,” he stutters out.

“It’s so good, Bee. So big.”

“God, you're so wet." He groans plows into you, desperate to fill you up "Yur makin’ me crazy.." His words are intoxicating and his voice is sensual as he inhales sharply, staring down at the way your union makes a cream ring.

The aphrodisiac is driving Hobie wild, every touch sends a bolt of pleasure, but every second that passes without release physically hurts. His skin is hot and sensitive, his breath ragged and his body trembling. He can't think straight, his thoughts a jumbled mess of fantasies, desires and emotions, all for you. 

You pushed Hobie away, a movement he wasn’t anticipating, and he groans at the pain, the itch only you can scratch returning. You already missed the feeling of fullness, but you wanted more. You flip to sit on your knees, back turned to Hobie as you fall to your forearms, ass up face down, and on perfect display for the man now standing at full attention behind you. 

The curve of your ass as you arched your back has him drooling, and his patience runs out, nails digging into your hips and meeting you halfway, burying himself with no time wasted. You writhed beneath his touch, his body heat was abnormally high, and with the mixing of yours, the room resembled a sauna.

Hobie’s big, there’s no doubt about that, but something about taking him from the back makes him feel impossibly bigger. He kisses your cervix with no effort and there's so much happening, so much of Hobie filling you up and flooding your senses. You swallowed your moans as you tried to focus on staying up on your knees before he pressed a kiss just under your kitchen. You feel his hands before he yanks your hair back, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Are you holding back?” he teases. You whimper pathetically as he lets go of your hair . “Don’t,” he ordered. Your thighs were quivering on either side of his body, stilling only for a moment when he gripped them tightly, his fingertips digging in harshly. His pace picked up and you couldn’t stop your body from letting out a cry in response.

You were sure that you were dripping onto the sheets but Hobie couldn’t  seem to care. He reached between you two to feel where you were stretched open around him, rubbing your clit to match the pace of his thrusts. His cock twitched inside you as his rhythm stuttered.

“Please,” you hiccupped as his pace became sloppy. He was so close, you could tell by the way he started spewing nonsense and thrusting with no inhibition. He grips the headboard for leverage, and you hear the cracking of wood as he drills into you, your mouth dropping open at the feeling, but no noise escaping. 

“Hobie,” you sobbed, your hips attempting to meet his movements as you finally tip over the edge, and he drove home once more before spilling inside you.

A ragged breath was ripped from him as he fell forward, his hand slapping against the wall of the boat. You writhed against him, your body wracked with so much overwhelming pleasure you found it hard to breathe. Everything ached. 

“Fuck, doll,” he whispers looking between your bodies, whimpering as he pulls out. He’s never felt this exhausted, body collapsing next to you as the heat in his stomach subsided. Who knew he just had to fuck it out of his system?

He hadn’t noticed his eyes had drifted shut until he heard a giggle at his side, and he fell in love a little harder. He turned his head to look at you snickering at him, “Whatchu laughin’ at doll?” 

God he sounded tired. 

You turn on your side and place a kiss on his sweaty forehead, evidence of the work he put in. A goofy grin makes its way to your face. “You feelin better now baby?”

[blacckdiamondposts]

Leave your mark on me

Pairing: Alpha! Ushijima Wakatoshi x f!Omega!Reader Summary: (Y/N) and Ushijima grew up with each other. (Y/N) isn‘t a fan of the whole Alpha/ Omega society, which often enrages Ushijima (little miss (Y/N), often gets herself in trouble with other alphas). Both Omegas and Alphas have to get injections to keep them from going into heat/ rut. Due to a missed appointment, (Y/N) is going into heat, but don‘t worry, Ushi is obviously there to help hehe. Warnings: smut, slight mentioning of blood (> after marking)

A low growl escaped his lips as he read your text message.

Ushijima has told you plenty of times not to come over to the boys dormitories, knowing how some of the other alphas could act towards an omega. But you just never listened to him. He was sure that it was because of your attitude towards the whole society.

His brows furrowed as you didn‘t show up, letting him wonder where you were. 

She should be here already, Anger and worry seemed to take over.

He let out a groan as he exited his room, noting how your scent lingered in the air. However, it was different than usual. 

Ushijima knew that something was off, picking up his pace he rushed towards the source of the scent. As he came around the corner, he noted a couple of alpha‘s surrounding a small material room. 

The scent that radiated off of him was enough to scare them away, watching how they quickly hurried away, he walked up to the door. 

„(Y/N),“ he called, his voice sounded low, „it‘s me,“

„U-Ushijima,“ you groaned.

