#Fucking Contacts So I Can See With Prop Glasses;
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hmmmm i thought i had a game to gm today but we'd actually planned it for the 18th and i just forgot, so perhaps i will go to a craft store and acquire Cosplay Things after grocery shopping
#things i definitely need: primer; paint in a wood color and a metallic/brass color; fantasy boots (find elsewhere); some kind of like#steampunk lookin gun holster thing?????#things i definitely Want but can live without for now: glow in the dark or heat sensitive paint; fancy gold trim for jacket;#plague doctor mask; bad news replica; goofy lookin magnifying glass things to stick onto prop glasses;#Fucking Contacts So I Can See With Prop Glasses;#actual covid mask that either matches the cosplay or is funny; lovm diplomacy glove because it's banger
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❛ SWEET TOOTH! ❜
synopsis. geto's got a sweet tooth for his pretty partner in culinary arts. rumor has it gojo wants a taste too. the two chefs compete on which one can make you cream the most.
total wc. 5.8k
warnings. satosugu x fem!reader, college au, squirting, (geto) eats it from the back, double penetration, unprotected s*x, dumbfication, dirty talk, oral (fixation), overstim, them basically fighting over you.
an. wrote this bc…i'm hungry </3 random stsg brain rot lawl
“you're a fine cook, you know?”
your eyebrows raised as both of your hands rested against the edge of the laminate-glassed counter.
taking off your toque to give geto direct eye contact, he continued to speak. “i still think your banana pudding was the best.”
“oh, thank you,” you mumbled, and geto stood tall - the size difference was truly immaculate.
broad shoulders yet a very much lean body.
he had his hands buried and dug into the holes of his pockets, flipping the apron near his white coat to the side before giving you a soft smile. “i wish i could have tried your desert, chef kept rushing everyone to clean up earlier.”
“you still can,” geto mutters, and you stare up at him. his voice was somewhat teasing but stoic.
his body language was simply suave…he leaned against the counter as he spoke before making a few inches towards you. his eyes trail down, and his thumb swiftly swipes against the side of your cheek—excess sweet cream of his infamous banana pudding. “it still has its flavor. vanilla, my personal favorite.”
he was so close to you, his body heat practically radiated against you, not literally though.
you were deep in thought as he was directly propped up beside you.
“may i…?”
he's got his dessert in hand, and it was a slice of vanilla cake—neatly decorated at the top with a cherry topping, just a good enough glance and your mouth is damn near watering. it’s decadent with sweet cream and icing, you nearly forgot how to speak.
“yeah.. yeah...yes please.”
you didn’t even realize how needy you sounded, just a few inches of your tongue and you’d be licking your lips.
geto cups a hand over your chin—his dark focused gaze, pretty lashes of his fluttering throughout each blink. he scoops a good amount from the stainless-steeled fork, and brings it towards your glimmering plump lips.
“open a little for me, pretty.”
his voice, it was a mere whisper…
as you parted your lips slightly for him to press the fork inside, the piece of cake now going onto your tongue—you couldn’t deny, just those words alone had you feeling a certain type of way. geto's eyes never left yours, in fact, the soft back of his thumb pad was continuously gently stroking the side of your mouth.
the taste of the cake, just amazing.
dramatic was a good enough word to depict for you because as soon as the icing slicked against your lips—the pure flavor, the sweet sweet vanilla mixed with a single dash of vanilla extract, the cavity-coated sugary taste, and oh… cinnamon.
“mhm…”
you paused, feeling a heatwave of utter embarrassment wash over you. you let off the most dirtiest moan imaginable. all from a taste of cake from geto. the smile remains on his near perfect crooked lips before he hums, placing the fork aside.
“you must really enjoy it, huh?”
even his chuckle was sexy, such bass in his voice was enough to have you soaked right underneath your formal kitchen attire—directly underneath your apron, he couldn’t see but your legs were squeezed shut together, tight.
“yeah, it’s um..good.”
“just…good?” he teases, his long gorgeous dark strands of hair was down…flawlessly dancing over his broad shoulders. some strands cutely poking through his own toque top-hat. his eyes were nearly fucking you on its own.
eyes half closed, seducing.
