#thinking thoughts and feeling feelings now.......

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend buys you a pretty golden necklace with his initials, not knowing it will only intensify the urge to claim you as his own in every way.

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, gojo early 30’s). possessive. talks of marriage. unprotected. breēding kink; crēampies. jealousy. pregnancy kink? reader gets called ‘baby, sweetheart, mama’ not proofread; excuse the grammar. wc: 1.7k

“look at that, baby,” satoru coos as he watches the golden necklace bounce around your collarbone with each wet thrust. it’s a 24k pure gold necklace he purchased just today, with his initials on it.

something inside him stirred the moment he put it on you. satoru couln’t help himself from pinning you to the couch and claiming you as his own for the nth time. it doesn’t matter how many times he fucks you; it’s never enough.

the letters ‘sg’ are shimmering under the light of the living room. the older man is grinning from ear to ear, nearly cumming from the sight of you wearing that necklace alone. it’s a sign of possession to him. you’re his—you’re only his. he’s the only one who can touch you like this.

“shit, ‘t makes me wanna put a ring on it,” satoru hisses, one of his hands pressing down on your lower tummy. you gasp and clutch at his broad back, nails digging into his flesh quite painfully. “i think i’d engrave my initials on the inside of the ring too, what do ya think?”

each word is punctuated with a thrust. his hips are non-stop ramming into yours, claiming even the deepest spots of your body beneath him. he leans down to trail kisses down your sensitive neck, eliciting a couple whines from your lips.

“d’y wanna get married, sweetheart?” the sudden proposal takes you off guard. you can’t believe satoru would ask such a thing while being balls deep inside you. you’re blabbering nonsense, your voice muffled due to the saliva building up in your mouth.

“m— married? babe, are you ser-” your question is left unanswered as your boyfriend kisses your plump lips. he switches to a slow and gentle pace, grinding into your needy cunt until it leaves you shaking. his fingers play with the golden jewelry around your neck.

a necklace will do. as long as you’ll wear that accessory from this day forward, he’ll be satisfied. the urge to make you his forever partner could be satiated. for now, that is. he knows you still have a bright future ahead of you, like getting your degree and first ever proper job.

“let’s have you finish university first, yeah?” satoru smiles down at you after detaching his lips from yours. he watches the string of saliva hang between your mouths, giving a short hum once it snaps. his big hand slithers down to cup your breast and knead it, kissing your nipple whilst holding eye contact, “i can wait for you.”

satoru sighs as he rolls his tongue around your hardened nipple. he’s drooling over your breasts, a drunken glint in his eyes. he’s so obsessed with you to the point that he’d marry you right now if he could. that proposal wasn’t a joke—but he figured that it also wasn’t the smartest.

he’ll give you a proper and serious proposal one day. though, now you know for sure that he’s gotten into this relationship with the thought of actually marrying you.

“but i also—fuck—can’t wait,” satoru whines, feeling your walls clamp down on his thick cock. his dick is pulsing with need, exploring your squishy insides while his balls prepare to release all semen stored right into your fertile womb. even if you may take a pill to get rid of any unwanted consequences, the thought of seeing your tummy swell with his child is making the older man go insane.

satoru buries his face between your breasts and breathes heavily against your sweaty skin. his hips move with renewed vigour, his energy never depleting when it comes to pleasuring you, “wanna make you my wife ‘n breed this pretty pussy.”

you moan repeatedly, unable to stop yourself. especially after satoru frantically spews such lewd words. he’s getting lost in your cunt and the way it’s swallowing him in—into your pretty pussy that he owns. his pussy.

“wanna be your wife so bad, ‘toru,” you hiccup, nearly crying from the intense pleasure. you’d love to be satoru’s wife. he already treats you so well while you’re his girlfriend, you can’t imagine how much better it’s going to get once you’re officially his. your stomach fills with butterflies at the thought of being able to call him your husband.

the white-haired man chuckles. his blue eyes stare down at you with nothing but love, “yeah? mh, i’ll treat you so well every single day. g’nna come home to you ‘n give you some proper loving.”

satoru can already imagine it. coming home to you after a long day of work, needing a quick release. seeing you greet him at the door will send him into a frenzy. especially if you’re wearing an apron—he’s a sucker for domestic stuff.

you, his wife, taking care of him after a rough day at work. . . it’s a dream come true. he’ll spoil you with materialistic gifts and his unending love so you’ll live a happy life.

oh, don’t get him started on kids. satoru ruts into you like his life depends on it, the hypnotising rhythm of your boobs jiggling in circles is making him drool. having a little family with you is his end goal. you’ll be such a good mother and he’ll be such an amazing dad; a perfect combination.

satoru can already picture the amount of times he’ll dump his cum inside of you, without any restrictions. without you taking a pill or him wrapping a condom around his dick. his libido is going to be at an all time high when the time comes.

even if satoru ages a bit, he’s sure that he’s going to be able to have sex with you non stop. you get him hard without fail every single time. you’re his everything—the apple of his eyes.

your lover nearly chokes on his own saliva. he pushes his cock in to the base, burying it as deep as possible. your fingers curl around the pillow you’re holding for support, your eyes rolling back. his pink tip hit the right spot. that sweet spot that makes you cum without fail.

satoru bites his bottom lip. the way he’s looking at you, with a possessive kind of love and lust, is simply too much. his oceanic eyes are glimmering with need. erotic images flash through his mind of him impregnating you, “going to put a baby into you as soon as you’re ready.”

your tummy fills with butterflies. the way he’s talking to you like you’re already a married couple is making your pussy even wetter than it already is. it’s like it’s begging satoru to give it to you already—to make it store all his cum.

his eyes roll back as he leans his forehead against your shoulder. he has to hold himself back from cumming too soon. he wants to cherish every second spent inside of your warm body. satoru attaches his lips to your breasts again, “mhhh, y’re gonna look so beautiful pregnant, mama. those tits of y’rs. . .”

his voice is barely audible because he’s busy sucking on your nipples. your boyfriend is imagining the pair growing with each semester, filling out perfectly to store milk for the baby.

satoru cannot wait to be the reason why your body will change so much. you’ll be even prettier than you already are, that he can tell already. he’s going to give you gifts every day, to thank you for carrying his child. he’s going to spoil you rotten because you deserve it and so much more.

he can’t wait for the married life with you. many men dread that life, but that’s not the case with satoru. every day of his married life will be spent with his wife—you—and the honeymoon phase will never end. ever.

satoru’s cock is twitching and begging for the much needed release. he pounds you into the couch until you’re screaming in pleasure, feeling him so deep inside you. he’s so big, he’s stretching you out so well to the point of no return. the older man grins at the sight of your already fucked out face, “cunt ‘s gonna be so swollen because of how much i’ll pleasure her—paint her all white with my cum.”

satoru’s nasty words are causing unspeakable things to your body. you’re on the brink of reaching that euphoric state. the dirty talk is too much to handle at this point. your limbs are tingling and your cunt is aching to be stuffed full of his hot semen.

“s-satoru, don’t say such stuff,” you comment in a shaky breath. your head is spinning and your hands desperately reach out to hold onto his shoulders, squeezing the skin. your hips are bucking up lightly, your clit bumping against satoru’s pelvic area with each thrust, “i’m gonna cum if you keep saying that.”

your lover’s grin widens even more. he knows you enjoy it when he whispers such dirty stuff in your ear. that’s mainly the reason why he does it. he’s talked you through multiple orgasms before—it’s quite easy to do so with his husky voice and manly touch.

“that’s fine, baby,” satoru coos and leaves one last, sloppy kiss on your nipple before leaning in to attach his lips to yours. his tongue swirls around yours as you share your spit, the mixture trickling down your chins.

his hips don’t stop. he positions his lower body in an angle that gets you screaming for mercy, which he won’t do. he craves to ruin you on his cock, to see you melt with pleasure underneath him.

“make a mess on my dick while i make a mess inside of you,” satoru encourages you which seals the deal. your body shakes as you feel the waves of pleasure run through your system. you can feel hot ropes of cum nestle deep inside of your cunt. your boyfriend shudders at the sensation and helps you ride your climax out.

he pushes in and back out a few times, lazily, his finger finding your clit to rub until you’ve calmed down. “good girl. y’ took all of it, hm? lovely,” satoru nearly collapses on top of you after the energy leaves his body, careful not to crush you underneath his weight.

he doesn’t bother to pull out. he keeps his cum plugged into you—relishing the moment of ecstasy. even if he can’t fully breed you now, he’ll wait until the day he can.

“i love you, wifey,” satoru kisses your temple, tiredly giggling at the nickname he gave you. in his mind, you are already his one and only woman.

his wife and partner for life.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

oral fixation but it's biting instead of sucking. toji has noticed that you like to gnaw on your lip a lot – when you're deep in thought, when you're watching tv, scrolling on your phone, in bed. it's cute. teeth sinking into the soft flesh, eyes blown wide as he works his mouth on you. he can't tear his gaze from you – you're biting down so hard, toji thinks you're going to draw blood. you're desperate, you're needy, and you need more.

he often finds you chewing on your on fingers, too. playing with the sharp canines in your mouth, toji holds back a groan before fixing himself through his pants. it's not his fault you look so good all the fucking time! and the fact that you're doing it unconsciously too, is making his head spin.

you do that in bed as well. toji has learned that you're not trying to hold back your moans – your teeth itch. you need more. he can see the marks you leave on your own skin, how you drool all over the finger that's lodged between your fangs. you bite down harder and harder with every thrust he makes and it has him wondering how much it hurts. do you like the pain? can you even feel it, or is it just pleasure in your head? he needs to know.

so, with one quick move, he pulls your hand from your mouth and pushes his own pointer finger past your lips instead. his hips never falter and he fucking adores the way you try to focus on what he's doing; you're fighting the urge to just let your eyes roll back inside your head but now that his heavy finger sits on top your tongue, you cannot allow them to do so.

your mouth is so warm and wet, and toji twitches inside you. his own lips part as he stares down at your confused expression. you close your mouth around his finger, thinking that he wants you to suck it but no, no...

"bite." his voice is more hushed than usual and the knot in your tummy tightens. "i know ya want to."

hesitation pools in your eyes but he washes it away by leaning forward and pressing a haste kiss to your cheek. it's sloppy, it leaves a stain and a whine bubbles up from your throat. he stays close, his lips brush over your jaw – and that's all it takes for you to obey.

the hiss he let's out is addicting; he pulls back from you in an instant, his mossy eyes glued to your mouth. it doesn't hurt, not really – it's perfect. the roll of his hips slows as he tries to slide his finger between your teeth (he wants it to hurt a little more), he loves the way sharp edges scratch st his already rough skin and he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. a little scared that he'll stop, that he'll tease you, but he won't. not when it feels this good.

you bite down even harder and his hips buck forward at the sensation. his own eyes grow wide, surprised by how much it's affecting him and he grumbles something under his breath before picking up the pace again. you're leaving dents in his skin and you're drooling, you're squirming and twitching. you're so fucking pretty and fucked out and cockdrunk and you keep whining around his fingers and he's going to pump you so full that you're going to taste his cum<33333

[lovifie]

Masterlist Phone Sex with Boyfriend!Simon

"Are you home?"

”Are you home?”

That's the signal that you have learned, and the only one Simon gives you, your phone rings as soon as you send your positive answer.

“Hi, Simon.” You say with a singing voice when you pick up the call, pressing your phone against your ear.

“Hi, darling.” His deep voice grumbles through the phone, making you bite your lips as the sound travels down your body. 

The indubitable sound of his buckle being toyed with sounds loud and clear in the background. 

“Aw, Simon… are you missing me, sweet boy?” You say with a pout in your voice, using your shoulder to hold your phone while you twist off the cap of the nail polish bottle. 

“Every bloody second, sweetheart.”

Your heart warms with his shameless declaration, making you smile even though he can't see your face. 

“My pretty boy, I miss you too…” The line stays quiet for a minute, only his breathing audible; until you break the silence. “Does your pretty cock hurt, darling?”

“Yeah, fuck, yes it does.” He groans, a squeaky sound of the spring of the mattress sounding under his voice. He must be thrashing around on the bed, desperate. And you thought you had trained him better. 

“You should do something about it then, Simon.” You say, raising your foot to rest on the edge of the chair kicking your slipper off. “Don’t you think?”

“Can I?” His breathless voice betrays him, letting you see as clear as day how desperate he is. 

Good boy.

“Of course you can, love.” You answer, chuckling to yourself.

The response is immediate. Loud in the silence of the call, you hear how he gets his belt undone, throwing the buckle back carelessly so his aching member can find solace in the harsh wrap-up of his hand. 

His first moan comes to life right after the first tug, desperate, to the point it makes you wonder for how long he has fought with himself to not call you only to get conquered by the lustful needs of his body.

The buckle of the belt jangles in the background like a metronome with each flick of his wrist, the telltale sound of the rhythm he is setting.

“Talk to me, pet. Please.” His voice is whiny on your ear, desperation oozing out of each syllable, almost enough to make you feel bad about how unbothered you are by it. 

It's not that having your poor boyfriend calling you in desperation to hear your voice so he can actually cum doesn't turn you on, c’mon, you are not made of stone. But it also feeds your voracious ego, filling you with cockiness that you know he will quickly wipe out of you the moment he's back. 

But he is away now, and in this situation, you have the upper hand; threatening to close it around his neck knowing he would enjoy it more than yourself. And it would be such a waste of an opportunity if you didn't choke him a little bit. 

“Have you been thinking about me, love? Hm? Is that why you are so worked up?” You ask, picking the brush soaked in nail polish and applying it over your thumbnail. His whiny moan of your name is all you get as an answer, choppy breaths surrounding it helping it travel right to your core. “Been thinking about me touching you, hm? Wrapping my lips around your poor weeping cock, Simon?”

“Fuckin’ hell, luv…” He groans back, you hear the springs of the mattress again when he moves.

“Are you lying down, Simon?” You ask when you are on your third nail. A weak, high-pitched whine is all you get as an answer, a yes, you assume. “Stop then.”

queaky queaky queaky

“Simon.”

queaky queaky queaky

“Simon, stop touching yourself.”

…

“What?” He's breathing so hard it is almost difficult to understand him.

“Did I stutter? Stop touching yourself. Hands up, pretty boy.” You almost don't recognise your voice, an authoritative tone improper of a civilian talking to a lieutenant.

But he obliges, immediately, if he wasn't breathing so loud you could have heard the soft thud of his length falling red and angry over his abdomen. 

“For god's sake, sweetheart, please.” He groans, but you can no longer hear the mattress squeaking or his buckle being shaken. Obedient little soldier he is. 

“Who called me?” You ask, acting incredulous that he would now not let you do your part. He mumbles a tiny “me” making you smile once again. “Then do as I say, love.”

He huffs without a further complaint, waiting for your next words so he can finally move. 

“Put me on speaker, and the phone on your chest so your hands are free.” You say, moving to paint your other hand. He does as instructed, hearing the rustling of his shirt as he lays his phone. “Now wrap your hand around your dick, both of them, tight. And move, slowly!” 

You punctuate the last word with emphasis, hanging on the line to hear his movements but all you hear are his pretty sighs and puffs. You groan, making him stop in his movements once again. “Not your hands, Simon. Your hips. Move your hips.”

“What? Like-”

“Yeah, Simon. I want you to fuck your fists and imagine it is me the one your fucking.” You say, chuckling when you hear him moan. His voice sounds suddenly loudly and you assume his phone must have slipped up toward his face when he planted his feet on the mattress, thrusting his hips up. 

“There you go, good boy, Simon.” You say, melodic voice making Simon shudder as he throws his head back, moaning shamelessly as his hips move faster and faster to meet the tight embrace of his fists. 

Every time that an especially loud whine falls from his lips you coo at him, the mental image of him with his eyebrows furrowed, teeth digging into his bottom lip to try and catastrophically fail to keep his voice down making your mouth water. 

He calls your name again, begging for your attention as he mumbles incoherent words and you pity him only when you are done with your nails, waiting for them to dry as you turn your attention to him. 

“C’mon, darling.” You half-whisper to him. “Give it to me, love… Think that it is not your hands, think that it is my pretty cunt around your dick right now. I know you can.”

A cry of your name. 

“Think is my sweet cunt sucking you in, hm? Doing that thing that you love me to do.”

A low groan.

“Think that you are fucking me stupid, Simon. Moaning your name and milking you empty, love.”

A minute-long silence right before a chain of curses starts to spill from his lips, the squeaky sounds of the bed growing irregular as he cums over his own chest in thick spurs making him dizzy. 

