#this is just stream of consciousness but i had to get this off my chest bc ive been dealing w my internalized fatphobia for so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celestie0 · 7 months

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

luxury & lingerie. a retail au

“𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.”

ᰔ pairing. retail au - rolex salesman gojo x victoria's secret associate reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo is the rolex watch shop's pretty boy & you're the victoria's secret lingerie store's new hire that works across from him. let's just say he's determined to get inside your pants.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, porn with plot (seriously that's all it is), smut, casual sex, possibly comedic, lots of terrible flirting, tiny bit of fluff if you squint, gojo's got a daddy kink that you really have no interest in entertaining, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, blowjobs, oral sex, praise kink, some degradation, sort of cum play, banter, suguru & choso are in it too (the hot-boy sales trio)

ᰔ word count. 6.5k

a/n. hellooo this started with this concept idea i had of hot retail worker gojo who just wants to flirt with you instead of actually do his job lmfao. this was seriously just a stream of my consciousness. hope you enjoy! and thanks to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this. creds to @quinnyundertow for the sephora lipstick idea.

The sound of Suguru’s voice was the last thing going through Gojo’s mind right now.

“Anyways, I put the car in reverse, she’s on aux. I’m thinking, she’s gotta have good taste, right? She’s the one that suggested the Maneskin concert in the first place. But you know what she starts playing? Country music. Fucking country music. And I’m not necessarily opposed to a good— dude, are you even listening?”

Choso leans over the polished display case of the mens’ latest Rolex models, staring at the two idiots in front of him. “No, he’s not. He’s been ogling the tits on that mannequin over there for the past five minutes.”

Gojo finally blinks out of his trance, irritated. “I’m not staring at the mannequin, I’m staring at—”

You. New hire. Over at the Victoria’s Secret that was across from his turf at the mall. You were standing on your tiptoes on a mini ladder, wobbling a little, reaching up for a mannequin at the display window to switch out the corny yellow sleeping mask on its face for one that was a more sleek, satin blue.

The fabric of your uniform slid up slightly, skin of your midriff exposed, and he has to suck a breath in through his teeth.

“I called dibs on that a week ago,” Suguru says from where he stood, lazily leaning on the counter.

“No fucking way. I’ve got dibs.”

“Dibs? Really? I work with a bunch of prepubescents,” Choso groans, tipping his head back to stare up at fluorescent mall lighting.

Suguru’s voice sounds like he’s lax at the jaw. “Is anyone gonna tell her that’s the ladder they use to prop the door open, and not the one to flash Satoru’s horny ass while changing out a mannequin?”

“I’ll be the one to tell her,” Gojo says.

At the display window, you slowly peel the panties off of the mannequin without a thought in the world to use the store’s modesty curtain, and Gojo, Suguru & Choso are all staring. And probably every other man within the store’s radius.

“Holy fuck,” Gojo says, strained.

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Suguru marvels.

“She’s clueless,” Choso sighs.

“You can have the mannequin, I get the girl,” Suguru offers, something just to get under Gojo’s skin.

“Shut up. I’m going over there.” He stands up onto his feet from the leather client chair he had been sprawled across up until this point of his shift.

“Can’t wait for you to royally fuck this up,” Choso muses with a smirk, arms crossing at his chest.

Gojo grumbles something under his breath when he hears Suguru’s coo of agreement, and then he’s making his way across to the Victoria’s Secret entrance. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his black dress shirt, as if he expects the sight of the skin at his collarbone to have you seduced like a victorian man seeing a lady’s ankle for the first time.

He makes it through the welcoming glass doors that lead into the sultry & dark ambience that you would expect of a lingerie store, and he rounds to the right, stopping a few feet away from you.

You were combing through a rack now, lips pursed in concentration until he clears his throat.

Glancing over, your shoulders tense and you pull your retail headset earpiece down, leaving it hanging by the wire that was clipped to the neckline of your shirt. His eyes flicker to the nametag pinned above the curve of your breast. You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hi sir. How can I help you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not a customer,” Gojo quickly corrects you, although he liked the sound of sir from your lips, “I work over there.” He points with a jerk of his chin towards the obnoxiously gaudy exterior of the Rolex watch store facing the two of you.

You blink at him. “Ah, I see.”

“You new here?” Gojo asks, taking a step forward and resting his elbow up on the metal bar of the rack just to get more into your space. “Haven’t seen you around.”

The corner of your lip turns up slightly at his words. “Why? Do you keep a roster?”

“I—no, not really,” he responds, already a little speechless, “wait, a roster of what?” He’d say he does if it’s a roster of pretty girls he’s been fantasizing about tit-fucking all day long, with you being at the top—no, the only one—on that list.

You shrug a little. It’s kind of meek and cute. “Of new hires?”

He breathes in deep. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just like to make sure the newbies feel welcome around here. Y’know, taken care of.”

You smile, turn to face him and relax your posture. “Oh. That’s sweet. Yeah, I feel pretty welcome here, thanks.”

“That’s good.”

“I mean, everyone’s been really nice to me so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, and I really like the break room on this floor. The last place I worked at didn’t have a toaster oven.”

“No way.”

“I wish the clock-in machine was easier to use though…”

“For sure.”

You glance at him suspiciously in the middle of your rant. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re real pretty, angel.”

Your brow raises, the keys hooked to the loop of your jeans jingling as you place a curled hand to your hip. “Angel? Really? Cause of— cause of Victoria’s Secret angels?”

Gojo’s stiff, his elbow still resting on the cool metal pole, and he glances up at the ceiling before looking back down at you. “Uhh…sure? Yes.”

“That’s not very original.”

“Man, you’re really making me work hard for this. Unfortunately, that only makes me want you more.” He leans down closer to you, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round as you narrow your eyes at him.

“This is you working hard for it? You haven’t even told me your name yet, watch boy.”

He sees your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar of the rack, and he tries hard not to picture them wrapped around something else, but to no avail. You jut your hip out to bump him, pushing him out of your way, before you start rolling the rack down the store.

He trails behind you. “My name. It’s Satoru. But to you, I can be dadd-”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to face him with a scowl, but he was too distracted by the shape of your backside to be reflexive enough to stop himself in time, and he ends up crashing right into you. The momentum has you falling back with a gasp, tripping over the foot of the rack, and his arm flies around your waist to keep you upright, and then pressed up against him too just for good measure.

His face is just inches away from yours. “Shit. Sorry.”

Your arms are squished between his chest and yours, pinky tickling the skin at his collarbone, and the contact has him reeling. “I-It’s fine,” you say, lashes fluttering, “now let go of me, before I file a harassment complaint.”

He instantly retreats, releasing you, watching you stumble a bit before gaining your balance again. “God, no, please,” he sighs, “I really need this job.”

“You don’t act like it,” you mumble. You fix your hair in front of him and tuck the fabric of your shirt that came loose back into your jeans. He doesn’t have to touch your cheeks to know they feel hot, he can tell from the purse of your lips and the way you won’t make eye contact with him.

The voices of a couple women are heard from down the aisle, as well as the plastic clinking of hangers on racks as they peruse the sheer bralettes dangling in color-coded fashion. Gojo sees you struggling to pull the rack you were working with away to the side to let them through, and he comes up behind you, gripping the metal bar to do it for you. He catches the fragrance of your hair at the crown of your head, and he inhales slowly.

The women walk by, throwing a few curious glances at the two of you, and Gojo doesn’t move from where he’s holding onto the rack and has his arm pressed against yours, his only lifeline to find some reason to touch you right now.

You start pushing the rack forward again, and he continues to follow you, keeping a more respectful following distance this time. He’s distracted by the pair of crotchless panties hung over your shoulder. He picks them up by the string. “Who the fuck actually wears these?” he asks, dangling them in front of his face and turning them around in the air to inspect it.

Your eyes are set forward for your destination. “Middle-aged women that are desperate to seduce their husbands before those men ride the high of buying a $100k watch by fucking a twenty-something-year-old instead.” You snatch the pair from his hand. “I’m rooting for those women. The men at your Rolex store? Not so much.”

He’s on your heel until you round to a smaller section of the store, wheeling the rack over to a corner near the collection of lace panties sprinkled across cubbies under dim purple lighting. He glances over his shoulder and takes note that this area’s tucked away from the eyesights of the cash registers and storefront.

He hears you sigh, then say “Why are you following me?”

He meanders closer to you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “Because…y’know, like I said, I wanna make the new hire feel settled in.”

“I literally feel so very unsettled by you right now,” you say to him with a wry expression as you start sorting through lace underwear, referencing some chart in your hand to get it right.

He walks up to you and peers over your shoulder at the illustration, and notices the way you stiffen a bit but also lean back into him. “Huh…so the cheeky panties go in the left top & bottom cubes. And they’re the ones with medium coverage and…” he squints his eyes at the chart, dim lighting doing him no favors, “and they have an alarming fit.”

You scoff through your nose. “It says alluring fit. Can you read?”

“I— shut up. Yes I can read.”

You twirl around to face him, a hint of an amused smile to your lips. His eyes widen a bit at the sight of it, until he registers it’s a cheeky one, like those panties.

“Watch boy is illiterate. Must be why you still work in retail.”

“Yes, keep being mean to me, new hire. It’s hot,” he groans, hands still in his pockets as he leans towards you. You don’t shy away, just keep on looking up at him in this little corner he has you in, a twinkle in your pupils now that he wasn’t seeing earlier.

He’s surprised when your finger hooks the fabric in between two of the buttons on his shirt. You play with the material, pinching it, but never tug on it. “What’s a grown ass man like yourself doing still working for commission at a mall?”

“Okay, ouch, a little too mean,” he backtracks, watching your tongue briefly swipe across your lip, “let’s be a bit nicer.”

Now you’re tugging on the fabric, hooked finger pulling him closer to you until his hands have to fly out of his pockets and his palms press against the wall, caging you into it. “Illiterate and can’t take a dig. Pick a struggle,” you say to him with a sweet look up.

He’s getting the sense that you’re into him too. He grabs hold of your waist, thumbs rubbing your torso over the fabric of your uniform just to get a feel. “Well,” he starts, bringing your hips forward to his, pressing the erection he was building against you, “this illiterate retail worker could fuck you real good if you’d just give him the chance.”

A small gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth. Fuck, he wants to kiss you. Wants to be the one biting your lip right now. Your hand grabs his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin left exposed by his rolled up sleeve. “It’s…It’s real well, watch boy. You’d fuck me real well.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll fuck you real well,” he tells you, as his head tips towards your cheek, lips brushing against it. It was just a tease, so he pulls away but still looks down at you in closeness. There’s voices around the corner, but he doesn’t really care.

“You’re awfully forward,” you breathe out, and he almost goes insane at the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he can’t help but jerk his hips forward a bit.

“Y’know what? Fuck it,” he grumbles, pulling the rack across behind him so he’s created a covered haven for the two of you against this wall, and then he kisses you.

There’s a yelp that he muffles from you as his lips move against yours, slow, because you're new to him and he wants to savor it. His hand finds the small of your back, spreads across it, pushing you to arch towards him, and his teeth catch your bottom lip when he feels your breasts press against him. You’re pliant, opening your mouth for him, and he takes up the offer to taste you. Soft & warm pressed up against him, a subtle sweetness on your tongue, and he only pulls away because you squeeze his shoulder hard.

You’re breathing fast, cheeks shy, a little cutely cross-eyed from his proximity when you look up at him. “I-…okay, I’m a little mad that you’re a good kisser.”

He hums, tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly and you grip the collar of his shirt to keep him close. “I’ll kiss you nice in a lot of other places too.”

It doesn’t really take much convincing after that.

“Oh…oh my god—,” you mewl, back against the mirror of one of this fine lingerie establishment’s fitting room stalls, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you raw with the aim to please.

“Shit, knew you’d be tight,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw when you tip your head back in pleasure, throat loose with a moan, “pretty little new hire. Just had to break you in.”

“S-Satoru,” you moan through a breath, the sound of his name on your tongue having his cock twitch inside your walls, mixed with the pain of the grip you had on the hair at the back of his head.

He has your shirt bunched up along with your bra, tits exposed for him. His head dips to pull a nipple through his teeth as he feeds you with a few slow, deep thrusts, and his eye catches the earpiece of your headset, still clipped to your shirt, bouncing around with every one of his movements inside you. “Really hope that thing’s off,” he mumbles against your skin, “but if it excites you to have it on, I—fuck, I wouldn’t really mind either way.”

Your hand flies to his bicep when he runs his thumb over your clit, legs wrapping around him even tighter. “More. Need more,” you say, head in a haze, and he really could’ve cum inside you right then and there but he holds out to enjoy some more time buried in the warm pleasure of your cunt.

“If you want something from me,” he grunts between thrusts, “you’re gonna have to beg me for it, love.”

“Fuck me harder,” you cry, eyes shut closed, and he almost feels sorry for you.

“That’s a demand,” he informs, pinching the flesh of your ass and enjoying the way you clench around him from the action, “I told you to beg.”

“Please, oh my god, please—,” you start, moving your hips against his now, and he hears the lewd sound of your flesh slapping more fervently against the mirror. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Good girl. Pretty girl,” he praises you, thumb finding your clit again as a reward, “see what you get for being so nice to me now.”

He bucks his hips harder, your arms wrapping around his neck in desperation, chin resting at the top of his head as his lips fall to your neck, and he kisses, nibbles, sucks, anything to get that sweet taste in his mouth while he draws stars over your sensitive bud, eliciting broken whimpers from you over and over again.

“Gonna let me cum inside?” he asks, feeling his balls jump at just the thought of filling you up, his thighs feeling hot from the anticipation of you giving him the permission. “All that shit talk earlier about me being a dumb mall worker, but you’d still let me finish in you, right?” His hips stutter slightly, vision starting to blur, and he feels your walls flutter tightly too, “cause I bet it turns you on that you’re letting this dumb retail man fuck you senseless in a flimsy little fitting room right now, regardless.”

“Satoru, please,” you’re begging, the crack in your voice hoarse like you’re about to cry from the pleasure.

“Answer me,” he demands, retreating the thumb that was toying with your clit. He pulls one of your arms from where it was wrapped around his neck to pin your wrist to the mirror. “You want me to cum inside you or not?”

Your hips press so harshly against his that he hardly has any leeway to thrust anymore, and it makes him hiss in protest, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to let up. “I want—mhh, I want you to cum inside me, please, please,” you plead, desperate, grinding your clit against the skin above his cock, above the place he was buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, the sweet words processing in his head, and he loses all sense of control, motions eager and desperate, chasing after his high and his thumb is barely considerate enough to chase after yours too as it rubs relentlessly over your puffed up clit. You shiver against him, walls clenching around his cock impossibly tight, legs wrapping around his waist possibly even tighter, and he feels every nerve as you come undone around him. The gripping sensation your orgasm had on him has him faltering with harsh thrusts forward, and he holds your hips flush to his as the first spurt of his cum spills into you, followed by more with repetitive juts of his hips until he’s emptied himself entirely into you, and you’re just pumped full of him.

You swat at his chest, squirming as he leaks the last drop from the tip of his dick, and he can tell you’re overstimulated.

“Sorry,” he says through a short exhale, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and he slowly pulls out of you, cock falling limp over his thigh, and he holds you until you find footing on the ground, albeit a bit wobbly.

“Oh no,” you mewl, clenching your thighs together when you feel his cum starting to drip out, and he quickly bends down to hook your panties up back into place. You give him a pointed look.

“What? The easiest clean-up is not letting it out,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him so he gets to feel the plushness of your bare breasts against him and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re real good, new hire. Or whatever the fucking proper way to say it is.”

He can tell you’re rolling your eyes even though your face is buried in his chest.

“You’re a dumbass,” you say, sounding muffled.

—

Gojo spends about 90% of his shifts meandering across the shimmering tile floors of the mall to the Victoria’s Secret, and only spends about 10% of them actually being a watch salesman. His boss was starting to get real fuckin’ fed up with him, threatening to fire him yesterday for the two-hour lunch break he took because he was eating you out in a storage closet, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care. He was an addict, and he needed to get his fix. Not before annoying the shit out of you, though.

“Alright, daddy’s home. Let’s get to it. I’m on my lunch break,” he says, walking right up to you in the middle of your shift while you’re folding slip dresses onto a display table, his hand reaching for your waist but you retreat from him.

“For that, get the fuck away from me.”

He sighs. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day long. Do you purposefully walk your gorgeous self across the front of the store that many times just to tease the hell out of me? I’m suffering.”

“I walk across the storefront because I’m doing my job,” you mumble to him.

“No, I swear, you do it to—”

“Sweets,” one of your coworkers calls out to you from the other end of the store, the one with a pink buzzcut that acts kinda scary. “Is that man bothering you?” she asks through a smack of her gum, “want me to call security?”

“Yes.”

“What—”

After a couple of minutes of vindicating himself to mall security that he is not a threat to public safety, which you watch in amusement with no help at all, he’s shortly back at your side in a different section of the store to annoy you.

“When are you gonna wear one of these for me?” he asks, holding up a pair of jaguar-print panties.

“Never,” you say to him, scanning the tags on the underwear in a box of new arrivals, “those are ugly.”

“Okay, how about these,” he says, pulling a pair out of the box. “They’re see-through. I like that.”

“No,” you say, snatching it out of his hand.

“Oh c’mon,” he groans, doing a quick glance over his shoulder to check if the coast is clear before taking a step forward, pulling you to him by a finger hooked through the belt hoop of your jeans. “I’ll buy them for you. Ring me up.”

You look up at him, hand placed on his chest but you weren’t pushing him away just yet. “Really? You’re gonna buy me panties from the store I literally work at? At least have the decency to shoplift them for me.”

He has a smile on his face when he leans down closer to you, both hands now playing with the loops of your jeans. “Ohhh you’re into criminals. Will you tackle me to the ground if I do?”

“Yes, to arrest you. Not to fuck you.”

“Why not both?”

“Satoru,” you chastise him when you hear footsteps around the corner, and now you’re pushing him away and clearing your throat before busying yourself with the box again as a few customers walk by. Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, and then his eyes widen a bit when his knuckles hit something.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I got you this.” He pulls out a small, shimmering black tube and holds it out to you with an up facing palm.

You lean forward to glance at it. “Is that…lipstick?”

“Yeah,” he says, “the lady outside Sephora was giving out samples.”

You cross your arms at your chest. “The lady outside Sephora was giving out free samples of lipstick to you?”

“Can you just take it already? My arm’s starting to hurt.”

You swipe it from him and inspect it. Popping the cap open, you twist the cheap plastic adjuster so that the tip of the wax peaks out. It was a deep shade of red. “Did she try to talk to you?”

“Uhh, yeah. Something about how this new formula is smudge-proof or something. Was hoping we could test that out.”

You roll your eyes. “She probably wanted to test that out. With you.”

“What, are you jealous?”

“Not really, no,” you say and hand the lipstick back to him. He looks at you puzzled. “Lipstick isn’t really for me, sorry.”

“I literally saw you wear some the other day. That’s what gave me the idea,” he says, “of turning my dick into the shade of your lipstick.”

“Could you be any louder?” you hiss at him, glancing at a coworker who could’ve potentially been in earshot.

He shrugs and pinches the tube of lipstick between two of his fingers, holding it up between the two of you. “You sure you don’t wanna?”

Turns out you were not too opposed to the idea, but he had to earn it by making you cum a couple times in the janitor’s closet at the end of the floor. He likes having to earn the sight of you on your knees, it turned him on way more than he had expected.

“My jaw is so fucking sore,” he complains, opening and closing his mouth a few times to stretch it out, then runs a hand across his jawline. “You were a lot less sensitive today. Took way longer.”

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are,” you say, pulling the buckle of his belt loose, sitting back down onto your heels to get more comfortable while you undress him.

“Bullshit. Should’ve used that insult maybe the first or second time I gave you head. It’s too late now, after the filthy things you’ve said to me in your desperation to cum.”

He watches you flutter your lashes a few times, fingers stopping their movements, and you shift a little from where you were seated on the ground. You were aroused, but still committed to the attitude. “I don’t have to do this for you, you know.”