“ah wait. you have more icing on your mouth. tsk, you’re so messy...”
geto leans in, his thumb still strokes and strokes against your mouth before he leans in—and you nearly slip out a whine from his teasing he was. you were about to open your mouth before he raises his brows.
“just say it. i don’t have to use my fingers to clean your mouth, princess.”
just from those words alone was enough to have you dripping between your thighs, your hands gripped against the back edges of the counter before you spoke in a soft shaky voice. “…kiss me, suguru. please.”
“open.”
as soon as he leaned in to kiss you, you immediately moaned, feeling the slow and sensual swirly lick he made just from his tongue.
he laps up the tiny remnants of creamy icing that was just near the side of your mouth. only before focusing himself on your lips now, the kiss was tasty just like the ingredients of his cake.
geto's got one hand on your chin, another on your waist. you’re propped against the counter and he’s so warm…
you could taste the sweetness of his dessert on his tongue, he takes a few seconds to depart from your lips—dragging a tongue gently and slowly from your mouth to your neck.
“you taste so good.” he huffs out, his voice was low, creating kiss trails near your collarbone and you moaned before he went back up kiss you. geto’s strong manly cologne scent wafts against your nose as you tug on his chef cpat, desperate for more than just his sweet tongue.
“yo, suguru do we have anymore—”
the both of you broke away immensely at the sound of a familiar voice, no one another than gojo satoru.
great.
he’s got quite the look on his face, wearing loose sweatpants. his apron was half on and he looked insanely attractive even while dressed down.
a sudden smug grin appears on his face. “oh…!” he says dramatically, hands of his going right on his hips, “pft. is this why you didn’t wanna hang after culinary suguru? you decided finally gonna get laid?”
“shut up.” geto grunts, and his entire mood was ruined. you suddenly felt embarrassed, in such heat of a moment then gojo just had to show up.
“heh,” he snickers before walking towards you, and gojo’s so tall, the both of them are but he’s equivalent to a skyscraper.
he stares you down with pretty cerulean hued eyes, doing the same motion geto did.
a swift thumb strokes against your cheek and he speaks in an almost husk yet playful tone. “hmph. i wanted you first, shame sugu got the first taste. now that’s no fair.”
“…you both can have me.”
they both share the same nonplus expression at your blurted words—you didn’t even know where that came from, but at this point you didn’t care. geto already made a mess out of you, barely even doing anything but kissing you, and oh how wet you were between your legs.
seeing them both in front of you only continued to make you pulse and yearn for more.
“really?” they both say at the same time, in sync. you were already so hot and bothered by geto, you only could have imagined what it felt like being with the both of them.
you nodded, your impatience was wearing so thin.
gojo snakes a arm around your waist before geto grabs him, nudging him lightly. “not here, idiot. we can just go back to my dorm.”
…there, you laid flat on geto’s flat-sized mattress, gojo was directly next to you—a hand cupping your chin as his lips was pressed against yours.
he tasted sweet, your tongue curled against his and the flavor that coated him made you moan in his mouth. the forms of his lips curving into a smile pressed up against you. you felt it, and you moaned again feel geto kneel down to spread your legs open for him.
he took his time, geto’s warm lengthy fingers softly carressed your legs, slowly pulling down your formal jean attire, creating multiple kisses near your inner thighs, and his tongue…
gently dragging his tongue up your leg slowly until he reached your panties, pants halfway on he pulls them down fully before giving you a three second glance.
“feel how soaked she is, satoru.” geto murmurs.
“bet she is,” gojo snickers, and you whined once you felt him trail a hand down between yours legs to give your laced undergarments that were deeply soaked, a good enough squeeze. “hm. wonder who’s makin' her this wet,” and then he hums, bringing a kiss towards your collarbone before grinning—whispering underneath his breath, it fans against your chest and makes you shudder. “…obviously me.”