You blow on your nails, happy with the results and waiting for your dear boyfriend to come down from his high as you sweet talk him. “You did so good, Simon… My darling… My sweet boy… My baby…”

“Watch it, you little minx”

You shiver at the sudden switch, remembering the temporal aspect of your position. Downing on you every single word you just pronounce and every condescending tone you use. 

Luckily for you, his deployment is meant to go on for a couple of weeks longer; enough for him to grow desperate enough and not pay you back with the same coin you just used. 

No need to worry about the consequences of your actions any time soon. 

“And by the way, sweetheart.” He says once his breathing is back to normal, the sound of his buckle jangling again. “The OP was cut short and I'm getting home sooner.”

You swallow. “How much is sooner?”

“Tomorrow's night”

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

@spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @arbesa-mind @cmbghost

@multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles

@cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria

@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow

@hxnneydew @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger

@soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust

@sodavrr @yuki2129 @idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune

@vane28282 @dracu1ara @vivi2e @lordbugs @murder-hobo

[monstersflashlight]

Thinking about your take on (any) monster eating an aphrodisiac candy on accident or like an accidental aphrodisiac pollen ingestion (from like just sniffing around scavenging/hunting) - if that makes sense? Just imagine them losing a bit of control, being so needy, and only wanting “it” to go away yet it feels too good to not be inside the reader… yea I’m totally normal about this.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with this and take your the time, make sure you are well rested and taking care of yourself! 💙

Hi anon! Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm trying to be kinder to myself and it's always nice to have a reminder. That said, I hope you like his little story I came up with. I went overboard with this. I don’t know where this came from but dang if it wasn’t fun. Hope you enjoy! <3

Wrong candy, right hole

Werewolf x fem!witch || dub-con, accidental drug ingestion, size kink, oral sex, knotting, breeding, squirting, lowkey somnophilia || tw: there’s mentions of anxiety and a panic attack

“I’m so fucking hungry, are you done?” He pushed his face against the side of your head, almost bent in half to do so, looking over your shoulder. When he pressed against your space so closely, you felt so tiny. Fucking werewolves being as big as a refrigerator.

“Wait a lil bit, dude. I need to finish this so I can send it today.” You told him, pushing his snot away from you. You were trying to pack the last products of the day before going for dinner. You told him that at least three times already, but he was so damn impatient. You kinda loved him for it, he was always so eager for everything you did together, it was charming in a way.

“But I’m hungry…” He whined, making you bite your lip to hide a smile. Your best friend was so cute when he was acting all puppy like. You though werewolves would be more dominant or something, but he was just a big furry himbo. And you had a bit of a crush on him, but you weren’t going to sexualize him that way. You knew part of the reason you had a crush was because of how big and imposing he was, how furry his body was… You had a bit of a monster kink, and well, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so you didn’t say anything about it.

You pointed at the counter and told him: “Eat some candy, they are over the counter.” He let out a happy sound as he marched to get them. You turned around in time to see him eating some of your last shipping products. Oh fuck.

“Uh, oh,” you mustered. This was bad, really bad.

“What?” He asked, opening his mouth wide, candy crumbs falling off. Gross.

You look at him with what you hoped was a sorry face. “You shouldn’t have taken that.” He didn’t eat the candies you were pointing to, he ate the ones your client specially asked for.

His face fell instantly, the worry in your tone not as hidden as you thought. “What? Why not?” You could see the gears in his brain turning, thinking about all the bad possibilities.

“It’s not candy,” you mustered, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but calculating how much time you had before it started to make an effect on him. Fuck, you didn’t know if it was going to be enough, it should be fast. Fuck.

“What?! You said I could take one.” He yelled at you, his voice growly and sexy, you tried not to think about that last part. Your lady parts would have to wait.

“The other ones, damn it. Now I have to make a new batch.” You tried not to sound annoyed about it, but those took so much effort to make… Damn it.

He looked at you like you were dumb and asked: “What were those, then?”

“Aphrodisiac candies,” you confessed slowly. The clock was ticking and you didn’t know how he would react, you normally provided them for other species, never for wolves.

“What?! WHY DID YOU HAVE THEM THERE?” He asked, starting to panic. You tried to calm him down by touching his chest, making him match your breathing. He complied, but with great effort. The clock was still ticking.

“It was an order. I was gonna pack them! But you ate them.” You kept breathing slowly, his big furry paw now on your chest, trying to breathe together. You learned about that when he had a panic attack the second time you two meet, and it had been helpful so many other times.

“What do I do? Give me the antidote,” he asked. You looked up at him with what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I- There’s none.” You tried to stop him from getting away, but he pushed you lightly and stepped back, his paws going through his head, frustration and anxiety very present on his features.

“What?!” He exclaimed. “I need to go. I need to get home, get my fleshlight. I don’t know. What do I do?” He sounded more panicked by the minute. You felt very sorry for him and even worse because it was technically your fault.

And then a light bulb turned on your head. “Or I could… I could help you,” you told him, looking to the ground, suddenly shy. You just offered your best friend to have sex with him to ride out the aphrodisiac he accidentally ate. Your brain wasn’t in the best place, but you couldn’t avoid the wetness between your thighs thinking about fucking him.

He turned to face you completely, his eyes so big it looked comical. “What?”

“Just… Just if you want to,” you muttered. Each second that passed it seemed like a bad idea. He was your best friend, he didn’t see you like that.

And then he deadpanned: “Are you saying you want me to knot you?” You blushed from your toes to your hair, hearing him talk about knotting made your pussy twitch and juices flow, you could feel the wetness on your panties growing uncomfortable.

“Dude when you say it like that.” You looked at him intently expecting him to say something else, but when he didn’t, you answered truthfully: “Yes, okay. Yes! I want you to knot me.”

“Am I taking advantage of you if we do this?” He asked, his tone worried. That made you confirm your choices. Of course you would do that for him, he was your best friend and the best werewolf you knew. He was better than any man, human, warlock or any other species you knew. He was just… him.

“No, I want this. I… I might have a bit of a monster kink…” You blushed again, and he smiled at you smugly. “Am I taking advantage of you?” You asked, matching his worried tone.

“No. I… I’ve had a crush on you since forever.” You looked at him perplexed, completely shook, what the fuck? “Your fucking candy also has some truth serum or what?” He asked and you remembered that yes, it did, fuck.

“Maybe… It’s to make the communication between partners better,” you explained. It sounded bad to your own ears, like a silly excuse for what was just happening, but you didn’t care. He had a crush on you. On you!

“Good lord, I’m never eating anything you give me ever again.” You chuckled at that, and he followed. But it was short lived. His laugh broke with a whine: “Fuck, it hurts.” He was palming his cock through the fabric of his pants and you could feel saliva pooling at your mouth. Dang you wanted to suck him off badly.

“Shit. Yeah, it should be starting to make effect.” He looked back at you with full on puppy eyes, making your heart constrict and your pussy get wetter. You pushed him backwards, and he let you guide him to the back room. You had a mattress there for when your long potions had to be made, so you could take a nap. You thanked the Goddess and pushed him on it. “Does this work?” You asked, sitting on his lap, you could see the outline of his dick and you wanted to explore every inch of him. He nodded eagerly, his paws grabbing your hips to grind your covered pussy against his dick. He whined and let out a long groan, a wet patch forming in his pants. “Did you just come?” The smile on your face was so big it hurt your cheeks.

He looked at you embarrassed. “Yes, fuck. What did you give me?” His hands kept moving your hips to grind against his dick and you were starting to lose your mind. The friction was so good you were close yourself.

You groaned and told him: “You ate it yourself. It’s… It’s supposed to make your sex experiences extremely pleasurable. And maybe… Maybe improve your stamina?” It wasn’t a question, it did improve stamina greatly, that’s why you never gave it to wolves or other species with already good stamina, their partners couldn’t hold that much time.

“I’m a werewolf, I already had enough stamina!” His words agreed with your inner turmoil. Fuck, his clothed dick against your wet panties felt wonderful. “Take off your clothes or I’ll rip them.” His low growl made you groan and more juices pooled on your panties. “Fuck, I can smell you. I can smell how wet you are.” You got up from his lap and started to get your clothes off. You were being too slow because he growled and tried to grab you. You stepped back and took care of the rest rapidly.

The second your clothes were off you, he was launching himself at you, his face going directly for your pussy. You felt his long tongue inside of you, so long and so inhuman that it was hitting every single place inside of you that made your toes curl. You kept cursing as your hands found his fur, you pulled and groaned as he ate you out like a desperate animal. You could see his hips grinding against the bed, he was probably making a mess. In your foggy brain, the pleasure hit a max level and you exploded, coming against his face as he licked every single inch of you.

He pulled back, his face contorted in what you only could describe as feral grin. He ripped off his own clothes, the sound of tearing fabric excited you. And then you saw his dick, and you twitched. He was so fucking big, his tip was red and big, leaking so much it looked shiny. But what scared you the most was the knot at the base, so big it was almost like your whole fist. Dang. You weren’t sure that was going to fit inside of you.

“I’m not sure that’s….” You tried to push away on the bed, but he grabbed your legs and pulled, positioning yourself perfectly for him. Your pussy on display and your legs over his shoulders.

“It will fit. I’ll make it fit.” His voice had an edge of danger and you shivered.

Your pussy was sensitive after the orgasm he just gave you, so when he pushed inside of you in one hard thrust you almost lost it. You arched your back and screamed at the top of your lungs. His mouth found yours, and he started kissing you, more teeth than lips. He didn’t wait, he didn’t let you warm up, he started fucking you hard and fast, your whole body moving when he pushed inside. When he bottomed out, you could feel his knot against your entrance, trying to slip inside, an insistent pressure driving you wild. He grabbed your hips and pulled them up, the perfect angle to hit your G-spot with every thrust. You were seeing stars as he grunted and growled against your open mouth. You weren’t kissing anymore, he was just licking the inside of your open mouth as you lost your body to pleasure.

He came inside you. Once. Twice. Three times. Maybe even four, you stopped feeling it when it started to be too much. You could feel his cum moving inside of you with each thrust. But he kept fucking you, using you like a toy for his pleasure, and you couldn’t even blame him for being rough because you were enjoying it a lot more than you should. You did that to him, but good lord if it didn’t feel like paradise. You lost count of how many orgasms you had as he pounded you, your body at his mercy.

When you thought it was impossible to feel more pleasure, you felt him slow down, pressing and pressing, and pushing and trying to stretch you impossibly wide. You thrashed under him, there was no way, but he didn’t mind your struggling as he forced his knot inside of you. You let out a cry as it fitted inside, you felt like he was breaking you apart in the best possible way. You didn’t know it could feel like that, you didn’t know it could feel so good. Your voice gave out before your body did, your scream turned silent as he bit and licked your neck, probably leaving a line of hickeys there. You didn’t care. It felt so good. Too good.

And then he pushed on your lower abdomen, making you feel so full and so weird, but it was so hot. You had so much cum in you, a bump in your lower abdomen indicating he came so many times you were knocked up for sure. You would need to make contraceptive potions tomorrow, but for now you could enjoy the feel of his cum inside of you. So much, so hot. It felt like molten lava was melting your insides as you came and came. And he came and came.

He moved his knot against your G-spot over and over, making you want to cry because of the pleasure. And then you felt the telltale sign that you were going to squirt. It only happened a couple times before, never with somebody else, but when you tried to alert him, your arms and legs wouldn’t respond. You could just lay there in silence as he took his pleasure on you, off you. You squirted, soaking his fur and making him stop for a second, surprised. His answering growl was so feral you felt it in your whole body. He came again. And again. And again.

At some point you passed out. Your body gave out. But you guessed he kept fucking you, the candy was supposed to last for hours. Well… You trusted him, he could fuck your asleep body as much as he wanted.

[her-favorite]

CLANDESTINE; M. STURNIOLO

BF!CHRIS STURNIOLO / MATT X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, dom!chris/sub!reader (soft dom!matt), MATT THE MUNCH!!!!, squirting, reader’s obvi on the pill blah blah blah, cheating?

people that wanted to be tagged!: @watercolorskyy @thepubeburgler @sturnsxplr-25

a/n: i kinda have an idea for a pt. 2 to this if anyone wants me to start working on it…

wc: 3,088

SYNOPSIS: Receiving a punishment from Chris was always brutal, but when he left you tied to his bed, what were you to do? Surprising you, an uninvited guest makes sure you feel better…

-

“Chris, please!”

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure to gag you, too.” Chris’s voice was stern as he tightened the rope around your wrists, securing your hands above your head. Shutting your mouth in response to him, your boyfriend hums in acknowledgment. “Good girl, keep that pretty mouth shut.”

Inhaling sharply through your nose, your fingers subconsciously twitch as they beg to be freed. For the past twenty minutes, Chris has been teasing you. Lying naked in his bed, you cried and begged for him to keep touching you and let you come, but he never gave in. By now, tears ran down the side of your face, melting down into the soft pillow below your head. Wanting to speak, you try to restrain yourself because you knew if you did, he’d make your punishment worse.

“Y’look so pretty, mama.” Chris mutters, running his large palms along your legs, just barely grazing your inner thighs on purpose. A whine erupts from your throat, causing a smirk to grow on your boyfriend’s lips. Slapping your thigh, he rejoices in the loud echo that sounded in his room, as well as the groan from you. “You wouldn’t have been here in the first place if you just behaved. But you’re such a slut for me, huh, ma?” He teases, his pink lips forming a smile once he sees you nod in response. He hums, squeezing the skin that he had smacked, making the burning sensation intensify. Your back arched slightly from the pain, inhaling shakily, still trying to keep your mouth shut.

“Now, I need to go and get a few things from the store,” Chris starts, immediately revealing to you what his plan was. He ignores the way you tug at the rope, only becoming more turned on by the way you express your need for him. “And I’ll be back when I get home.” He finishes vaguely, putting you more on edge than you already were.

“No, Chris, please—!” You start, the same tears forming again, quickly rolling down your face. With one look from him, Chris’s expression shuts you up, not without an involuntary exhale leaving your lips.

“If you keep up the attitude, I’ll make you stay like this for even longer than I planned.” He threats, his eyes sending daggers into yours. Sealing your lips, you keep eye contact with him until he looks away to turn towards his door. “Patience, baby.” Was the last thing he said before shutting the door behind him.

If you were honest, you didn’t know what you were going to do. You had no idea how long he was going to be gone for or where he was even going. Tugging lightly on the tight rope, a hiss leaves your lips once you feel it burn against your wrists. Deciding against trying to escape from the harsh hold, you swallow dryly and look around his room. You’ve been in here numerous times; you were sure you could pinpoint every detail of it if asked to.

Before you knew it (not that you could tell anyway), ten minutes had passed. Already becoming impatient, your body moved on his bed, at least trying to sit up, but with your arms placed above you, it restricted your movements. Groaning softly at the limitation, you let your body rest against Chris’s comfy bed, eyes scanning his blank ceiling.

Your heart raced as soon as it heard the door open, that familiar creak sounding throughout the room. Your head shot up, immediately thinking of Chris and how he was too impatient to leave you alone for too long. But that thought quickly left your mind as soon as you saw a tattooed arm welcome itself inside. Matt.

“Hey, I was gonna—” Matt begins, clearly thinking he’s talking to his brother, before his eyes met yours, his words cutting themselves off. “Oh, fuck.” He mutters, as if he caught sight of something he shouldn’t, which he has. His blue eyes rake over your bare body, noticing the way you’re straining against the rope that held you.

Too in shock of the situation, your mouth sealed itself shut, your mind screaming at you to say something, anything. Your boyfriend’s brother is seeing you naked! “Matt—!”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did he leave you here?” His words shock you, rendering you speechless. His tone was teasing, resembling Chris’s. Letting himself in, he shuts the white door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours. Clad in grey sweatpants and a plain white shirt, a bulge already forming at his crotch.

Going dumb, you nod your head in response, your chest fastening its pace. Were you really going to let your boyfriend’s triplet brother see you like this? What kind of girlfriend would you be if you let him take advantage of you?

As if sensing your sudden uncertainty, Matt takes a few steps forward and towers over the bed, standing by the foot of it. “Relax, baby, it’ll be okay. Just let me help you.” He soothes, reaching forward and resting his big hands on your ankles, gently gliding them up. “That okay with you, sweetheart?” He asks, the eye contact he’s holding with you making you melt. Nodding in reply, the need inside of you deciding your decision for you. With a smile, Matt whispers, “Good.”

Sighing softly once you feel his touch, your heart still hammers against your chest. You knew your wrists were going to be extremely sore once you’re free from the aggressive grasp of the rope, but as of right now, nothing inside you seemed to care. His palms traveled up your body, purposefully skipping where you needed him and trailing goosebumps up your sides. “So pretty.” Leaves his lips as his hands move towards your chest, swiping his finger of your sensitive nipple. Recalling the teasing from Chris earlier, your body was more responsive than usual, desperate for more than just fleeting touches.