„(Y/N), open the door,“ he demanded, „are you hurt?“

„I‘ll break the door open,“ he said as he didn‘t get a response.

However, the door quickly flung open.

You were babbling incoherently as your heat got the best of you.

„(Y/N),“ he leaned down, „are you-,“

Your scent was too much to handle, „are you in heat?“

Your eyes locked, giving him a good view of your face.

Your pupils were blown, skin glistening while a subtle pink dusk was set on your cheeks.

„Shit,“ he cursed, „come here,“ 

He picked you up, rushing back to his dorm, he tried his best to ignore the slick that was running down your legs and onto his hand.

“I-It‘s too hot,“ you muttered, feeling like your skin was burning.

„Sssh, it‘s alright,“ he said with a soft voice as he entered his room.

Ushijima kicked the door shut before he carefully sat you down onto his bed.

„(Y/N),“ he tried to get your attention.

He reached his arm out, cupping your cheek, „(Y/N),“

„Hm,“ you looked at him with half lidded eyes.

„(Y/N),“ he said, his voice sounding commanding „let me be your alpha,“

„W-what,“ you looked at him with big eyes.

You wanted to press your legs together, hiding your slick covered thighs from Ushijima. But your body has long made the decision of taking him as your alpha. Hence why you spread them, letting the alpha see your most intimate part. 

He clenched his jaw as he tried to contain himself.

„I will be yours,“ he said, “and you‘ll be mine, Omega,“

You averted your gaze for a second before locking eyes with him. You nodded your head reluctantly.

„Say it, Omega,“ he said.

You were engulfed by his scent, feeling your slick pool in your underwear.

„Just say it, and I‘ll help you,“ Ushijima demanded.

You watched him with narrowed eyes as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek. His calloused thumb brushed over your skin. It felt comforting and yet his touch felt like it was burning.

„T-take me, alpha,“ you whined, giving into your heat.

That was all the alpha needed to hear. Ushijima closed the distance between the two of you, clashing his lips against yours. 

Oh, how many time‘s he‘d imagined to kiss you - to devour you. 

He kissed you hungrily, a low growl rumbled in his chest as he wanted more now that he finally had his omega.

The one he always wanted to have. 

„A-alpha,“ you whimpered, tugging at his clothes as you wanted to feel his skin against yours.

He swiftly removed his clothes discarding them onto the floor. Your lips parted as a shaky breath spilled over your lips once your eyes fixed on his large cock. 

He moved to his previous spot, leaning in for another feverish kiss before he forced his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues were battling each other before he dominated yours. 

Before you could realize it your shirt was torn into two pieces, its buttons flying across the room. 

He couldn‘t get enough of you. He knew that you were seemingly in heat, but why was he so out of it.

Ushijima wondered if it‘s because you finally surrendered to an alpha - to him. 

He pushed you back against his bed, his wide frame making your legs spread before you wrapped them around his hips.

You were grinding against him, needing to feel some kind of friction. His cock pressed against your wanting heat, evoking a soft moan from you. Only the thin fabric of your underwear was separating you.

Ushijima‘s large hands were hiking up your skirt, pushing it up to your waist.

You needed him just as much as he needed you. He couldn‘t contain himself as he saw you in such a state. 

Although he loved the sight in front of him, he cound‘t watch his omega suffer.

„Alpha,“ you moaned into the kiss, „I need more,“

His chest vibrated as a he growled against your lips. He parted from you, fixing his gaze on your soaked underwear. 

„These are in the way,“ he said, hooking his fingers into the soft fabric of your panties before ripping them apart. 

He pushed two digits into your cunt, feeling your slick coat his fingers. You threw your head back against the pillow, finally having something inside of you. 

However, satisfaction didn‘t last for long as you needed more.

„M-more,“ you pleaded.

Ushijima used the slick on his fingers to coat his hard length before he aligned his cock with your entrance. He slowly sheathed himself into you, watching your face contort in pleasure. 

Your gaze met his as he filled you up, feeling how his tip hit against your cervix. Although he was huge, he just filled you up perfectly. Like his cock was made just for you - for your pleasure.

Ushijima thrusted carefully into you a couple of times. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his wide shoulders.

A low moan escaped his lips as he felt your slick gush out, coating his cock before it trickled down onto his balls. 

He rested his forehead against yours, feeling his hot breath hit against your skin as he spoke. 

„I wanted you for such a long time, omega,“

„A-alpha,“ your brain was incapable of forming any words as it was filled with lust. 