“don’t get too cocky,” geto rolls his eyes in vex, and you let off a soft whimper once you look down to see the long-haired man stare at you with a relaxed smile plastered on his face. his eyebrows raise just slightly before he gives you a subtle sexy head nod. “mind putting my hair into a ponytail, sweets?”
his voice was so low and attractive, each syllable he spoke throughout his words.
his pronunciation even was just so filthy, his entire demeanor. you were drenched between your pretty thighs to even fathom anything else.
“okay.” you mumbled, taking his thin hair tie, softly pulling a good amount of his soft strands, maneuvering your hands swiftly around before securing it in a tight yet loose ponytail.
“mm….thank you.” he says, and geto leans in to give the middle part of your panties a slow lick towards your legs twitch and you moan, going back against the bed before gojo starts to unclasp your culinary coat.
running his fingers against the thick fabric, he starts planting kisses everywhere around your mouth and neck—until he starts sucking against your skin. and gojo smells so good too, the both of them wore such strong cologne, but gojo’s scent was a bit more loud.
manly and sharp, it was intoxicating. each teasing suck gojo created against your neck, the soft foreplay licks geto made towards the very print of your panties.
just…fuck.
your head went back in rapture—pleasure, a hand making on the crown of geto’s head, giving his ponytail a light yank before whining. “just..eat me out please suguru. can’t take it anymore.”
“poor baby,” gojo fake pouts, and he makes you turn your position, lying flat on your stomach now and he towers over you. he’s pressing his knees against the bed as he’s in front with geto behind. “what, what what…?” he taunts, watching you desperately claw your fingers towards his sweats, his visible bulge looked so appetizing—you could only imagine how big this idiot was. “ya wanna occupy that mouth while sugu eats you out, yeah?”
“uh huh.”
you nodded, and gojo grows more cocky, craving it badly.
geto uses two fingers to slide your panties to the side - starting off slow with a long stripe lick towards your pre-soaked pussy and you whimpered.
geto's eyes close for a brief moment—using both hands to spread your ass just a bit, dipping his tongue between your slit, savoring the sugary taste. once he started there was no stopping, in his dirty mind, he imagined your pussy was the sweetest dessert he's ever crafted with his own two hands.
cake…cupcakes…fucking ice cream…
his saliva was practically syrupy from how much he was nearly being coated from just your mess alone. some of it runs down the side of his mouth and he’s just such a messy eater.
“…don’t gimme that look, baby,” gojo grunts, his smile—a half skittish one at that, his pants sag and droop from his waistline before you pull it down just to expose his white and blue boxers.
gojo brings your head close towards it with a swift hand around your throat lightly, rubbing your face all against his bulge, the stretchy thin fabric protected his lower half to make you whine more.
“see…feel how..how hard you fuckin' make me? put your throat to good use for me,” and he lifts your head up—making sure you keep direct eye contact. “…‘okay satoru’. say it, girl.”
you moaned, geto's so sloppy as he’s continuing to eat you out from behind, it’s devilishly nasty from how good he was at pleasing you…
figures. because he was one of the top cooks, not only would his meals would be considered s-tier, but so would his tongue. every few seconds he’d spit on your cunt just to lap it up.
with the help of two thick fingers of his already stuffed inside you to make your body twitch and shudder beneath his hold.
“o-okay, satoru.”
stuttering for him, adorable…
you mumbled, and he stares down at you with a cocksure expression, your fingers hungrily pull down his boxers…and his dick sprung out, your first initial thought was how pretty it was.
long, lengthy and a little bit veiny, such height to it that it towers. it was a faint shade of beige but with a dash mix of pink. he was well trimmed, although managed to have a few specks of white hair near his base.
his base though… he was so full, stuffed. literal breeder balls, made your mouth water at just having that stuffed down your tight throat…
damn.
you were so eager, you didn’t want to waste time. gojo watches as you slide your tongue out, swirling it around his sensitive frenulum that was splattered with sticky pre-cum all over it, earning a grunt from him.