Situating himself on the bed, Matt leans over you as he ducks down to press tantalizing kisses against your neck. His hands glide back down your body, resting on your thighs. A smile fills out his lips when he hears you gasp once his fingers finally make contact with where you craved him.

“You’re so fucking wet, Y/N.” He says, as if astonished by the way your body reacted. His slender fingers run up your slit, gathering the wetness, falling deep into the sounds you were making for him. “How bad do you want it, baby?” Matt asks before he presses sweet kisses against your skin, trailing down your body.

“I need you, Matt. Please.” The words fell from your lips as if routine. Deep down you knew it fed into Matt’s ego, but in the state you were in, nothing else mattered at the moment. By now, you felt your body cry for any sort of relief, begging to be claimed by someone.

“You’re such a good girl, sweetheart. Chris is so lucky, hm?” Matt mutters, knowing exactly what he’s saying behind his brother’s back. The man knew what he was doing was wrong, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’s always had an eye on you, and Chris knew that when the younger brother decided to go for you as well. “Leaving you here, all needy…” he tsks before continuing. “But I can make you feel so much better than he can, pretty girl.” Matt claims, domineering eyes meeting yours.

Before you could get a word out, the air was sucked out of your lungs as you felt Matt’s warm tongue lick a line up your slit. Gathering up your legs, Matt lets them rest over his broad shoulders, savoring the warmth you radiated onto him. Cold rings made goosebumps form on your skin every time they touched you, his thumbs holding your lower lips apart as he devours you. He eats you out as if he was begging for the chance his entire life; like he needed it more than oxygen.

Moaning in return of his actions, your hands moved faster than your brain as they craved to grip onto his soft hair, only to be restrained by the irritating rope. Noticing the harsh lines on your wrists, Matt pulls back from your pussy, smiling softly at the whine that left your lips. “You wanna touch me, baby?” He asks, pressing a quick kiss to your clit, watching you nod. He hums in acknowledgment and leans up to undo the knot, letting it fall from your aching arms and onto the bed. Sighing softly from the release of the tight rope, Matt smirks at your reaction.

Quickly leaning back down between your legs, he duplicates the same position as before, surprising you when his tongue meets your pussy again. Your hand flew down to his hair, tugging on it. Matt groans into you from the sensation, making your back arch as you gasp.

“Fuck, Matt,” your words were breathless as he makes you see stars. Moving one of his hands to your thighs, he squeezes your skin harshly, eliciting a moan from you. Bringing the opposite upwards, his long fingers rub your clit as his tongue enters you, your hand clutching his hair even tighter. Groaning again, Matt’s sounds vibrate against you, driving you even closer to the edge.

Pulling back slightly, Matt’s fingers travel down and quickly plunge inside you, resulting in a loud moan from you. Matt smiles at your sounds, pressing kisses to your inner thighs, looking up at your pleasure-filled face. Leaning down again, his pink, wet lips envelop your clit, the knot inside your stomach hanging on by a thread.

“You close, sweetheart?” His voice breaks you from your daze, nodding your head at his question. “Yeah? Good girl, cum for me, baby.” His fingers hit that spot inside you, rotating them around, the wet sounds echoing through the room. Matt began to grind into the mattress, everything about you; the way you look, the way your body reacts to him, the way you taste, getting him off.

Loud moans rip from your throat, one hand gripping the soft sheets as the other grasps Matt’s hair harshly. As the band snaps, you feel your legs shake, trapping the man between them. “Holy shit.” Matt mutters, yet it barely reaches your ears in your pleasured state.

Inhaling shakily, your body starts to recover from the intense orgasm, chest still heaving. Opening your eyes, they meet Matt’s as he sports a wide grin. Wincing slightly once he gently takes his fingers away, you just start to notice the now-damp shirt he supported, as well as his wet chin. Feeling your body heat up in embarrassment, you look away from him and up at the ceiling.

“That was so fucking hot.” Matt’s words cut you out of your thoughts, making your head turn towards him. He leans down and presses scattered kisses to your sensitive pussy, making your legs twitch.

“Matt, I can’t,” your words are broken as your hands push on his head, yet it does nothing to move him. Leaving one more kiss, Matt leans away and sits up on his knees. His view of you was to die for: the tired look in your eyes, your legs spread wide, your hair a mess over the pillow, yet still in need of more.

Trailing your eyes down his body, they center in on the bulge in his gray sweats, the thin fabric protruding it more than usual. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As if he knew what you were thinking, Matt reaches his arms back to get rid of his shirt, tossing it next to him on the bed. Leaning down to hover over you, his blue eyes never look away from yours, only teasing you more. His swollen lips share your breathing as they stay just inches away from yours. Surprising you, a sudden hand holds the bottom of your chin as he moves down to kiss your neck again. He lets his palm rest there, not putting enough pressure to hurt you, but enough to make you stay in place.

“You listen so well, sweetheart.” Matt mutters against your hot skin, nipping slightly, wary incase he makes a mark. Trailing his hand down, it lands on your breast, squeezing it softly before circling the pad of his thumb on your nipple.

Moaning quietly from his actions, one of your arms wraps around his bare shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer to you.

“You want it, baby?” He asks, moving up as he props himself up on his hand, looking down at you. With a nod from you, he stays watching you, clearly wanting verbal approval.

“Yes, Matt, please.” You reply desperately, moving your hands up to glide down his chest. With a smirk in response, he leans back down to press more kisses against your neck, trailing down to your collarbone.

“Of course, you do, princess. Y’want my cock so far inside you, hm?” He hums nonchalantly, as if he isn’t saying the most sinful words in your ear. Nodding again, one of your hands meets his hair, grasping the soft strands and pulling on them. Eliciting a groan from the man, his hands suddenly take hold of your thighs and wrap your legs around his waist, bringing you as close as possible to him. “You ready, sweetheart?” Matt mutters, pressing a kiss against your temple.

Uttering a quiet “yes,” Matt lines himself up with you before pushing forward. Wincing from the stretch, your nails dig harshly into his bare shoulders, taking a groan out of Matt’s lips.

“Taking me so well, baby.” He mutters as he waits for you to get comfortable, groaning once he pushes all the way inside. After a bit, and confirmation from you, his hips move backwards before thrusting forward, sucking the air from your lungs as your mouth opens in pleasure. “That feel good?” Matt teases with a smile, rhythmically starting to move his hips.

“Yes, fuck!” A cry leaves your lips once he hits a certain spot, your nails clawing down his pale back, red marks quickly forming. Moaning at the feeling, Matt’s hips quicken their pace, painfully hard ever since he stepped foot in Chris’s room and saw you. Over time, he grew exceedingly desperate for you; just watching you writhe underneath him could’ve gotten him off.

“Knew you’d feel so good, baby- shit.” Matt cut himself off with a guttural groan, leaning down to rest his head in your neck. Your thighs tighten their hold around his waist, your head thrown back against the soft pillow under you. His words register in your mind, yet they don’t have much of an impact yet.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can,” he exhales harshly, moving back to lean on his forearms again so he can look at you. “I can feel you clenching around me. ‘Want you to come for me, princess.” Matt rests his forehead against yours, still thrusting forward, his hips smacking against your skin. Your moans melt into his as your lips stay inches away from each other, your breathing joining his.

Reaching one hand up, it engulfs one of your breasts in his large palm, the sudden pressure throwing you off guard as it adds to the already overbearing pleasure.

“Matt, please,” your voice was yearning for relief as you start to beg, like how Chris always wants you to. “Please, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby. No need to beg.” Matt cuts you off, his hips never relenting their brutal pace. Your back arches as white flashes behind your eyelids, stars evident as you close them. Crying out of pure ecstasy, your nails dig even deeper into his marked back, your legs shaking as you come undone.

Watching you, Matt’s driven closer to the edge, taking in his view of you. His hips grow sloppy as he nears his orgasm, breathing heavily from the pleasure. “Where do you want me, baby?” He groans, his pace yet to stop.

“Inside me.” The words leave your lips before you could think. Matt quickly complies, moving his hips forward a few more times before a low groan escapes his lips as the same knot that was once tightening in your stomach, releasing in his.

Both of your chests heaved as you calmed down from your highs, bodies spent and tired. Once Matt gathered up the strength, he leaned back on his forearms and let his eyes graze over your face. Not being able to help himself, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, shocking you. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t kiss back.

Pulling away slowly, the smirk on Matt’s face never faltered. With you still recovering, your eyes grew tired, not paying attention to your surroundings. They shoot open once you feel Matt’s hands envelope your wrists and put them above your head, wrapping the rope that he placed beside you around you again. Tying it gently, still cautious of your already sore skin, he rests them back against the pillow above you, mimicking the way it was when he had walked in.

“Good luck, baby.” Matt smiles before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I think he’s back.” Pulling away, the smile doesn’t leave his lips as he gets up, throwing on his clothes and sending you a wink before quietly leaving Chris’s room.

Lying there in astonishment, your eyes are locked on the closed door, replaying everything that just happened over in your head. Your heartbeat spikes as soon as you hear muffled talking, your mind immediately registering it as your boyfriend’s and his brother, the one that just fucked you.

The door creaks open, revealing Chris as he sets down a plastic bag before shutting the door behind him. Noticing how you were still in the same position as before, Chris smirks and makes his way over to the foot of his bed.

“So gorgeous, mama. You’re so patient for me.” He runs his hands over your legs, causing the same trail of goosebumps as Matt’s did. Leaning forward, he hovers over you, pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. Licking over your lip, his tongue grants itself access, swallowing your quiet moan. Peeking his eyes open just slightly, they trail up to the rope that secured your pained wrists. Deepening the kiss, his tongue meets yours, quickly taking control of the situation.

That was when he noticed the knot was different.

[luveline]

oh my, oh my. I adored your fics where reader is smitten over reid with his glasses and then where reid is smitten with reader in her glasses! can I request something similar with hotch, where he's the one flustered - or, at least, his reaction lol - by reader wearing her glasses for the first time? <3

thank you for your request <3 fem

“Hotch, can I ask you something?” 

He hadn’t heard you knock, lost in thought behind his desk, and he knows you won’t begrudge him for failing to look up. “Of course,” he says. 

“I went to the eye doctor a few days ago and everything was fine, but she said my contacts are gonna keep degrading my eye health, apparently, if I keep wearing them. Do you think I could wear my glasses in the field?” 

Hotch takes a moment for your asking to catch up with him, desperately printing the last of his thoughts into a consult note. He makes a spelling mistake in his rush. Frowning, he crosses it out and corrects it neatly. “Uh, you want to start wearing glasses in the field?” 

“Yeah. Do you think that would work?” 

“I don’t see why not.” He stops himself firmly, before he can call you honey. Hotch doesn’t want to patronise or condescend you even in his thoughts, but he has to remark to himself that you sound adorably over-concerned. “Reid picks and chooses when he wears his own glasses, and he’s never…” 

He’d finally managed to tear his gaze from his desk and found you standing further away than he’d thought, in a black pencil skirt that flares out gently at the end like a flower bulb, a neat shirt with a triangular collar showcasing just a slip of your chest and the small silver necklace you wear. None of this is unusual, Hotch is used to finding you charming and lovely by now, it’s the glasses that shock him. He hadn’t realised you’d actually be wearing them. 

They’re not thick nor too thin, simple black frames made of a translucent plastic. They’re glasses like any other, and Hotch can’t diagnose his own reaction to it. Perhaps it’s how they sit on your nose, or the cutesying effect they give your expression. They make your eyes look a little darker than usual. They’re everything. 

“Hotch?” you ask. 

“He’s never had any problems,” Hotch finishes, ever so slightly breathless, his hands falling to his thighs. 

“They look stupid.” 

“What?” 

You raise the back of your hand to your cheek and press it there with fingers curled loosely inward, “I know they look silly, I haven’t worn them in a while, but my eyes hurt everyday with those contacts, no matter how much saline I use–”

“No,” he says. He stands, and he swallows against nothing. It’s embarrassing for his age. “They don’t look silly. You should wear whatever makes you most comfortable.”  

“I knew they looked silly,” you say again, turning toward the door. “Sir, you just stared at me. I never should’ve let Spencer tell me they looked cute.” 

“They do look cute,” Hotch says, rounding his desk. He stands in front of it rather than crowd you at the door. 

He isn’t unaware of his own influence. His moving has stopped you from leaving. His compliment, especially one far from his usual professionalism, sticks you like a flytrap. 

“You look just as nice with them as you do without them,” he furthers. “I’ve never seen you wear them before.”

“Well, I was always underwhelming, growing up. I didn’t think glasses helped.” 

“Underwhelming?” he asks. 

You smile like you’ve caught him. He doesn’t like to be caught, and he turns away to pretend to look for something, but he’s saved by another presence on the landing. 

“Oh my god,” Morgan says, looking you up and down with an affirmative, sweet appreciation. Morgan might make a show of it sometimes, but he’s genuine as he continues, “Sweetheart, what am I gonna do with you?” 

“They’re not strange?” you ask.

“Is that what the boss man said?” 

You look back at Hotch bashfully, and that look alone catches him all over again. Morgan watches through the doorway and he knows he’s doomed —Hotch’s feelings are, for that split-second, plain as day. 

“He didn’t say they were strange, no,” you say gently. 

Hotch wonders if he should insist on contacts after all. “They’re suitable for every day.” 

“Suitable,” Morgan says. 

Hotch gives him a you’re-pushing-it squint and everyone decides they have things to be doing, leaving him alone to panic. (He doesn’t panic, he’s not the type, he just remembers your new look and feels his heart give irregular pangs a few times an hour for the rest of the afternoon.) 

[mead-iocre]

Lip Plumper | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: Leah doesn't like your new (expensive) lip plumper

warnings: gets a liiiitle bit suggestive towards the end, language

wc: 3.9 K

“Hiya!” You flash a grin at the camera. Your eyes scan the influx of viewers and comments from fans greeting you back. “Hi, Grace! Hello, Liz!” You give the camera a quick wave, trying to say hello to a few names that you pick out from the flood of comments. 

“Right then” You bring your hands together, and then pause for dramatic effect. “Since many of you enjoyed my last live, I thought it would be fun to do another one” 

As an avid tiktok user, it was no surprise to everyone when you discovered the existence of tiktok live. You found a lot more enjoyment in sitting and chatting to people than learning choreography for a fifteen second dance video. Since then, you’ve become synonymous amongst the team as being the “live-streamer”, and they would often ask you when your next livestream session will be just so they can annoy you in the comments. Lately, you’ve started inviting some of your teammates to the livestreams as guests or as background entertainment, much to the enjoyment of the fans. 

but without a doubt your favourite livestream partner was your girlfriend– Leah. 

Leah didn’t really understand why you enjoyed live-streaming so much. Talking to strangers and answering the most random questions for almost an hour straight did not appeal to the blonde, but she didn’t mind sitting with you through it. You would usually ask her if she was up for it beforehand, but other times your girlfriend will surprise you (and the viewers) just by plopping down on the sofa right next to you and smiling at the camera. Comments would be flooded with “ask Leah to join!” “Leah!! Omg!!!” “Nooo come back Leah” but you would just laugh them off and say she’s busy.

You knew the Arsenal fans adored you but the fans’ love and adoration for their lifelong Gooner is like no other, and you really didn’t mind it. You were more than happy to comply with their demands of seeing your girlfriend from time to time, giving the fans updates on what Leah was up to when they asked.

Today, it was one of your solo livestreams. The whole team had been given the day off and you didn’t feel like making any plans to go out so you and your girlfriend decided to spend the rest of the day at home. Leah initially suggested going out for lunch and visiting a new restaurant that had just opened, but then said she was too lazy to go out so you ended up cooking lunch at home instead. 

lauren.g: heyyyyyy 

meadoooo: no practice today?

nelly: hatty on sunday incoming 

macabeonsnap: invite katie to join you on live!

You giggle at some of the comments. One of your favourite parts of live streaming was the comments from fans and you always try to interact with them when you can. You glance at the top corner of the screen and grin at the numbers popping up. 3.1k.

“Wow. Three thousand of yous already?! I’ve only just started!”

“Anyways– as I was saying” You pull your makeup bag towards you, revealing it the camera. “I thought I would answer some of your questions while I do my makeup– yeah, yes I do have plans later– me and Leah are going out tonight!”

You smile when the comments come through faster now that you’ve mentioned Leah. You can just about read a few comments asking you to invite her as they speedily fly through the screen to make room for the new comments. 