He shudders a little. “Wait, you seriously don’t want to? You don’t have to.”

You sigh. “You were supposed to demand me to do it anyways. Would’ve been hot.” You pull his belt loose and your thumb and index finger pinch the button open with ease. “You don’t wanna fuck me, though?”

“Of course I want to fuck you, I will always want to fuck you. But the last time we got rowdy in here, I almost killed you when I knocked the shelf over.” A chill runs down his spine. “Not taking any more chances.”

You giggle a little at the memory while zipping down the front, then your fingers dig into the fabric of both his slacks and his boxers, pulling them down until he’s sprung free, fully thick and hard, courtesy of the cute sounds you were making earlier while his tongue was playing with your clit.

“Are you not gonna put the lipstick on?” he asks.

“No.” You grab a hold of him mid-way, giving an experimental tug, and raise from your seated position onto your knees.

“But—”

“I told you, lipstick isn’t my style,” you say, eyes flickering up to him when you kiss the tip. He sucks a breath in.

“Damn, okay. I was genuinely curious if it was smudge proof. The lady was really hyping it up,” he says and he sees your shoulders drop.

“Enough of the Sephora lady,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his tip again, but as less of a kiss.

There’s a sulk in your posture from where you look up at him on your knees. His heart does this weird thing where it aches a little, and he wants to get rid of the pout on your face with a few sweet words, but he settles for pushing the tip of his cock past your lips instead. Works all the same in the end. “Good girl,” he groans when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh as you let out a muffled moan.

“Fuck…” He pulls his hips back slightly, allowing you to adjust, but when you swallow and his tip feels the roll of those muscles, he’s pushing into your mouth again. “C-Can you take more?”

You try your best to give him a nod and you bob your head once, tongue swiping over the vein that was throbbing the proof of his need for you right now.

“I’ll finish fast, baby,” he tells you, voice husky, fingers combing through your hair gently, “just take it how I want it, and I promise I’ll be quick, okay?”

You nod again, thumb rubbing the skin near his groin in reassurance. You squirm a little and press your thighs together when he grips your hair tighter now, encouraging your head to bob up and down on him, and you do as he wants. Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on him, and he swears he’s already close to cumming.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah,” he grunts under his breath, “good. Just—just like that. You’re so good. Pretty girl,” he juts his hips forward to see if you can take it, and you do, “on her knees for me.”

Your throat vibrates with a moan, and he sees you squirm even more. You take him all the way in, to a place deeper than the back of your throat, so well without a gag but there’s a prickle of tears in your eyes, and he rubs your cheek softly while he feels the sweat collect at his temple. “Oh fuck, I’m— shit, baby. I’m close.”

You drag your lips across his length, retreating with a thorough hollow to your cheeks, and release him with a pop and your tongue stuck out connecting a string of your spit to his tip. Your hand immediately starts to rub him up and down as you look up, and the soft panting leaving your lips and fanning across his cock has him swallowing hard. “S-Sorry, needed a break.”

“That’s okay,” he says, swiping at some of the saliva pooled at the corner of your lip. “Take your time.”

You kiss his tip in acknowledgment, then take him in again, this time both hands working at the base as you bob up and down, more free with your moans and the sensation of them reverberating in the canal of your throat makes him grip your hair with both hands, desperate.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he grunts, head tipping back and hitting the door. “Real close. Your mouth feels so good, you’re driving me insane.”

You suck on him, hard, taking him in to his favorite place that’s at the back of your throat, and when your hand reaches out to play with his balls, paired with the sensation of fast exhales through your nose onto the skin of his groin, his eyes close shut and strained and he’s jerking his hips forward to spill his cum down your throat. “Fuuuuck. Oh my god.” He exhales, watching you swallow over and over again as he pumps into your mouth, then he slowly pulls out when he feels that he’s done.

You sit back down on your heels, hands now neatly folded on your lap, looking up at him and his thumb prods at your bottom lip for you to open your mouth. You do as he wants, tongue hanging out in the process, and he sighs in satisfaction when he sees you’ve swallowed it all. “Beautiful, baby. Come here.”

With a hand wrapped around your arm, he gets you up on your feet and kisses you. You hold onto the fabric of his shirt for purchase, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Doing okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tightening your grip on his shirt, “I liked it. Liked it when you said I was good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “More than good, angel. You’re perfect.”

—

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You look like you could use a break,” Gojo says to you in Victoria’s Secret on a random Saturday morning. He usually always works on Saturday, but he’s never seen you here on a Saturday before. Apparently you were picking up extra shifts since you were going on vacation next week, something about a wedding in Spain. But you’d worked six consecutive shifts in a row, and the exhaustion was starting to show.

“I don’t know…your store scares me,” you respond back to him. You were behind the register, and he was pretending to buy forty-two pairs of panties just to talk to you.

“It’s not scary. I just want to show you around,” he says, standing up straight from where he had been leaning over the counter.

You eventually give in, toying with your name badge as you make your way around the counter to him, eyeing the smile on his face before he leads you through the aisles and eventually across the mall to the Rolex watch store.

It wasn’t horribly busy for a weekend, but there were still a few clients around. Choso was helping out a regular, a man who has bought four $200k watches within the past two months, and Choso’s been biting his nails worried he’s going to have to play witness in a tax evasion court case should that client eventually get caught by the IRS for fraud one of these days.

Suguru comes around the corner the second he sees you walk through the polished glass doors, and Gojo’s already annoyed.

“Hey, it’s the new hire,” he greets you, stretching his hand out and you accept it in a shake. “I’m Suguru.”

“Not really new here anymore,” you say to him after introducing yourself, “been here for a couple months now.”

“Oh really? Time flies. Thanks for all the shows, by the way,” he jerks his head off to the Victoria’s Secret store, “I’ve enjoyed watching the 101 ways you can remove a bra on a mannequin. Might have to incorporate some of them into my personal life.”

Gojo scoffs. “Yeah right, like a woman would let you within a hundred feet of her bra.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow with a sleazy smirk on his face, before leaning closer to you. “Should we prove him wrong about that, darling?”

Gojo hates the way he sees you blink your lashes at him and blush, so he’s grabbing your hand and walking you across the store, away from Suguru. He circles you around to the back near one of the display counters. Ladies’ new Datejust models, pretty classy and feminine. He walks to behind the counter, with you staying on the other side, like you were a genuine sale.

“See anything you like?” he asks, resting his elbow on the glass and peering down through it.

You blink at him. “Uh…of Rolex watches?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm…” you press your index finger to your chin and glance at a few. “I like that one.” You point with that same finger and he follows the line with his eyes.

“Hm,” he says, using his key to unlock the case, then slides the opening to the side to gently pull the watch out. “Oystersteel and yellow gold, 18 karat. Wanna try it on?”

“Sure.”

He releases the safety clasp, pulling apart the band, and slides it through your hand down to your wrist, then fastens the clasp until he hears a click. You immediately raise your wrist up into the air, twisting it to assess, and there’s a sparkle in your eyes.

“How much is it?” you ask.

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-what?”

“Thirty-thousand.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god. Get this thing off of me.”

He laughs and his hands find the clasp at your wrist, unfastening it and you’re trembling a bit as you shake it off before he catches it in his palm. “Not my fault you literally chose one of the most expensive watches we have in this section.”

“This is insane. How do people afford any of these?” you ask, feet wandering and now you’re clearly curious as you inspect the cases.

“We have more affordable watches available for lingerie store workers,” he tells you, clicking his tongue to get your attention and you turn around then follow him to the other end of the counter. He points at the glass. “These are all under three-thousand.”

“Oh…” you peer at them with interest, and he watches you. His eyes fall to your wrist.

“Here,” he says, sliding the display case door open, and pulls out another watch, “I think you’d look nice in this.”

He shows it to you for a second before releasing the clasp and holding onto your hand to slide the watch through it. After fastening it, he looks up at your expression, and his heart’s beating a bit faster. You turn your wrist in the air to marvel at the watch, and he thinks your eyes look stunning from the way the shimmer of the watch reflects off of them.

“Wow,” you say.

“I knew you’d look good in anything rose gold,” he says, both elbows on the counter as he watches you, “this one’s only a couple thousand.”

You’re still a little speechless as you look at it, right index finger tracing the dial. He wants to buy it for you. He could, it’s not much of an issue, he’d just have to kiss goodbye to that used gaming PC he’s been eyeing on craigslist for the past couple of months, but something in his gut tells him it’d be worth it. Something in the soft look in your eyes right now tells him it’d be worth it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“That it’s beautiful,” you say to him, swallowing and then extending your wrist out to him. “Sorry, wearing it for too long. Probably lost a few hundred bucks in value just from the two minutes it was on my wrist.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll buy it for you.”

Your mouth gapes. “W-What?”

“I mean—if you actually like it. Then, I don’t mind,” he says, suddenly a bit flustered.

“Satoru. That’s insane. This is a two-thousand dollar watch.”

He shrugs. “I know, but it looks good on you. I can’t shoplift this one for you, though. But I’ll buy it if you actually want it. And if you lie and say you don’t like it, just to be nice, I’ll read right through it. So be honest.”

“I…” you start, “I really can’t accept that.”

His eyes are level with yours, and something about your persistence in your refusal just makes him want to buy it for you even more. But he’s not gonna push it anymore. He’ll just try to work towards a day where you’ll accept it from him. Where it won’t even be a question to want to decorate you in something as pretty as you are.

“Alright. Then give it back, it’s probably only worth a couple hundred now.”

a/n. hope you enjoyed!! this was fun to write. it was supposed to be longer but i cut it short so maybe part two lol?? i also wanna write versions for choso & suguru in this au lol maybe like a multi in one verse kinda thing haha i like the idea of a hot watch salesman trio. thank you for reading 💕

taglist: @ohsehuniiee @lost-resonance @whereflowerswenttodie @horisdope @therealestpussyeater @satorminniett @tobaccosunbxrst @alekssashka7 @ritsatoru @angrychinchillanoises @shleepyking @crimsonmarabou @mxlktae @bloopsstuff @slut-4-gojo @lil-cinn @wateronlyhaha @strawberiicreme @wintertoru @mo0nforme @whispersofbeskar @who-can-touch-my-boob @quinnyundertow @ramluvr @anthastudios @sabokunsmalia @ninjaturtletoes @rylierev @dvarlinggg @heyitsmirae @sleepyyammy @lofasofabread @lolthatsnice @tetsuski @bakuhoethotski @sureconfused

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reiding-writing · 9 days

Note

reid getting a nightmare and not knowing who to talk to or go to so goes to cold readers apartment even though he has never been there

MIDNIGHT VISITOR — SPENCER REID!

After a particularly eventful case, Spencer has a night terror, and the only person he wants to see, is you.

spencer reid x cold!reader | h/c? | 1.4k | cold!reader masterlist

a/n— played a little loose with this request, hope it suffices nonetheless <3

main masterlist.

There’s a knock on your apartment door.

It was twenty two minutes past one in the morning, who in god’s name was knocking at your door?

Probably one of the team.

All you knew, was it better be important or else they were going to catch the beration of their life and then some.

The way you drag yourself from your bedroom to the door is nothing more than lethargic, with frustration sprinkled in every step and your eyebrows knotted into a scowl.

The way you pull open the door isn’t any more elegant.

“I switched my phone off for a reason—” You fizzle out the start of your seething lecture when your eyes meet Spencer’s.

Definitely not who you were expecting. Morgan usually, Hotch maybe, But Spencer coming to your apartment personally to drag you to the office? That was new.

Although the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the way his hands were trembling told you that this wasn’t for a case.

“What is it Reid?” You clear your throat of any remaining sleep, crossing your arms over your torso to try and maintain the heat lost by your duvet.

He was clearly troubled by something, or, well, less troubled, and more scared.

Something had shaken him, but he also didn’t look like he believed in any immediate danger.

So what was it?

“Reid.”

He blinks hard, exhaling shakily through his nose and dry-swallowing like he had to consciously remind himself to.

“Can I come inside, please?” It’s almost desperate, the way his voice threatens to break under the near-whisper of his request.

And you might be an asshole, but even you’re not that much of an asshole.

Doesn’t mean you’re super nice about it though.

You step aside with your tongue pressed to your cheek, nodding your head for him to come in a way that almost begrudging.

“Thank you…” Spencer clears his throat as he takes his first step into your apartment, trying to reassemble some sense of a composure.

He’s four steps in when he realises this is the first time he’s ever been in your apartment.

The more he thinks about it the more he feels like an idiot. Who is he to barge into your home at some ungodly hour of the night?

You can sense his hesitation almost immediately.

“Sit down, Reid,”

You shut the door as you speak, unravelling your arms from yourself and gesturing, instructing, for Spencer to sit down on the small couch in the middle of the room.

“Should I— uh, my shoes—”

“Just—” You swallow your frustration. “Sit down,”

Spencer pressed his lips together and nods, guilt streaming over his face as he takes a seat right on the edge of the couch cushions, like he’s afraid of leaving a physical mark of his presence by sitting properly, his hands in his lap and his gaze lowered towards the floor.

Guilt. Because he’s imposing on your night, in your home.

“I’m sorry,”

“Why are you here?”

He should’ve known, really, that you wouldn’t care for his apologies, you probably didn’t even actually care that he was in your apartment at all, only that it was inconveniencing your sleep.

“I um…” He falters for a second. “I don’t know,”

“You don’t know?” There isn’t a single ounce of belief in your tone, and the way your arms cross over your chest again drive that point home tenfold.

He opens his mouth, then he hesitates. “I… needed to see you,”

“About what?”

He shakes his head. “I just… needed to see you,”

You sigh, rolling your lips together. “You’re having night terrors. Again.”

“You—” He breathes out sharply. “could’ve died,”

“I was wearing a vest, Reid.”

“two centimetres…”

“It hit the vest.”

“It almost didn’t-!” Spencer shudders out an exhale, dragging his palm over his nose and mouth to regulate himself before it falls trembling back into his lap.

“It scared me.” It’s the first time Spencer looks you in the eyes, his admission, and his voice doesn’t shake or waver. Instead it’s confident, damning. “You went down, and… I thought you weren’t going to get back up,”

“Well,” You take a short step towards the back of the couch. “I did.”

It’s not the most emotionally sensitive thing in the world, but the tension in Spencer’s shoulders sags out under his weight anyway.

“You did,” He lets out a short cough. “Didn’t even go to the hospital—”

“You know I don’t like hospitals, Reid,”

“The edges of a bulletproof vest are on average 18.6 millimetres thinner than the—”

“It was just bruise, Reid.” You tug on the collar of your sleep shirt as you round the couch, exposing the mottled purple mark just underneath your collarbone, a dark blue in its centre and a sickly green on its edges.

Long story short, it didn’t look good.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better…”

“I’m alive. That make you feel better?”

Spencer’s eyes flicker from your bruise to your face, and immediately look away once confronted with the sternness in your expression.

“I should go home now,”

“You’re not stable enough to go home,”

You hold your hand out expectantly, and Spencer bites the inside of his cheek as he rifles through his pocket and pulls out a link of two house keys, surrendering them into your palm.

You’re not satisfied.

“Hand it over.”

Spencer sighs, and then begrudgingly gives up his car key into your hand as well.

“Thank you.” You close your hand tightly around the keys like a show of your temporary ownership, letting your hand fall back to your side as you cross the living room into the hallway beside it.

Resigned to his fate, Spencer takes the opportunity to look around, sighing as he lets his weight be properly supported by the cushions underneath him.

So this is where you lived. How you lived. It’s not really something he’d thought about before, not a lot anyway.

“The couch is small and uncomfortable, and your back is going to hurt tomorrow.” You throw a pillow at him as you return, and he’s not sharp enough in his reflexes to catch it before it hits him in the side.

“It’s your punishment for worrying.” You dump a blanket over one of the arms.

Spencer nods quietly, eyes flickering on the small personalisations of your home.

“Where’s your PhD?” He asks the question quietly, pillow clutched over his lap. It smells like you.

“In a box somewhere, probably,” You furrow your eyebrows slightly. “Why?”

“Your place is a lot more homey than I thought it’d be…”

You scoff shortly. “I’m not a robot, Reid.”

“No— No I mean—” He waves his hand quickly to try and dispel any miscommunication. “You’ve got pictures of your family, things from your FBI training, you know— uh— important things— but uh—”

Spencer swallows, getting himself back on topic. “But your degree isn’t on show,”

“It’s a piece of paper.”

“So are the photos—”

“Go to sleep, Reid. Or— try anyway I don’t care,” You breathe out a huff shortly. “I am going back to sleep, I’m fucking tired,”

Spencer bites his tongue. He knows when and when not to try and chip away at that ice wall of yours. “Alright… Goodnight,”

“Yeah, night, whatever, light switch is over there,”

You point at it fleetingly before you disappear down the hallway again, and Spencer can hear what he assumes is your bedroom door closing.

He takes a second to breathe before he lies down, face half resting in a pillow clearly taken from your bed, and a blanket most definitely only supposed to be used decoratively. It’ll do.

He knows he should really turn off the light, save the extra electricity cost for you considering he was an uninvited guest who was already inconveniencing you. But he can’t bring himself to.

And something tells him that you won’t care either way.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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loliwrites · 1 month

Text

VI. Love

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, enemies to lovers [ish], age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, SMUT, basically pwp, oral [m & f receiving], fingering, brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, choking, blink and you’ll miss it anal play, and then real anal play, just a couple pussy pronouns (come at me, jk don’t), terms of endearment [babygirl, pretty girl, little girl, you get the gist], periods, female reader, reader has hair long enough to pull, no physical description, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 8.3k series masterlist a/n: the culmination! I’ve had so much fun with this fic and i hope y’all have thoroughly enjoyed

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Joel exhaled deeply through his nose. The sound was followed up by the feeling of his hand cradling the back of your head; fingers twisting in your hair and giving a tug close to the roots. Between your own deep inhale through your nose and the relished moans that vibrated around his shaft in your mouth, you also heard all the little things Joel whispered to you in a stream of consciousness.

Yeah babygirl, that’s it. And… that mouth feels so good wrapped around my cock. And… look at you. Doin’ so good for me, pretty girl. And… wanna feel you choke on me. That one came with a particularly hard thrust up of his hips that had the head of his cock bumping up to the back of your throat which made his ask a reality.

You sputtered around his length, saliva dripping down your chin and you pressed down against his hip, pulling yourself back from him just enough to not be triggering your gag reflex. You flicked him a glance – something a little playfully scolding. He responded by letting his chest bounce with a soft laugh and his fingers relinquished their grasp on your hair, trading it for a soft pat on the back of the head.

“Sorry,” he grinned and sucked in a deep breath when you lowered your lips on him again. Concave cheeks that tightened around his shaft was nearly the end of him and he lowered his head back on his pillow, eyes pinched shut. “Where’d you learn to give head like this?”

To the best of your current ability, you smiled. Lips tightening even further around him. And with firm pressure, you pulled your mouth off of his length with careful attention paid to the head. A couple slow swipes of your tongue over his slit before you removed him from your mouth completely. You shot him a coy smirk, and curled your fist around him to administer long, slow strokes. “I’ve got a lot of skills,”

“That you do,” he agreed, adding just the slightest bit of pressure to the back of your neck to guide you back down to him. “Though this might be my favorite of them,”

The way his body reacted to your touch was more than enough evidence of that. His member throbbed in your hand, and when you succumbed to the press of his fingers on your head and secured your lips around him again, precum dribbled out of him and re-coated your tongue. There was a finite amount of time to finish him off – it was why you preferred not to partake in this type of activity in the mornings. At least not on patrol days.

But Joel had looked so damn beautiful this morning. Early morning light coming in through the window and hitting his lashes. The slight downward curve of his lips – displeased even in sleep. The gentle rise and fall of his chest; steady. All of that paired with how he’d looked after you in the past couple months. How he bathed you when the soreness and bruises intensified at their height. How he changed the bandages on your wounds with the preciseness and routine of a no-nonsense nurse. And how when all the physical signs of the attack faded, he remained steadfastly dedicated to ensuring that the psychological repercussions didn’t rear their ugly head and send your progress backward. So that’s why you pushed the sheets down this morning and positioned yourself between his legs. Why you untucked him from his underwear and started upon this oh so delicious task despite the time constraint.