“oh….s-shit… juuuust like that, yeah. all the way down.”
his girth was simply delicious, scrumptious even. your warm mouth opened him with open arms. sinking down slowly every few seconds, he groans from feeling you moan down his shaft because of geto continuously eating you out at the same time.
geto’s got a mouth on him, or tongue some might say. the way it flicks against your nub only to abuse it by sucking on it tenderly, savoring its sweet candied taste, your muffled moans fueled him with much desire—even he started to feel himself get hard.
the unapologetic strain in his pants, oh…it was there. just bulging and bulging.
you whimpered at the gentle scrap of geto’s nose swiping against your pussy, equivalent to a credit card as if it was checking for balance.
your eyes rolled back, although gojo wants you to keep your focus primarily on him though.
“mhm. fuckin' slob on it.” he grumbles, gripping the back of your head to lightly move you further and further against him.
his fat tip that was aching inside your mouth, pulsing with much content.
it starts to hit back against the very roof of your mouth, so sloppy, he wants you to be sloppy….you gag, drool spilling from the side of your lips and looking up at him with a cock-drunken grin. “yeahhh girl. there’s that pretty smile. keep doin' that.”
gojo’s using your throat, fingers dug into your scalp and he’s got you being such a mess, such a slut.
he tastes so good, your tongue circulates against his tip. the sweetness yet tang of bitterness of his pre-cum coats the very tip of your tongue, the tastebuds of yours tasted everything.
sweet like candy….sweet like a pastry.
“shit, been hidin' this...dirty throat from me?” he moans, trying to laugh it off but failing. he’s giving you a stare, shooting daggers and he’s kind of embarrassed. your own gaze towards him was so intimate, he’s making you go up and down, you’re breathing through your nose and he almost slips off a whine.
“she’s close, satoru,” geto mumbles, departing his lips for a split second to speak—a whimper rips from your voice at the hotly warm breath of his fanning against your clit, he drags a thumb down your pussy before giving it a light spank. “should i, excuse me….should we let her?” he teases.
“….nahhh.”
you frown, the playful repetitive banter between the two of them going back and forth—long strands of geto’s hair tickles against his skin the further he shoves his face between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man, his tongue was at such temperature, it’s very warmth feeling has butterflies co-existing into the very depths of your tummy.
“you wanna cum, baby? ‘s that why you keep poutin' all stupid-like with my dick in your mouth?”
all you could do was nod your dumb head, up and down with the cutest scowl scattered across your face, pulling back up.
a singular pop leaves your lips one his twitching dick exists, and your glossed eyes stare at him. “s-satoru—”
“no, gorgeous. you’re supposed to be moaning my name.” geto grunts, giving your pussy another smack and you whimper. he’s just french kissing with your clit now, his entire technique made your toes curl, feeling such heat swell and build up inside of you, your mind raced and raced. “suguru. not fuckin' satoru. tch.”
“ahah, don’t mind him, he gets jealous when things doesn’t go his way.” gojo sneers, rubbing a hand underneath your chin.
your spit coats his fingers and he sticks his bottom lip out, fake pity as he’s toying with your mouth.
his dick grows soft inside and you’re basically nibbling on it now. your jaw ached a bit, you’re staring up at him and he gives you an abrupt head bat before groaning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum if ya keep sucking me slow like that, girl.”
you suddenly gasp, snapping out of your cock-drunken trance with a mean ass smack from geto, a snicker escaped his lips in return and you’re cumming hard, it’s unexpected and your legs twitch, practical mush.
only pathetic murmuring cacophonies of, “s-suguru,” and “o-oh my f-fucking goddd,” ‘s made its way out your throat once you stopped sucking gojo off for a few seconds.
your orgasm was rough, boisterous, just hit you like a full blown semi-truck.
his lips were still attached to your folds, dark eyebrows tugged together he’s determined on making you say his name, making you cum more than gojo ever could.
gojo rolllllls his eyes, dramatically as possible.
quite the drama queen he was. the actual epitome of it. gojo ends of concluding himself, swallowing hard as he sat on his knees. you instinctively slide your tongue out for him to spray it with many ropes and droplets of his cum.