“Leah can’t join us at the minute, guys. She’s busy doing sudoku in the living room” You snicker; thinking of your girlfriend who was currently in the living room, laying comfortably on the sofa, a new sudoku booklet on her lap, and a footy match playing on the tv. You unzip your makeup bag and slowly pull out all the products you are going to use. You turn back to the camera. “You can start sending in some questions and I’ll try to answer them if I can” 

You grab your bottle of tinted moisturizer, shaking the bottle before uncapping it. You pump out an appropriate amount and then dab the product all over your face, smoothing it out with a beauty blender. In the middle of blending the moisturizer, you glance at the comments. 

genevieve382773: yeahhh the beauty influencer !!!!!!

redwhitefc: babe it might be time to clean that beauty blender 

stargirl23: y/n are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten-I-see  

gooners(taylor’s version): blend blend blend 

You practically cackle at the pick up line, head thrown back and everything. It was such a perfect pick-up line for you considering you wear the number 10 for Arsenal. You didn’t even hear the sound of Leah opening your shards bedroom door until she speaks up. “Right what’s going on here then? You’re having too much fun without me”

“Love! I–“ You start but you burst into laughing again when you think back to the pick-up line. You wave her over to you, tears forming in your eyes from laughing so hard. Your girlfriend walks the short distance and stands by you. When she spots your phone on titkok live on the dresser, she leans down slightly so she is in frame and gives the camera a quick wave. 

The comments go crazy. 

“What’s got my missus laughing like that, eh?” Leah playfully furrows her eyebrows at the camera, trying to look intimidating, but her messy bun and lion king pyjama top is doing her no favours. 

Eventually you calm yourself enough to explain the comment and the pick up line, somehow managing to be coherent enough for Leah to understand the gist of it. 

“Right that’s actually quite funny“ Leah shakes her head in amusement and grins at the camera. “But quit flirting with my girl. That’s enough, yeah” 

olly:  okay jelly shelly omg

milodino: MY GIRL??? chat is this true???

stargirl21: leave her for me y/n. I can ride a bike !!!!

emiiiily: that's literally my wife. come home y/n the kids miss you

↪ starry replies to milodino: they're lesbians, milodino. 

just.woso: the comments ijbol 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“What did you need, love?” You dab the corner of your eyes, finally calming down. You watch with fond eyes as Leah shakes her head lightly, looking down at you from her standing position beside you. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear sweetly. “Nothing, just wanted to see you.” 

Then she turns to the camera. “But you’re clearly busy, so I’ll come back later.”

Leah drops a quick kiss to the side of your head, gives the camera a mock two-finger salut and leaves the room, closing the door gently behind her. 

You press your lips together, trying to smother the grin that was threatening to escape your lips. Even after months of being together and spending most of your time with each other, your girlfriend still gave you butterflies. 

Taking the tube of concealer, you lightly dabbed it under your eyes and over any blemishes, blending it seamlessly with the beauty blender. Then, you grab your favourite tube of liquid blush, a shade of rosy red, to add a hint of colour to your cheeks. Finally, you brush on a coat of black mascara to enhance your lashes, framing your eyes with subtle definition. You would periodically turn to the comments, answering a few questions when you can, before turning back to your mirror to focus on your makeup. As you lean back slightly to scrutinise your finish look, you suddenly remember something. 

“Oh right!” You scramble off your chair and run into your closet, grabbing the item that you were looking for from inside your bag. You race back to the room, your hair slightly frizzy from your sudden rush, and proudly show off the item to your livestream of nearly 5 thousand viewers. “I bought this lip plumper thing the other day and I’ve been wanting to try it out”

You settle back into your chair, releasing the lip plumper from the confines of it’s box. When you read a comment asking you about the name of the lip plumper, you roll the tube in your hands, trying to find the name of the brand.

“Do you know what guys– this thing was expensive! But I saw a tiktok video and just had to— I was influenced alright!” 

You pick up the box, inspecting the text at the back. “La Mer’s Lip Volumiser utilises its exclusive lip-plumping Renewal Complex blah blah blah….this serum-strength lip treatment is powered by La Mer’s cell-renewing Miracle Broth, a marine-powered fermented patent powered by sustainably-grown Pacific Sea Kelp hand-harvested from Vancouver Island’s surrounding waters…”

You glance at the camera, confusion written all over your face. “What the hell am I reading”

emmylemony: girl we don’t know you’re the one reading it

michaylaaaaaaaa: £72?!?!?

wosoforthegirlies: I understood nothing

russoairways: bro why are you putting sea kelp on your lips 

↪ bellasbaee replies to michaylaaaaaaaa: SEVENTY TWO GREAT BRITISH POUNDS?!?

“Anyways. This thing” You discard the box to the side and wave the tube in the air. “is supposed to make my lips look good, so let’s try it out”

Your fingers dance over the smooth surface of the cap before you twist it open, feeling a satisfying click. You pull the applicator loaded with the product away from the tube, carefully swiping the gloss across your bottom lip and then doing the same for your top lip. You lightly press your lips together, spreading the gloss evenly, feeling the rich, yet slightly sticky texture. 

At first glance your lips glistened with a perfect sheen, the subtle pink tint enhancing their natural colour.

You turn back to the livestream, pouting your lips towards the camera playfully. “Okay. It’s on– what do we think?”

Smiling at the flood of comments of fans, it’s mostly compliments but you catch a few questioning whether you can feel the spicy, plumping effect yet. 

“My lips are actually burning now” You laugh, touching the slide of your lips with your thumb, cleaning away any excess product. The gloss now feels cool on your lips, the tingling sensation begin to take effect. “But I’m not sure if my lips actually look…plumper?”

Just as those words leave your lips, you hear the door to your room open again. You glance towards it, smiling when your girlfriend cheekily winks at you before she heads straight into your shared walk in closet. 

“Baby, we’re leaving in an hour by the way! Reservations at seven!” You hear from the closet. You hum aloud in agreement, far to engrossed at your shiny new tingly lips and the comments on the live. 

“Right” You clap your hands together, leaning back slightly and fixing your hair. “This is my makeup for tonight’s date. I honestly don’t wear a lot of makeup because I usually end up falling asleep with it on– don’t do that kids– also…”

You get distracted when you see catch Leah walking out of the closet in your peripheral. She has changed out of her loungewear and was already dressed for tonight’s date– and she looks damn good. She was wearing a classic black button-down linen shirt, slightly oversized, with sleeves she had rolled up to her elbows, revealing the simple gold bracelet that you had given her for her birthday that year. On her left wrist, she sported her sleek Rolex watch, the one she never leaves the house without, and an extra thin black hair-tie for your sake– you are always looking for one and she wants to be prepared. She has left the top few buttons undone, showcasing a delicate gold necklace with your initials, that rested just above her collarbone. 

The matching shorts completed the co-ord, cinched at the waist with a drawstring that was tied into a neat bow. The shorts were tailored enough to look polished but loose enough to maintain the relaxed, effortless style Leah has been into lately. She paired the outfit with her favourite pair of white leather trainers, and her staple pair of arsenal cannon earrings.

You watch as your girlfriend walks over to where you were still seated by your vanity, snatching her bottle of perfume and popping the cap off. 

Shit, she was hot. 

Leah is, in your humble opinion, the most attractive person you had ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are a piercing shade of blue, framed by naturally long, dark lashes that flutter with every movement. Her nose is straight and slender, and sits above a pair of full, expressive lips that often break into an easy confident smile in front of the cameras, or a smug smirk when she’s in the mood to tease you. Her jawline is defined and her neck is slender, a personal favourite of yours, proven by the amount of kisses and hickeys you like to bestow upon it neck frequently. 

You watch as she cranes her neck slightly, spraying a few spritzes of perfume on both sides. You feel the sudden urge to deliver a sweet bite on the spot on her neck that makes her moan.

And she probably sensed your thoughts because she held your gaze, that familiar smirk on her lips, before she gestured to your on-going livestream with a nudge of her chin. Oh!

You risk a glance at the comments. 

mollie_mae: girl we’re still here…

stargirl23: Was that Leah that walked over? 

tilly: She was definitely looking at leah 

bellasbaee: GET A ROOM 

lessisflyingboots: same y/n. same. 

kryystal: GET LEAH ON PLEEK

“Anyways I’m about to end the video here! Thanks for spending time with me and letting me yap on about things…”

Leah walks over, crouching down beside you and cages you in her arms. She flashes a quick smile at the camera before turning to you, smiling fondly and whispering “my yapping yapper”

She leans over and kisses you sweetly. 

But then abruptly pulls away for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, her lips smacking together. You were about to make a joke about how you had brushed your teeth earlier but then she speaks

“What the fuck?” You girlfriend mutters in a low voice, leaning back slightly away from you.

She grabs a hold of your head with both hands, leans forward and kisses you again, taking your lower lip in her mouth and sucking on it lightly. She pulls back and this time her face is contorted in pure disgust. “Baby, what the fuck is that on your lips?”

Leah takes the bottom edge of her shirt, pulling it up and wiping her lips against it aggressively. Good thing she’s wasn’t standing directly in front of the camera or else she would’ve flashed her abs to nearly 7k people. When she’s had enough of exfoliating her lips clean, she lets her shirt fall and glares up at you. 

“Get that shit off your lips” Leah demands, one finger raised and pointed. She crosses her arms over her chest, her blue eyes glancing down periodically at your lips with a look of digest on her face. Her eyebrows are still knitted together furiously. 

You raise an eyebrow of your own at her, mirroring her crossed arms. “Excuse me?”

“m’not kissing you with that all over your lips, mate.” Your girlfriend gets up from her crouched position, spins on her heel and practically marches out the door to your bedroom, leaving you completely dumbfounded.  

You glance at your phone and nearly crack a smile at how quickly the comments were coming in. If it was any other time, you would be more than happy to laugh along with fans who were obviously very entertained by Leah’s reaction to the lip plumper, but you knew it would be wrong to continue any further. 

sofiamia: NEEED A GIRLFRIEDN PLS

eveliiiina: They are so cute wtf

jojo_mojo: okay who want me??????

Awfc4me: JBCEWHCIBALCHC CUTE

“Right, I’m actually going to end the stream here” You hover your finger over the end button. “Thanks again for joining me. Bye everyone!” You muster a quick wave at the camera, blowing a quick kiss, and then click the button to end the live. You lock your phone, placing it face up on the dresser. 

You were just about to call out for Leah when you hear her stomping back into the room. She trudges over to you, and holds out a wad of tissues. You glance at the tissues hovering in front of your face, and then eye your girlfriend. “What are these for?”

“Wipe that shit off.”

“No.” You lean back on your chair. You had just bought this lip product and it was stupidly expensive. You weren’t about to wipe it off just because your girlfriend was having a tantrum. “I just put it on, Lee” 

“Well then it won’t be hard to take off, will it” Her mild Milton Keynes accent intensifies when she’s upset. Her vowels are shorter and her speech becomes faster, almost slurring her words together, exactly as she was doing right now.

“Lee–“

“Baby, my lips tingled.” Part of you wants to giggle at how utterly fed up she looks. Another part of you couldn’t help but admire how attractive your girlfriend look when she’s all worked up

but now was not the time. 

"Lips aren’t supposed to tingle and burn y’know” She continues, gesturing wildly at her own lips. 

You roll your eyes. Leave it to your girlfriend to exaggerate things. “Love, it’s just a lip plumper…”

“A what? Baby, you don’t need that” Leah bends down slightly in front of you, your eyes now levelled. You watch as her eyes focus in on your lips, slightly glazed over, almost as if in a trance. “Your lips are perfect as they are” She mutters.

Your girlfriend thumbs the corner of your lips, before moving to caress your bottom lip. There's a familiar softness in her gaze, a look only reserved for you. She moves her gaze from your lips to the rest of your face; her pupils are dilated, letting in more light as if they are trying to absorb every detail of you before they settle on your lips again. Your lips which are still wet and shiny from the gloss. Your breath catches at the intensity of her gaze. You feel her thumb swiping at your bottom lip gently– intimately– and you think it’s sweet at first but then you realise–

“Oi! You’re wiping it off, Lee!” You recoil away from her touch, scowling up at her. 

“s’sticky too. bloody hell” She mutters, more to herself. She’s wiping her thumb on her shirt so aggressively you wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to burn a hole into it. 

She stops briefly to look at you again. “Baby, how am I supposed to kiss you when you wear that stuff”

“No one said you had to stop kissing me”

Leah glances down at your lips again, cringing slightly at the shine that still lingers on your bottom lip. 

Looks like she didn’t wipe it all off. 

Your girlfriend closes the distance between you, cupping your face in her hands. She freezes for a moment and wets her own lips, her furrowed eyebrows– a familiar determined look on her face– and you open your mouth, ready to cut off whatever shit she’s about to spew, but her lips meet yours before you can get any words out.

Leah’s lips meet yours hastily this time, as if she is a woman starved. From the months of being together, you have come to know just how skilled of a kisser your girlfriend is. You are more than happy to follow her lead, often trusting her to lead the kiss since she’s so good at it. She can kiss softly, gently, when the mood is right– prolonging the intimacy of a dance only the both of you are a part of. She would direct your head with a steady hand, tilting it ever so slightly so she can kiss you much deeper. Her lips would part deliberately, gently slotting between yours with careful ease because she wants it to be perfect for you every single time.

But other times, Leah was a little…rougher. She would kiss you like she was about to devour you, like you were the last meal on earth served up to her in a shiny silver platter. Often times it was messy, sloppy and the sounds you both made could made a priest in a confession booth blush. If a moan slips out, she would reward you with a low chuckle, smiling into your lips before she would go back to devouring you. Her hands would travel down to you hips, waist– ass– squeezing and groping any sliver of your skin she can. She doesn’t like to pull away first, often letting out a groan of disapproval when you make the move to end the kiss. The only time Leah would ever end the kiss first is if so she can admire the rosy flush of your cheeks, and the way you always take a second or two longer to open your eyes again, eyes hooded with a drunken grin on your face. 

The way she was kissing you right now was a mix of the two. Sloppy, but gentle. She’s leading the kiss, and you have no choice but to follow. One hand is tilting your head slightly, but the other hand has started the journey down to you waist where she gives it a quick squeeze before she pulls your body even closer. Your hands are on her hips– fingers grasping the fabric of her shirt, mainly because you have to be touching her too, but also so you can steady yourself against the intensity of the kiss. 

Leah finally pulls away, ending the kiss with one last, sharp, teasing bite to your bottom lip. Your eyes are hooded when she pulls away, and you can see her smirk slightly when she sees the lack of lip product on your lips. 

She kissed it all off. 

You watch as your girlfriend smacks her lips together, probably tasting a bit of the gloss, but the furrow of her eyebrows is gone. Leah presses her lips against your bare ones one more time, giving you one more smacking kiss and almost putting you off balance by the sheer force of it. She smiles down at you adoringly, loving that dazed look in your eyes because she was the cause of that.

She cradles your face to one side, pushing your hair behind your shoulder and baring your neck to her. She lays one wet kiss to that sensitive spot on you neck before you feel her lips move up to your ear. 

“…it’s going in the bin, baby.” 

Before you could fully process what your girlfriend had just confessed, the girl had already snatched the lip plumper from where it was sitting on your desk, and was speeding out the door. 

You could only stare at the slightly swinging door in disbelief before you force yourself to snap out of your leah-drunk haze, and sprint out the door right after her. 

“YOU CHEEKY FUCKER! GIVE IT BACK”

made this slightly longer as a little treat for leaving yall hanging last month lol. pls forgive me <3

it's been nice and sunny lately so im hoping this lasts until the end of the week, but you never know with British weather. hope everyone's has a great week ahead.

thank you for being so patient and being here. I appreciate you more than you know,

-- kisses, butter.

[josephquinnswhore]

disarmed - joel miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve been travelling with Joel for months, harbouring feelings for one another. Tommy helps the two of them realise how they feel.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, mentioned a few times that joel is still grieving Sarah, jealousy, possession, age gap. Joel is in his forties and reader mid-twenties. Post outbreak fic. Reader had some dirty thoughts about joel.

Note: I’ve been awol for three months. Hello friends!! @katiexpunk Part two > testament to you.

"Ain’t gonna give up on me are ya?"

Joel calls out, checking over his shoulder to see if you're still behind him. You two have been travelling for hours, with the crunch of your boots against the snow that began to fall on the previous evening—the first official day of winter. They needed to reach Jackson before a mound of snow covered the area, or otherwise they would never know how long they would be there in this endless stretch of open space. With the possibilities of being stuck in a snowstorm, it dawned on them; the pressure to get to their destination.

Joel's crooked, uneven, scowling facade did nothing to keep you out or to halt your innate desire to preserve yourself by desperately attempting to make a connection with him, but for some reason, you had managed to accomplish what no one else could.