His member twitched in your mouth and you flicked your eyes back up to his face. His eyes were glued to you, jaw had fallen slack. You knew that look on his face all too well. He didn’t have very long left. And with a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table, that was for the best. Joel came with a strangled moan, his come flowing out of him and directly into your mouth. Your prize for a job well done. Proud that you’d since moved on from him pulling out and needing an extensive amount of time cleaning up the aftermath.

It all happened quickly. His orgasm and you swallowing it down. Before he’d even had time to fully catch his breath again, you were backing up and pushing yourself up from the bed. Even managed to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror propped up against the wall to make sure there wasn’t anything too egregious looking about you before you ventured out into the rest of the house in case Ellie was around, too.

“Hey,” Joel called from the bed. He’d paused long enough for you to look at him before he continued, “let me return the favor.”

“Can’t,” you said back, pulling open the bedroom door. “Work,”

Joel tilted his head back and glanced at the time, quickly coming to the conclusion that you were right – there was work to be done. The first time the both of you would be moving on from the creek trails and heading back to the lodge where you’d gone on your first patrol together all those months ago. After the… incident… Tommy had thought it important to send you back out on patrol as soon as you were strong enough to do so. More specifically, thought it was important to send you back to Elk Creek as a sort of exposure therapy. Joel, of course, had something to say about it, though it was to little avail. Your first patrol back out had indeed been to the trails, and every patrol since had been there. Now apparently, you were free from purgatory.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Your horses walked side by side, the lodge now just a couple hundred yards away, looming in the distance. Comfortable silence had settled between you and Joel not long after you’d left Jackson. That’s how it normally went now. No reason to fill the silence with words; just happy to be riding along together. The way it could have been in another lifetime. It also wasn’t lost on you how different this trip to the lodge was from the previous one. How last time, Joel rode behind you, nervous as all hell you were going to turn around and shoot him. How you’d gotten inside and embarrassed the hell out of yourself asking him how they went about violating their women on patrol. How you killed those two runners while Joel stood beside and watched.

Things were certainly different now. For starters, your little dilapidated cottage went mostly unused now. All the belongings you’d collected had since moved into Joel’s house. It was just easier that way considering you spent most of your days and nights there anyway. Though your cottage occasionally saw a visitor. Ellie. Joel balked at the idea of her living all on her own at the cottage. He simply wouldn’t allow it. But when tensions started to run hot between them, she’d spend some evenings there for a little extra space. Joel learned to be alright with that as long as she came back at an appropriate curfew of eleven o’clock. And not a night went by where Joel wasn’t up listening for the sound of the garage door, indicating her safe return home.

Your relationship with Joel had also changed vastly. You figured that was the only reason he told you about Sarah. It wasn’t something he would’ve disclosed if he didn’t think you were close. Serious. He told you how he got the scar on his temple, too. How life just didn’t matter for a while. Not until he met Tess. And then Ellie. Though he didn’t say it out loud, you knew what would’ve culminated that thought: and then until he met you. But Joel kept his emotions close to the vest. Never gave away too much through words or expressions. It was like learning a foreign language, analyzing all the things between the lines.

“Hey,” Joel called from his horse, just a few feet away from yours. “I gotta tell you somethin’,”

Far be it from Joel to preface anything he had to say instead of just saying it. Though with your gaze fixed ahead on the ski lodge, the intrigue you felt by what he’d say was tempered by the image of the main entrance door on the lodge open. Instead of seeing the thick natural oak door, you could only see darkness – cluing you in that the door had either been blown, left, or forced ajar. It seemed that Joel followed your gaze and found the same thing you had.

“You stay out here,” he mumbled, pulling his rifle out of the scabbard and propped the butt against his thigh.

You flicked your eyes at him, nearly rolling them to the back of your head, “fuck that.” Digging your heels into the belly of your horse, you got it to take a quick trot forward, but all at once, Joel’s horse was perpendicularly in front of your horse, intruding on its path.

“I mean it,”

“You know what’s really gonna piss me off today,” you cocked your head to the side. “If you die. Take the front, I’ll go around back.”

Your horse got moving again with spectacular speed. The type of speed that ensured Joel would have to abide by your rules. Your terms. And he did. Begrudgingly. You swore you heard him mumble his displeasure under his breath, but it was all mixed in with the wind zipping past your ears as you worked your way around to the back of the lodge.

From what you could tell, the back of the lodge seemed to be secure, and though you dismounted your horse and hitched it to an old, rotted post away from the view of the large windows on the first floor, everything seemed to be in order back here. No doors or windows were ajar. Had you come up on this building from this vantage point originally, you’d never even think twice about going in. Yet, still with the utmost caution, you stayed out of view from the windows, ducked around and crouched with your rifle poised in your hands and duck-waddled to the staircase that led up to the second floor balcony where you and Joel had first posted up on that first patrol together.

Thankfully there was no one out there like you two had been. If there had, there wouldn’t have been anywhere for you to run for cover. Just standing out there like a sitting duck, ready to be shot at. But even on the second floor, none of the doors or windows had been propped open. Nothing to make you think that anyone had holed up inside. Even while on patrol, you’d tended to open the windows of any building you happened to be in. The ventilation was needed. After a couple decades of stale air and death, a through-breeze was appreciated.

You slung the rifle strap over your shoulder and pressed your hands flat to the dusty glass of one of the windows at the library. Hopefully, whomever had left the front door unlocked and ajar, had also forgotten to lock one of the windows. That first try was no luck. Locked and gathering cobwebs like it’d been shut for a good, long while. Second and third tries had the same outcome as the first, and with the fourth try, you were about to give up and go back downstairs when that window suddenly slid upward beneath the force of your hands. With an extra pause to make sure there were no out of the ordinary noises coming from within the room, you crawled through and tiptoed forward while simultaneously swinging your rifle back into your hands.

There still weren’t any unusual noises; nothing you could pinpoint as being a threat. So unless there was someone very clever inside that had spent so much time in here as to know where all the creaky floorboards were, you knew everything was clear. Knew that whoever had last been on patrol here just hadn’t secured the door as well as they should have. You made a mental note to check the log book for the culprit. Still, you did your due diligence of doing a walk-through of the upper floor. Though you had to admit you held your gun a little looser than you would’ve on a normal patrol.

You wandered through room to room, allowing yourself the patience to move at a leisurely pace. An abundance of time passed and feeling certain no one else was in the lodge, you shouldered your rifle, though still spooked when Joel came up behind you and set his hand on your arm. Only when you saw his rough, calloused hand there did you soften and turn toward him.

“You’re no good at listenin’,” he mumbled and looked down at his other hand. Your gaze followed his whereupon, he raised it a little higher. And held between his fingers, the stem of a delicate white, woolly flower. Edelweiss. Joel thrust the singular flower in your direction and waited for you to pluck it out of his hand.

“Where’d you get this?”

“It’s growin’ out front now,”

You twirled the stem between your thumb and index finger, watching the flower go round and round. It brought a smile to your face. Something this simple during the apocalypse. Who would’ve thought. With your mind and attention elsewhere, Joel’s hands migrating to your hips and tugging you closer to his chest brought you back to this very moment. A glow seemed to wash over his face; your eyes meeting his was all that was needed.

“Joel Miller picks flowers?” You mocked, allowing him to pull your rifle off your shoulder and set it on the old, wooden table beside you. To your utmost surprise, the table didn’t buckle beneath the weight of it. Surely, you thought, it would.

Joel smirked and crowded your space until your backside hit the edge of the table, just barely rested on it. It didn’t buckle then, either. “Don’t tell anyone,”

The softness in his expression, you could tell this wasn’t going to be one of your more serious patrols. This happened occasionally. When things were quiet. Especially since the coming of early summer. When it first started happening, Joel would get this look on his face – similar to the one he was giving you now – and you knew what he was after. He’d be all clumsy hands and lingering touches. Giddy like the schoolboy he must’ve been in the 70s. And when you began to request it on patrols, your method was a little more forceful. Direct words and hands. Joel never was good at picking up on hints. So when the face gave you the inkling, the slow hand he raised to the center of your chest to feel your heartbeat was the confirmation. It was odd seeing him like this; even if you had grown increasingly familiar with it. Though now many moons since you’d first stepped foot through the gates of Jackson, Joel’s capacity for tenderness never ceased to amaze you.

Because he hadn’t always been this gentle. No. You now knew of his wild youth. And the years he spent before the Boston QZ, when survival had nearly taken every last shred of humanity from him. He’d opened up because you’d asked him to. Asked him to let you in and make a home there. He’d been all too willing. Never bristled at any of the countless questions on the topics. Never shied away from telling you the truth even if it wasn't pretty. Because of all that, you now got to see him like this. With gentle hands, he helped you back further on the table until your feet dangled below. You brushed your fingers back through his hair in silent adoration while he stared at you with equal adoration.

When heat rose in your cheeks, you reached forward and looped your arms around his neck, clasping your hands behind his head. “What’d you want to tell me earlier? Before we saw the door?”

Joel pursed his lips and leaned in for a kiss. Maybe if he wooed you with something mind-blowing enough, you’d forget you even asked. So he slipped his tongue into your mouth and lapped against yours, nibbled on your bottom lip, and gave you the most passionate kiss he knew how. But you still pulled away from him, albeit with glazed over eyes, and took an extra breath to steady yourself despite the dampness you felt between your legs, before cocking your head to the side to await his answer.

He smiled softly and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, “‘m happy I didn’t shoot you that day.”

You barked out a hoarse laugh and rolled your eyes while simultaneously dropped your hands to his ass and pulled him closer to you until his crotch and chest were pressed up against yours. Then with playful bites, you nipped at his whiskered jaw, “M'sure you would’a found someone else to fuck.”

“Probably,” he laughed when you squeezed his ass, jaw dropping in shock at his answer. He bowed his head and nimbly undid the button and zipper on your pants. “But I don’t think anyone would be as good as you,”

“You’re pussy whipped,”

Joel took a beat before he looked up at you. A playfully confused look on his face, “now how do you know that? Ain’t nobody been usin’ pussy whipped since outbreak,”

“I heard Tommy say it,”

“Yeah?” Joel looked back down and wrapped one strong arm around your waist, lifting you off the table just enough that he could work your pants down over your ass. “Do you think I am?”

You smiled and shook your head, watching as he took a half-step back to allow for some room for him to unbutton his own pants. “I think you would do anything for me but I don’t think it’s ‘cause you’re pussy whipped.”

“No?” He grinned and rested one of his hands on the table beside you while he leaned in with the other and dragged his middle finger through your slit and up to your clit. He nodded when you whimpered and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. “Why do you think it is?”

Eyebrows furrowed together and with your head tilting backward, face up to the ceiling, a breathless smile passed over your face. Your lungs just barely managed to get enough air to speak. “‘Cause you like me,”

“Actually I don’t like you,” Joel studied your face (or what of it he could see with it tilted back) as he traced two fingertips down the length of your slit and eased them inside you. “I love you,”

“Joel,” you whimpered, bowing your head forward again with your eyes cinched shut, “you’re not supposed to say that for the first time when your fingers are inside me,”

He chuckled and thrust his fingers slowly, “sorry.” When his digits plunged back in to the last knuckle, he curled them upward inside you, against your front wall. Pride emanated from him when the immediate result was your thighs trembling and clenching together. “Tried to tell you when we rode in,”

You hummed and leaned in closer to him, enough to be able to rest your head on his shoulder, lips angled to his neck as to be able to deliver loving kisses to his skin. Your arms took the opportunity to wrap around his torso, hands splaying over the broad expanse of his back.

And he, while never losing sight of the fact that he was currently trying to pleasure you, kissed your temple and let his mouth linger there. “I love you, babygirl,” he whispered near enough to your ear that his words were clear as day – as if they hadn’t been the first time he said it. Feeling you nod against him, his lips stretched into a wider smile. It had been years since he’d felt this sort of thing for someone. The willingness to be soft with someone, but you pulled it out of him. “More ‘an life,” he whispered again, feeling your hands migrate to his pants. No doubt going to match the speed of his fingers which hadn’t ceased soft thrusts inside you. “You got me. I’m yours,”

Managing to just barely gain the wherewithal to shove your hand down into his underwear, you curled your fingers around his semi-hard shaft and began to stroke him with decisive, firm tugs that kept pace with his fingers in you. Eyes widened to take in as much visual information as possible. The way his jaw hung slack. Or the way tendons in his forearm pulled taut every time his fingers changed their angle inside you. But mostly, the way his eyes were fixed on you. Gaze gentle and longing. Almost like you could tell he’d spend the rest of his life loving you.

“Gonna fuck me or what, Miller?”

His lips curled into a smile and he crowded your space a little more, making it almost impossible for you to continue stroking him. “Was hopin’ you’d say it back. Only thing worse than sayin’ it when my fingers are inside ya’ is sayin’ it when my cock’s inside ya’.”

Heat rose up in your neck and cheeks. “Make me come and we’ll see what we can do,”

Joel leaned in the couple inches more needed to press his lips to yours. At one point in life you would’ve balked at such an activity happening when you were supposed to be focused on a patrol – keeping an eye on anything that could cause a threat to Jackson. Maybe on another day you still would. You’d smirk and push on Joel’s chest and say a cheeky, little comment that wouldn’t bruise his ego too heavily so he’d give up the fight and pick back up on it when you returned to your quiet home. But this – getting in a quickie while out – was beginning to be part of the routine. You thought it funny; less than a year ago, you’d cringed at the thought of going on patrol, knowing a couple men were going to impose themselves on you. Now, you almost hoped it would happen with this particular man. That he’d push you up against anything sturdy enough to withstand your weight, spread your legs apart, and press himself inside you. You knew he’d always find you wet, arousal dripping from you and coating your inner thighs. Now you knew that when he’d do these things, he’d also be telling you he loved you.

Joel eased his fingers out of you and nodded, sympathetic to the whine you muttered at the new emptiness. He pushed his pants down past his hips and untucked himself from his underwear; his length laying heavy and thick in his hand. His fingers, shiny with your slick, ran over his shaft in languid strokes. Very little would have to be done to keep himself hard as his eyes flickered between your face and the place he longed to be between your legs. “You want your pants completely off?”

You flashed a quick grin and shook your head, knowing what that meant. He wasn’t about to Houdini himself over or under your pants to get in between your legs. Using him as support, you hopped off the table and turned around, facing away from him. You smiled again when you felt his lips press to the back of your head and linger there. His hands made quick work of pushing your pants down a little bit further, to your knees. Then he stepped forward, one hand gripping into the supple flesh of your ass, and the other guiding his member to your awaiting entrance. Reaching back, you set your hand on his hip. A little intimacy given your history with this position – not only with Joel, but with the men of yesteryear. He let out a hum that went up in pitch at the end; wordlessly asking if you were ready. To which you nodded and used your free hand to brace yourself against the table to keep from your hip jamming into the edge.

But Joel entered you slowly. No quick or harsh movements. Just a steady drag of himself into you as if he was relishing in feeling every inch sink inside your tight heat. And when he bottomed out, there was a simultaneous adjusting of hands between the two of you. He re-positioned his around your body. One forearm crossing over your stomach to keep your lower half secure, and the other arm over your chest, his hand splayed out over your breast. In perfect position to keep you near enough that he could whisper all the filthy things he surely would in your ear. Your hands came up to his forearm over your chest, holding firm for the deep thrusts you knew would surely overtake you.

“I fuckin’ love this pussy,” he growled in your ear as he pulled his hips backward. The last word was emphasized by the powerful forward motion of his hips again. The force of it and the way the head of his cock nudged up against your cervix was enough to send you stumbling one step forward. And had his arms not been holding you, would’ve resulted in you toppling over the table. “Tell me whose it is,”

Your fingernails dug into his forearm, “it’s yours. Only yours,”

Based on the way you felt his lips stretch along the skin just below your ear, you knew he was smiling. All too happy to have you give in to him in the best of ways. He let out a long breath with his next thrust. The throbbing in his shaft only matched by the throbbing of your core around him. If he were a lesser man, he could lose it right then and there. Fill you with his spend and fuck it up into you. Getting a chance to see if what you’d told him was true. Not like he could knock you up. He was in no position to be bringing about life. Hell, the world was in no position to be bringing about life. But shit if he didn’t want to try.

You moaned and tilted your head to the side, away from his, knowing he’d give you what you were asking for. Fingers, mostly limp, curled around your neck. And with a kiss to your temple, he added pressure, keen to the way your expression shifted into a breathless smile. As he mumbled a string of dirty thoughts and questions into your ear, you nodded to him in response. Yes to anything he had to say or offer. Always yes. Eyebrows knitting together each time he slammed back into you to the hilt.

Soon the pressure on your lower back came to be a bit too much. Years on horseback will do that to you. You eased yourself out of the octopus hold he had on you and laid down over the table, chest and cheek flush to it. Joel gave your ass an appreciative squeeze. Sweat beaded at his hairline and he wiped it away with the heel of his hand before he brought that hand down to the back of your head. He took a fistful of your hair and pulled on it until your head followed suit. Neck stretched out, hands splayed out in front of you, it was impossible to ignore the delicious push and pull of his cock. He pistoned forward, very nearly splitting you in half before dragging backwards so you felt every last inch of him moving in and out of your hole.

“You’re a dirty old man,” you grinned, letting out a particularly hearty moan when he moved his hand from your ass cheek and centered over your puckered hole.

Another proud smile washed over his face, “yeah but you’re the dirty little girl moanin’ like a dog in heat for him.”

Even you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling at that. Were you not the person who begged for him almost every night? Albeit in the comfort of your own home. And now, taking him deep inside you, hitting that place that made your legs tremble. He trailed his hand down to your spasming thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. Relax anymore and you were liable to topple right over. The most amazing part of it all was that he didn’t have to do anything in particular to make it good. You’d always imagined there was some mind-blowing thing that would have to be done in order for you to like this. If there was, he did it so routinely – so easily – that it was imperceptible.

In the beginning, you never knew when your climax was coming. It wasn’t something you could pinpoint the feeling to and give notice ahead of time. As you grew more attuned to it, learning yourself and what it felt like, you found there was no reason to give notice. Joel had learned at the same time you had. The way it felt when you were close. The way your back arched. The way your core pulsed around him as if trying to get him to slow or stop. The way your eyebrows knitted together to create an almost-frown on the rest of your face. The way your breathing shallowed out…

There were any number of signs he could look to and know. It’s how he knew you were close now. Your chest heaved searching for fresh air despite quick, shallow breaths that almost seemed like you were hyperventilating. He pulled you back up to him then until your back was flush to his chest and his arms wrapped around you to keep you still. He drove himself up into you in perfect rhythm, and though that felt amazing, it was never the thing that got you over the edge. It was the way his voice rang in your ears.

“Lemme see how pretty you look comin’ all over my cock,” he nibbled your earlobe with the next deep thrust. Then after a high-pitched squeak from you when he dropped one hand to your clit, “attagirl. That’s my fuckin’ girl. C’mon. You don’t have to hold out, give it to me,” he rambled lowly. “I’m gonna fill your cunt all the way up, just wanna feel you first,”

That’s ultimately what does it. Gets you to give in the pleasure until you’re a whimpering, trembling mess in Joel’s arms. Feeling wetness from your release trickle down your inner thighs and in the hair on his lower belly; each snap of his hips smacked that wetness back against your ass. And you’re weren't even done shaking when Joel stilled, tense. The muscles in his arms flexed, holding you as close to him as possible. Then the feeling of his spend painting your walls. Quick, jabbing thrusts pushed his release deeper as if he was trying to ensure every last drop stayed inside you.