His lips trailed down to your neck, where his lips brushed over your sensitive skin.

He parted slightly, watching down at you with hungry eyes.

The pace of his thrusts picked up, being more rough than before.

His hands were tightly holding onto your hips to keep you in place as he pounded into your wet cunt. You felt the knot tighten inside of you as you were getting closer to your edge. 

„C-close,“ 

„Cum all over my cock, omega,“ he commanded.

His forehead was glistening, noting how a bead of sweat trickled down on his temple. 

It took only a couple of thrusts before your orgasm crashed over you, turning you into a trembling mess.

„Just like that,“ he praised, his voice low. 

Ushijima wasn‘t done with you.

Instead of stopping, he picked his pace up, drilling himself into you as you were putty in his hands.

Your nails dug into his skin as you held on for dear life. The sharp sting spurring him on.

He placed a couple of kisses on your neck before his teeth lightly grazed over your skin, making you shiver beneath him.

He wanted to bite down into your flesh, marking you as his. But uncertainty washed over him since you were in no way or shape in the right mind - or at least so he thought. 

Your orgasm seemed to lower the effects of your heat. 

„M-mark me, if anyone, I- I want you to be my alpha,“ your voice was shaky as you replied in between moans and whimpers.

He groaned against your skin. 

Ushijima let his teeth rake over your scent glands before he bit down, his teeth sinking into your skin. You whimpered, but the pain just added to the pleasure you were feeling.

The act of marking you seemed to be enough for him as he was nearing his edge. He kept his teeth in your skin as he literally fucked your brain out, filling the room with the lewd sounds that spilled over your lips. All he could think about was the fact that you‘re finally his, belonging to him and only him. 

He bit down even harder as his orgasm washed over him, growling against your skin. His rough and unsteady thrusts pushed you over the edge for a second time, letting you come together with your alpha.

Your insides were painted white as he filled you up to the brim before his knot swole and tied you together.

He snaked his arm between you and the mattress, carefully maneuvering the two of you so you‘d be laying on top.

Your head was resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

You turned your head towards Ushijima, locking eyes with him, „I really do want you to be my alpha,“ 

His lips tugged into a soft smile as he brought his hand to your face, „I will always take care of you, my omega,“

Ushijima has taken care of you for as long as you could remember. Ever since you befriended him when you were a little kid. You knew that you were safe with him, allowing yourself to surrender to him.

He felt proud to be the only alpha you‘d ever get involved with.

You slowly drifted off as exhaustion washed over you. Ushijima hugged you tightly as he laid there happily. 

By the next morning everyone knew that (Y/N), finally had an alpha and that it was none other than Ushijima himself.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Needy!Deuce Headcanons

Deuce Spade being needy is literally everything:

Masterlist

Warning: I write the reader as female

Never going a second without having your hand in his, whether you’re walking side by side or sitting beside each other in class, meal times and unbirthday parties.

You two would always be touching each other: cuddling, him resting his head on your shoulder, engulfing himself in your scent.

When he’s back in Heartslabyul, he’d stay up texting you even though he only just dropped you off at Ramshackle five minutes ago. When you point this out during a phone call, he’d pout and say that he misses your voice.

He loves you so much that he can still see your smile even when he closes his eyes.

He always keeps a protective arm around your waist, half so that he could shield you from any possible danger and half so that he can sate that need to have you as close to him as possible.

He’s never more than three feet away from you at any time.

He is literally: This is Y/N, Y/N loves her personal space. This is Deuce, Deuce also loves Y/N’s personal space

Just to be clear, he will always respect your boundaries. If you want space or alone time by yourself or don’t want to be touched or held - he’ll do whatever you want no question.

LIVES FOR PDA! If you’re not into it then he understands but if you are then hell yeah, go for it. For the first week of you dating, he was shy because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but after you have that ✨ healthy communication that we all love ✨ he’ll be living on cloud nine for the rest of his life: secretive pecks in the corners and shadows of the hallways, good luck kisses before a test, long drawn out hugs when he has to leave for Track and Field Club when he gives you a wide-eyed teary look of a soldier being stripped from his home and to go to war and not of a teenage boy just leaving your side for about an hour…

He doesn’t even react when Ace gags and demands that the two of you get a room because 1) he’s just jealous and 2) why would he want to move his head from your shoulder whilst you’re still petting it?

He loves giving you piggyback rides during your dates

His favourite thing to do with you is going on his Magical Wheel because he lives for that feeling of your head resting against his shoulder blades as your torso presses against his back and your arms are wrapped around his waist.