Make him feel affection, which of course, came with the pure unbridled fear at the thought of something happening to you. A fear he had not felt since..

“Not long to go now,” he murmurs, trying not to think about his past, his voice softening as he waits for you to catch up, he can see you are making the effort to keep up, your legs picking up their stride in an attempt to match his pace. Even so, at this rate they wouldn’t make it to Jackson before nightfall.

The weary look you give does nothing to comfort him either, internally, he cant stop any thought about you, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling, other than the pure exhaustion he could feel radiating from your pained expression and lame movements.

They were nearly at Jackson, to Tommy, after months of travelling and struggling for food, fighting against raiders and infected, Joel had made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to get you to Jackson. They had to make it today, before the sun fell, they were struggling for rations, between them, they had a can of baked beans left, two decades old and barely edible, it's clear to Joel that you’re losing hope.

“I know, not long, right?” You manage to reply after a few moments of thinking to yourself. The two of you had been surviving on scraps for weeks, you couldn't remember what it was like to eat a proper meal. For your stomach not to grumble and ache in hunger.

“When we get to Jackson they’ll have a bed for us, a real bed, probably a proper shower too, an’ food. Somethin’ for us to look forward to.” He glances your way, attempting to lift your spirits.

A crack of a smile stretches your lips, thinking about hot water, a real warm meal. “I don't remember the last time I had a real shower.”

“You’ll be able to finally wash that grease out of your hair too,” he mutters under his breath with a cheeky grin. He could only wonder how bad the two of them must smell at this point. Hes probably grown accustomed to the smell of his own putrid stench. A mix of grease, gunpowder, blood, dirt and body odour. You never complained though.

“Like you can talk, the stench coming from you is foul, old man.” A playful jest comes from you, one that makes joel smile, before feigning offence, he brings his hand to his chest as he scoffs. “Like you're any better.”

His lips turn into a genuine smile as the two of them share a light hearted moment, something that feels like it had been weeks since had happened – he can't help but admit to himself that.. it feels nice. That he enjoys seeing this side of you, that he could be the one to make you happy.

The playful smile on your face slowly slips into the same tight line it had been for weeks on end. The monotonous expression Joel had become so accustomed to.

“Whats on your mind? Somethin’ botherin’ you?” Joel asked, sensing that something was off with you.

“Hm? Oh, no I'm good, just get stuck in my head sometimes I guess.” You manage to excuse yourself.

He knew very well what that was like, he himself spent a lot of time stuck in his head, they were more alike than he had anticipated. “That’s alright, I understand.” He reassures her.

You can't help the way you feel something for him, noting the way his hazel eyes always softened when he looked at you, his voice soft. But the constant fear nagged you, about the age gap, he was in his forties, and you only in your mid twenties. Did he see you as a kid? Did he see you as a woman?

Joel always tried to remind himself that you weren't a little girl, even with the evident age gap between the two, he still saw you as a capable, beautiful woman. He couldn't deny the way he felt when he was the one to make you laugh, those beautiful eyes of yours and how expressive they were. He couldn't deny he felt something for you, which puzzled him, it was a feeling he thought he would never experience.

The snow begins to fall heavier, and with how long they had to go to Jackson, Joel knew it would be best if they stopped for the night, to try and find some shelter for them, for her. As if an otherworldly god hears their thoughts, a small cabin comes into the near distance. You hope wordlessly that Joel would offer to stop for the evening. If not, begrudgingly for a few hours, at least.

He motions for you to follow him, in the direction of the cabin. “That looks like a safe place to camp for the night, whaddya think?” To Joel, this was an easy decision, he was tired of seeing you shiver when you camped outside, clutching to the sleeping bag for a sliver of warmth, the thin material never did much to sooth your chattering teeth. He doesn't want you sleeping outside ever again, if he had any say over the matter.

“You think it’s safe?” Your eyes scan the area, it looks abandoned.

Joel nods as he cracks open the door, scowling as the door creaks open loudly. He leads the way inside the empty cabin, he does a quick scan of the place before he steps inside, out of the snow. Its a fraction warmer inside, something you can appreciate as you close the door behind you.

“Stay close.” He whispers, keeping an eye out, the cabin was clear after searching for a few minutes, it’s a small area, a broken lounge in the same living space as the kitchen. The floorboards in the corner are starting to rot due to a leak in the roof, some of the snow falling through to the inside of the cabin. “Looks like we're all good in here, I’ll look around and see what I can find, we’ll sleep here for the evenin’.”

You shrug off the heavy pack that had been clinging in the same sore spot for hours on end, shoulders aching dully as you roll them, reaching your hands back to massage the sore spots. Your fingers are cold and stiff as you unclip your sleeping bag from your pack, setting it up in the small kitchen area, away from the corner that has a small leak in the roof.

“This place ain't so bad, better than most places we been sleepin’.” Before Joel can relax, he eyes a bookcase, it's large enough to cover the front door, with one push it topples over, with a grunt, the bookshelf falls securely over the front door, keeping them safe inside.

You look around a little in the kitchen, seeing some old trinkets covered in a thick layer of dust, a windchime, it creates a beautiful twinkle as your fingers caress the cold material, clanging against each other. Going through the draws, you have a look at a faded image, picking it up to inspect it, your heart drops, the image depicts a young family, two parents and a small baby, all smiling into the camera, in this very kitchen where you stood now.

You can’t help but wonder how long ago they resided here. If they were still alive.

“Must’ve been a family’s cabin…” His eyes glance at the photo as he leans down to rummage through the cupboards, finding a few cans of veggies that had been left behind, he sets it down on the bench next to you. “We made out pretty good on food this time. Are you hungry?”

Shakily, you return the photo back to where you found it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“You okay?” He asks, sensing the uneasiness in your voice. He grabs the tin cans of food and skillfully pops the lids open with his knife, handing a can of food to her. He nods towards their sleeping bags and they both sit down on the floor, he can't ignore the ache in his back and knees as he stretches his legs out on the floor. He tried not to think about it, sitting here with you on the hardwood floors eating out of a two decade old can of veggies was nothing worth complaining about, compared to the hell you two had endured over the months.

They were together at least. They made it this far.

“Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't get easier, you know? Thinking about it. They had a baby.” Hesitantly, you start eating with Joel, who seems silent.

He eventually nods in agreement. “Not everyone makes it.” He speaks quietly, even after all this time, he still mourns, he's been reminded of his loss time and time again, the image of the family was no exception.

They eat in silence, and you set the empty can beside your sleeping bag, sighing as you snuggle into the little warmth it provides. “Try and get some rest, we’ll head out at first light.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

He watches you settle, a small grunt escapes him as he keeps his rifle close, he leans against the wall. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“I'm sorry about your daughter Joel.” You whisper, before sparing him a glance and rolling over away from him. Joel watched you, the words pierce him, memories of his daughter haunt him, but he can't blame you. “Yeah, me too.” He mutters under his breath.

Joel stays awake, he's too restless to sleep at the thought of Sarah, losing her, relieving the pain and anguish of twenty years without her. Yet, the pain was as palpable as it was the night it happened.

The sun rises, and Joel rolls his sleeping bag, clipping it onto his pack. He notices you stirring awake. “Mornin’.” He grumbles tiredly. He stretches his neck, a loud crunch fills the air. “We should get goin’. I want to get to Jackson before midday.” He groaned as he stood, his knees clicking into place, worn and aching, the cold didn't help.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and pack the sleeping bag up quickly, not wanting to make Joel wait, he seemed pretty restless. Joel shoves the bookshelf off the door, opening it and takes a weary step outside into the daylight. He couldn't wait to see Tommy, he couldn't stop thinking about a shower, and a decent meal. They had been surviving in the wilderness for so long, Joel wasn't sure what he would do being back in civilization.

You pause in the doorway, watching Joel walk outside, his worn boots crunching in the fresh snow. “Just.. just wait a sec.” You wearily call out to him, looking back inside the cabin.

“What is it?” Joel asked, stopping in his tracks, turning to look back at you, a confused look on his face. You take a few quickened steps back into the cabin, pulling the drawer out to find the photograph of the family, before rushing outside to meet Joel. “Someone should remember them.”

Joel looks between you and the cabin, wondering what on earth you were doing. “Whaddya mean?” He asked, his voice gruff and full of confusion. He stands there for what felt like forever, watching as you return with the faded photograph in your hand. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

You shove the photograph into the back pocket of your jeans. “Ready to go?”

Joel looks at you, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Yeah.” He motions for you to continue walking, he tries to push behind the thought of the family as they walk from the cabin. For some reason, there was a warmth in his chest, at your actions, something so miniscule could show the kind of person you were. Perhaps not all hope was lost with someone so compassionate like you left in the world.

It was relatively quiet between the two of you for the rest of the trip, only a few miles, the snowfall had come to a halt overnight, so the snow wasn't much of an obstacle, being so far away from any town, there were near to no infected, nor other people.

Finally, ahead, there it was. They had finally made it to Jackson, to Tommy.

“Shit. This is Jackson?” You ask in wonder, taking in the heavily fortified walls, the men patrolling on the walls with rifles. A haven.

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Joel felt himself finally relax, for the first time in months, even if only for a moment, they had made it. “C’mon, we can get inside before the snow starts comin’ down again.” He picks up his pace towards the gate.

“Are you sure they'll let us in?” You knew Tommy was here, but the anxiety of being turned away was palpable. Joel glances back, reassuring you with a small smile. “Dont worry darlin’, Tommy knows we’re comin’.”

The gates open, and the hinges whine in protest.

“Joel, you ugly bastard is it really you?” A southern voice calls out, as the gate opens, and you watch as a man embraces Joel, similar in looks, if anything, less grey hair. “The hell took you so long?” The man asked, a joyous tone in his voice as he embraced Joel.

“Yeah, were not easy but we made it.” Joel huffed out a laugh. Tommy waves his hand, a brief gesture for the pair to follow him inside. Tommy looks over Joel’s shoulder as they walk. “Who’s this?”

You stand behind Joel, a meek smile on your lips as you introduce yourself. Tommy smirks at Joel. Joel's face reddened, his younger brother’s stare made him heat up.

“Just get us set up Tommy.” Joel muttered, avoiding the amused gaze from his brother. Tommy’s wolfish grin doesn't slip. “Sure thing, follow me.”

The odd interaction does not go missed as you watch the pair, following them to a house that Tommy had organised specifically for Joel. Tommy lets them into the house to look around and Joel speaks up. “We've been out in the wild for a long while, and we're happy to finally be able to settle down for a bit.” Joel explains, looking at Tommy.

“I can imagine. Well, i'll leave ya alone to settle in for now. Were havin’ a get together later tonight at the hall, you should come. It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from each other for a bit.” Tommy jests.

You look between the two men, confused. “So where am I going to be staying?” You knew that Joel would probably want to be away from you, now that he had done his part in bringing you here safely.

Joel's head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a moment. “With me.” He said, a little too quickly. “You'll be staying with me, here.” Joel’s eyes dart back to Tommy as if he was warning him against some smart arsed response. He looked a little embarrassed.

It didn't take an idiot to notice the glance you and Joel shared. Tommy smiled ear to ear as he watched the interaction between you two. “Alright.. Well you two can get settled here. Holler at me if you need anything, alright?”

As Joel nods, Tommy steps outside the house, leaving the pair alone again. Setting your pack down, you admire the house. “Nice place..”

Joel hums, nodding in agreement, setting his pack down next to your own. “Its alot nicer than where we've been campin’. And there's electricity.” Looking at the light Tommy had flickered on when he walked in.

“You mean we can shower?” Joel grins in amusement at your sudden excitement. “Hot water and all princess, why don't you go on and have the first shower?” The bathroom itself was simple, but it felt surreal to have electricity and running water.

“Are you sure?” Joel nods, “I can wait, its all yours.”

Joel closes the bathroom door behind you, and explores the bedroom, ruffling through the closet as he decides what to wear to this stupid get together tonight.

The hot water feels incredible, soothing the aches in your body, as you lather the vanilla scented soap, spreading the suds to wash the grime off your body. The colour of the water that runs down the drain is appalling, dark brown from grease and dirt. The shampoo is fruity, and a divine smelling scent you hadn't ever smelt in your lifetime. Lathering the clear concoction, you take your time to scrub the grease and disgusting things that stick to your strands of hair and scalp.

Its almost painful to shut the water off, but you know that Joel deserves to experience the hot water too, stepping out, you run your hand over the fogged up mirror, and hardly recognise yourself.

You slip on the clothes that had been provided for you, dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, tight fitting brown shirt. It accentuates your body shape wonderfully.

You look like a brand new woman as you emerge into the bedroom seeing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Joel looks up at you, his eyes widening as he takes in your form. You were even more beautiful than before, you looked radiant. He quickly stood, clearing his throat and he tried to keep his composure. “Hey darlin’.” He manages to utter out, his voice a little low.

Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze, hazel eyes roaming your body. “You gonna have a shower before we go?”

Joel glances down at himself, he now looked completely filthy compared to her, realisation sinking in.

“Y-yeah I think I will.. I can wash up in a minute.” As he looks back up at you, he notices your lingering gaze on him.

Were you checking him out too?

The tension is broken as Joel walks to the bathroom, taking his turn for the shower. Your mind wonders as the water runs, wondering what Joel looks like under all those clothes, if the hairs on his chest travel all the way down his torso, wondering if his tanned skin is the same delicious colour all over. A soft groan echos through the bathroom, gartering your attention, ears perking at the wonderfully intimate noise.

Something inside of you tingles in excitement at the thought, it's a hard thought to squash as you put your boots on. Joel's hair was damp, slicked back, the greying strands on his temple looked lighter than ever. The green and red flannel shirt hugged his torso and arms snugly, the jeans looked a size too small, clinging to his thick muscular thighs. His hazel eyes stared down at you as you looked him over, admiring him, he cant quite read the expression on your face.

Now it was your turn to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Ready to go?” Joel was still trying to come out of his haze as he stared at you, still trying to process the way you were checking him out. “Y-yeah…” He muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, let's.. Let's go..”

The hall is set up nicely, small bulbs hang from the ceiling emit a full yellow hue, there's an old record player, with vinyls underneath the bench it’s set up on, the melody of an old song echos through the hall as they walk in together, they gain some looks, from people dancing, young and old. Joel is brought into another hug by Tommy as he greets them. “Hey, look at you!” Tommy grinned. “You clean up nice.”

You silently agree, Joel looked as handsome as ever.

Joel's face runs hot as he hears Tommy’s tease, turning a rosy pink across his cheeks. He quickly brushed it off, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Shut it, Tommy…” Joel muttered. Tommy grinned as he watched his brother's reaction, his eyes then shifting to you. “And you… look beautiful tonight.”

Joel watches your reaction to his brother's compliment, seeing you squirm a little. “Thanks Tommy. So… what exactly is this?”

Tommys grin remained as he motioned for you both to follow. “It's a get together, we do them to blow off a little bit of steam every once in a while, you know how it is.” Joel grunts in annoyance, not enthralled by the idea of being social, nor in the judgemental gaze of the community folk.

Your eyes follow the couples as they dance to the music. A sense of yearning overcomes you, wishing it were you and Joel dancing so intimately. It's something Tommy notices.

“What, you want to dance, girl?” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. Joel's eyes widened as he tried to get his attention. “Tommy…” He muttered in warning, his voice a low grumble.

You didn't decline tommys suggestion. “You offerin’?” Perhaps, if anything, you would be lucky enough to make Joel jealous.

Tommy nods, taking you by the hand as he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, away from Joel. “Of course.”

Joel could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to become jealous at the sight of his brother dancing with you.

You and Tommy dance, occasionally sneaking glances at Joel, who still looked unimpressed by the situation. Tommy laughs whenever he sees Joel’s scowling face, enjoying winding his brother up. Tommy took his turn to tease you. “So… what's it like travelling with my grumpy ass brother?”

“He's not grumpy with me.” You answer simply. This, Tommy raises a brow at. “Oh really?” He glanced over her shoulder at his brother, who was now glowering at the pair. “Looks real grumpy to me..” He teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“Only cause you're pickin’ on him.” You counter.

“You're probably right.” It wasn't uncommon for Tommy to tease his older brother like this, the more he saw how annoyed Joel was becoming, the more he wanted to keep this up.

“I like him, alot.” You murmur between the two of you. Tommy’s teasing expression dies down, shifting to an expression of empathy. He was quiet in thought for a moment before he spoke. “I can tell…” he glances at joel. “He's got it bad for you too.”

“Thats a lie if I’ve ever heard it, Tommy Miller.” You scoff.