Joel let out a throaty groan when his orgasm culminated. There was just a hint of a beat where he allowed himself to catch his breath before he leaned in and kissed your neck tenderly. You stirred in his arms, hips shifting back against him and he looked down at where you were connected. With care, he eased his hips backward until his softening length slipped out of you. The lack of stretch within was replaced by his fingertips pressing against your entrance – not yet pushing past the muscle to be inside, but just enough pressure at the rim that you knew what he was doing. Trying to keep his come from dripping out of you.

With a breathless grin, you tilted your head back until it bumped along his collarbone, “I love you too.”

A smile made a home on his face and he leaned in for another kiss. This one to your lips with gentleness you never thought you’d find in a man. Let alone this man.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It was evening by the time you and Joel got settled back at his house, and even later by the time you let your body hit the bed. An old desk fan with metal blades whooshed away in the corner, spitting out as much cool air as it could though it wasn’t enough to keep up with the heat the house had retained during the afternoon. Though there was more than enough electricity provided by the plant, everyone tried to stay away from air conditioners in the privacy of their own homes to allow for the community spaces to have that luxury. So now you lay, tits up and out to the world, on the bed like a starfish, waiting for the fan to cycle back around and hit you with a burst of cool air.

Joel came in and shut the bedroom door behind him, quickly ditching the towel he’d slung around his hips in the event Ellie happened about the house. He moseyed over to the dresser in his fully nude form, very keen to the way your eyes tracked him – or more specifically – the way your eyes tracked his manhood swinging between his legs with each step.

He pulled a clean pair of boxer briefs out of the top drawer and then turned toward you full frontal. “You’re droolin’,”

It took a second longer of staring at his member before you registered his words and looked up into his eyes. “Then get over here and give me something to drool on,”

A quick laugh ripped through him and he walked over to the bed, underwear still in hand, and crawled up just far enough that his torso was above your legs with his hands pressed to the mattress on either side of your thighs. “You already did that today,”

“A girl can only do it once a day?”

“You’re not gettin’ a second one in until I get to pay you back for this morning,”

“Oh yeah. I’ve been really good to you today,”

Joel nodded in agreement and laid down on his belly. His arms hooked beneath your thighs and hauled you in closer to his face. With your legs slung comfortably over his shoulders and your feet returned to the mattress, he nodded a second time and turned toward your left thigh. Then, shaking his head back and forth slowly, he rubbed his coarse whiskers over your inner thigh. “You’re good to me everyday,”

You giggled and shifted your hips down closer to him even more. “You’re right. You owe me so much,” you joked, but as you looked down to watch him, you noted how he nodded yet again and this time pressed his lips to soothe the skin his scruff had rubbed sensitive. With a soft hum, you lowered one hand to your waist and laced your fingers with his.

He squeezed your fingers and pressed your joined hands down against your lower belly. His lips made their way a little further north, nearing the apex of your thighs. “We’ll start with a couple orgasms tonight, then see how else I can repay the rest of the debt,”

You nodded eagerly, eyes glued to his mouth until it disappeared from your line of vision. The sight ended and was simultaneously replaced by the feeling of his tongue paying careful attention to your swollen lips. He lapped his tongue over them, opening and closing his lips around you, seemingly delighted with the entire thing. Your legs shifted wider over his shoulders, inviting him even closer if that was possible. And with the hand not intertwined with yours, he raised it to your hip to hold you still when his mouth centered just where you’d wanted it to be.

A coo floated out past your lips, your other hand reaching down and tangling in his salt and pepper curls. His mouth doing absolute wonders as his tongue encouraged your anatomy to open for him. Licking along your velvety slit until his tongue inadvertently notched at your entrance. Your hips jerked further onto his mouth and your moans turned into a whimper when he flattened his tongue and trailed it up to your clit.

You cried out his name and he responded by closing his lips around the sensitive bud, and took it into his mouth gently. Your legs flinched together then. Involuntary and quick. And though it impeded Joel’s ability to continue, he took it in stride and pressed his palms to each of your thighs, easing them apart until he had space to continue – which he did with immediate fervor. But instead of replacing his hand with yours on your lower belly, he turned his hand upright beneath his chin and carefully pushed his middle and ring fingers into your throbbing core.

“Joel,” you moaned, extending his name and curling your fingers a little bit tighter in his hair.

He hummed back to you; a vibration moving through your clit and up your spine. And then with his fingers spearing into you at a slow pace, you cried out again for him and tugged on his hair. But he was not inclined to stop. Not when your body was giving him exactly what he wanted. Arousal came from your outstretched hole and pooled down into his palm. Your walls clenched in on his digits, trying and failing, to hold them still. But what absolute pleasure there was in the failure. You bucked your hips upward, a slave to the feeling he was giving you, and his fingers slipped out. With haste, he lowered his tongue to your gaping entrance, and rimmed the muscle. But instead of replacing his fingers where they had been, he set them at your other, puckered hole. The arousal that still coated them now rubbed over the taut skin.

Your eyes flicked open and looked down at him to already find him staring at you. Waiting. With his thumb pressed against your hole but not in. His mouth never stopped its ministrations, now back on your clit. And unsure of the exact reason why, but you nodded at Joel. Clear and definite. A growl rumbled through his chest and he sunk his thumb into your ass. Though it wasn’t anything exceptionally large, it had you chewing at your bottom lip. And as soon as the forward pressure began, it stopped. Now just a stretching fullness as Joel got his thumb into you to the first knuckle.

“Joel,” you whimpered, eyebrows furrowing, “please.”

For the first time, he pulled his mouth away from you and looked down at his thumb. An open mouthed, breathless smile crossed over his face and he looked back up at you with pure lust in his eyes. “You wanna come with my finger in your ass?”

“Yes– yes please. M’close,”

So he put his mouth back on your clit and got to work. He knew it wasn’t going to take much more. Your legs were already shaking. Your calf muscles spasmed tight and released. He could count to ten and call out your orgasm with an insane amount of accuracy. Joel bent his thumb inside you, adding downward pressure to stretch out your ass a little more. Make it feel a little fuller, though he doubted he needed to do much to make it feel like that. In fact, he didn’t even make it to the ten count in his head before a scream tore through your throat and your thighs squeezed around his head. He lapped away at you until your body settled, little aftershocks coursing through you though he kept drinking down the arousal that came out.

Only when you physically pushed his head back, did he pull away. Though he didn’t get very far. Stayed between your legs and looked back down at his thumb as he eased it out of you. You shifted uncomfortably beneath him, but as soon as his finger was free, he crawled up over your body and rested his lower half on yours. The weight of him, easing you back to calmness.

“You’re all messy,” you scrunched your nose and smiled, noting the way his beard shone with your slick in it.

He grinned back at you and lifted one hand up to his face, wiping it over his mouth. Then with both hands firmly planted on the bed on either side of you, he leaned in for a kiss. Relishing in the way he could force his tongue into your mouth, getting you to taste the remnants of your release. “You made the mess. I was cleaning up,”

Your jaw dropped but he just kissed you again, and lifted his waist high enough that he could reach in between your bodies and grab his length. It was a quick moment thereafter that you felt his erection pressing against you – although not to the place you expected to feel it.

You shot him a glance, not worried or scared… just noticing. “Wrong hole,”

“Sure?” He smiled, not pressing his luck any. As soon as you nodded, he shifted up to the correct entrance.

“Maybe another night it can be the right hole,” you whispered, almost feeling like you needed to band-aid his ego.

Joel pursed his lips together and eased his hips forward. He watched the way your jaw dropped open when his shaft stretched you open and when he bottomed out, he pulled his hand away and cupped both of his over your head. “It doesn’t need to be. Only if you want it. Don’t do it for me,” he pulled his hips back and then drove them forward again, “I got this. And I love this,”

“Yeah?” you chirped, lifting your hips off the bed to meet his, “she feels good?” Off his brazen nod, you lifted your head off the pillow and nipped at his scruffy jaw. Then a touch lower to his neck. “You like the way she creams for you?”

“Fuck,” he muttered and bowed his head. His cheek now rested beside yours. Hips stuttering forward. “You can’t keep talking, ‘cause I’m already close,”

“The old man can’t keep it together?” You mocked playfully, reaching up to tangle your fingers in the ends of hair at the nape of his neck. Your body was rocking up and down along the mattress, at the mercy of his powerful thrusts on top of you.

Joel lifted his head enough to look down at you and brought a hand to your neck, applying pressure to the sides. “The old man just got done eating the best tastin’ pussy he’s ever had, and then watched his girl come with his thumb in her ass. The old man is doin’ pretty damn good, all considering.”

The laugh you wanted to give was stifled because of his hand on your throat, but he muffled the rest of it with his lips. Wet, open-mouthed kisses that had his tongue wrestling yours. You moved your hands to his chest, rubbing along his pecs. But even that was short lived. Joel wrangled your hands in his and pinned them down on either side of your head. He laced your fingers with his and lowered his full weight to you. At this angle, only able to thrust into you with short jabs; ones that kept you filled to the brim and feeling him at every spot within you.

You stared up into his eyes, your jaw hung slack and your lips swollen and throbbing. Every part of both of your bodies seemed to be throbbing. Pulse points making the pleasure known to every cell.

He shook his head absently. Now his own eyebrows furrowed, trying to stave off his orgasm. “So fuckin’ beautiful like this,”

You smiled and let your eyes drift shut. But Joel’s hand cupping over your cheek stirred you enough to get you to open your eyes again. “Like what? Sexed out?” The rest of that breath was expelled from your lungs with a thrust from Joel that nearly had you thinking he’d gone beyond pressing against your cervix and being fully in it. A pain that quickly subsided into a weighty, stretching pleasure. “Keep going, don’t stop. Please… please,”

Joel lifted himself off of you just enough to keep pace. Long, languid thrusts rolled into you like waves breaking on the beach. You had made fun of him but the truth was you weren’t far off either. Way too close to another orgasm to even be nearly respectable. You came first, and even though Joel had a passing thought about having a smart ass remark about it, he didn’t say anything. You whimpered and curled forward into his chest, choking his cock inside you. Before you’d finished completely, he groaned with you, abs flexing as quick thrusts shot rope after rope of his come inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, his lips at your neck while yours were at his shoulder. You breathed together for a few moments. Just long enough to catch enough air in your lungs, before Joel pulled out of you and rolled over onto his back. In the same instant, you turned onto your side, curling into him with one leg slung over his waist. The air, warm and muggy between you. A sheen of sweat had you both glowing in the moonlight.

His arm beneath you, curled upward and his fingertips brushed over the skin on your shoulder. Both absently stared at the ceiling fan above until you let out a content sigh and rocked up onto your forearm, gaining the advantage in being above him. He’d said you looked beautiful but you couldn’t help but notice he looked beautiful, too. And with a long, soft kiss that felt like I love you, you peeled yourself out of bed, the sheet sticking to your skin as you went, and quickly pulled one of Joel’s t-shirts out of the dresser. Slipping it over your torso, you pulled the hem down over your ass and tugged the bedroom door open. Finding the hallway clear of roaming teenagers, you tiptoed directly across the hall into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You stole a glance of yourself in the mirror, feeling foolish with the level of “modesty” you tried to retain in Joel’s t-shirt. Had anyone seen you in the hallway, it would’ve been wholly obvious what you’d just been up to. Your skin had a tacky, sweaty glow. Your hair was an absolute wreck. There was even a slight mark on your neck where his hand had been.

Yet you still grinned to yourself when you sat down on the toilet. Proud (if that was the right emotion) to look this way for Joel. You tore off some toilet paper and reached between your legs to wipe. Already sensitive and sore, you did so with even more attention and care than you would’ve on a normal day. But when you finished and looked down in the bowl, your heart jumped to a stop.

“Joel!” You stared down at the water, now a color you hadn’t seen in some time. “Joel, can you come here?!”

It took a few seconds, likely just long enough for him to find where his underwear had gone, before he rapped a knuckle against the bathroom door. You called him inside, long past the days of being shy to pee around him. Though you insisted everything else was still off limits.

“Did you give the Diva Cup back to Maria like I asked?”

Joel racked his brain for the memory of this conversation. Right. Your first day here – slid the Diva Cup over to him and told him you wouldn’t be needing it. When his memory caught up with the present moment, he shook his head. “I held onto it in case Ellie needed it. Why?”

A smile flashed over your face. “I got my period,”

“Yeah?” He stared at you. A nervous nod swept over you. “That’s great,”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” he repeated and took a couple steps forward to close the gap between you. After he kissed the top of your head, he pulled open the top drawer of the vanity, going drawer by drawer until he found the box. He looked down at it momentarily before handing it over to you, “means your body knows you're safe again. Get back to its nature,”

“We’ll have to be more cautious with the way we’ve been…” you glanced at the bulge in his underwear before catching his gaze again, “you know…”

He nodded. You both seemed to be doing a lot of that here. “Yeah,” he set his hands on his hips, absently staring at the box in your hands.

“See? Told you it was better I didn’t have it. No pressure,”

His eyes flashed back up to yours. “I’m happy you got it. Your body’s doin’ its thing. You’re healthy. You’re alive. That’s all I want,” he brushed his hand through your hair. “We’ll figure out how to work with it.” Then a pause that seemed to last a little too long for comfort. Joel took a deep breath, “havin’ a little you runnin’ around would probably give me a heart attack. Might be kinda fun too, though,”

You figured there was an emotional glint in your eye. This rock of a man opening up to you like this. “I wish we weren’t having this conversation while I’m on the toilet,”

A laugh rocked through his chest. Joel motioned down to the box again, “y’need help with that?”

“I think I can manage,”

He smiled again and bent over. He cupped his hand over your cheek and planted the most tender kiss you’d ever had on your lips. Joel pressed his forehead to yours with a wink. “Alright. Come back to bed when you’re done. I’ll be waitin’ for ya’,”

“‘Kay,” you nodded. Then as he backed up and headed for the door, you called out to him. “I love you, Joel.”

He looked back over his shoulder as he pulled the door open, “I love you, too.”

#joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #ppcu fanfiction #edelweiss fic

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false-lycanthrope · 4 months

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I really hate that I even have to say this, but I'm going to because it's a reoccurring theme I keep seeing recently in therian/otherkin tags.

Keep your misanthropy out of the therian/otherkin community. It is not fucking welcome here.

It is insanely frustrating to see us going backwards like this! Not only that humans are not inherently evil by nature!

I'm so tired of constantly having to fish out misanthropes in my feed because you have such an insecurity with your own identity that you project that hatred into innocent people- I mean it's gotten to the point I've had to filter the tags entirely!

It is not fair and not true at all to call humans an evil race or species. If you simply just LOOK you will find kind and loving people out there, you just have to give kindness first.

I get it. People are mean. But you must also understand that meaness is not within their nature, hatred and disrespect are things that are taught by the generation before them or the others around them, it is not something they were just born with.

There is absolutely zero reason that humans as an ENTIRE species should be hated. Ever. Period point blank. Even those who identify as nonhuman, are still outwardly human, and at the end of the day you could be very well hurting your own community with your hatred! Even if humans are rude and mean to you, returning the favor is not how we will solve the problem. We must educate those who are willing to listen and ignore those who choose to hate us for existing. We must be the ones to create the peace that we all desperately fight for.

That is all I have to say. I apologize if this seems like a stream of consciousness, but this is a topic that has been bothering me as of late. Just wanted to get it off my chest.

I love and adore this community with my heart and soul but sometimes it can become upsetting to see some of us cresting more problems that should not have to be something we fight over. All I want is for us to live in peace without divide.

#therianthropy #therian #otherkin #nonhuman #alterhuman #important post #please read the whole thing #i may sound emotional but this is really something we cant leave ignored #if you are any of these and you hate humans please unfollow me #i unfortunately wont be for you #the shifter talks

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daze-puppyboy · 2 months

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had a fantasy while in the shower last night...

invite me over to play video games, maybe a few of your friends are here too. we start playing and snacking, im too wrapped up in this round to pay much attention when you bring brownies out. once the round is over, i go to grab a snack and you ask if i wanna try your brownies. they taste a little funny but i don't wanna be rude because you're my friend, so i finish mine and im used to the taste. after a while i start to get a little sleepy, and you say i should have another brownie. the sugar will help me stay awake. your friends all agree, so i have another one. its late now, and one of your friends suggest we make it interesting. the loser of each round has to do a dare. everyone else agrees, and im too out of it to react much. you pass me the controller and i can barely focus, eyes hazy and head spinning. what was in those brownies? you laugh and i realize i lost the round. one of your friends dares me to take my shirt off. im self conscious at first, but you all push me to do it. "you lost, you have to do the dare" "come on, it's not a big deal" "guys take their shirts off all the time" i nod slowly and pull my shirt off. it doesn't click in my mind that it should be someone else's turn as we start the next round. soon, im in just my boxers, eyes half closed, leaning against you for support. you put your hand on my waist and the other starts groping my chest. i look at you confused but you assure me you're just helping me stay awake. just giving me a little massage. im not sure when the others joined us on the couch. one friend puts his hand on my thigh. i pull my leg away but you forcefully push it back, spreading my legs. "no no, we're just helping you stay awake. this is what bros do for each other" i whimper in protest, making you laugh. two of you are groping me while the other two clean up the snacks and turn the tv off. im whining and struggling weakly, unable to see anything except a blurred, spinning mix of color. you lay me down on the couch and pull my boxers off. i don't realize what's happening as you start to get undressed, pulling my arms behind my back and holding my legs open. im dripping down onto the sofa, murmuring incoherently and shaking. you decide im being a bit too vocal and shove your cock down my throat. my eyes get wider as i feel you growing in my mouth. you grab my hair and start thrusting your hips, pulling my head up to meet you roughly. tears stream down my face. once you're hard, you pass my mouth off to the next guy idly stroking his dick beside me. i weave in and out of consciousness for the rest of the night, cockwarming in my pussy and mouth while someone fucks my ass, all four of you jerking yourselves off before slamming into my cunt to cum one at a time. covering my face and body with your seed, hair drying sticky and gross. once youve lost count of how many loads have been dumped into my holes, you send your friends home and get to work cleaning me up, making sure i forget everything in the morning. i wake with a throbbing cunt and a sore throat, head spinning. i ask you what happened and you tell me; i fell asleep playing video games last night. youre my friend, so i trust you. i thought i wore boxers to your house last night, but i cant remember clearly. lucky for me, your friends all really like me, so ill be allowed to hang out with you more. and as you introduce me to more and more friends, your storage space on your computer drops significantly. its a good thing i keep falling asleep or blacking out, because it gives you plenty of time to remove the recording devices and clean everything up.

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

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Neighbour's son Miguel

I might take a little longer to post the last part, just because a lot of things have been dumped on my shoulders this past weekend and I'm trying to clear things off my plate so I can breathe 😭.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex.