Have fun trying to get out of his hold during cuddle sessions. If his overpowering strength isn’t enough to keep you there then his pleading puppy eyes and sweet little whines begging you to not leave will.

But imagine Deuce getting kiss drunk: eyes glazed and half lidded, body moving out of his control as he wants more and more

It would start off soft and sweet. The two of you would be snuggling in your bedroom in Ramshackle, a calm and quiet reprieve from the hecticness of daily life. 

And you’d spontaneously have the excellent idea of kissing him so you do exactly that.

Cupping his face, you’d pull him towards you with and press your lips against his, letting them linger for a few seconds as your thumb strokes patterns onto his cheek, before pulling away, laughing internally at how his face immediately chases yours.

“More,” Deuce murmured, cheeks a rosy pink and pupils blown wide, looking at you so preciously, so captivated by your presence that you had no choice but to indulge him. So you draw him in again, physically feeling him melt into you, letting your mouths press against each other until your reeling head forces you not to.

Once you had parted for air yet again, he fisted the fabric of your blouse and brought you in for a third time, drinking in your yelp of surprise like a man starved. One of his arms wrap around you, bringing you so close to him it’s hard to tell where you stopped and he started. He could feel himself getting bolder, more confident, as adrenaline mixed into his ex-delinquent blood. The triumph he used to feel winning a fight is absolutely nothing to the pure euphoric exhilaration that fills every vessel, that rushes past his ears so loudly that he can’t hear anything else, his brain turns to mush and all he can think about is the complete and utter devotion he feels for you. His life, his love, his light, his salvation.

He couldn’t stop kissing you - it’s an endless vicious cycle; the more he fed that need to have you the hungrier and hungrier it became. When his treacherous lungs start to scream for oxygen he only allows you a second of reprieve before he dives back in and, with both hands on either side of your face, he begins kissing every inch of skin he can find - your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead - all in a flurry of quick succession.

You drive him insane. All thoughts of reform, of becoming a good little honours student that keeps his nose clean and head down, turn to ash as he feels that already unstable fiddly little delinquent switch teetering dangerously inside him. He makes himself at home on the curve of your neck, trailing kisses down that smooth slope. He interlocks his fingers with yours and feels rejuvenated when your hand squeezes his.

Usually, he’d never let himself lose control in such a way, finding that intense, savage side too shameful, too deplorable to let out - especially to someone so ethereal, so perfect it’s no wonder they’re otherworldly. But here - hidden away in the privacy of your bedroom, the old, weary walls of Ramshackle stationed around you like guards, concealing the both of you from the prying eyes of daily life - he with you in his arms, he felt invincible. He could do anything, be anything. He could let out those secret sides of himself without a care or worry because he knows that you’ll be there to hold him. You’re always there to give even when he’s scared to take.

Even now, you lift his hand and place a gentle kiss on his wrist, all whilst looking him in the eye and giving him such a loving smile he feels his breath hitch.

And when he gathers you into his arms, hugging you close, he knows that he could be with you for eternity and it still wouldn’t be enough

[sdr2lovemail]

Diggers accidentally drugs himself because he refuses to clean his van. (GN Reader)

Synopsis: Diggers gets coated in his own bubble solution and seeks you out in his high haze.

Notes: Before I got to requests I wanted to get a feel for writing the Reverse 1999 universe. I love this stupid white boy and his magic bubbles. I also love making headcanons from one off lines. Take a shot every time I say 'solution'!

Requests are open!

The sound of banging metal rings sharp in Diggers’ ears as someone knocks on the door of his van. The door slides open, and the arcanist shines with a bright grin upon seeing you. With relaxed arms, he brings you into a hug. Your face is pressed against him while his hair tickles against your face. 

“Baby, what’re you doing ‘round here?” He smelled like citrus and something more earthy. Despite his lanky frame, his body ran pretty warm. “If I knew you were coming, I woulda cleaned up a little.”

The messy disaster that was his van wasn’t anything new. Records stacked in piles, his guitar lying haphazardly on the ground, and many jars and buckets to make bubble solution. It was a miracle that he could move around without hurting himself. 

“Well, maybe if you had a telephone, I could tell you when I’m coming over.” You chided as he guided you to a bean bag in the corner. 

Diggers let out a huff. “Telephones blind us from our real-world connections. We forget the importance of face-to-face conversation when tethered to machines.” He rants while looking through scattered jars.

“That’s a lot of words to say you can’t afford one.” You teased, watching him move around the cramped area.