Tommy’s brows furrowed a little as he scoffs as your disbelief.”You can't seriously tell me you're that naive, it's obvious he likes you, girl.” Joel's gaze darkens, eyes fixated on them from across the hall.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Have you seen the look on his face? He's got this…” Tommy gestured to his own face. “...stupid look on his face since we've been dancin’. And he's lookin’ like hes seconds away from murderin’ me.”

You shrug. “He's just protective of me.”

“And how do you two interact?” Tommy asked. “Like, he dont seem too fond of me touchin’ you.” Joel's eyes flicker down to the way his younger brother's hand held your waist.

“I’m guessin’ you got some kind of plan, then, to prove me wrong?”

Tommy’s face lit up when you say this. “What do you think, girl? Are you up for it?”

A groan leaves your lips. “What’re you thinkin’?”

Tommy smirks, gently and suddenly twirls you, bringing you flush to his chest, the action makes Joel scowl. “We’re gonna piss him off just enough for him to come over. Sound good?”

You don’t miss Joel's reaction, maybe it did mean something..

“Okay, let's see what you got.”

Tommy grins, he pulls you close to him, dipping his head down to your ear, whispering. “You tell me if he gets too annoyed for yer likin’... I don’t wanna cross no boundaries.”

Tommy is an impressive dancer, you admit, and as nice as it is to be spun around the dance floor, your mind wonders what it would be like to dance with Joel, how he would hold you, where he would place his hands, how firm his grip would be.

Tommy dips you, making sure to keep a tight grip around your waist, and his body as close to yours as he could manage without dropping you, Tommy leans in, his nose close to yours. “Bit dramatic don't you think?” You mutter, eyeing tommy. There was a chance Joel would kill Tommy for this, and Tommy leans in, as if he was intent on kissing you.

That was it for Joel, he reached his breaking point, watching as his younger brother's actions grew more bold and more suggestive. As soon as he saw how close you two were, how intimate that moment looked, he pushed his way through the dancefloor, barging people that were dancing to get to them. Tommy’s plan seemed to work, getting the reactive reaction out of Joel, your eyes widened as Tommy straightens you up, the older Miller brother approached them.

“Now you've done it.” You mumble.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Tommy teases. Before he could say anything else.. Joel yanks Tommy’s shoulder, separating him from you.

Joel lets out a low growl, pushing Tommy further away from you. “What’re you tryna pull, Tommy?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tommy protests, shrugging his shoulder out of Joel's grasp. “I’m not pullin’ nothin’. I was dancin’ with the girl, is that a crime?” Joel grits his teeth together, trying to stop himself from punching his own brother.

“He wasn't doing anything Joel.” You murmur softly, trying to calm the man down, but it seems to only agitate Joel that you seemed to defend Tommy’s actions.

His nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You're takin’ his side then?”

“Hey, come on, it ain't like that.”

His irritation grows, did you really think this was okay? That this was just friendly dancing? “You really think he was just dancin’?” He mocked.

Your brows furrow as you sense Joel’s rising irritation towards you, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Yes, that's exactly what I think.”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest, this was not going the way he wanted. “He was all up on you and you think this is innocent? You’re more naive than I thought.” He sneers, a low grumble leaving his lips.

It hurts, hearing Joel talk to you like this, and you shove past them before he can see the tears welling in your eyes. Tommy stops Joel from chasing after you.

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, turning to look at him. “Get outta the way, Tommy.”

“She likes you, Joel.” Tommy said, his hand not leaving his older brother's chest, needing him to listen.

Joel rolls his eyes, not believing that statement for a moment. “No, she doesn’t. She was just humouring you.” He tries to push past Tommy again.

“It was my idea joel. I thought if I turned up the heat a little you'd show her you're sweet on her.”

“...what?” Joel's face flushed pink hearing that. “You.. you were just trying to…” When he realised that this little stunt was all an attempt to show that they liked each other, it surprised him, was it so obvious?

“You know I wouldn't dream of makin’ a move on yer girl. Go on now, get her and tell her how you feel before she runs off on ya.”

Joel stares at his brother for a moment as his words sank in. Once it did, he nodded, understanding now that this was an attempt to try and make Joel admit his feelings for you. He didn't say another word as he turned out of the hall, rushing back to the home where he knew you would be.

You felt humiliated by the entire thing, by Joel being angry at you, he had never looked at you with that look of unbridled anger. It was always directed towards other people, the ones that had tried to hurt you. Never you.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy, easily recognisable to you. As he makes his way to you, where you’re packing your things into your pack, tears streaming down your swollen cheeks.

He calls your name, and you don’t respond, shoving things angrily into your pack, you know he’s at the bedroom door, watching you.

His heart sinks as he watches you, he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder, in an attempt to stop you. “Stop.” He muttered softly. “Stop packin’ yer things.”

When you don’t listen, Joel takes the pack from your hand and tosses it across the room, your possessions all spilling out into the wooden floor. “What the hell is your problem?” You snap.

“Would you just stop it?” He exclaims, frustration evident in his tone. He grabs your arm, firmly enough to garner your attention. Spinning you to look at him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“You humiliated me!” You quip, voice trembling.

He exhaled, the warmth of his breath fans on your cheeks. “Listen..” he muttered. “Whatever you thought happened, it was the complete opposite. Tommy told me the whole plan, he was.. tryin’ to make me admit somethin’ to myself.. to you.”

Your cheeks warm as you realise Tommy snitched. “..oh.”

His large hands reach out to cup your face, turning your face upright, so your gaze would meet his own. “I care about you a lot…” he spoke after a moment, his expression softening. “I know I’m not real good at showin’ it, but I really..”

“I really do like you, darlin’.”

You sputter a response. “Tommy.. was right?”

Joel nods, his expression growing bashful as he tries to hide his embarrassment with a small snort. “Yeah.. stupid bastard was right.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to stumble over his words. “Have done since I saved ya all them months ago.” He confessed.

His hand runs through his hair again, something you’ve picked up as an anxious tick of his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was a question Joel hadn’t really thought of himself, until now. “It’s hard for me to be vulnerable..” he admits. “I’m just… not really like that.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time he had trouble opening up about his feelings, but he wanted you to understand that he wanted to try, with you.

“Especially with.. the way the world is now.. I thought I shouldn’t get myself tied up in somethin’ that could just get me hurt later.”

The words that went unspoken, you understood. He was afraid of losing you. And suddenly, her eyes softened. “What changed? Seein’ me with Tommy?”

It was an embarrassing truth, one that he had to face. “Yeah..” he agreed, glancing away from you a moment. “It felt like someone was just punchin’ me in the guts. Seein’ you dancin’ with him I felt..” he groans. “Jealous.”

Unintentionally, you bat your lashes at him. “I was so convinced you wouldn’t like me, I made such a fool of myself.”

His brows scrunch together as he realises how his actions made you feel. He gently takes your face in his large hands, his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing motion.

“Hey, you didn’t do any of that…” he murmured. “If anything I shoulda told ya ages ago.”

With his reassurance, you wrap your arms around his midsection, fisting the soft material of his flannel on his back. He doesn’t resist, although he relaxes from his tense stance, bringing his own arms around you. “How about we start over an’ I’ll do this proper?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at him. “Proper?”

He couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, your words make his heart flutter. “Y’know.. with you as my girl…” he murmurs nervously. “If.. if you’d like that?”

“I would like that.” You accept without hesitation, your voice soft as Joel leans his chin on your head, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t ever try an’ run off again. I’ll hog tie ya to the bed if I have ta.” A soft laugh leaves your lips at his threat, and you raise a brow.

“That right? Maybe I’ll take off one day, just to test you.” Joel’s eyebrows raise, a daring look in his eyes, arms tightening around you as he lifts you off the ground effortlessly, tossing you onto the plush bed.

“Yer mine now sweetheart, ain’t letting you go, ever.” He murmurs against your neck, hovering over you, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin of your temple.

“Mine till the day I die.” He growled possessively, the tender touch was a concise movement, one that contradicted his possession.

Somehow, you had disarmed him. And from now on, Joel wasn’t going to fight it.

[dabisbratz]

𝒟𝒪𝐿𝐿 𝒫𝒜𝑅𝒯𝒮 — satoru gojo x male reader !

femboy!reader , bottom/reader , established relationship , fingering , cismale terminology / anatomy , praise , spit / saliva , toru fantasizin 4 1k words straight , dirty - talk , slut calling , not proof - read

w.c; ~1.2k

. . . sonny says: has been a while ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა s’is nothin special, n mkinda embarrassed t’make it my comeback post but . . . wanted t’actually post somethin. miss writin s’bad !! so hopefully some smaller drabbles/ficlets can tide y’over in this tryin time ໒꒰ྀི •̩̩̩̩＿•̩̩̩̩ ꒱ྀིა n e way, s’is from a veryvery old request, just tweaked a lil bit !! to da anon who wanted toru n his femboy boyfie. . msorry for da wait !! here it is :p

Satoru considers himself a simple man. He has simple plans, simple aspirations . . . simple goals. achievable, even, considering who he is. Though there’s nothing simple about the curl of his white eyelashes, nor the shade of his almost translucent eyes, that’s simply how he’d describe himself.

And although the rest of the world considers him anything but— an anomaly, of sorts— he still partakes in substantially simple pleasures. Ice cream, candies, chocolates, cakes. . . A night on the town, sightseeing, a good round of much needed sleep.

You.

But that’s where the lines begin to blur, because you are far from simple. Complex, layered— the man took his time to flesh out the real you. Just when he thought he’d had you figured out, there was something new he learned about you. Blamed it on his own biases, a close minded way of thinking, when he took a glance at you and assumed. But that was before, back when he was naive and stupid, when others mistook his youthful piloting for recklessness. He supposed he’d done the same, up until he met you.

Simplicity doesn’t suit you. Not your features, which curve and twist and turn, soft edges and sharp corners, pretty eyes and even prettier lips. Facial harmony that puts Satoru at ease— no, it’s you in your entirety. He felt it when he met you, he feels it now. He's sure he’ll feel it when he’s six feet underground, and all that’s left of him is an empty echo of simple assumptions and stories, a distant memory of you.

It doesn’t suit you at all. He decides you’re much too pretty. There’s an otherworldly quality in your essence that draws him in from miles away. It’s in your cadence when you speak, the sway of your shoulders when you walk, the way air flows behind you when you walk by. His pretty, pretty boy. Nothing simple about it, except maybe the way his body reacts.

Oh, well.

It’s like whiplash, when he sees you. Just when he thought he had you all figured out, here you are. He's never seen you like this before. He's seen you in all sorts of ways, sure— a cocky smirk on your lips, or perhaps a frown instead. Tears in your eyes from pain, on some occasions, pleasure. Your eyebrows pinched with confusion, or even furrowed with rage. But this… this. Is different. You, his boyfriend, in a skirt. It’s different. And he wants to touch.

𝜗𝜚

He’d start at your thighs, of course. How could he not? Patience is a virtue, one Satoru does not hold himself up to. His big, strong hands run along the expanse of your legs, groping and squeezing and holding just right. Tight enough to watch the skin bulge and spill between his fingers, for his fingertips to dig into the flesh until he knows they’ll inevitably bruise later, creeping his hands up, up, up. . .

“All this for lil’ ol’ me?” He’d say, charming as ever as he glances up at you, already knowing the answer. But he’d disregard it anyway, until his fingertips trail along the neatly sewn hem of the skirt, your skirt.

“What is this, silk? Cotton?” He’d feel blood pump through his fingers, just like he knows it’d rush through your inner thighs, spreading goosebumps along your skin as he absentmindedly rubs. Traveling further in, until your pretty cock plumps up beneath his palms, grazing his knuckles until he can feel each twitch and throb of the leaking tip. You’ve always been so eager, so sweet on him in that sense, all twitches and aches.

Thighs trembling under the weight of his palms, he’d see it all. When your cock jumps as he fans his warm breath over the fabric. when a wet, sticky patch of precum soaks through it. He’d frown when he sees shorts, built into the skirt, but it’d twitch when he remembers what’s beneath. Tugging the material down your hips, his hands pausing to squeeze and caress the soft skin of your ass, kneading until he can’t take it anymore— ripping the fabric open with his bare hands—pulling the plumpness of your ass apart until he can feel your pretty little hole winking back at him— so hungry, so desperate to be used. He’d watch.

You’d take it so well, you always do. That’s one thing he knows as a fact, because when you’re around Satoru, it seems as though none of your thoughts are coherent, and all you want to do is take it. He'd rub slow, smooth circles into the globes of your ass, looking down at the emptiness of your winking hole, shiny and inviting and clenching around nothing but air.

“So pretty,” He’d murmur, hushed and close to the warmth of your skin as he pressed his face against the backs of your thighs. His long fingers slipping dangerously close to your entrance, sliding along the puckered rim and dipping the pads of his fingertips along the opening of your pretty little hole. His fingers would feel so big, so long, when he circles them along the ring of muscle, barely breaching the tiny gape he plans to make. Slick with his spit— when did he do that?— saliva sticky and wet between each mound, glistening, he’d work a finger inside, groaning, “Only ‘Toru’s fingers can keep my greedy little hole happy, isn’t that right?”

You’d feel his teeth graze your skin, a wide smile on his face as he feels you process his words. Calling your holes his— like they belong to him and him only. It’s true, and he knows you’d nod— you’ve always been a good boy about that, even if it’s not the type of verbal confirmation he’s looking for. Still, his smile would drop as fast as it arrived, his finger pushing to the first knuckle and curling just right, punching the air from your lungs and pushing stars into your eyes as you gasp.

“Isn’t that right?” He’d repeat himself, much more firm, just to watch you struggle and squirm to find the words, to say something other than a stream of incoherent, slutty babbles for cock.

“Mhmm..!” You’d whine, lips parted as you reached back to spread yourself wide, enveloping his free hand with the warmth of your palm. You wouldn’t miss the appreciative hum you earn in response, deep and husky as his fingers slip right in, past the burning stretch of your fluttering rim, past the slippery surface of your hole as it sucked his fingers deeper and deeper into your gummy walls. “Yours, ‘Toru.. give it t’me..”

“Pretty hole on you too,” Silky and smooth, warm and wet like he’d imagined it in the late hours he’d spent fucking his fist. “You even knows what you’re beggin’ for?” He’d watch his spit gush and trickle out between his fingers with each twist and movement of the digits. “You’re gonna take it for me like a good boy, right? Keep these hips still while I fuck my pretty boy full of my fingers? Make you all whiny and needy?”

The squelch your hole, the way your body tightened as you whimpered like a slut for it. Pretty face ruined with delirious tears, pretty hole sopping and sloppy— fucked out and used from his fingers alone. Pretty skirt left in ruins, streaked in patches of your precum and drool.

Fuck.

𝜗𝜚

“You look good,” Is all he says instead, irises boring into the pleated fabric that wrinkles and rustles with every movement you make. Satoru’s cock twitches in his sweats, a deep imprint of the head straining against his thigh. His voice comes out as some sort of soft, dreamy sound, low in his throat but high in the air as you look at him, almost uncertain. “Twirl for me?”

[fum1ku]

FIRST “I LOVE YOU” - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, kei tsukishima, koushi sugawara, kenma kozume, hajime iwaizumi, tobio kageyama

OSAMU: it had been a long day at onigiri miya. rush hour had kicked ‘samu’s ass and he had just now, it being well past 9pm, stumbled into his apartment. as soon as he entered the door he lazily kicked off his work shoes and tossed his keys aside, collapsing into the arm chair in his living room. took a second, but he finally heard you shuffling around in the kitchen.

“baby?” he mumbled, hardly picking his head up enough to look to where he thought you were.

“‘samu? sorry, didn’t hear you come in. how was work?” you shouted from the kitchen.

he finally dragged himself up and into the kitchen to find you, stirring around a pot on the stove. and just a few seconds later he heard the rice cooker go off.

he could smell the delicious, savory smell of the curry you were heating on the stove. his eyes brighten when he watched you pile up the the fluffy rice into a bowl and scoop some of the curry you made on top.

placing it down on the counter you called, “‘samu?”

he quickly snapped back into reality. “work? sorry. work was.. rough. long day. tired.”

“oh, i’m sorry, baby. at least you have tomorrow off,” you smiled, making another bowl of rice and curry.

he wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood over the stove, burying his face into your neck. he could smell the soft scent of your perfume mixed with your shampoo.

“didn’t think you were comin’ over,” he mumbled.

“yeah.. sorry, ‘samu. i just let myself in. i saw how busy the shop was today and thought you might like something to eat once you finally got home.”

you were both quiet for awhile. you had set your second bowl aside and just stood there, feeling the warmth of osamu’s breath against your neck. until osamu finally spoke up.