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Neighbour's son!Miguel who invites you over to watch a movie. You cuddle up together on his bed, your legs covered by the blanket. You'd pretended not to notice how he'd locked the door behind you and had asked him to leave the lights on because the darkness makes you sleepy - it wasn't a complete lie, but truthfully, you just wanted to be able to glance over at him and admire his handsome face.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who brushes his fingers along your side, his arm wrapped around you to hold you close to him. You twist your body around, slinging one leg over his, and bury your face in his chest. He holds his breath as you get comfortable, every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation, then he sneaks his fingers beneath your shirt.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose fingernails drag gently across your bare skin. One of his hands crawls up your back to the clasp of your bra and the other dips into the waistband of your shorts. Your body contracts as he begins kneading your ass and you involuntarily grind your hips against his thigh. He lets out a muttered curse as your knee brushes against his groin and you whimper shyly in response.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose entire body is heating up at the feeling of you grinding yourself against his thigh, the cute little moans and whimpers falling from your mouth making him go dizzy with arousal. You tilt your head back to drag your tongue along the underside of his jaw and he thinks he might have just lost consciousness for a second. You continue wriggling against him, trying to shuffle higher up his body so you can press your lips to his, but you keep losing your balance and just end up squirming against his side. “M-Miguel,” you whine, your voice rising a pitch in frustration, “take it off, cariño.” And again, a wave of pleasure washes over him at the sweet term of endearment. He helps you get your shorts off, pulling your soaked underwear off too, then tosses them both off the bed.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose eyes darken at the sight of your freshly-shaved p*ssy as you sit on his lap, waiting: you'd been expecting this. Or hoping for it, at least. He digs his fingers into your sides as he tries to stop his gaze from flickering to his nightstand - to the drawer in which he'd kept the condoms he'd bought yesterday: he'd been hoping for this too. You bite your lip as you tug on the hem of his shirt, your body buzzing with excitement, then you pull it off.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose gaze fixes on your mouth, his head moving to follow yours as you lean over him and brush your fingers along his skin. You trace the outlines of his muscles, your palm gliding across his chest and abs, and he sucks in a breath as his stomach tenses in response to your touch. You smile. “This is why I wanted to keep the lights on,” you murmur softly, admiring the deliciously hard planes of his body. You lift your gaze to his, then wrap your arms around his neck and lean forward to kiss him.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who flips you onto your back, the two of you smiling and laughing in between tender kisses. He pushes himself to his hands, the muscles in his arms flexing, and you feel another stream of arousal trickle out of you at the sight. He runs a hand down your body, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his lips curled into the cutest, most shy smile you’ve ever seen on him, then he stops when he reaches the hem of your shirt. His gaze flickers back up to yours in question and you nod.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose mind goes blank at the sight of you completely exposed before him. You were so beautiful, so soft and so tiny beneath him. He brushes your hair out of your face, grinning at the thrilled expression you wear as you look up at him, then he lowers himself down on top of you. You wrap yourself around him as he kisses you, enjoying the feeling of his body pressing down on yours. You pinch the waistband of his shorts with your toes and he immediately starts shoving them down, understanding you perfectly. You tug the blanket over him when he settles himself back on top of you and take a moment to admire his features.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who's changed so much since you'd last seen him, but also, not at all? He still had the same full lips that had twisted down at the ends when he'd wanted to steer his bike at three, the same intense copper gaze he'd trained on Belinda when she'd tried to bully you at six and the same comforting warmth that had wrapped you up in his embrace when you'd had your last sleepover at eleven. He was your best friend in the entire world and now, you would know him so intimately, more intimately than anyone in his entire life would ever know him. And he would know you in just the same way.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who starts easing himself into you after stroking and licking you, his fingers and tongue teasing you to the edge of pleasure before pushing you over the brink. Neither of you had ever been with anyone before, but your inexperience didn't seem to matter when it came to the two of you: you were inevitable, after all - there was no way you weren't going to know exactly how to please the other. Miguel pushes his cock deeper into you and you let out a yelp as you squirm around uncomfortably. “Wait,” you request, your heart beating in terror at the thought that you might not enjoy your first time with him. You shuffle higher up the pillows, pulling yourself away from him, and he raises an eyebrow at you as he sits back on his thighs. You flash him a sheepish look, your messy hair falling into your eyes, and cautiously reach out to take hold of his cock. You swallow hard and then pose the question. “Is it okay if I … take the lead? I-I just … It … It kind of hurts … and I want you to go a bit slower.”

Neighbour's son!Miguel who barely registers what you're saying when you have your fingers wrapped around his cock like you do. He snaps his jaw shut and swallows down the saliva pooling there, then nods, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable. You were so beautiful, so sweet and so lovely, and he was thrilled that there would be no going back for either of you after this. You crawl onto his lap, your fingers gently pumping his cock to keep him hard, then you angle his tip to your entrance and slowly start sinking down onto his length.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose thoughts are consumed by how f*cking gorgeous you look; your eyelids heavy, your lips parted, your curls an unruly mess. Mierda, you were hot. Your lips stretch into a sudden, delighted smile and you echo back to him the words he hadn’t even realised he’d said: “I love you too, mi jellito.” You curl a loose strand of his hair around your finger, then brush it behind his ear. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as his brain goes numb with arousal and he digs his fingers into your ass as you begin moving your hips against his. A groan rumbles out of his chest at the feeling of your warm walls brushing against his length and he moves his hands to your thighs, helping you ride out your high.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose brother has the absolute perfect timing. He knocks on the door just after the two of you have come down from your highs, you lying on your back again while Miguel holds himself above you. He’d lowered you back down after your movements had become erratic, your body too excited to keep up a steady pace, and you’d gladly let him take over, delighting in the rhythmic thrusts of his hips against yours. “Guys?” Gabe calls, jiggling the doorknob in confusion when it doesn’t twist open immediately. “Are you okay?” You exchange amused glances, the both of you trying to not burst into exhilarated laughter, then you yell back in unison, “we’re fine!” You hold your breaths as you wait for his response. Then finally, “hmm, okay. Mamà says dinner will be ready in half an hour. Are you guys coming soon?” “Yup!” you reply, at the same time that Miguel exclaims “yeah!” The both of you snicker softly, then tell Gabe that you’ll be downstairs in a minute. You drag yourself out of bed, pulling Miguel along with you, and the two of you giggle and kiss as you stumble over to his bathroom. “Oh! Wait, wait, wait!” you stop him, hands on his chest as he guides you towards the door. He quirks a brow in question and you carry on. “Do you need a new condom? Can you get condoms wet? Let me search it up.” You push past him to get your phone and his heart swells at how confidently you walk around his room, utterly naked and completely at ease in his presence.

Neighbour's son!Miguel whose mother and brother can instantly tell by the flushed and glowing expressions you both wear that you’ve … been intimate with one another. Gabe keeps his gaze fixed on his plate throughout the entire meal, terrified that he’ll look up and make eye contact with one of you - because how could he possibly keep a straight face then? Knowing that the two of you had been … naked … and … and touching one another and ay, Dios, he had to stop thinking about it! He focuses his thoughts on the syllabus his professors had shared with him instead, running through the basic foundations of coding he’d learned already. Conchata slides another tortilla wrap onto your plate and flashes you a knowing smirk when you look up to protest. “So?” she asks, her tone laced with mischief. “How was the movie?” A nervous smile immediately tugs on your lips and Miguel lowers his head to try to hide the blush he can feel crawling up the back of his neck. “Oh!” you gasp, taken aback by the sudden question. What movie had you even been watching again? “It was … really great! I love that movie …” Miguel mutters an agreement, his brain working equally as hard as yours to try to recall what you were supposed to have been watching, but Conchata changes the subject before you can continue. “So, what are you guys going to do when Miguel goes back to uni? It’s only a year, so it shouldn’t be a problem, ¿sí? I mean, you’ve already spent almost a decade apart. Right?” You turn to Miguel, partly amused by his mother’s obvious concern for the status of your relationship, partly as terrified as her to find out his answer.

Neighbour's son!Miguel who wears a determined expression as he replies. “Right.” His hand finds yours beneath the table and he grabs onto it firmly. He turns to face you, his eyes travelling over your sweet features, and his stomach untwists itself when he notices his anxiety reflected on your face. “I won’t leave you again, bombón.” You suck in a deep breath, the relief crashing over you, then you smile. “And I won’t let you leave me again, jellito.” You lean over to catch Gabe’s eyes, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil, and shoot him a conspiratorial look. “I have a few ‘Gabriel O’Hara promises’ that I need to cash in on that I think would help with this exact situation.” Gabe grins, breaking the tension, and the four of you continue laughing and joking as you enjoy your meal.

Continue

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 4 months

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The Lookalike (Epilogue, Acknowledgments and Requests)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fell into the clutches of his nemesis, before stumbling into the arms of the Radio Demon himself. A whole lot of fucking later, you became the catalyst for something resembling a reconciliation, and now you're back in the TV Demon's private quarters with both Vox and Alastor, hung over and sore.

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, Vox X reader, Alastor X reader, Vox X Alastor, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Now completed! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

The thing about Hell was that your internal body clock woke you after only a couple hours of sleep, just enough of the alcohol out of your system that your head throbbed and the rich bittersweet taste of last night’s whiskey had been transmuted with the alchemy of the morning after, the interior of your mouth now tasting of rancid orange peel and dirt. You lay splayed across the couch, Alastor’s tailcoat covering your nakedness, its red unmarred by the blood it had soaked up, your head in Alastor’s lap, your hooves in Vox’s lap.

Consciousness brought with it the awareness of the various injuries you had acquired, the fullness of your bladder, and the generalized muscular ache that was probably from all the wall-climbing you’d done. You were also filthy, your whole body faintly sticky like a budding rhododendron. You moved to get up, but found Alastor’s arm around you.

“-very dear to me,” mumbled Alastor, the radio filter almost entirely missing from his hoarse, sleepy voice, and his claws wrapped around your shoulder, hard.

“Darling. I have to piss,” you croaked, stroking Alastor’s fingers, and he gave a noise of irritation, his red eyes opening a fraction, but his grip loosened and you pulled yourself free.

Brushing away Alastor’s shadow’s hand as it snagged at your hoof, you staggered naked across Vox’s small living space, to where you remembered the bathroom to be, and took a piss that felt like it lasted at least a minute and a half, your head throbbing all the while. The things that Vox had brought for you during your short stay were still there; the little blue toothbrush, the showercap with room for your ears, the robe.

You brushed your teeth, drank several cups of water from the tap, and ate a Tylenol before grabbing the bottle of deer shampoo from the cabinet and stepping into the shower.

Vox’s shower was large, enough to comfortably fit three or more people, the flooring some kind of expensive looking stone tiling that was probably fiendishly difficult to get blood out of, and the showerheads set at chest height. You hesitated at the shower controls- which button turned the water on, again?

“You, uh- you want some help with that?” Vox stood at the entryway to the shower, wearing only pants and looking pretty much exactly like you felt.

“Sure,” you sighed, not really surprised when Vox stripped off the rest of the way and stepped into the space with you.

A gesture from him was all it took for the water to start running, no uncomfortably hot or cold initial flow but something close to body temperature. You stepped into the stream, sighing as it hit you, the water swirling a brownish color around your feet as it began to wash away the blood that had caked onto your skin.

“Temperature?” Vox asked, stepping closer.

“Warmer,” you said, an involuntary noise in your throat as Vox made it so. It stung the lacerations on your back, the small wounds on your hips and thighs, the scrapes that Alastor’s teeth had made on your neck.

“You like that?” Vox asked.

“Warmer,” you repeated, and the temperature rose to something crueler, enough that steam rose as it hit your skin, a truly scouring sort of heat. You felt your soreness recede, a little of the tension in your shoulders relaxing. “There,” you said, content to stand under the water for a few moments before uncapping the shampoo you had brought in with you.

“Let me?” Vox asked, and there was a little of the Vox who had sat in the armchair in your bedroom in his voice, pleading. You handed him the bottle, and he unhooked a second showerhead from the wall and turned it on, wetting your hair with a trickle of warm water before he lathered shampoo between his palms. It was strange; anyone else save Alastor and you might’ve had second thoughts, but Vox had had you last night, quivering and vulnerable in his hands, so you had no qualms turning your back to him.

Vox’s hands in your hair were a gift. You stood under the stream of near-scalding water as he drew close, his fingers running from the back of your neck and up, fingers parting your hair, massaging the lather into your skull. You groaned low as he worked the base of each ear, his body pressing closer to your back. He was hard, his cock brushing up against your tail and the small of your back, but there was no threat to it, no intent beyond simple closeness.

“That good, eh?” he asked, as you gave another appreciative grunt, and you braced yourself against the wall to avoid melting completely under the touch.

“You’re making me forget about my headache,” you said, which was rewarded by Vox pressing his fingers more firmly against your skull, more head massage than shampoo application. “Don’t you have things to do?”

“It is five fuckin’ thirty am,” said Vox, his voice thick and hoarse, and he leaned into you, his chest pressing warm against your narrow back, his erection squashing temptingly against the meat of your ass. “I’m all yours, baby deer.”

It would be so easy to let him fuck you like this- even as hungover as he clearly was, he was strong enough to lift you against the wall of the shower and fuck you against it until you were whimpering and quivering, your orgasm smoothing the edges of this rough and difficult morning. It would feel good.

But no. No fucking. Only Vox’s soapy hands in your hair, rubbing your back-tilted ears until you wanted to purr, his thumbs experimental around the base of your antlers. He told you to close your eyes before he raised the spare showerhead to rinse you off, the water dark, even the soap bubbles brownish as the blood was sluiced away. Vox repeated the process twice more before the water ran clear, finger combing your hair to check for errant viscera.

“I don’t need you to wash my back for me, you know,” you said, as Vox put the shampoo aside and reached for the bodywash.

“Course you don’t,” he said, eyes narrowed, and for a second his grin reminded you of Alastor’s. “But you fuckin’ like it, don’t you? You like my hands-” he said, rubbing soap into your flank, then tracing a line down, over your thigh. “My mouth.”

You opened one eye. “I hope you’re not proposing to lick me clean.”

The glazed expression on Vox’s face, along with the way his antennae flopped, told you that yes, yes he would very much like that, his gaze drifting to between your thighs, the faint trickle of Alastor’s cum mixed with his as it leaked out of you and mixed with the water from the shower.

Vox swallowed. “Please,” he groaned. “Fuck, please, baby deer. Just a little. Don’t make me fuckin’ beg.”

“I’m not making you do anything, Vox,” you said, a sidelong look at him. The steam from the shower was fogging his screen, droplets of the splashback running down the front of his wide face like sweat, and his eyes were wide. “You’re begging of your own accord.”

You put your palm on Vox’s grey-skinned shoulder and pushed him down. He sank to his knees, obedient, the water on your back slowing to a trickle, still under his control. His eyes weren’t hearts but they might as well have been with the expression he made as he reached out to touch your thighs, pulling his face close to your legs, his long blue tongue extending.

Vox’s tongue against wet skin was a new sensation; a crackling pressure that conducted over a wider area than his tongue touched as he lapped blissfully at the rivulets of diluted cum that ran out of you. You shivered, and breathed in as you watched him eat, running a hand over the top of his screen, your claws gentle on the fragile antennae that sprouted from it.

Vox whimpered as you held the tip of his antennae between thumb and fingertip, and it occurred to you, belatedly, that maybe these were analogous to antlers for him. You stopped touching them, returning to stroking his frame. His hand found yours, your fingers twining, and you knew that if you asked him he would fuck you with his tongue, lap every last drop of Alastor’s seed from your aching cunt and drink it down like a man starved.

“Please-” he whined, looking up at you between strokes of his tongue.

“You know,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Alastor has very sharp hearing, and he was mostly awake when I got up. He can definitely hear us right now.” You paused to take a breath as you felt Vox freeze, his tongue still on your thigh. “He definitely heard you begging me to let you lick his cum from my legs.”

Vox’s eyes fluttered closed, a low groan in his throat. “Fuck.”

“Tell me,” you said, pushing him a little as his tongue swept up your leg, perilously close to your sex. “Tell me what you’re begging for now.”

Vox’s voice came as a stream of consciousness as you squeezed the top of his screen, hard enough that colors distorted around the pads of your fingers, his breath in gasps as he tasted you between each word, a prayer to you, a prayer to Alastor. “Fuck, yes, please, I fucking want it, oh god, fucking god, let me, let me, please please, let me taste him. I wanna taste him in your pussy, oh god.” He swallowed, whimpering, cock finding friction against your leg, and he trembled. “God-” Vox’s eyes sprang open as he came, his body jerking as he shot his load over your hooves. “Fuck-” he breathed, softly, his screen tilting against your thigh.

You were gentle with him as you pulled him to his feet, letting him lean against you as he came down from his high. You rubbed his back, his shoulders, and the edges of his screen, eliciting soft groans from him, and he nudged his face into your shoulder before you grabbed the soap and started to lather it into his chest.

As if realizing where he was, Vox started the water running at full pressure again. When you had finished him he washed your back for you without complaint, merely a pleading look in his eyes as he scrubbed you down, the runoff going from dark brown to pink as the ablution opened a few of your newer injuries, his hands gentle enough on you to make you sigh and forget your hangover for another few seconds.

When you emerged from the bathroom, toweled dry and dressed in the monogrammed robe Vox had kept for you, you felt almost alive.

“You were in there a while,” Alastor commented from the couch as you emerged, one eye opening, his voice rough and crackling like old vinyl.

“You didn’t want to join us?” you asked, squeezing a little more moisture from your hair.

Alastor shrugged, his lips a tiny smirk. “You seemed to have everything under control,” he said, a statement not lost on Vox, who did not meet his eyes.

Vox’s arm was protective round your waist, or perhaps simply clingy, as the three of you proceeded out of his quarters and into the living area he shared with the other members of his coterie. You sat at the breakfast bar as Vox operated what was perhaps the most complicated coffee machine you had ever seen. Alastor took a seat at the breakfast bar too, his tailcoat on, overdressed compared to you in a robe and Vox in his lounge pants and t-shirt. Alastor’s shadow looked more hung over than he was, sulking in a pool by his feet and clutching its head. Vox seemed to have some level of sympathy for his condition, because he turned to Alastor first.

“So, Al, you want anything? This baby makes a mean fuckin’ macchiato, I’ll tell you that much. We’ve got three types of coffee, too, a Columbian-”

“Coffee,” said Alastor, a grinding edge of almost mechanical stress to his voice. “Make me a coffee.”

Vox sighed. “Americano it is,” he said, setting the machine running with a cheerful beep as he manipulated his way through the menus.

Alastor was sniffing his americano and the expensive looking machine was grinding something in its innards when the door on the lower level opened and a small group of people came in, clearly still mid revelry, brightly colored plastic drink containers in hand. You recognized one of them as the man who had dumped you on Vox’s bedroom floor on your first night in Hell, dressed to the nines in patent leather thigh high boots and a naked effect body-stocking with red sequins that barely covered the essentials. Valentino.

“Ah.” Vox froze with one hand on the coffee machine. “Fuck.”

“Vox?” Valentino’s tone was disbelieving, and he sashayed up the stairs to the breakfast bar to stare at the three of you, lowering his pink glasses dramatically. “What the fuck is this?”

“Val.” Vox hopped the breakfast bar with surprising alacrity, placing himself bodily between you and Valentino, his hands up in a placating gesture. It was unnecessary, all things considered, but sexy. “I can explain.”

Alastor, meanwhile, lowered his ears and hid his face behind his fuck Alastor mug, clearly uncomfortable at being witnessed in Vox’s residence at such an early hour.

“So this is where you’ve been?” Valentino gesticulated. “You don’t take my calls, you say you don’t wanna party with me, all so you can stay home and jerk off onto your pile of Alastor lookalikes?” He turned to Alastor, the real Alastor, his eyes squinting behind his pink glasses. “Where did you even get this one? He looks like shit!”

“Gotta agree with you there,” you deadpanned. “Not a word of English either.”

“Bonjou,” said Alastor, gamely, his voice gruff with the full impact of his night of drinking, his radio filter completely absent.

“You see?” Valentino waved. “You want more Alastors, chulo, you come to me. None of this amateur hour carajo.” He shook his head. “Me and these professionals are going to my room.”

“Val, wait-” Vox called, but Valentino was already on his way out. He stopped, perhaps realizing the futility of it, and rubbed the front of his face with his hand. “Fuck.”

“Is that-” you watched Valentino walk out, shooing the squad of sex workers through the door ahead of him so that he could slam it. “-is that gonna be okay?”

“Fuck knows.” Vox’s shoulders sank, and he walked back to the coffee machine. “It’s hard to tell what he wants sometimes. I mean, first he gives me you, then he’s pissy I’m spending time with you. Does he want me to chase after him? I don’t fucking know anymore.” The machine finished making your drink, and Vox picked it up, vanishing in electricity and arcing to appear behind you. “I know what you want, though,” he purred, his face close enough to your back that the hairs on your neck stood on end, and pushed your coffee in front of you.

You turned your head to grin at him, eyes half-lidded. “A full and unredacted list of the members of my fanclub still extant in Hell?”

“Fuck.” Vox’s expression soured, and he leaned back. “You're all business, aren't you? You know, I preferred it when you were pretending to be stupid.”

“And I preferred it when you had your tongue up my ass,” you said, enjoying the instant of startlement and arousal that flashed across his screen, Alastor smirking into his cup of coffee behind him. “I guess we’re just not our best selves this morning.”