Finding the specific glowing liquid he was searching for, Diggers turned back towards you. “The dependency of consumerist behaviors will be the topic of another day. Right now, I have to show you my latest creation of inspiration.” In front of him was a bright pink jar of solution.

The bubble-blowing arcanist loved showing you his art. When he would be making different creations, you would always be in a part of his mind. Love is a form of art, and he strived to make beautiful works with you, to live together in a peaceful utopia where creativity flourished.

“This is my latest solution! With this, I can-!” He’s abruptly cut off as his foot catches on the strap of his guitar. He tumbles back, and the jar slips from his hands. The sour-smelling liquid spills over his body, leaving him with a bubbly sheen. “Ah! Bullocks! Maybe it won’t kick in…” His speech started to slur in an act of cruel irony. 

After spending so much time with Diggers, you’ve learned how to counter his bubbles. There have been too many incidents of you getting caught in the crossfire and blacking out, leaving you with no memory of what happened. You pull out a face mask infused with your arcane magic from your pocket. It was a simple and effective way to deter his hallucinogenic solutions. 

You help him sit up, brushing the soapy hair out of his face. His eyes were unfocused and hazy, and his pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the green iris. “Diggers, are you alright?”

The sound of your voice draws his attention more than your touch. “Ugghhh… My muse, your voice is a gift from beyond. A true work of art. I would carve it into a record if I could.” He rambles on in a haze. Leaning further into your touch, Diggers slumps against your body, pressing his shiny cheek onto your shoulder. The position is pretty awkward, but he is content.

“My reverie… my perfect reverie. As long as you’re with me, peace will surround me.” With two fingers, the arcanist makes a peace sign, holding it out to you.

Mimicking the sign, you press your middle and pointer fingers into his. It was an affectionate gesture that Diggers came to you with. You don’t fully remember when and why he started doing it, but it was sweet. It was something so charming and uniquely Diggers like. 

Taking your hand fully in his, Diggers lets out another groan. “There might be too many crystalized herbs in this solution… My head won’t stop spinning.”

“Please don’t throw up on me.” You spoke bluntly. It wouldn’t be the first, and probably not the last, time it’s happened. Your partner had a rather sensitive stomach. 

“I’m trying my best not to.” Feeling that sitting up was too much of a chore, Diggers slumps over further until his head is on your lap. With him looking up at you, you could see his eyes were less cloudy and more focused. The soap bubbles must be starting to wear off now.

“You look positively inspiring at this angle. I should save up money for a camera. Then you’ll be by my side all the time. Hm, is there anywhere to get film developed nearby?” Though he was still rambling, he sounded much more coherent.

With your free hand, you start to play with his drying hair. “I think there’s a camera store on 10th Street.” 

“Maybe I’ll learn to develop the film myself. Then after I learn how I can teach you.” Diggers spoke with his usual exaggerated hand gestures. He was feeling much better now that the soap was starting to dry. But of course, he would love to stay in your lap longer.

With a hum, you idly twirl his hair. You found it cute how he always wants you to feel included in his life. Whether it’s telling you about his latest solutions or inviting you to start some mischief in the name of peace and creativity, Diggers always wanted you to be around. 

“It seems like you’re back to normal. Are you feeling better?” You asked while cupping his face, his stubble scratching against your skin.

Letting out a near-dreamy sigh, Diggers pushed his cheek further into your palm, relishing in the warmth. “A moment in your arms is like a moment in heaven. If anything, your caring touch is what nursed me back to perfect health.” 

Though you tried to keep it in, a small laugh passed your lips. “That was so corny.”

“I know, but it made you laugh.” He smiled. With a small grunt, he sits up from your lap and pulls you into an embrace. Diggers hooks a finger onto your face mask and pulls it down; leaning in to give you a tender kiss. “I do feel a lot better. Hmm, but I need the solution’s effects to last longer. I guess accidentally drugging myself was a worthy sacrifice for knowledge.”

“Please don’t keep drugging yourself just to test your bubbles…”

[lees-chaotic-brain]

I don't know if the soulmate event is still open (depends on your time zone, I guess), but if it's still open: purple (inumaki toge) with lilac (angst to fluff) #6 (flowers on your body where your soulmate got injured)

If you've already closed your requests, I'm sorry for bothering you! I just really like this event and am looking forward to reading all the stories (again 🙊)

Hi anon! My event was still open, so don't worry about it. I'm glad that you enjoyed the event so much. Thank you for giving my man inumaki some love (secretly, he's my fav)

Also, sorry this took so long. I was going through some serious creativity drought...