“thaaaat’s it, clean me up baby.” he pants, his breath was shaky but he still finds time to flash geto a cheesy grin.
just…wriggling his eyebrows, so unserious. gojo turns his attention back towards you, and he watches you swallow every drop, savoring the taste.
it makes your eyes squeeze a little before you detach your lips, your own sheeny coated saliva running away from his dick.
geto stares at the both of you with a cute pique expression—gojo leans down before stroking your chin, brushing his thumb against your lips whilst observing your features, “gimme a kiss. just like ya did to suguru.”
you scooted upwards on the bed, and his smirk…
his white lashes were pretty, they lowered as he stared down at you, lingering over you even while on his knees. gojo always found a liking towards you. he didn’t mind a bit of competition against his culinary peer, geto wasn’t the only one who had a sweet tooth for you after all.
you lean into his touch—and his slender fingers ghosts against the middle part of your neck, you open your mouth for him just a bit for him to swirl his tongue against yours sensually.
his lips brushed against yours, incredibly soft and plump. he couldn’t help but suck on your tongue just a tad bit, not even minding tasting himself, his own stickiness that remained.
“how repulsive,” geto mumbles underneath his breath, pulling you away of gojo’s reach. geto stares down at you - and he’s quite handsome himself, still in a pussy drunken state, eyes half closed.
he looked gorgeous.
“satoru,” he says, raising his head before he pulls you close towards him. with a soft uttered oof, you land against his chest, and he rubs a hand caressingly down your back, brushing the tips of his fingers against the thin fabric of your tank top. “how ‘bout we compete?”
you moaned, geto brings his lips towards the side of your neck while rubbing his hand against your pussy — feeling how overly sensitive you still were, so needy and in such heat, you bit down on your lip as he continued to speak. “hmm… on who can make her cream the most?”
“me, obviously,” gojo immediately chuckles, as if that was the dumbest question imaginable. “i wanna get first dibs,” and then he pecks a kiss towards your nose. “can i, pretty? ya fine with that?”
“yeah...”
you panted, geto’s feeling you up and he’s so toasty, so warm.
you were embarrassed enough as is with how sticky you were between your legs. your own slick stuck against the crevices of your inner thighs like glue, every few seconds you’d catch geto staring at it, swiping a tongue against his lips as if he wanted to eat you out again, and again.
“…baby.” gojo purrs, you’re pressed against your stomach.
the linen sheets rubbed off against your skin, velvet black sheets and you swallowed whatever pride you had left, glancing at the long rectangular shaped mirror that stood in front of the three of you.
“tell me, yeah,” he pauses…and you choke out a needy whine, oh he’s teasing, ghosting his achy tip against your pussy. “how do you like it? rough? soft, aggressive?”
and then he leans directly close towards you—his chest hits against your back, and he playfully grinds against you with just his throbbing cock pulsing between you making you whimper out. “i wanna get to know this pussy before i just go all in, ya know…?”
“r-rough, please. just fuck me, satoru.” you sniffled, glancing up at geto who’s got a relaxed smile—he pursed his lips against each other before starting away with a flirtatious scoff.
he was jealous.
one he started, gojo was a monster, plain and simple. his stroke game was just downright mean.
he’s got you gripping the sheet, hanging on for dear life and babbling the most ludicrous things out of your mouth, you can’t even believe the things you were whining out.
as his dick buried inside of you—your jaw is nearly dropped open at full he’s got you, his length, the girth and the fucking stretch of his cock has you drooling for more. “s-shit, shit more,” you begged, your voice trembling from his mean hits.
no remorse, your ass smacks and smacks against him loudly. it rings throughout your ears, making your teeth chatter just slightly. gojo’s hand wraps against the back of your throat. a tiny squeak comes out and surely enough, you find yourself smiling at your reflection. “not too rough am i, pretty? …she okay?”
pulling your eyebrows together in confusion, you were confused before realizing he was referring to your pussy. of course…
“n-no, i'm fine.” you choked out.