“I liked that too, but I can't just hand you those names, baby deer,” said Vox, leaning on the breakfast bar beside you. “That's not how business works around here. It's about trust.”

“He’s lying,” Alastor interjected, mildly. “He could give you whatever it is you’re talking about, he just doesn’t want to.”

“Oh, butt out, Al,” groused Vox. “I’m not lying. There’s a cost.”

“One which you could well afford to waive,” said Alastor, smiling. “Given our situation.”

“Yeah, and what situation is that?” Vox shot.

He was unprepared as Alastor stood, closing the distance between them and seizing Vox by the front of his shirt, bringing their faces close, not quite touching, but close enough to kiss, or bite. Vox made a noise in his throat, and Alastor grinned, violence in his teeth.

“If you want this to continue,” said Alastor, his voice low menace. “You’re going to have to give our delightful young friend here everything they want. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what it costs you. Everything.”

“Fuck,” Vox croaked, his eyes wide.

“Well?” said Alastor. “Do we have a deal?”

“This isn’t fair, Al.”

Alastor’s grin was steady. “These things rarely are. Yes or no, old pal?”

“Shit, I’m such a fucking idiot.” Vox closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Alastor set Vox down gently, a sly wink to you as he did so, then stalked his way over to you, taking a small sip from your coffee cup before winding an arm around your waist and burying his face in your hair.

Vox looked at the both of you with something approaching dismay. “He likes you way too much, baby deer,” he said, shaking his head. “Way, way too much.”

Alastor just laughed, his nose pressing against your neck.

The following list is all of the people without whom this work would not exist in its present form; who cheered for me, who reassured me, who pointed out where my phrasing was awkward, and all in all encouraged me to go the whole hog and not just the tip. Thank you for putting up with me and my incessant self-aggrandizing wank and telling me, each in your own way, that the dog exploded.

Bapple Fraugwinska Macabre Barbie Miggy Katethulu Rein Miz blue Molly Anne

The others in the discord server for whom I do not have an ao3 or tumblr account

Special thanks to Shunypie/Shunyhuny who drew fanart (holy shit I am still absolutely fucking floored by this, it's so beautiful)

My final acknowledgment goes to everyone else who read this and thought it was hot, love you guys. Your comments feed me, your likes sustain me.

Though my planned procession of porn is past its climax, I am still open to penning vignettes about the lookalike and set in the lookalike’s timeline. If you have an idea or request, please post a comment here, or if you fancy remaining anonymous, you can use my inbox at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/impale-me-radio-daddy

Regretfully, I do not take commissions (I can’t think of an amount of money that would be worth the expression of confusion and fear from my accountant) so all requests will be undertaken at my own discretion.

Until next time, dear readers.

#lookalikeposting #vox x reader #hazbin x reader #vox x y/n #vox x reader x alastor #voxal #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor x vox #vox smut #vox x alastor #vox x you #vox x oc #alastor x oc #alastor x reader smut

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belovedmusings · 11 months

Text

“I’m not going anywhere.”

+ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS +

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Satoru survived being severed in half thanks to Yuuta’s Reversed Curse Technique and subsequently claimed victory, but you keep reliving the moment you saw him die before your eyes. You wake up beside him one night crying from a nightmare of it, and wanting to make you feel better and remind you that he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere, he lets you take him any way you need him.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader with minimal gendered language, reader insert without using “y/n”, graphic nightmare at the beginning but it’s quick, fix-it, hurt/comfort, soft and emotional sex, handjob, fingering, Satoru’s 6-inch fingers, slow sex, praises and declarations of love, lots of kissing, love bites, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, Satoru’s big cock :’) <3

Music recommended while reading: My Love (Sia), positions (Ariana Grande), Souvenir (Selena Gomez), Religion (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: no I’m absolutely not over wtf happened in ch 236 and yes I’m 100% crazy enough to still believe him when he said he’d win. He’ll win and I trust him. I have to or I’ll go crazy. Here’s this emotional smut to cope.

Read below cut:

He was winning. He was fine, he was smiling and now—

He’s not. He’s not moving, he’s not doing anything but he’s in half he’s in fucking half and there’s so much blood—

You scream. You scream but it sounds like it’s underwater and you can’t breathe, you can’t feel anything but despair and pain and dread and anger and disbelief and fucking devastation. Satoru is— he’s— oh god, he’s—

“Hey.”

You’re sobbing. Tears stream from your eyes but you can’t feel, you can’t see anything, you can’t hear, you can’t exist without him—

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”

That voice snaps you back to consciousness, a deep gasp from you following. Warm hands are on your shoulders, and you look up at the source, eyes landing upon Satoru’s concerned face. His beautiful, alive face. What? How?

“Hey,” he murmurs again softly, brows furrowed in worry as he rubs up and down your arm soothingly. “Shh, shh, shh…you’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”

A dream?

“No it wasn’t,” you shake your head, voice broken. The lump in your throat won’t go away as you continue to cry. “You were…you were gone and I—”

“I’m right here,” he cuts him firmly, squeezing your arm. “Look at me. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I’m fine. Promise.”

Your eyes search his face, his body, and blindly you reach out, touching his clothed abdomen, feeling over it to make absolutely sure he’s not lying. When you feel nothing but solid, warm flesh underneath, even when you touch down to his thigh, you relax, sniffling. He’s completely intact. He’s okay.

You remember then what had happened after he had fallen. You’d gone into a panic, threw up, and blacked out after sobbing uncontrollably after tearing your eyes from the screen that displayed his lifeless body.

When you woke up, you were lying against a wall, Shoko watching over you, telling you that Yuuta managed to get ahold of him while Yuuji and Higuruma were fighting Sukuna. He’d used his Reversed Curse Technique to heal him, and he was up and fighting again, this time facing off with Kenjaku.

It was jarring to see him back alive, like you were seeing the resurrection of a god. But it was okay. He was even stronger than before, and along with the others, he was capable of defeating both of the threats.

His victory had restored balance once more.

He’d come off of that battlefield on his own two feet, sweaty, heavily banged up and exhausted, but he had a brilliant smile on his face that said everything is fine now, and he’d welcomed you into his arms without hesitation.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, “It was a dream. Thank god.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He asks, “You gotta trust me, silly. M’ not going anywhere.”

You huff, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t call me silly because I’m worried about you.”

He sighs softly, rubbing your back. “Fine, fine. But seriously, I’m fine. So no need to worry, okay? I’m right here, however you need me.”

He is. You can feel him in your arms, you can feel him holding you, and yet in your sleep-fogged mind, you can’t help but still retain some anxiety that you’ll wake up again and he’ll be gone for good. That you imagined all of those victories in order to cope. You need to feel more of him to confirm he’s real.

“However I need you?” You ask, drawing back to meet his eyes, gleaming in the dim lighting of the moon. He nods.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be otherwise? I’m yours to do with as you please.”

You can’t help it; his tone always brings out a special playfulness in you. “As I please? You sound so easy.”

“Easy for you,” he grins wolfishly, and you roll your eyes fondly before sobering up.

“I need more reassurance,” you tell him. “I want to feel you.”

He eyes you curiously, nodding. “Sure thing. What do you have in mind?”

You reach up to touch his face, brushing your thumb between his eyebrows to work out the furrow, then dancing it over his brow bone, then his cheekbone, and finally his lips. You pad it over the soft skin there before leaning up and kissing him, relaxing at the familiar taste of his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, lips moving with yours in a combination of slow and sensual.

The hand that was resting on his jaw slowly travels down over his neck, where your thumb runs over the column gently, grazing his Adam’s apple a few times before moving on to his collarbone. You explore that spot for a few moments and then massage down his shoulder, over his pec, flattening your palm to feel the beat of his heart.

It calms you to feel that strong thump thump thump against your touch, impassioning you enough to make you deepen the kiss and slip your tongue into his protestless mouth. A soft groan sounds at the back of his throat, and that spurs you on to continue touching him, running your palm over his muscles that were once lithe, but after time spent preparing for battle while he was sealed away to occupy himself, have turned thick and solid. You ghost over the ridges of his abdomen and shiver, feeling each contour through his shirt.

It sends a wave of heat through you and your ministrations turn heavy with desire, finding the hem of his shirt, sliding your hand underneath it and massaging over the hot skin of his naked chest. He groans and guides his own hand from your waist to your ass, clad only in underwear for comfort to sleep, giving it a generous knead.

“Mmh,” you breathe into his mouth, letting him go further to grab your thigh, hooking his hand under your knee and hiking your leg up around his hip.

His tongue runs over yours dirtily as his hand slides back up to the apex of your legs, reaching around to cup your mound through the thin garment over it. His middle and ring fingers massage over that little sensitive pearl just begging to be touched, making you moan softly.

Your lust is deepening by the second and it makes you grow bolder, palm on his abdomen lowering to the front of his boxers and caressing the sizable hardness it finds there. Subconsciously you start to move your hips with his touches, kiss turning sloppy the more you pleasure each other.

The drags of his fingertips get a little too difficult when the fabric over your core gets soaked through, so he easily amends it by slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the article, touching you without any barriers.

“Satoru,” you moan louder as he teases the swollen pearl beneath his digits. He hums in his throat, and wanting to even things out, your hand dips below his boxers, wrapping around the hard and hot erection he’s been sporting since you started kissing him.

A bead of precum at his tip makes the slide a little easier and you feel him start rocking into your hand, meeting your strokes, a breathy groan sounding from him.

He wants the upperhand, of course, so he elects to push two of his lengthy fingers into your entrance, causing you to gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate. The man’s digits are long enough to reach your cervix without even trying and he presses pointedly against it, wriggling the tips of his fingers against that sensitive spot teasingly.

“God, Satoru,” you mewl, touching him with more purpose, circling your thumb over his tip.

“Ngh,” he groans in response, moving his hand so that he starts finger-fucking you at a pace, the wet sounds reaching your ears along with the heavy pants from the both of you. You clench around him and he speeds up, abusing that part deep inside of you just with his hand.

You love it when he fingers you but it’s not what you want right now—not truly.

You look up at him, shuddering at the look of unbridled lust pooling in his cerulean eyes. He always gets this certain wild look that gives you goosebumps.

“Satoru,” you manage breathlessly.

“Yeah?” He asks, just as winded.

“I want you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He sucks in a breath and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling his fingers out of you. He rolls to lay on his back, raising his hand up to his mouth and running his long tongue over the digits coated in your essence, a deep groan sounding after. It invigorates your desire for him and hurriedly, you remove your soaked underwear, freeing him of his own boxers afterward.

He sits up for a moment to get his shirt off, tossing it off the bed and then grabbing your hips, making you straddle his thighs. His hands hook under your shirt and you raise your arms so that he can remove it, the two of you now bare as the day you were born.

He wastes no time in kissing you again, this time more desperately, using one hand to guide your hips over his large cock, the other holding it still. He slides inside as you lower yourself, girth forcing you to stretch generously.

“Fuck,” you breathe into his mouth. You’re familiar with his impressive size by now but it never ceases to light a fire with your nerve-endings, length stuffing you full even before he’s bottomed out. You shudder and push him down to lay out on the bed, following him, breaking the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck. His palms grip the tops of your thighs as you lay on his chest, your skin touching everywhere. He’s so warm and sturdy beneath you, you feel like you could stay like this forever, tucked into him, split open on his dick, nestled deep inside you without any effort. You breathe in and get hit with the scent of his skin, musky and sweet in a way that’s unique only to him and completely intoxicating to you.

You push your nose more greedily into the column of his neck, moaning as he starts rolling both of your hips together slowly. Like this, his abdomen provides the perfect firm muscle to grind your swollen pearl on, heightening your pleasure.

He bends his legs to provide himself with a little barrier so that when he pushes your hips down, they don’t have anywhere to go, forcing you to take his cock deeper. It prods at your cervix and forces hot chills over your body, your hands bracing on his shoulders helplessly as he does all of the work.

You inhale deeply as he grinds up into you, walls fluttering around him, eliciting a groan from his syrupy voice.

It sends a shiver through you and wanting to chase it, you flick your tongue out over his collarbone, licking along the flesh to taste him.

“Oh,” he grunts, sucking air through his teeth as you feel him twitch inside of you. Encouraged from his response, you do it again, closing your lips around the spot and sucking. A stuttered breath is pulled from him, your hold on his arms tightening.

Like this, you just feel so safe, so content. He’s all you could ever need. Sure, he’s insufferable sometimes and his personality goes overboard naturally, but he’s never too much for you. He’s serious when he needs to be and so sincere in his sweetness, in his affection—you don’t know what you’d do without him. You thank any god that might exist along with the stars that he survived, that he prevailed and that everything is fine now. Your chest swells with all of the gratitude in the world and it spills over.

“Satoru,” you breathe, feeling tears prick at your eyes, “I love you so much.”

You feel him swallow thickly as his hands rub comfortingly up and down the expanse of your back, kisses being pressed to the top of your head.

“Me too, baby,” he replies softly, voice slightly strained with the distraction of heat around his cock. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

You sigh shakily, littering sloppy, wet kisses over his neck, starting to roll your hips in time with his.

“I’m always gonna be here,” he continues between labored pants, “You…you can’t get rid of me. Mmh—you’re stuck with me for life.”

Your kisses begin to be accompanied by involuntary whimpers, the sensation of him locked inside of you along with his smooth skin rubbing against your sensitive bud starting to overwhelm you.

“I’m gonna…h-hah…love you so much you’ll be annoyed with me,” he continues, sucking air through his teeth, “oh fuck…so glad I have you. I really am.”

You sniffle, a watery smile spreading over your lips. A few tears escape your eyes but this time they’re of joy.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you say with your entire soul.

“Nothing can keep me down for long,” he assures you, “I promise, okay? I promise.”

You nod against his neck, moaning when he speeds up, hands controlling your movements to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Sh-shit, Satoru,” you mewl, feeling your climax start to approach. His breathing gets heavier and more ragged, chest rising and falling so prominently that it jostles you on top of him, indicating that he’s just as wrecked as you are.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he exhales thinly, “Oh shit, shit, god you’re so tight…I’m gonna…”

You choke on a gasp, eyes squeezing shut. He always rambles when he’s nearing his finish, control on his words slipping, and you think it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“Ngh,” he gasps out, guiding you faster on top of him. You clench at the feeling, nearing the peak—“oh fuck, it’s gonna, it’s—a-ah, ah, fuck…”

You feel exactly when he cums, cock twitching hard as he spills against the entrance to your womb. The feeling of release pouring coupled with his incessant grinding on your mound pushes you to climax, a full body shudder taking over you as you tighten around his member.

He groans at the feeling, giving you another spurt of release, hands moving up to hug you close, pressing his cheek to your forehead.

“That was so good,” he breathes.

You nod in agreement, kissing his neck once more.

You know this is the part where you get off of him so you can clean up to get back to sleep, but you don’t want to move at all. You’re completely sated now, and the feeling of his softening cock inside of you is comforting. Undeniable proof that he’s right here with you in the form of a dull stretch in your core.

“Let’s stay like this,” you tell him, and he chuckles softly.

“It’s just that good, isn’t it?”

You snort softly, raising up to meet his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”

His smile is lazy and mirthful. “Ah, but I’m your little shit. By law you have to deal with me forever, sorry.”

He shrugs in a way that indicates he’s not sorry at all, and your grin widens.

“I’m happy to deal with you forever.”

His beautiful face is radiant with the next smile he gives you, and when your lips meet in a soft kiss, you realize that all of the anxiety and fear that nightmare had left you with has been melted away.

Satoru is real, and he’s okay. He really isn’t going anywhere. He’s safe and warm and set to live a long and happy life by your side.

When the kiss ends you lay back down on his chest, and he takes to drawing invisible circles over your back with his fingertips, the steadiness of his breath, the sureness of his heartbeat, and his comforting scent all lulling you to a peaceful sleep with the promise of his presence tomorrow.

___

A/N: I actually miss him so much to the point where it’s debilitating. I’m literally a widow at this point I might as well put a picture of him in a fuckin locket and wear it like he sent it in his last letter to me, like Gege u bitch that was our husband

Please don’t repost my work but feel free to reblog/share. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed :)

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roseluxxx · 1 year

Text

Domestic Bliss

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Warnings: early smut, penetration, a loving husband, throwing up (later on and not in great detail), pregnancy scare, non use of “protection”

word count: 1.1k

Before Reading: established relationship, married couple who lives together, he’s showing his love language of service and is so sweet, there is a pregnancy mention at the very end and i plan on a part 2, if you don’t like that pls don’t read <3

____________________________________________

"Mige, please,"

you grabbed onto the bed sheet next to you, gripping the soft surface tightly as you knew you were slowly becoming cock drunk on Miguel’s relentless pace inside you.

Another orgasm was building its way up, your abused clit being overstimulated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

It's the sixth round tonight and you could feel the slow dragging tiredness creep into your consciousness. You loved it, every round and ounce of attention you received from the man who towered you made your heart skip a thousand beats, but when it was this late? You needed a break.

You grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling just harder than normal as the stream of Spanish mumbling of: "tu eres mio, tu eres solo mio, te amo, te amo mucho, " finally came to a halt.

He looked up, suddenly aware of your overstimulation. He pulled out in an instant, pushing your hair out of your face, feeling your temperature and giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"Fuck, mi amor, i'm sorry. Lemme go grab you some water and let's get you cleaned up ok?”

You reached up and grabbed his hand, a lazy smile drawn on your face.

"Baby just stay, please. Just for a little, okay?" He nodded and leaned back down to kiss you temple before promising he'd grab a towel and come right back.

Miguel ran from the kitchen to the bathroom, multitasking as he filled a cup with ice cold water and wet a towel while bringing another one to dry you.

He returned, somehow having pre-cut fruit in a bowl too.

You laughed to yourself; he had definitely planned this out and had that prepared earlier today.

The wet towel was dabbled along your forehead and behind your neck, he cleaned your thighs and gently allowed the cloth to freshen your intimate area as well, a loving expression never once leaving his face.

You sat up, insisting you could put your own hair up as he handed you the fruit and placed the water on the nightstand.

"Here, mami,” his shirts were always big on you, a man with the shoulders the size of a whole kid was bound to wear a few sizes up.

Setting the fruit aside you pulled him into the bed next to you, taking the water and placing it to his lips.

"Drink, baby. You always do this like you don't need to be taken care of, too." He smiled, taking a few gulps of the liquid before turning it to you to do the same.

He looked over you, admiring his plentiful red and purple love bites scattering your skin. He could never stop looking. It quite honestly might be his favorite sight in the world.

You put the glass down, watching him pull on some boxers before cuddling up to you.

"What, I don't get underwear but you do?"

He nodded, pulling your head to his chest gently as he felt sleep slowly come to claim his time.

“Mhm, baby you don't need those," a peck on your hair, “m’ can grab some of my boxers if you want. I know you like them.”

___________

Squinting as you felt the suns’ light practically harassing your eye awake, you immediately grasped the area next to you as you realized Miguel was gone.

You sat up, alarms going off in your head as you made a mental recheck of everything he had told you he was doing today; which was nothing.

Where was- the smell of bacon filled your senses as your anxiety washed away.

You flipped the covers and reluctantly climbed out of the warm cocoon that was your bed, turning to gather the dishes from the night before and finding them gone.

“Swear to the fucking spider gods this man is always two steps ahead,” you rubbed your eyes, stepping into your fluffy matching slippers and trudging to the kitchen.

You were met with a sight hand crafted by the gods.

The sizzling sound of bacon and the rejuvenating smell of freshly squeezed orange juice filled your senses. The one responsible, a complete marble sculpture of a man, stood with him back turned to you and soaking in the morning sunlight.

This is it. This is peak. If anything ever happened that changed this reality you might just have to end it all.

Miguel noticed your presence, smiling instantly and nodding towards the food cooking.

“Mi sol, ven aquí. I didn’t even notice you.”

You nodded lazily, coming behind him and resting your arms around his waist. Planting a kiss on his back before resting your head against it.

“Baby, why’re you up so early?”