Hold You (Inumaki x Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

CW: Blood, injury, panic attack, reader has female pronouns, angst to fluff, not proof read (as always)

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

The first thing Inumaki does upon awakening is reach for you. Realizing your side of his bed was cold, he momentarily panicked before remembering that you had a mission early this morning.

With a little grumble and a pout, he snuggled further down into his blankets intending to sleep a little more before he had to get up.

But without you, staying in bed was no fun, so with reluctance he hauled himself out of bed and headed downstairs to find something to eat.

Mmm...maybe he could have his leftover onigiri from last night. He could probably heat up some miso soup too...and he was going to kill you.

Heartbroken, he gazed into the empty spot in the fridge that once housed his onigiri.

Instead, there was a pale pink post-it with the word "sorry" written on it in your handwriting.

After mourning the loss of his precious onigiri, he forlornly set about making himself a cup of tea.

As he reached to grab the tea bags from the top shelf he heard someone entering the kitchen. Grabbing the tea and turning, he realized that it was Maki.

"Konbu-"

He began to greet her but paused as he realized she was staring intently at the spot just above his waistband where a sliver of his skin had been exposed while he was reaching for the tea.

"Takana?"

He asked, worried and a little perplexed.

"Inumaki..."

"Tuna mayo?"

He asked, instantly on edge. It was rare for Maki to show this much concern.

Suddenly she surged at him and was tugging at his shirt with barely contained panic shining in her eyes.

"Your shirt. Take it off. You have to take it off. I need to see."

"Tu-"

"NOW!"

She bellowed, frantically lifting the hem when he didn't instantly move.

Staring at the giant petals slashed across his torso in vicious crimson swathes, the two froze.

"Your soulmate trait makes any injury she has appear on your body as flowers and vice versa, right?"

Exhaling shakily, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

There was no response. She didn't need one either way - she was just confirming, but his lack of reaction concerned her.

"Inumaki-"

Taking a good look at his face, she realized he was frozen, pupils blown out as he quivered staring at the marks on his midriff.

"Hey-"

But he was gone. Tearing down the hall he headed towards Gojo's room. Gojo. He would be able to help. He would have to trust Maki to go get Shoko.

Slamming his shoulder into the wall as he made a sharp turn into the next corridor, he stumbled but kept going.

What if he was too late? God, he never should've let you go on this mission alone. You're a strong sorcerer, he knows that. Maybe even stronger than him. But if he isn't able to protect you, how can he call himself worthy of being your boyfriend. Of being your soulmate.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes as he burst into Gojo's room.

Looking up from his kikufuku, Gojo was greeted with one of his students tearing off his shirt.

"Whoa-whoa hold on now, it's a little early to be getting this frisky-"

He stopped seeing the flowers etched into Inumaki's skin.

In near hysterics, Inumaki pointed at his chest.

"Sujiko...Takana...She-"

He managed to get out between pants.

"Please."

Luckily, Gojo understood what he was trying to say. He had understood in sickening clarity the second he had seen the marks.

Something was about to steal the bright future of not just one, but two of his students. And he'd be damned if he let that happen.

Striding over and placing a hand on Inumaki's shoulder he spoke.

"It's going to be okay. We're going to go get her."

And with that, he teleported them off.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Pain. Mind-numbing, nauseating pain. Pain was all you knew.

Crumpled against a wall on your back, you could vaguely hear Ichiji's worried voice calling your name as he searched for you.

For a split second, you registered a muted panic, unsure if your final attack had been enough to take out the special-grade, but then you realized that Ichiji wouldn't even be in here if the curse was still alive, because the veil would still be up.

Relief slowly drifted in among the fog clouding your brain. At least you got your job done.

As your blood leaked out and stained the concrete beneath you your hand slowly started slipping off the three violent gashes that had been clawed across your torso.

Clinging desperately to consciousness you fought to stay awake as your vision fuzzed with black.

Toge. You had to think of Toge. You couldn't do this to him. You had to hold on for him.

Your hand slid fully off your upper body and fell with a quiet splash into the puddle of blood surrounding you.

I'm so sorry Toge..."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Appearing next to the black car that had transported you and Ichiji to the scene, Gojo and Inumaki instantly got to work searching for you. Following the sound of Ichiji's voice, they were eventually led to a frantic Ichiji calling your name as he stumbled across rubble. When he looked over and noticed the two of them he frantically waved them over.

"Thank god you're here!"

He exclaimed as he made his way to meet them.