“i love you,” he said, his words muffled into the crook of your neck.

you laughed. “i love you too, ‘samu. let’s go eat, okay?”

KEI: it had been your first time meeting kei’s family. everything was going well, so far. his mother was the sweetest. and akiteru made you laugh while he told you all the embarrassing bits of tsukishima’s childhood. but, between chatting and dinner, kei made the executive decision to drag you up to his room for awhile to take a break—just him and you. plus you had just been begging to see his childhood room.

he plopped down on his bed as you shut the door behind you. you took a minute to glance around his room, noticing the dinosaur figurines lined on his shelf; the few posters on his wall.

“this was your room in high school?” you mused, holding back your laugher.

“yeah. what about it?” he snarked.

“it’s just so.. y’know?”

“sure. whatever,” he said, folding his glasses and putting them to the side as he later down on his bed.

you spent another minute glancing around the room again. then, smirking, you made your way over to kei’s bed. you laid down right atop of him, wrapping your arms around his slim torso.

“what are you doing?” he questioned, an annoyed tone laced into his words. “you’re squishing me.”

“good,” you mumbled into his chest.

“idiot,” he grimaced, only to whisper a soft “i love you” afterwards.

you perked your head up.

“oh? kei tsukishima loves me?” you teased.

“oh, shut up. idiot.”

KOUSHI: you both had worked at the same school for over a year now. he had been the first person to show you around the campus and introduce to you the best cafe for lunch just around the corner from the school yard. he took you there often, especially after you two were official.

you sat just across from him as you picked around at the plate in front of you, taking an occasional sip of your coffee. you were rambling about the kids in your class—how amazing, talented, and smart they all were—and about future lesson plan ideas.

koushi listened intently. smiling as your eyes beamed with excitement as your bounced from topic to topic.

“oh! koushi! we could do a whole lesson around this book—shoot. i don’t remember the name of it. but i know that—”

his eyes stared at you, lovesick. focused on the way your lips moved as your spoke; the way your eyes shined with pride as your went on and on about your students.

“i love you,” he said, stopping you in the middle of your rant.

you paused for a moment, feeling the red tint that overtook your face. “i-i love you too, koushi!”

he couldn’t help but softly laugh at your embarrassment. oh how he loved you.

KENMA: you often would hang out on the couch in the corner of kenma’s gaming room, reading a book or scrolling on your phone as he held his streams. you’d softly laugh to yourself as you watched your boyfriend play his games or respond to his fans in the chat.

as soon as his stream ended he’d toss his headphones to the side (maybe toss is an overstatement. those things were too expensive to toss) and make his way towards your corner of the room. he’d lay down on you and push his head under your arms as you still held your book in front of you.

you laughed as his antics, placing your book to the side. “tired, kodzuken?”

he absolutely hated it when you called him by his streamer name, but he was too tired to care. he only nodded his head in response to your question.

this only made you laugh more. “shouldn’t have stayed up so late gaming last night, hm?”

he groaned in response, burying his face into your chest. you softy ran your hands through his hair.

“okay then, you big baby. take a nap with me then,” you smiled, planting a soft kiss atop his head.

“i love you, y/n,” he said, his words muffed—making it sound more like “i wughv vyou, y/n”.

you chuckled. “i love you too.. kodzuken.”

HAJIME: iwaizumi always had early mornings as a trainer. your sexy boyfriend and his early morning runs, as you’d best describe it.

you noticed the dim light that shone through the cracks of the bathroom door. you rolled over and looked at the alarm on your bedside table. 4:58am. not even 5 o’clock yet,m. you groaned.

iwaizumi suddenly walked out the bathroom door.

“babe? go back to sleep, it’s early. you don’t have to be awake yet,” he softly said as he sat down at the edge of your shared bed, putting on his compression sleeves. you made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“haji,” you groaned. “come back to bed. it’s too early.”

“i know, i know, but i’ll be back before you even get up. promise.”

you sat up, still keeping your arms wrapped around him. you pressed a soft trail of kisses down his neck.

“or you could come back to bed with me right now,” you cooed in between a few kisses.

he turned around to face you, cupping each side of your face in his hands. he pressed his lips to yours for a quick kiss.

“i’ll be back before you know it,” he said, walking towards the door to your bedroom. “i love you!”

the door closed behind him. you groaned. “love you too, jackass!”

TOBIO: he loved you. he knew that way before he ever said it. he knew he loved you the day you showed up to his big game with his jersey on, smiling in the crowd. he knew he loved you when you iced his wrist after he screwed up during practice one day, scolding him for not being more careful. he knew he loved you when you’d get up to go on his morning runs with him on your days off—even if you lagged behind him and complained about how the cold morning air nipped at your skin. he loved you. so much. but saying it? a completely different scenario.

he was laying down in his bed as you brushed your teeth in his bathroom—the door wide open. you rinsed out your mouth, turned off the bathroom light, and made your way into bed beside him. you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his body go stiff beneath your touch. but, after a few seconds he eased into it.

you slowly drifted off to sleep, softly breathing beneath him. he was still wide awake, too focused on the way your hand rested against his chest for him to be able to sleep.

he sighed, breathlessly. “y/n.. i love you. so much.”

your body stirred beneath him. you pressed a kiss to his forearm as he tightly held onto you. “i love you too, tobio. s’much.”

his face went red. “i thought you were asleep..”

© fum1ku 2024

⁂ taglist: none currently !! let me know if you want to be added ;)

my requests are always open! please feel free to drop a lil something to keep me inspired with new ideas for fanfics <3

[rizsu]

food for thought, except it’s unwanted jujutsu kaisen : fem-reader.

have you ever wondered about a scenario so much that you must ask? well that’s exactly the last thing they’d wish to answer.

+ love ‘su: gojo, geto, itadori + ‘live, laugh, love’ hater final boss ( sukuna )

gojo satoru ﾉ refuses to answer.

“do you ever think about how it’d be if we never met?”

“ha— no. don’t even go there.”

satoru stops you there. he doesn’t wish to hear another word from you— especially if it extends your former question. he thinks about it— daily, in fact. it's a scenario that crosses his mind whenever he finds himself drunk on the temporary love he receives from you.

you’ve sung the lyric ‘i’ll love you until there’s no more left’ almost every week for him, silently begging that he gets the concept of genuine love through his head.

“why not? imagine if my friends didn’t make that bet where i either hit on you or pay for the night.” you reminisced, remembering the very night you lost the last touch of shame.

he hums, drumming his fingers on your thigh.

“bet or not, we’d still be fated to meet. next question!”

“anddd what makes you so confident?” you threw another question at him. this time, it's lighthearted.

“mind you, i’m the second coming of an angel. i predetermined this since three years ago.”

glances were exchanged, an expression of a grinning fool met the expression of a glaring responsible person who’s the said fool’s other romantic half.

you should've been familiar with satoru’s ways. it’s your fault for expecting a deep-dive conversation with satoru. not quite his cup of tea!

geto suguru ﾉ expects it and tries to escape.

suguru's home was no new, unexplored area to you. you knew his home's blueprint like the back of your hand. if needed, you'd walk through his home blindfolded and still end up in the room you want to be in.

this isn't a good thing to suguru. there are days where the feeling of confusion as to who he is piles up on him, leading him to isolate himself.. until he forgets there's a spare key of his isolation cube in your hold so now the plan goes awry.

that is exactly what’s happening. after he sent the text ‘k bye’ and silenced his notifications, he felt an impending doom. the reason was unknown by then but he should've guessed it was you.

you marched into his home, readying yourself with suguru-loneliness-begone techniques and, of course, the question that's been wandering your mind since you woke up from a dream.

“babe, what if—”

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, too exhausted to put a hand over your mouth.

“what if we were the last persons on earth? would you recreate humanity with me or kill yourself?”

there it is: your special ‘what if’ questions that know no bounds when it comes to absurdity.

“when would that ever happen? please, stop this,” he groans, pleading with his eyes for you to stop.

“that's the thing— you never know! so, what option is it?”

“i'd kill myself a long time ago if possible.”

“so it's the second one?”

“i'm... not cut out to be a good father.”

“i hate an indecisive bitch, my goodness,” it's your turn to complain, a little let down at his grey answers.

suguru's equally offended. you're the one who jumped him with such a question— who even thinks about that?!

“(y/n), baby, has it ever crossed your mind that your thinking skills aren't quite normal?”

“are you calling me stupid?!”

itadori yuuji ﾉ just as stupid.

it's mango season— yuuji's most anticipated season of the year. mangoes are to yuuji what your lipbalm is to you. a necessity, a survival item, a lifesaver, an important part of his lore, something he worships.

peeling mangoes and slicing them to equal pieces has never brought him such satisfaction before. it immediately brightens his mood. this must be how his grandfather felt whenever he took a walk around the neighbourhood.

now you appear, yuuji's second most anticipated person. you to yuuji is what mangoes are to him. this causes yuuji's current happiness level to reach its peak today. such a great level of happiness can defeat any evil being with just being in its area.

“say, yuu,” you begin, stabbing one of the mangoe slices with a fork.

he nods, signalling that he's listening but still focused on his current activity. a true mulit-tasker.

“if one of your limbs happen to detach from your body, do you feel the pain or does the pain go with it?”

he stops, allowing the question to sink in. he's never been asked such a.. divine question before. what's the answer? does the pain go with the limb or does it stay?

“oh... i gotta ask nobara this, she'd know,” he suggests, placing the knife down. a question that'll haunt him if he doesn't act quick for the answer.

“yes, yes!!” you encourage his actions, mindlessly enjoying the mango slices. mangoes are truly a blessing.

sukuna ryomen ﾉ no. nice try, though! A+ for effort.

“ryo, have you ever wondered if—”

“no, i never.”

“you didn't even let—”

“i haven't learnt since two-thousand years ago.”

“you old fuck, let me finish—”

“it's truly been a while since i've wondered.”

“DAMN, BITCH!”

you threw the remote at him, ultimately fed up with him cutting you off before the peak of the sentence. it could've been the question of the year and he'd still dodge it.

sukuna invited himself over since he ran out of entertainment options and you're always there for him. unfortunately, you do not find him as entertainin. he's annoying, arrogant, and attractive so it cancels out the negatives about him.

of course, sukuna caught the remote. his athletic capabilities are its prime despite him being dormant for centuries. it'd be a white lie to say he's not interested in your question, however it is way more benefitting to push your buttons.

he throws the remote back onto your bed, drying his hands with your hand-towel before making his merry way to you.

“your bed's small.”

“well no shit. it's for ME.”

“you mad? you look mad.” his hand holds your chin, turning your head side-to-side to observe your expression.

you rolled your eyes, “i don't get mad that easily.”

“is this how people felt when i told them an obvious lie? i should repent.”

[mariasont]

I Want It In Ink - S.R

a/n: the tattoo in the pic obviously isn’t what the reader has but just imagine that ✨placement✨

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer finds your secret tattoo… with his initials

warnings: suggestive content, alcohol consumption, reader has a tat with spencers initials kinda delulu but also real, secret relationship, established relationship

wc: 0.7k

You were blissfully unaware of the chaos you had caused Spencer. There you stood, not doing anything particularly special, yet you were making his head spin. It became glaringly clear why fraternizing within the office was frowned upon; concentrating on work proved to be a Herculean task when his gaze incessantly sought you out.

Currently, you were stretching upwards, fingertips grazing the spine of a book on a higher shelf, your shirt hitching up, revealing a sliver of your hip and stomach. But what captured his attention was not the skin—it was the ink he had never seen before. He had prided himself on seeing every inch of your body through an eidetic lens, yet here was a price of you he had somehow missed.

Spencer squinted, realizing he might need a new prescription for his contacts, but even with his questionable eyesight he was able to see just what was tattooed into your perfect skin.

Maybe it was temporary. But no, the subtle reddish halo encircling it and the inflammation most definitely indicated healing, and that it was, in fact, permanent.

Spencer stood so quickly that his mug nearly toppled over, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the edge. He closed the distance between you in seconds, his hand covering the tattooed area as if he could soak up the ink into his own hand, not that he’d necessarily want to.

He was startled by the reaction he had to it. The swirling warmth in his chest, the burning of his ears, the slight tightening of his pants.

“Christ,” he hissed, close enough for the word to brush against your ear. He stood at your side, affecting an interest in the printed words on the shelves as his palm stayed glued to your hip. “When did you get that?”

“Get what?” you asked, your focus elsewhere as you made another attempt at the book.

He intercepted, plucking it from the shelf and pressing it into your hands, his fingers discreetly pulling your shirt down just a fraction in the process.

You were surely going to send him into cardiac arrest.

Spencer casted a quick look over his shoulder, thanking the gods that the team was engrossed in a lively discussion about Morgan’s dating habits. “The sizable S.R on your hip.”

“Oh, that…,” you mumbled, peering down as though it were a mere afterthought, oblivious to the way his heart leapt out of his chest just to think about it. “I was kind of drunk, and—hey, Penelope, do you remember—,”

Spencer quickly covered your mouth with his hand, your words turning into a muted hum against his palm as he steered you into the break room.

“Do you realize the statistical improbability of keeping our relationship a secret if you announce my initials are on you to the whole team?”

You laugh, easing his hand away from your mouth, but not releasing it entirely, letting your entwined hands dangle at your sides.

"What? It's not like it says property of Dr. Reid."

"It might as well."

"That can be my next one." He didn’t hate the thought of that.

You were teasing him now and he could feel the smile creeping into his face. However, it quickly waned as he saw the unease on yours. Your voice was much quieter as you spoke, “are you mad?”

I could never be mad at you.

"No, I-well, it was just surprised is all," he clarified, his fingers instinctively adjusting his glasses before releasing they weren’t there and moving to his nose instead. He squeezed his hand. “I like it.”

"You like it?"

"I like it."

He wasn't lying. He liked it. A lot. Once the initial shock wore off he realized just how much he liked it. Did he mention he liked it?

His fingers moved from his nose, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the outline of the tattoo, already having it etched in memory. You winced.

"Does it hurt?"

"Just sore. Nothing I can't handle," you said, your shoulders rising in a dismissive shrug.

Your nose wrinkled slightly, and your gaze met his from beneath your lashes.

"Atta girl."

You licked your lips, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth as you shoved his shoulder just enough to make him clamp down harder on your hip.

"I can give you a better look at it, later tonight?"

He cleared his throat, eyes flickering to the door as his hand traveled from yours to your neck, squeezing slightly as a warning.

"Looking forward to it."

He gave your hip a small pat before walking back out the door. He had a tattoo appointment to make.

[lowgothree]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ❞ 𓄼˚ ▍ E.E.

❛ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆             ━━  how days off are spent ❜

❛ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁                ━━  sex in the kitchen cause…why not ❜

❛ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁         ━━  1k+ ❜

❛ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲      ━━  emily is literally soooo fine ❜  

WRIST DEEP IN SUDDY WATER, scrubbing the life back into a blue plate as you hum a song to yourself. you glance up at the kitchen window above the sink, admiring as solar rays cast light on the leaves of the tree outside. 

while you admire nature…emily admires you. the way your shoulders roll back by virtue of their soreness, your allure is unquestionable. emily gazes your way from the living room, she just finished sweeping the hardwood floors until they are akin to the day you first moved in.

you’ve both settled into the new place comfortably, emily more than you. it’s clear by the way she slumps down in relaxation while you still get used to your surroundings. maybe you were a control freak, even slightly.

“do you think our neighbors are nice?” you hum, noticing the way the family next door walks out of their house. the question isn’t one that truly plagues you. it’s your way of making conversation.

she stands from the slump of the couch, long legs carrying her to the kitchen, she leans up against a wall just watching you. there is a sense of calm towards every emotion you bestow upon her, like a pill of tranquility –– an immediate nostrum to all her ailments. the love you deliver for her. she appreciates you in your most natural form, doing a habitual task such as washing dishes mid-day on a sunday. she venerates the simplicity of your beauty, greedy palms itching to be pressed against your skin. 

“i think they’re fine.” she hums, not truly giving your question very much thought either. she’s too busy staring your way. you’re so engrossed in the task at hand, washing the last cup in the sink. so when dual hands tighten around your hips, you jump. her silhouette looms over you, your heart beating rapidly at the unexpectancy of it all but quickly relaxing when you recognize her.

“jesus, emily.” you laugh off your alarm when you feel her chin press against the blade of your shoulder. “you scared me.”

“you scare too easily.” she mumbles, placing a kiss to the nape of your neck. she grips at your waist, desperate for your attention. “when will you be done?”

“just need to dry the dishes and clean the counters.” you reach for a gingham kitchen towel, drying off a plate. her hands press your butt against her pelvis: she latches onto you, pulling you close and then even closer.