He rubbed circles against the back of your hand, covering yours with his, “When the sun's up I'm up, you know?”

He turned around in your embrace, putting his arms around you as he took a second to maintain eye contact, “Did you enjoy last night?”

You hummed in agreement and he gave you a slow, deep kiss, smacking your ass before sending you to the kitchen island, promising breakfast will be done soon.

Not even having the opportunity to sit for a few minutes, a wave of nausea hit you like a truck. You held your stomach and rushed to a bathroom , barely having time to lift the lid before the little contents of what was left of last nights’ dinner were flushed down the toilet.

Miguel turned off the stove and rushed by your side, his hands holding your hair up.

“Baby? Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He fanned the back of your neck as you regained composure, somehow feeling instantly better now that your body did what it needed to.

You nodded, leaning on Miguel as you got up to go brush your teeth.

He pulled your arm, checking over you like a frantic parent as you dismissed his worries, assuring him you feel fine now and thanking him for coming to check.

“You’re not-“

“No. Mige’. We used protection and I'm on the pill.”

He leaned against the doorway, giving you space, “I mean.. we did take it off for the last few rounds.”

You gave him a burning glare, grabbing your toothbrush and applying the Spider Man themed toothpaste you both thought was hilarious when you found it in the aisle.

“Baby it doesn’t catch overnight like that,” you have him a kiss on the cheek, “ I’m sure it’s just my body having a reaction to how unusually rough we were last night.”

He hummed in agreement, giving you a quick kiss on the head and checking on the food. That explanation seemed good enough for him but truthfully you were worried.

It doesn’t take overnight. That’s the stuff of movies. Even if it, did you wouldn’t be feeling these results so soon. Your body was just in shock because of his roughing you last night.

Right?

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or see my other Spider Verse fics here!

A/N: Ugh i caved and made a fic for him sue me

😭 Also if you wanna make a request i finally finished the ones i was working on so go ahead and give me some new ideas🤞

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blue-labcoat · 10 months

Text

You're not broken

summary: reader and spencer experience a miscarriage due to ectopic pregnancy

genre: angst, 2.3k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, miscarriage, ambulances/hospitals, surgery, mentions of infertility

series masterlist here

a/n: me, updating this series after how long?? anyways, this was written with the information i could find on the internet about ectopic pregnancy and recovery, so it may not be totally accurate! read at your own discretion

A sharp pain in my abdomen woke me up. I could immediately tell that something was off - I was lightheaded and the pain in my lower stomach was getting worse.

“Spencer,” I whispered, reaching over to shake him awake.

“Hm,” he muttered, rolling over. I shook him harder.

“Something’s wrong, Spence. I don’t feel good, I think you should take me to the hospital.”

His eyes snapped open. “Are you serious? What's wrong?”

“I don't know. I can just tell that something's wrong, and I - ah!” I gasped out as another bolt of pain passed through my abdomen. “I'm in pain. And I- I don't know. I'm lightheaded. Something's just wrong.”

“Okay, it's going to be alright,” he said, getting up and walking over to my side of the bed to help me out. He pulled the covers off of me to help me get up, and gasped.

"Oh my god," he said softly, worry clouding his eyes. I followed his line of sight down to the sheets. There was a large bloodstain under my hips.

“Is that your period?” He asked. I shook my head, panic filling my chest. “Okay, let's get you to the hospital. C'mon, I'll help you to the car.”

I could hear in Spencer's voice that he was trying to stay calm for my sake, but I could see my own panic mirrored on his face. I stood up, and suddenly the room was blurry and spinning around me. I could feel my back getting clammy, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I fell against Spencer's chest, and felt him catch me and lay me back down on the bed.

I was drifting in and out of consciousness - I heard Spencer talking to someone, then I was somewhere with a bright fluorescent light shining over my head. The last thing I remembered was Spencer leaning over me, tears streaming down his cheeks.

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I opened my eyes slowly. “That noise is really annoying,” I muttered, closing my eyes again. It was too bright.

“She's waking up,” I heard someone saying. I didn't recognize the voice. I blinked my eyes open again, squinting so that I could take in my surroundings. I was in a hospital bed, with an IV sticking out of my arm.

“Spencer,” I called when I noticed him standing near the door.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, coming over to stand next to me. “How are you feeling?”

“I - tired. What happened?”

Spencer's eyebrows drew together with concern, and he pressed his lips together. “The nurse is sending your doctor down to talk to you. She should be here in a minute.” He took my hand in his and squeezed it tightly, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead.

Not long after, the woman who I assumed was my doctor came in.

“Good morning, Dr y/l/n,” she greeted me. “I'm Dr Keller. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, and confused. And please, call me y/n,” I replied, smiling politely.

“Alright, y/n. Unfortunately, I have some bad news for you. When you came in last night, you were suffering from some very heavy bleeding, and we eventually determined that you were miscarrying an ectopic pregnancy.”

“Miscarry- no, that can't be right,” I told her, shaking my head. “I'm not pregnant.”

“It's possible that you didn't know about the pregnancy - your partner didn't either, obviously, when he came with you in the ambulance. But, the ruptured fallopian tube was what was causing your pain and blood loss. Your fallopian tube was ultimately too damaged to salvage, so we had to remove it along with the ectopic tissue.”

My lip quivered. “I was pregnant?”

She nodded. “I'm so sorry, y/n. We can discuss in more detail what this means for you once you’ve gotten some rest. I’m going to give you two a minute, and I’ll be back shortly in case you have any more questions, ok?” She left, and I burst into tears.

“I know, baby, I know,” Spencer soothed, crawling into the hospital bed beside me. I tucked my head under his chin and wrapped my arm around his torso as best I could.

“I - this is silly of me. I didn't even know I was pregnant, I shouldn't be so upset about losing something that I didn't even know I had,” I blubbered.

“It's okay to cry, y/n,” Spencer reminded me. “It's a loss like any other, and it's important that you grieve however you need to. We need to grieve.”

I cried even harder at his words. We had talked about how we both wanted kids at some point, but we hadn't discussed when. I knew how much Spencer wanted to be a dad. And yet, here I was, missing a fallopian tube.

“I'm sorry, Spence. I-” I paused, not even knowing what to say.

“It's okay,” he said softly, knowing what I was trying to say. “It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. We don't need to talk about it right now if you don't want, okay?”

I nodded, squeezing him tighter against me.

---

Two days later, I was discharged from the hospital and Spencer took me home. I was supposed to stay home for at least another week, but I wasn't ready to talk about it with Millie yet so I just sent her my doctor's note and told her that I wouldn't be in until I was feeling better.

“Did you want me to stay home with you tomorrow?” Spencer asked while we were eating supper. I shrugged.

“You don't have to,” I replied, looking down at my food and pushing it around on my plate.

“That's not what I asked,” he said gently, reaching over to lift my chin. “Y/n, this is happening to both of us, you know that, right? I just want to be here for you.”

“I know, Spence, I’m sorry,” I replied, finally looking up at him. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with something like this. And, I know this is hard for you, too, and I want to be here for you like you are for me, but I just feel so… heartbroken. I mean, we might never be able to have a baby now, Spencer. I’m broken, and nothing can fix it.” I set down my fork and willed the tears that were beginning to form away.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer cooed, pulling me into a hug against his chest. “You are not broken, do you understand me? You could never be broken. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re upset, but I need you to understand that this is in no way your fault. I love you no matter what, right?”

I nodded against his chest, wiping my tears away on his sweater.

“Besides, we haven’t even really talked yet about having children yet. I’m not saying that a baby wouldn’t have been a good thing, but it sure would have been a surprise! The other thing to remember too, honey, is that there are lots of different ways to have children. And when we do eventually have a kid together, we are going to love them so fucking much that it won’t even matter how they became a part of our lives.

“Just promise me you won’t push me away because of this, okay? I want you to take the time you need to recover from this, physically and emotionally, but I want to be a part of that recovery. We’re going to get through this together.”

I could hear him starting to get choked up. I lifted my head up to look at him, giving him a weak smile. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I told him. “I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you too. Now. Try eating a little bit more, and then maybe we can crawl into bed early and cuddle for a bit before we go to sleep. Sound good?”

I hummed in agreement and turned back to my plate. “You can go to work tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ll get caught up on my knitting, finish that book… it’ll be good.”

Spencer responded by leaning over and giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

---

The next morning, Spencer left on time, giving me a kiss and gentle hug goodbye and whispering ‘I love you’ while I was still in bed.

When I got up a few hours later, the incision from my surgery was sore. I hobbled to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and was planning on returning to bed when I heard a knock at the door. Before opening it, I checked through the peephole only to find JJ on the other side.

“Hey, JJ,” I greeted her, opening the door and stepping back gingerly.

“Hi, y/n, is… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, what do you mean?”

“Nothing, you just… never mind. Um, is Spencer here?”

My instinctual reaction was panic. Spencer had gone to work. He was supposed to be at work.

“No, he left for work at his normal time this morning. Didn’t he show up?”

“He did, but he left because he said that you needed him to come home. He didn’t say why, but he wasn’t at work very long.” She paused for a moment, looking at me closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I…” I wasn’t sure if I wanted anyone to know that I had miscarried. I had asked Spencer the night before not to tell anyone, and I wasn’t very close with JJ, but she was a mother. I suppose if anyone was going to understand, it would be her. “Can I tell you something, but can you not tell anyone?”

“Of course,” she replied, brows furrowing. “Did you want me to come in? I don’t have to, but-”

“Yeah, of course,” I interrupted, opening the door wider and stepping aside so that she could come in.

We sat down on the couch a few feet apart. I knew that JJ had been Spencer’s best friend before we met, but I’d never really gotten close with her.

“I had a miscarriage three days ago,” I told her after a short silence, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap, blurry from the tears that were starting to press on the back of my eyes. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant, we- we weren’t even trying or anything. It just hit me kind of hard, and they told me that I might not be able to get pregnant again, and I just… I didn’t even realize it was something that I wanted until I couldn’t have it, y’know?”

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry,” JJ said, reaching out to hold my hand. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so,” I sniffled. “I didn’t mean to ambush you with this, I don’t even know why I wanted to tell you. I think I just needed to tell someone, just to get it out there?”

“I know what you mean.” JJ gave me a sympathetic smile. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but I had a miscarriage too. When I was overseas.”

“You did?”

She nodded.

“If you, um, don’t mind me asking, how did you get over it?”

“To be completely honest, it’s not really something you get over. I guess grief is different for everyone, but I find myself thinking every now and then about who that little baby might have grown up to been, or how my life would be different.”

---

JJ stayed for a few hours, talking at first with me about the miscarriage, but then just chatting. When she left, my mind went back to the hospital, the doctor’s words replaying over and over again in my mind. JJ being here had helped, though. I just had to get my mind of things for a little while until the wound wasn’t so fresh, and I could think through it. I turned on Gilmore Girls and decided to bake some cupcakes.

There was third batch of cupcakes in the oven and I was frosting the first when I heard Spencer’s key turning in the lock. I paused the tv and called out to greet him.

“Hey, honey,” he said, setting his bag down and walking into the kitchen. “It smells really good in here, but are you sure you’re getting enough rest like the doctor said?”

I gave him a peck on the cheek. “I had enough rest this morning. JJ came over and we chatted for a bit, but when she left I wanted to get my mind off it, so I’m making cupcakes. I’m almost done so I can rest after while I’m eating them.”

“I see,” replied Spencer, scooping some frosting out of the bowl and licking it off his finger. “Are you sure you’re okay, y/n? I mean, this was a big deal, and I don’t expect you to just move – ”

“I’m okay, Spence. I mean, not completely, but I’m managing okay and I know that it will hurt less with time. I just need to get there, so,” I gestured vaguely at the kitchen, “Cupcakes.”

“Okay, I’m glad. Promise you’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I promise, Spence. Now, stop eating the icing and go sit in the living room. I’ll bring you a cupcake when they’re done.”

He dipped his finger back into the bowl one last time, giving me an impish grin before walking over to the couch. “I love you, y/n.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #friends to lovers

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celestie0 · 7 months

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notes on kickoff ch.7

hellooo if you're here thank you for taking the interest! i just had some creative notes i wanted to get off my chest with the release of ch.7 lol i felt compelled to do so with this one i'm basically journaling here. you can read this after reading ch7 here!

I. on gojo's feelings

as for why didn't gojo just tell reader how he felt at the end of the chapter, and instead only says what he does. i think i rewrote this ending like five different times, he was never supposed to tell her at this point based on my story planning, but i did explore the idea of a dramatic confession here regardless, and it didn't fit for lots of different reasons for one, i think he's finally able to put himself in reader's shoes. it's true he's pretty dense and obviously has commitment issues/valid fears that keep him from opening up, but that still doesn't mean he hasn't hurt reader in a lot of different ways already. he realizes, whether intentionally or not, he's led her on and to do a complete turnaround within a few hours while she's already trying to process rejection as she is clearly withdrawn from him i believed would've been selfish on his part, and could possibly cause even more hurt over the fact that he could come off ingenuine. gojo is finally emotionally aware of her enough to recognize it, but he's not a perfect person so it still slips through that he's distraught at the thought of never seeing her again. in general i'm of the opinion that if someone asks for space, you respect that unless they say otherwise of note, just because he realizes that he has these feelings, doesn't necessary change his fears, as no single moment can undo years of trauma, so i think that's why he bites his tongue too. i'm not keen on making this a "woman fixes man" story but i moreso want to embrace the sentiment that you don't need to resolve every single bad thing that's ever happened to you in order to embrace love or happiness.

II. on gojo's commitment issues

i know it was brought up in the first gojo pov that he has issues committing to just one woman, but i wanted this chapter to reveal that it's really just his fear of opening up to people due to the still raw loss he feels of losing someone he loved. i aim with his pov to be more of a stream of his own consciousness rather than from an omniscient observer, which may explain the ambiguity. he's not sure if he's able to open up to a person in a way he knows is normal and healthy, so he settles on shallow connections instead. just wanted to clear this up, and say that it won't be any sort of plot point in which he struggles to be sincere or faithful when he seriously wants to commit to someone as he has no issues with that if he truly wants to be with them (unlike the whore he's been so far in the series lmao)

III. on strawberry vanilla soda

btw i've never had this flavor of soda i'm not even sure where i came up w it loool or if it even exists. i was kind of toying with the idea of gojo seeing reader's message on the can during the match, and that would maybe help him get more focused on the field (sooo sports romance cliche but i still love it haha) but i settled on him seeing it afterwards to kinda parallel the clumsiness he's had with reader so far. for some reason, the universe just doesn't want him to get his timing right with her lol

IV. on angst/conflict

i know ch7 was a bit differentttt less gojo x reader and more just gojo lmfao, it was also a bit angsty. it definitely won't stay angsty throughout the remaining chapters. this was just gojo's lore drop chapter LOL. there will still obviously be angst here and there, but i've got a lot of fun, cute, tense, silly, passionate, messy scenes still planned similar to ch5&6 because i prefer writing those kinds of scenes haha. ultimately this story was always meant to be a full-circle romance, so ch7 was to lay some of the emotional groundwork that gets brought up as the story builds to its climax

that's all i have to saayyy if you actually read this whole thing i love you?? lol. ch7 really emotionally resonated with me as i wrote it, both as someone who understands how gojo feels but also as someone who understands how reader feels, and if it resonated with you too then that makes me very happy and that's ultimately every writer's dream haha. was very cathartic to share these thoughts. i hope to see you in the next oneeee <3 have a wonderful rest of your day!

#kickoff #gojo satoru #fanfiction

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ghuleh-recs · 6 months

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It's @chapel-of-rizztual's birthday!! So obviously I had to make us a mixtape of my favorite rizz fics. I was stoked to make this one because it meant I got to reread some of my favorite ghoul smut 😈 If you follow rizz you know what a joy it is to realize you're both on tumblr at the same time. You'll notice your feed slowly being taken over in the best possible way by a wonderful stream of consciousness reblogging spree. I have to add that chapel-of-rizztual is so damn supportive of fellow creatives, as well--sharing anything and everything we make. So let's all treat ourselves to some s tier ghoul smut in rizz's honor and maybe leave a comment or two as a lil' bday treat. ♡

recs under the cut.

In the heat of the moment - phantom x rain x mountain (polyghouls)

“Shit, I’m sorry-I didn’t realise.” He raises his arms as Rain pulls a clean hoodie on him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” Rain chuckles lightly, running a hand across Phantoms chest, smoothing out the hoodie. “You’re in heat, darling. I wouldn’t expect anything different.” He blinks up confusedly at Rain trying to take in what he’d just said to him. “I-what? What!?” Or…. Phantom goes into heat onstage but doesn’t realise because it’s his first one topside.

The only exception - aether x dewdrop

Aether smiles sweetly at him, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. “You feel better after that, Honeydrop?” Dew nods, not trusting his voice. His eyes drop down to Aethers lips for a spit second before looking back into his eyes. Aether chuckles lightly. “You want a kiss, darling?” Dew nods again and Aether surges forward to capture Dews lips in his. He gives Dew a few little pecks before pulling back. Dew whines and follows his lips. “More.” He whispered. Aether cradles his cheek and pull him in for another kiss, a proper kiss thins time, not just little pecks. Dew let’s Aether lead the the kiss, letting himself melt completely into it with a contented sigh. Or… After a stressful day Dewdrop finds himself seeking comfort from the one ghoul he trusts the most.

tumblr ficlet - lingerie - cumulus x mountain x swiss x phantom x rain

“I-uh- well, we? We all saw it in the shopping centre the other day. And we all thought- well it’s just- we all thought of you? So…yeah.” Mountain fidgets nervously as he edges his way towards the door. “I’m-uh- going back to my room, the other are also there. You can-Uh-you can join us when you unwrap it.” He seem to snap out his nervousness for a second. “If you want! There’s no pressure! I just..yeah, no pressure.” He gives her an awkward thumbs up and slips out the door without another word. Cumulus would laugh at him if she wasn’t so excited to find out what was making him so nervous. She tears the paper from the box, giggling and rolling her eyes when she recognises the lingerie brand that’s stamped on the box. Typical Boys.

Don't want to close my eyes - mountain & aether (& dew)

Mountain’s insomnia has been flaring up recently, the past few weeks he’d been getting less and less sleep each night, which led to the last couple of nights where he’d been unable to sleep. Tossing turning in his bed, eyes heavy, unable to switch his brain off. He’d given up trying to sleep tonight. His room felt too suffocating, too familiar, the endless tossing and turning had become boring. Or… Mountain hasn’t been sleeping. Aether helps.

With desire flowing through my veins - copia x mountain

After realising no one had seen Mountain for almost a week, Copia, riddled with anxiety and worry, sets out to find the Earth Ghoul. He gets a little more then he bargained for when he does eventually find him.

tumblr ficlet - first time - dewdrop x phantom

Despite what everyone thought, Dew liked the new ghoul. Sure, he wasn’t Aether, but Dew didn’t think that was a bad thing. He liked how easy the new ghoul was. How desperate for attention he was, how he’d do anything with a simple command, no fighting back. Dew liked how much control he had over him, something he never really had before, he liked how he could do anything to the new ghoul and he didn’t even question it, he’s just happy to be getting the attention he desperately wanted.

tumblr ficlet - body worship - copia x dewdrop

It was a joke. A self deprecating one, but a joke non the less. And it had made the congregation at mass laugh, all be it an awkward laugh, but it was a laugh and Copia was taking that as a win. Dew didn’t find it funny. If he’s being honest he didn’t really understand what Copia was trying to get at, he’d always viewed the man as some above godly creature, so to hear him say something so…low about himself made an uneasy feeling swirl in his belly.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

#my fic recs #birthday mixtape #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #spicy tag #mountain ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #nameless ghouls fic #fic rec!!

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sophrosynesworld · 18 days

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Game On

“Izuku, get that notebook away from me before I toss it into the fountain.”

“Oh my God,” Mina busts into laughter next to me, her eyes wide with mock horror. “You kicked the puppy!”

I glance at Izuku, who’s standing there with wide eyes, looking utterly betrayed. He clutches his precious notebook to his chest like it’s the only thing holding him together.