"I don't know what happened! The veil went down so I assumed the curse was exorcized but when she didn't appear, I became worried and went to search for her. I still haven't found her though and I'm beginning to be quite concerned...."

"She'll be fine."

Gojo said confidently, waving away Ichiji's concerns.

"We'll find her, right Inumaki?"

Trying his best to ease the tightness in his chest and breathe, Inumaki nodded.

"Shake."

Splitting up they began searching, calling out your name. It would've been easier to track your cursed energy, but it appeared you'd fallen unconscious, so that was out of the question.

Minutes passed, and with each one Inumaki found it harder and harder to breathe. He began to fear the worst, and images of your beautiful body mangled and broken flashed in his mind's eye.

Finally he found you. But instead of feeling better, the sight he was greeted with only kicked his oncoming panic attack up a couple notches.

Blood. There was so much blood. Crashing to his knees, he attempted to put pressure on the gashes clawed across your torso. Wait, when did he even get to your side? Dimly he heard a high pitched keening sound, not unlike a dying animal.

It wasn't until hands pulled him off you that he realized that the sound was coming from him. Or that blood was dripping from his mouth because he had been using his cursed speech to attempt to command you to wake up, to stay with him.

He cried out and tried to throw himself back over you. They couldn't touch you! Didn't they understand? You were hurt! But the same hands from before gripped his shoulders and held him back as Gojo teleported you off to Shoko.

"She'll be okay son."

Nanami murmured into his ear. When had he gotten here?

"She'll be okay, just calm down. Take a breath."

Listlessly staring at the puddle of blood that you had been lying in, he allowed Nanami to gently pull him away and guide him back to the car waiting to drive them back to the campus.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When they arrived back on campus Inumaki was out of the car and tearing off towards the infirmary before it had even fully stopped.

Bursting into the room, the door hit the wall with a bang, causing everyone in it to look up.

“Toge?”

You asked, sitting up a little straighter as Shoko finished up examining you.

Frozen in the doorway, he stared at you, hesitant to believe that you were okay after witnessing the gory aftermath of your injuries.

Lowering the t-shirt you had been changed into, Shoko patted your shoulder and advised you to take it easy before standing.

“C’mon Gojo. Get out of here. Give the two some privacy.”

Shoko herded Gojo out, shutting the door behind them. Then the two of you were alone in the quiet room.

The quiet sound of you sniffling filled the room.

“I-I’m so sorry.”

You cried quietly as you wiped your tears with the palms of your hands.

“I’m so sorry I worried you because I wasn’t strong enough. I was so scared. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was never going to see you again…”

A choked sound escaped Inumaki as he took a hesitant step forwards. You looked up at him, your tear-filled eyes making his own fill.

“Can you come here and hold me?”

You asked, extending your arms.

And that was all you needed to say. He barreled into you, mindful of your injuries as he nuzzled his face into the crook of neck and relished in the feeling of having you in his arms again.

“Sorry.”

He sobbed, pressing kisses to your pulse point.

“Sorry.”

He repeated, unable to say anything else for fear of hurting you with his cursed speech.

“No, why are you sorry?”

Your tears trailed down your face, dripping off your chin and mixing with his before staining your shirt.

“You didn’t do anything-”

I couldn’t protect you.

He traced the words into the palm of your hand. 

“Of course you couldn’t!”

You exclaimed, thumping him lightly on the back.

“You weren’t even on the mission with me, dummy! How could you have? Plus, it’s not your responsibility to protect me. That’s not your job as my boyfriend. All I ever asked of you is to hold me like you are now, and to love me.”

You buried your face in his hair, inhaling deeply.

“Stop blaming yourself. Just stay with me like this for a while, okay?”

Nodding, he snuggled further against you.

That’s right. Everything was okay. You were okay. Everything would always be okay.

As long as you were holding him.

And he was holding you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

Day 5: Sex Toys

♤♡-Pairs: Diluc x fem!reader

☆☆-Warnings: sex toys(duh), male anatomy, female anatomy, swears, mentions of cum

It's safe to say, the sex life between you and the owner of Angel's Share was nothing to scoff at. You both knew eachothers bodies inside and out. Though you didn't have it often, do to time conflicts, everytime you did it was even better than the next. But that isn't to say you didn't wish to try something more...adventurous, or rather, in your boyfriends eyes. You had mentioned sex toys before but he always hesitated. And more often then not, it led to him asking if you felt satisfied. The poor man didn't understand.