“let me help…” she mutters, breath tickling the skin of your neck. “you’ll be done quicker that way.”

you hold the plate out to her wordlessly, she takes the now dry dish from your hands and puts it away in the cupboard. 

soon, all the dishes have been dried and put away. then onto the countertops which to emily, look clean enough as is. your hands wiping the counter down, until it’s practically luster. she makes her way back behind you, sighing audibly. 

“you could take a break, you know…” tattooed hands finding their way across your stomach to rest across your abdomen. 

“or…” you hum. “i could finish cleaning now so i don’t have to worry about it tomorrow.”

yeah, or…she presses against you, deviously. lean body flush against yours.

“babe –– ?”

“shhh…” she shushes, licking her lips as her eyes stay trained to the swell of your ass. “you can keep cleaning.”

it elicits a chuckle to bubble up from your throat. “what are you ––”

then tedious, implacable fingers make their way across your front, pressing against the inseam of your cotton shorts. the sudden pressure shocks you, body jolting to it –– leaving you bent at the hips across the kitchen counter. her sporadic fingers slip away from the inseam despite the squeeze of your thighs trying to hold her there, they move to the hem and then slowly rid you of them. down to cuff around your ankles.

“i have to –– ” 

“clean the counters. yes, i know. i told you, you don’t have to stop.” smug lips quirk up at your quickened breaths, your ass pushing into her despite yourself. “bet you’re already wet.”

ignominy spreads over you deliciously –– so familiar that it doesn’t even phase you. you reach for her wrist, wrapping your hands around it and leading it up to your abdomen before you let it go back down –– underneath your underwear. letting her feel for herself the mess she makes of you so easily. 

“damn, baby…” she breathes out another laugh, this one not from humor but as a release from the shackles of the intensity of this situation. she slides her hand out of your underwear and instead opts to push them to the side. and then, cocky as ever: “i knew it.”

and she did. you lick your lips, waiting for her to resume her allconsuming touches against your skin. you suck in a deep breath, trying not to rush her. 

your patience is rewarded when she slips a finger inside you, a second following within seconds just to have you clenching around her. desirous breaths, slipping from your mouth. all under her command. her long fingers push in and out of you with precision only a woman in love with your body could have. 

she revels in the artistry of making you feel this way. 

“come on baby, take it.” the hand that was free from the latch of your greedy pussy engaged in the sweet pursuit of rubbing at your clit in a circular motion. you suck in a deep breath as you try and gain a sliver of your composure. your brows furrow within the waves of pleasure she bestows upon you. 

“you can take it, i know you can.” she cooed in encouragement, eyes locked in on the swell of your ass, mouth parting as she darted her tongue out to lick her lips. “you love it when i have you like this, don’t you?” 

you nod, back arched as you press your front against the counter to push back into her hand. 

“what was that?” she muses, free hand leaving your waist to push against your spin, keeping you still –– holding you at her mercy. “tell me you like it when i make you mine.”

“i love it.” you breathe eagerly, desperate to please her as she pleases you. your autonomy serendipitously surrenders to her control. her, an angel with the way her devilish actions unfold you, commanding you to her attention. deliver you.

[keerysfreckles]

lay all your love on me — LN4

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the aftermath of y/n's worst date she's ever been on, lando comes to pick her up.

warnings: one curse word, not proofread

a/n: dedicated to kayla bae 🤭🤭 comment if i should make a part 2!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n can't remember the last time she went on a decent date. in the past year she's been on five dates, none of them doing any justice.

two of them were too busy staring at her chest from the low neckline of her dress. one wouldn't stop talking about the football game plastered on the tv behind her at the sports bar he dragged her to. one didn't even show up.

and now, the fifth date, he isn't taking anything she says seriously.

she tried explaining how she's able to travel a lot due to her brother being a formula one driver, and the bloke just laughed in her face. claiming "girls can't be that into racecars".

y/n's never wanted to punch somebody as hard as she wanted to punch the man in front of her.

he then started talking about his own career, which lead y/n to talk about hers. however, to the man across from her, having a degree in communications does nothing to improve y/n's future.

this man was suffocating. every word he uttered just made y/n's blood boil.

it got to the point where y/n simply left. she left the man there, at the restaurant, with the most dumbfounded look displayed over his features.

she couldn't stand to be there another five minutes, so she simply left. no apology, no goodbye.

the chilly monaco air did not help her sour mood, in which she didn't bring a jacket with her. the walk to her apartment wasn't far, maybe twenty minutes.

the more and more the girl thought about her date, and the previous ones, she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself. the past five times she's gotten dressed up, and was excited to learn about someone new, she just left disappointed every time.

y/n didn't even know why she wore the heels she has on. she's never worn them, so she's praying she doesn't get blisters the next morning.

groaning, she pauses to take off her black heels. her shoulders slightly relaxing as the pain from her feet falls into the pavement with every step.

now y/n wasn't sure if the rumbles she heard behind her was thunder, or just the roaring of engines passing in the streets.

she pushed the thought off for now, and went back to thinking about her failed dates. she didn't think it was her fault, but maybe she was just unlovable. there was a chance it wasn't the people she dated, and that she was the one with the problem.

the over consuming thoughts had now gotten best of the girl. before she knew it tears were welling up at her bottom lashes. she didn't care about her makeup anymore, choosing to wipe at the tears now mixing with her mascara.

seconds barely pass, and it was final that the rumbles y/n heard earlier was thunder. meaning rain would shortly follow after. she groaned again, wanting to do anything but walk home in the rain.

she could easily turn around and wait the storm out in the restaurant, but she didn't want to face the man she left at the table again.

she then decided to call her brother.

however her plan quickly backfired once she remembered oscar and lily went out tonight, somewhere over an hour of where y/n is now. so calling oscar was out of the question. the phone didn't even let out a full ring before she hung up.

to make matters worse, y/n felt big drops of rain hit her shoulders.

there weren't many other options y/n could give into tonight. her close friends were all in france for god knows what, oscar was busy, and y/n just wanted to go home.

call her pathetic, but y/n couldn't help but cry. her night has only gotten worse, and she couldn't do anything about it.

after mere minutes, her hair was soaked from the now heavy pouring rain, she had no doubt her makeup was fully ruined, and she was sulking underneath a flickering lamppost.

she let out a dry chuckle after scrolling through her contacts once again, now seeing the only person left to call. the only person who'd answer her tonight.

on the third ring, he picked up.

"y/n? is everything okay?"

y/n hasn't gotten asked that in a long time. so she simply let out a choked sob. she tried answering, but her voice failed her again.

"lando," she managed to get out, only to have her cries over power her words.

he was quick to ask her what happened to make her this upset. to which he only got small answers in between more cries and jagged breaths. he knew he had to do something.

"can you tell me where you are?" he asked, while slipping his shoes on before running out of his apartment towards the parking garage.

he was glad to finally get a normal answer out of y/n, as he pulled out of his parking space with a loud screech of his tires. his windshield wipers did almost nothing to help him see in the rain, only making him driver faster, wanting nothing more than to get y/n in the warm and dry comfort of his car.

he drove carefully down the street address she gave him.

then he saw it. his heart broke at the sight in front of him.

y/n sitting on a bench, with her head in her hands. heels discarded by her feet, and her wet hair sticking to her back and shoulders.

her head picked up at the headlights of lando's car, and the sound of his driver door opening.

"god, y/n are you okay?"

lando kneeled down in front of her, placing his warm hands over her knees.

all y/n could do was lean forward into lando, wrapping her arms around him for some form of comfort.

lando couldn't care less if his shirt was getting wet, he could easily put on a new one once he got home. all he cared about right now was the girl in his arms.

he helped her get to the passenger side of the door, before jogging back to the bench to grab her heels. as he threw them into the backseat his eyes moved to an extra jacket. he was internally thanking his past self for leaving this inside.

y/n shivered out a thank you, for the hoodie and at his action of turning the heat on.

the ride back was silent. a comfortable silence, mostly because lando didn't want to pressure the girl into talking about exactly what happened tonight.

after lando turned left, y/n spoke up, "wait, lando you made the wrong turn. my apartment's that way."

she pointed out the window, but lando simply shrugged it off.

"y/n you haven't had the best night," he starts by pointing out the obvious, "so you can crash at my flat tonight, okay? we can watch as many rom-coms as your little heart desires. i know how much you love those."

y/n chuckles at his ending sentence, but can't agree with him more.

as soon as lando pulls into the parking garage, he helps y/n up the stairs to his apartment door. he successfully opens the door with one hand, as y/n's shoes are hanging over his fingers in the other.

he watched as y/n crossed her arms over herself once he shut the front door.

"do you want a hug?" he held out his arms with a small smile adorning his lips.

y/n walks closer to him, her barefeet hitting the hardwood with each step before she rests her head on his shoulder.

one thing y/n loves about lando's hugs is how secure they feel. his arms always end up wrapped tightly around her, and she swears she feels her bad mood leave her body whenever she's in his embrace.

after a few moments, lando speaks up, "do you want to change? i bet i have some clothes that'll fit you."

y/n nods before ridding her face of any tears. she then follows lando to his room. she sits on the edge of his bed, watching carefully as he grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"i'll be out in the living room. take your time," he speaks softly, kissing the top of her head before he leaves the room.

y/n finally lets out a sigh. a sigh filled with many different emotions. too many to count, so y/n distracts herself by changing into the much more comfortable clothes lando grabbed.

she tried running her fingers through her damp hair as she exited his room, but her hair became too tangled from the rain.

lando's small smile made it's way to his face once y/n came into the living room.

"you feeling any better?" he pats the spot beside him on the couch.

all y/n does is nod, but lando senses that something's still bothering her.

he brushes off the thought for now, as he and y/n search for a movie to watch.

after eight minutes of flicking through netflix, y/n breaks the silence.

"lan, do i seem unlovable to you?"

the question certainly caught the brit off gaurd. he took a moment to think about his response before answering, but no certain response would be the right one.

"woah, what makes you think that?"

y/n gets more quiet, becoming more self conscious of herself as she sits beside lando.

she shrugs before responding, "every date i've been on in the past year has gone wrong. i can't help but think if it's something i'm doing. that i'm the one with the problem, not all the guys i've seen."

lando's heart breaks at y/n's statement. how long has she been feeling this way about herself?

"you're not unlovable y/n. it's all those idiots that don't know what they're missing out on. you're one of the greatest people i know, and if any guy you date can't see that, he's not worth it."

lando wasn't sure where his small speech came from, but the look from y/n made his heart beat faster than it did before.

she looked at lando with nothing but adoration. a blush covered both of their cheeks now, and before y/n could really register anything her brain was processing she leaned over to quickly kiss lando.

yes, she was kissing her brother's best friend. yes, she was kissing lando after she had a horrible date.

was it a bad idea? probably. but y/n needed one thing to go right tonight. she could only pray this was the thing.

just as lando got used to the feeling of her lips against his, she pulled away.

she couldn't read the emotion on his face, making her start to ramble.

"i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry lan. i- i just needed one thing to go right tonight. and i thought maybe kissing you was the right thing to do. shit, i'm sorry. i can leave-"

y/n's sentence was cut off, now by lando pushing his lips against hers. his hand found it's way to the back of her neck, as hers balled up the material of his shirt to try and bring him closer to her.

their panted breaths mingled together as they were only centimeters away from each other. their eyes filled with adventure and lust, both wondering where this thing could lead to.

[humanpurposes]

De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself. 

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather. 

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin. 

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway. 

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter. 

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her. 

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt. 

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle. 

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips. 

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly. 

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?” 

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach. 

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking. 

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin. 

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth. 

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless. 

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained. 

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I've been obsessed with your writing for a while now, ur poly marauders is just perfecttt. The way you write them is just so accurate to my personal characterizations and head cannons :)

I had an idea that I thought would be cute but feel free to ignore if it doesn't inspire you ofc.

I was thinking about poly! Marauders x goth! Reader. Like reader forcing them to watch her favorite horror movies or explore abandoned places or like go to a concert or smtn

Omg and the reader dressing up to go out with them and them just dying cuz the eyeliner and fishnets and everything (who can blame them, goth girls r gorgeous 😍😍)

Thanks lovely!!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 927 words

“Is it on me?” James hears the door open, followed by Sirius’ voice, growing shriller. “Is it on me?” 

“I don’t think so.” You sound one part amused and two parts exasperated. “Stay still, I can’t look while you’re moving around.” 

James leaves the dishes in the sink to soak, too curious to prioritize chores. He finds you both in the entryway. Remus is observing from the couch as Sirius stands rigidly still and you pick through his hair unhurriedly. You’re both covered in dust and what looks to be cobwebs, made even more apparent on you by your dark clothing. 

“I thought you were going to drop clothes off at the donation bin,” James says bemusedly. 

“We did,” you reply, at the same time as Sirius says, “It was a trap!”

Remus lifts an eyebrow. James is glad he’s not the only one who seems to be missing something. 

“There’s an old abandoned church not far from there,” you explain casually. “I wanted to check it out, and Sirius thought it could be fun to explore, too.” 

“That was before I knew it housed the world’s largest spider population,” he argues. “Fuck, can someone get this thing off me? If I feel anything crawling I’m gonna flip shit.” 

“Aren’t you already?” Remus murmurs. You grin at him, stepping back to let James take over for you. 

“I assume I’m taking out the web?” James asks, picking out a piece. 

You sigh. “Sirius thought he saw a spider in the car—” 

“I know I did, thank you.” 

“—and he’s worried it got on him. But I’ve been looking, and I haven’t seen it.” 

“I’m fairly sure it would have crawled off by now, love,” Remus says, sitting up on his knees and beckoning you to the couch so he can pull the spiderwebs out of your hair, too. 

“All I know is, if no one finds that thing on me, I’m going to take the world’s hottest shower to make sure it’s dead.” 

“You’ll have to hurry,” Remus reminds him. “Our reservation is at eight.” 

“We can be a few minutes late.” 

“We cannot.”

“Fuck!” James jumps a good few feet back, hands frozen in front of him. 

“What?” Sirius cries. His shoulders seize up. “What is it?” 

“Shit, sorry, it’s nothing. I thought I saw something move, but it was your hair.” 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Sirius puts his face in his hands, sounding less murderous than teary. “Remus, please.” 

“I’ll take care of you next,” Remus replies, dedicatedly combing his fingers through your hair. 

James mumbles an apology as he goes back to doing the same thing to Sirius. All in all, you look like you’ve actually gotten the brunt of it. You’re covered in spiderwebs, likely a result of you simply putting far less work into avoiding them than Sirius. You seem unbothered as Remus unsticks a rather large one from by your ear.  

You go off to change for dinner first, because Sirius refuses to move until both James and Remus have each checked him over for spiders twice, and even then he still insists upon his shower. James can’t say he’d feel differently in his place. 

He thinks he might need a cold shower himself when you come back out. 

“Angel,” James breathes. It’s both an endearment and an observation. His eyes stutter their way up you, continually snagging on fishnet tights and kohl-lined eyes and the little lace ruffle lining your top. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. 

“You look lovely,” Remus says, smooth where James is not, and you grin as you lean down to kiss him on the cheek. A pink tinge rises up from beneath your boyfriend’s freckles and scars. When you lift your lips, you leave a dark imprint of lipstick behind that James has absolutely no intentions of telling him about. 

“So do you,” you say, as though he’s not wearing the exact same thing he was a minute ago. (Though James is nonetheless inclined to agree. Remus always looks lovely.) Your eyes turn to James, the black liner making them look deeper and even more striking than usual. 

“You do, too,” you tell him. He feels a flock of butterflies (do butterflies have flocks?) scare into flight in his stomach. 

His grin feels wobbly, but certainly not for lack of enthusiasm. “Thanks,” he manages. 

“So, I was talking to Sirius in the bathroom,” you say, sitting on the arm of the couch. James’ eyes follow the movement of your skirt, the way it rides up with the motion. He warms in several places. “He says that if the spider’s not on him, it has to be in the car. He won’t get in it until we’ve checked.” 

Remus exhales heavily through his nose, and you nod your agreement. 

“I’m not convinced he actually saw anything,” you say. “He is so paranoid.” 

“Or maybe you,” James leans over to kiss your cheek, unable to restrain himself any longer as he reaches around you to squeeze the fat of your hip, “are just far too even-tempered from watching so many horror films.” 

“No, he’s paranoid,” Remus agrees with you, groaning as he gets up. “I’ll check the car. If I don’t find anything, we’ll just say we caught it.” 

“I’ll help.” You slip off the arm of the couch, starting after him with springy steps. 

James follows, if only so he can stand behind you and keep you from flashing the next-door neighbors when you bend over to look. It’s strictly selfless.