“Come on, just a few questions?” he pleads, frustration lacing his voice as he hovers behind me, desperate to pry into my quirk.

“Five bucks,” I reply, holding out my hand with a grin. Izuku frowns, hesitating for a split second before reluctantly rummaging through his wallet. Just as he’s about to pull out some crumpled bills, a crisp twenty lands in my hand.

I glance over to see Todoroki joining us, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I’m curious too.”

Before I can even process what’s happening, the front door slams closed with a bang. Denki stumbles inside, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement.

“Yo, check this out!” he yells, instantly stealing the spotlight. In his hands is a small metallic box, his eyes practically glowing with excitement.

“What is it?” I ask, more than happy for the interruption, as Todoroki and Midoriya groan in unison, clearly annoyed that their interrogation has been cut short.

Denki flips the box around, revealing a flashy cover with our faces on it. “It’s us! Someone made a whole video game about our class!” Kaminari waves the box around, drawing the attention of our sleepy classmates who begin to filter into the common room, curiosity piqued.

Within minutes, the once-quiet morning buzzes with excitement. Conversations overlap, and eager eyes dart toward the box in Denki’s hands.

“What’s so damn important?” Bakugo grumbles, shuffling in like he’s been dragged there against his will. He collapses onto the couch with the grace of a grumpy old man, his hair sticking out at odd angles, a scowl permanently etched on his face. He crosses his arms, sinking into the cushions like he’s already counting down the minutes until he can leave.

I open my mouth to respond, but Izuku’s already off and running, words spilling out like a rapid-fire stream of consciousness. Bakugo’s eyes roll, but he stays sitting next to him, a massive improvement from a few months ago.

Given how much Deku knows, I wouldn’t be surprised if the developers had consulted him directly, maybe even asked for a copy of his ever-present notebook. The sheer depth of his knowledge is almost unsettling, but it’s also so typically Izuku that I can’t help but expect it.

As Denki fumbles with the cables, his tongue sticking out in concentration, the game quickly takes over the room, shifting the energy entirely.

The moment Denki connects the game system to the TV, the screen flickers to life, casting a bright glow across the common room. The screen flashes with an over-the-top title card: My Hero Brawl! - The Next Gen, complete with 8-bit music and an announcer’s voice shouting, “ARE YOU READY FOR A PLUS ULTRA FIGHT?”

“Who made me look so manly?” Kirishima exclaims, a wide grin spreading across his face as he admires the blocky, muscular version of himself flexing on the character selection screen.

Izuku’s eyes widen as he scrolls through his phone, quickly turning it around to show us Bakugo’s character. “This is incredible! Look at the detail!”

Bakugo’s expression darkens as he snatches the phone from Izuku's hand. “What the hell?! Who made me look like this?”

I lean over, stifling a laugh. “You always look like that, Bakugo.”

Without warning, a deafening boom shakes the room as Bakugo detonates the phone in his hand, sending sparks flying and forcing everyone to duck for cover. The explosion propels Deku and Bakugo into a full-on shouting match.

“YOU?! THEY MADE ME SHORTER!” Mineta’s shrill voice cuts through the chaos as he flails his arms, desperately trying to draw our attention to the main screen. His character is nearly microscopic, barely reaching the height of the barrels scattered across the stage.

Mina bounces over to a couch, plopping herself down between Koji and Momo with a mischievous grin. “So, how does this work? Can we pick ourselves?”

Denki cracks his knuckles, a sly smirk on his face. “Oh, definitely. But I’m warning you guys—I’m in it to win it.”

Bakugo’s cracks his knuckles, the sound echoing like gunshots. “Pick whoever you want, extras. I’m out for blood.”

The moment the first round begins, the room erupts into a betting match. Everyone lunges for their controllers, eyes locked on the screen as the pixelated characters spring to life. Denki’s character zips around, crackling with electricity as he unleashes a barrage of lightning-fast attacks. Kirishima’s Red Riot charges forward, his “Unbreakable” form turning him into an unstoppable force of nature, even blockier and more imposing than ever.

Dynamight launches into the air, explosions detonating beneath him as he unleashes a storm of fiery blasts. Denki grins as he narrowly dodges each explosion, retaliating with a burst of electric bolts that crackle across the screen.

“Come on, you extras! Stop running and fight me!” Bakugo’s voice is a roar, his fingers hammering the buttons with brutal intensity.

Red Riot barrels in, blocking Dynamight's attacks with his hardened armor, while Chargebolt cackles from a distance, raining down lightning strikes. “You gotta get through me first, bro!”

“I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU!” Katsuki’s eyes burn with fury as he unleashes a devastating explosion, the impact shaking the screen. But before we can see any affect, Zero Gravity, swoops in from the edge of the battlefield, launching a pixelated attack. The ground shakes sending everyone else’s characters floating helplessly into the air.

“What the—?!” Denki stares in disbelief as his character is tossed around like a leaf in a storm.

Uraraka flashes a cheeky smile. “You didn’t see that coming, did you?”

Kirishima laughs clearly impressed. “That’s what you get for underestimating Uraraka!”

With each round, the intensity ramps up. Characters zoom across the screen, delivering bone-crushing blows, unleashing powerful special moves, and narrowly escaping defeat.

Izuku watches, his fists clenched in anticipation, before finally stepping up. “Mind if I jump in for the next round? I want to see how ‘Deku’ holds up!”

Bakugo’s eyes narrow, a dangerous smirk curling his lips. “Get ready to lose, nerd.”

The next round begins with a burst of energy, Izuku’s pixelated hero standing tall. Dynamight wastes no time, launching a relentless assault of explosions. Deku ducks, weaves, and counters, his movements fluid and precise. Every button press is a calculated strike, every dodge perfectly timed.

“You’re finished, Kacchan,” Izuku grins, his fingers flying across the controller as he lands a devastating combo that sends Dynamight flying across the screen.

Bakugo’s jaw tightens, his fingers mashing the buttons in a desperate attempt to trigger a special move. But it’s too late. Deku counters with a well-timed attack, knocking Dynamight out cold.

“KO! WINNER: DEKU!” The announcer’s voice booms as Bakugo’s character plummets into the void.

The room explodes into cheers, the sound bouncing off the walls as Bakugo glares daggers at Izuku, who shrugs with an innocent smile. “What? It’s just a game.”

Bakugo’s grin turns wicked, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Rematch. NOW.”

Authors Note: This was so hard to write. Just pretend it doesn't suck :)

#mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #fanfic #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo #denki kaminari #eijiro kirishima

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nerdieforpedro · 9 months

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Remember Francisco~

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x plus size female reader

Fanfiction rating: 18+

Main Masterlist l Frankie Masterlist

Word Count: approx. 3k

Summary: You're Frankie's superior as he's working to get his pilot license back. You find that he listens and follows directions quite well. This pleases you greatly.

Warnings: power imbalance, the reader is a menace, hand jobs, teasing, edging, semi-public sex, Frankie being a polite sub, mentions of masterbation, random douche, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating

Notes: This wasn't beta read so all mistakes are my own. I read @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Javier Pena/reader/Dieter Bravo sandwich last night was up past 2am contemplating my life choices. This was after almost being caught up on @frenchiereading Sky Drabbles as part of her cozy celebration so, the two melted in my mind and became this. It reads as stream of consciousness and switches POVs, I may write these two more when in the mood for filth which is most days of the week. We'll see.

The pilot’s cock is in your hand again. It’s usually while the others are at lunch. He’s so cute when he looks up at you, whimpering under his standard oil heating hat. You’d asked about it the first time you met him two months ago, he’d shrugged and said it was between him and his brothers. That was fine, you’d just been making conversation.

You’re griping him a little tighter, feeling him spurt out a bit more pre-cum for your hand to slick up and down his shaft. He’s not to touch you, he can watch as you lean against his desk and stroke him. Asking him if he’ll finish before the rest of the office comes back, if he can continue to keep quiet, if he knows that he bites his bottom lip and scrunches his nose when he’s close to his high, how his eyes light up when you first touch him and drink you in as he watches you stroke him.

It’s been a month of this, watching him walk around in those cargo pants, his little belly hanging over them slightly. You’d wanted to grab it and give it a good pinch before knocking that hat off and pushing him up against the wall. Crashing your lips against his. You never did. Instead, you pulled up a chair when he asked to learn more about these stupid spreadsheets for fuel inventory. Well, not stupid, but not as important as finding a way in those cargo pants.

You’re being professional, explaining things to him. Frankie, he does have a name. When you mess with him sometimes, you’d call him Franscico and he’d wince. He didn’t like it, that was something you’d remember. You may have tugged at the bottom of your v-neck sweater, exposing your breasts a bit more because he’s taller than you even sitting and he’d be looking down. Quite mean of you, but effective, his ears are red and he’s huffing. That was when your hand first touched his thigh. He didn’t move it so further you took it, until you’d unbuttoned his pants and had his thick cock in your hand, poking it with your finger. He became engorged quickly so you asked him if he wanted you to keep touching him. He replied yes and it’s continued during lunch time since then.

“Francisco, do you want me to put it in my mouth?”

He just stared at you, it felt like five minutes, but maybe it was just a full one and nodded.

“You’ll have to earn that Frankie. For now, accept my hand.”

Morales’ hands are gripping the armrests on his chair, his hips are thrusting into your hand. His cock is looking particularly delicious this afternoon. It would make a perfect dessert after your lunch. “Francisco. Move back, I’m going to need room.” He is confused at your hand not moving but compiles and scoots his chair back. You take his jacket off the back of his chair and set it on the floor in front of you as you get on your knees.

“Wait, querida. I thought you said I had to earn it? I haven’t done anything yet.” His chest is heaving with his cock dripping but he still remembered what you told him at the start of the month. A smile drapes your lips, well trained already.

“Did you not want me to suck your cock Frankie? You don’t think you’ve earned it?” Your hand returned to his cock, only this time you’re just holding it while looking up at the poor man. He’s tapping his foot wildly but still making good on not touching you. “I decide if you’ve earned it or not, don't I Francisco? Am I wrong?” You release his member and let it drop, making him flush in the chair from the loss of your hand and the sudden movement.

“N-No querida. You decide. I just listen. Please, did I earn it?” He licks the drool off that threatened to drip from the side of his mouth. Voices of the others are heard, it’s too late. They’ve come back early, unusual but not completely unexpected. You stand and straighten out your skirt, pick Frankie’s jacket up off the floor, walk over to him and place it on the back of his chair. Your hands move to his shoulders and push him and his chair back to his desk, giving him a kiss on his cheek before gingerly speaking in her ear,

“We ran out of time Francisco. Seems like you talked yourself out of it. There will be another opportunity tomorrow.”

“T-Tomorrow? B-But, I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt you again. I promise querida.” You took your seat at your desk that was next to Frankie’s and licked your fingers off his pre-cum just as the others were filing back into the office. You then used some hand sanitizer and opened your email like it was a normal lunch.

Throwing a knowing grin his way as he adjusted himself back into his pants and utter discomfort, “I’ll hold you to that Frankie.”

It had been a week since you’d almost sucked Frankie off in the office. Honestly, it’s been hell for him. He was able to get through the rest of that day just barely by making four different bathroom trips, each ten minutes, just to jerk off and clean up after himself. He told himself that this should have never happened. He should have asked to be re-assigned, but to where? It was part of getting his license back, this office work, so close to the helicopters that he flew and yet so far with all this damn paperwork. He didn’t remember it being this much.

When he first came here two months ago, he was introduced to some old coger. He was supposed to be working with him, but then he had a heart attack. He made it, maybe? Frankie’s not really sure. What he does know is that you became his superior. You being a woman isn’t the issue, it’s that he finds you attractive and he knows you’re single. Apparently there was a bet to see if this one pilot John, James, whatever was actually going to ask you out. Frankie also doesn’t know if that guy ever did. What he does know is that you smell like vanilla, your voice sounds like honey and he shook your hands when he met you and noted how soft they were. Shaking hands is polite, but he shouldn’t think about your hands in his hair, on his chest, back or cock. He also looked too long at your full lips and thought about them when he went home at night.

Then you made your move, he should have said no. Maybe should have redirected it to a date, but he’s always had an issue with saying no. Saying no to Pope and that damn mission. Saying no to Tom during that mission and it got him killed. Saying no before the mission where he transported cocaine and got fucking caught and now he’s grounded. Your hand felt so good and he was able to watch your breasts bounce as you got him off.

Frankie can say that he is good at listening. Been doing it the entire month. His friends asked how the assignment is going, he tells them fine. He’s aware no one can know about what you do with your hands and his dick. The no-touching you is extremely difficult. He wants to put his hands all over you, see what you look like getting off, if you’d ask, if you’d tell him to do it he would. You haven’t. Why haven’t you? But he’s scared that you won’t touch him again and not recommend him to get his license back. Is he only good for feeling his dick? Is that the only thing you like about him? Maybe all the other things, you just tell him to get him off, he has been able to just think of your voice and cover his hand in his own cum.

Morales is following you into the hanger.

Apparently, the two of you have been tasked with restocking supplies in the back of this helicopter. It’s for a trainee the work that you’re both doing, he sometimes wonders why you’re doing it though. He knows why he is, but he doesn’t believe you’ve messed up anything in your life professionally that he knows of.

The bastard John is here, he’s asked to speak to you so you step out for a minute, there’s no way he’s not gonna eavesdrop. He might have worked up the nerve to ask you out.

This fucker, he did and you said no. Frankie is thankful, but John, will at the very least be having his tires cut before the pilot leaves this evening, tell you that you should be glad he asked you out anyway. It’s why your last boyfriend left you because he didn’t want a fat bitch anymore. Frankie was about to step off the helicopter when you asked John why has he been sniffing around you like a dog with a bone then? And also you’re aware his wife left him for her fencing instructor who apparently fucked her so well that she faked pulling her back at work at her desk job that you were dumb enough to believe.

John left with a red face as you stood still, hands tightened into fists. Frankie jumped off the helicopter and stood beside you. “Quierda, can I hug you? Please?” He was so thankful when you told him yes, he was aware you were sad, but thankfully not crying. God you’re so soft and feel so warm against his chest, Frankie rocks you back and forth as you murmur something. He asked what you said.

“Back inside now.” A command, but Frankie made sure to ask before touching you and you’d said yes. It should be fine, it has to be. Back inside the helicopter, you tell him to sit in the pilot’s seat. He does, but he’s nervous. He hasn’t earned this seat back yet, he was going to ask why you asked him to sit here when your lips touched his neck, moaning ‘Francisco.” Normally he prefers Frankie, but he’d let you call him Bob at the point because you’re touching him, fuck you’re kissing his neck, licking it. He wants to grab those wide hips of your and set you on the control panel so he can see your face, if it’s hungry like he knows his is, but he remembers. You leave his neck with a bite and run your hand across his chest.

“Frankie. I’m going to treat that fat cock of yours real nice. Watch me and paint my throat.” Morales watches you start to move down and he stands, apologizing. He goes to the back of the helicopter to grab a life fest, it’s got some foam so it should be good to kneel on. You looked confused for a moment, but kissed his cheek when he came back and as you settled between his legs took his hands and kissed the back of each of his hands. Looking up at him and hearing you utter the words, “You’re such a good man Frankie.” He nearly soaked his cargo pants. Call him good anything: good shot, good pilot, good man, good father, good boy, the list can go on.

“P-Permission to touch you again quierda?” You look up at him again, pressing your tongue to the tip of his cock, he finally feels your warm tongue on the head. “Please, for fuck’s sake…” His hands were an inch away from your cheek, almost touching you, but he still remembered.

“Not yet Francisco. Continue to be good for me. I’m looking forward to this too, sweetheart.” He felt your run from the head of his length to his base, seeing part your round face covered by the dark bush he had. Frankie’s a whimpering mess and he’s unsure what to do with his hands, where to put them. His foot was tapping hard again as your teeth nibbled gently at his velvet skin working your way back up. It was then that you truly took him in your mouth a third of the way and he bucked his hips once. The look on your face was stern at first, then softened, what did that mean?

The groan that he unleashed as your tongue swirled around the head of cock, his precum coating your lips. He felt you take him deeper, more of your throat was available to him as he thrusted again, unable to control himself. He reached for your face again, but hands on his thighs grounded him and made him remember what you’d told him. He opted to hold onto the bottom of the pilot’s seat as he bucked, seeing your face come closer to the base of his cock and loving every second of it. He was sure he heard you moan as well, he wanted to hear it unmuffled. You’re nearly back within his coarse curls when he feels his throbbing increase, he’s close so damn close. “Quierda I-It’s…” Your fingers press into his thighs as you continue to hollow your cheeks.

Frankie knows that you know him well. At least, his dick well. You’ve made him reach his peak most days at work, those few were when you two were interrupted. You’d always toyed with him, teased him, told him what he can and can’t do. Now you’re moved one of your hands to cup the wrinkled skin of his balls and are massaging them between those damn hands of yours, while he hears you audibly whimpering while swallowing his cock. Your head is even turned at an angle so you can breathe slightly easier, not by much. The small lights he sees near your eyes are from your tears and how hard you’ve been working for him. He tried to hold on as long as he could but he can’t and he’ll never forget this image because Frankie remembers.

His head swings back at first, knocking his standard oil heating cap off and then snapped his neck back down. His cock is pulsing in your mouth and with your head still at an angle he can see you gulping his spend down with only a few drops landing on the tops of your breasts. It’s a large load, he only masturbated once last night before passing out from having gone out with Benny and Will for drinks. Your hand that had been on his thigh reached near the base of the pilot’s chair and touched his hand, your fingers making a circle on the top of his hand. After the last of his seed drips into your mouth Frankie feels his body relaxing as he muttered his nickname for you. “Quierda, that was…damn I’m glad I listened this time…”

Slowly you withdrew him from your mouth, your tongue rolling against the bottom of his shaft once more, until you reached the head of his cock again. He hissed as you removed him finally from your warm mouth and kissed his tip. His softened length dropped against his boxers and cargo pants. With a final swallow of what was left in your mouth, you purred, “Yes you did Frankie. You listened well.” You motioned for him to help you up which he did and you sat in the co-pilot’s chair. Your chest was heaving as you finally caught your breath, your head back against the top of the chair, you looked over at Frankie, smiling. “I think I may be addicted to your dick Frankie now that I’ve had a taste. We may have to start taking this outside of work.” Your hand started at your breasts as you curled a finger to scoop up his cum that dripped and brought it to your lips. You didn’t swallow it though, instead he watched as you applied it like a balm to your lips and stood up, leaning over him after grabbing his shoulders.

“Taste yourself on my lips Frankie.” The pilot didn’t move because he recalled you hadn't given him permission to touch you yet. Being the smart woman you are, you remembered too and straddled him, bringing your full weight on him, thick thighs, belly pressing against him and your breasts nearly in his face. His hands touched your back, cupping your love handles. Your fingers cupped his face as he looked up at you and he dove his head forward crashing into your lips, starting tentatively before licking and having his own musk in his mouth, he then was able to grasp the flavor or your mouth mixed with him. His tongue fought with yours, winning due his skill and desperation. Your hips grinded on him and he felt it, the moisture between your thighs. When you drew back from him, he had a small smirk on his face.

“Hermosa let me drink you in. I’ll do a good job.” Frankie placed a kiss atop your breasts before you stood back up, pulling your skirt down. He felt a peck to his forehead as his hands remained on your back, though they had traveled lower.

“Not yet. We need to finish here before they get suspicious.” You pressed your thumb against his bottom lip, he wanted to press the issue of having you right now, fuck everyone and everything else. “I think I should savor you elsewhere. Where we won’t be bothered and I can hear more than your whimpers, no matter how delightful I find them.”

Frankie watched you walk away and pick up some package to place it in the back of the helicopter. He had forgotten that’s what he was supposed to be doing. He looked forward to the day he’d have you all to himself without interruption.

The pilot fixed himself back in his pants and stood, exhaling before joining you to finish the assigned task. One day soon he'll be able to say he remembers your taste in his mouth instead of his own.

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