But last week, you had brought it up again. Making sure to explain it was something for the both of you. That you were satisfied but you just wanted to add a little something. And to your surprise, he actually agreed this time! Even if he was still a little hesitant.

And today would be the day you both had some time to try them out.

You sat patiently on your bed while you waited for his shift to end. A small pink bag sat next to you as you waited. Soon you heard the sound of keys in the door, then heavy boots walking up the stairs. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as anticipation ran high in your veins. When he opened the door, you gave him a smile.

"Hello, love. Welcome home." His eyes scanned your face before landing on the pink bag. He gave a nervous nod as he started to shrug off his work attire. Usually he was a tad more talkative but it seems nerves had gotten to him today. When he undressed, you patted the spot next to you. And as he sat, you held his hand.

"We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable." You brought his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss there. "I want to, to at least try. For you." He said softly, taking a breath before he motioned towards the bag. You gave him another smile before you opened the bag; revealing a somewhat small vibrator. It was a good toy to start with. You had gotten others...but you didn't want to overwhelm him. Thankfully you didn't have to explain what it did before you placed it gingerly in his open palms.

Then you scooted back on your elbows, lifting the hem of the dress you were wearing. And you swore you heard him inhale deeply at the sight. You weren't wearing any underwear after all. "I'm ready, go ahead." You gave him one more smile of approval before laying all the way back.

Silence was soon filled with the shuffling of sheets before a dull vibrating noise could be heard. Your sex twitched in anticipation as you waited for him to finally touch you. In approximately a few seconds you felt a vibrating sensation against your clit. Your whole body jerked at the feeling, a small moan escaped your lips. "Keep going..it's okay," you reminded him. Earning another press of the vibrator against you, already making you wet. After a couple more attempts he got more confident, pressing it a little more against you until you were grinding against it. Still he hadn't said anything, he simply watched. His pupils blown wide from the scene. He was making you shake and convulse with this small toy...it was invigorating.

"Honey...feels so good..." you preen, a thin layer of sweat now coating your body as you chased after your release. "Turn it up a little mo-oh fuck, yeah like that." Your hands grasped at the sheets as you kept grinding your pussy against it. It wouldn't be long now before you-

"Oh fuck, even higher?" Your breath was knocked out of you as he turned it up once more. A few more sloppy thrusts against the toy had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Thighs shaking as you made a mess of the toy. You were left panting and twitching...but he still hadn't moved the toy. "H-honey that's...I already...too much..."

He simply shook his head, "I want to see more of what this toy can do to you."

Masterlist

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[melon-fodder]

For the prompt event, 10 + Kiryu!

I just have to tag @entirelysein-e and her fic here because I read it for inspiration and to get in that Kiryu mood 💚💚💚

Sex has always been a little painful for you. For a long time, you thought you just weren’t cut out for it. That there was something wrong with you. Which is why you’re a little hesitant when your boyfriend of a few weeks, Kiryu, brings it up.

Politely, of course. Kiryu is nothing if not a gentleman. He watches your face twist, listens as you explain your experiences, then offers, “well, if you’re ever ready, I’ll go slow. We can stop whenever you want to.”

A sentiment that’s repeated tonight as he sits between your legs, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

“I-I’m ready,” you tell him, already breathless. Probably has something to do with how ridiculously attractive he is—pink hair pushed back, bright shirt unbuttoned to his navel.

“Yeah?”

You nod.

He slides his fingers over your bare folds, dancing over sensitive skin and grinning when you gasp.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl, I promise.”

Your nerves have kept you from getting very wet, but your walls still open up for Kiryu’s first, gentle finger. He uses the thumb of his other hand to rub your clit—something you’re not used to partners focusing on—and after a few delicious circles and nudges to your g-spot, your body starts to relax.

“There you go, let me take care of you,” Kiryu purrs, the glide of his finger much easier now that you’re slick with arousal. You buck when he presses against that spot again, clench when he swipes over your swelling clit a bit faster.

“You want another finger?” he asks calmly, but when you look at him through hazy eyes you can see that his cheeks are red and his pupils are blown as he watches your face for cues.

“Yeah, mm, please…”

The second, long finger slides inside of you without issue, and Kiryu is able to put more pressure on that spongy bundle nestled in your now greedy cunt, making you throw your head back as you start to gush into his hand.

“Just like that—cute little pussy opening up for me. Am I making her feel good?”

His voice is both teasing and sincere, like he truly wants to know the answer. Another stream of squirt drenching the sheets beneath you should be more than enough to quell his curiosity, as should the way you moan his name and beg for more.