“good, gooood….”
he's sexily grunting, and his hip movements were just animalistic. his frame snaps and jerks against you to where the mattress is just singing out adlibs in harmony. creak after creak after creak, it grows out to be annoying—yet alas…your dumb little brain can barely process anything anymore.
now you knew why they called it backshots for a reason.
gojo’s weight just barely lingers against your ass, your pussy was vocal too. it’d be quite foolish for it not to be.
it squelched and cried and even spat out many other various sounds all from gojo’s mean derogatory target hits against your very core. frail arms just dangling over the bed, being stretched thin by his dick, its expanding and exploring your walls as if it was on a mission.
your pussy craved and yearned for more, pretty soon you were gonna cum again—he’s got your arms pinned behind your back, just driving and bullying his dick in and out of you. you’re speechless, lurching against the mattress your eyes roll back and gojo groans, “your back arch is so pretty, baby,” he taunts, clicking his tongue in derision. “so whiney.”
“…you’re hogging her, satoru.” geto grumbles, and he brings your body up to sit up—gojo scoffs, watching him take initiative to kiss you again. you whimper in his mouth once you felt him bring a hand between your legs. gojo pulls out with a frown, watching geto steal you now.
his warm lips clashed against yours—he tasted so rich and sweet, the flavor, his flavor was just purely appetizing. as your tongue collided against his, he’s hungrily gripping your ass now, the thin middle part of your panties lazily pushed to the side, you could taste the tiniest sugary-coated cream of his pastry still on his lips. not to mention your own slick as well, it still coated his chin, shimmery and all.
with a free hand, he pulls his hair out of a ponytail, and it flies loose. some of it tickles against your skin and you whined once he gave your ass a smack before presenting it with a good squeeze.
“you’re greedy, suguru...” gojo pouts. “you didn’t even let me finish, man.”
feeling the tips of his ears seethe with hotness, gojo didn’t wanna admit how hard it was to see you and geto make out with each other. geto’s hand placement, it was so attractive—one resting on your hip, another on your bare ass, kissing his palm against your rear with a few spanks to make you moan such salacious moans and whimpers in his mouth.
you feel geto’s lips purse into a smile at gojo being jealous now, he runs his tongue alongside yours, and he brings you closer towards him.
you hook a leg around his waist and that’s when his hands slide down your waist. “she wasn’t yours to begin with.”
he mutters, smiling at gojo—pulling away to lick down your neck and you whimpered.
“im joking, crybaby. guess i gotta share,” he pecks a kiss near your collarbone. geto stares into your eyes before relaxing his face, humming before leaning close to your ear. “think you can take both of us, gorgeous?”
both…?
you nodded without hesitation, and gojo presses up against you before you crawl on top of geto’s lap.
he slouched back against his mattress with a smug grin, whipping his dick out. he was thicker while gojo was subtly longer. he still had inches to him, every single second you took to stare made your mouth water.
“tch….should be ridin' me instead,” he snarls underneath his breath, helping you slide your way down onto geto.
“cry about it.” geto shrugs, and the white-haired male only gives him a glare. you moaned, feeling geto’s thickness insert its way inside your pussy, past your folds. barely in and his tip was so fat. it was plump and stretched your cunt out to its supreme.
gojo tsks, stroking himself before rubbing himself against your leaky hole — your arms snake around geto’s shoulders and he’s staring at you. one hand of his slipping underneath your top to brush his thumbs against your perky nipples, making you whimper even more.
his tongue slithered against your bare skin…giving it a good suck, his pearly white teeth playfully nibbles against your nipple and you whine.
“can your pussy even fit two?” gojo pants, his voice was shaky, embarrassingly so—he’s catching himself licking his lips, sinking his way inside you, now you’re just being double stuffed. you’re on geto’s lap with gojo positioned behind you.
feeling every inch, inches stuffing inside of you, gojo spanks your ass. purposely leaning up close to you — he’s warm, his entire body is, the fabric of his hoodie skims up against your back.
you hear him chuckle nervously against you, and you start to move your hips against geto. warm breath fanning against your earlobe before he playfully licks the side of your ear only to nibble on it to hide his moans.
“…mhm..baby…baby,” he grunts, grabbing your hips to rock against him. gojo moans, melodically so, he’s practically jumping against you, you’re taking both of them and you bite down on your lip. geto leans back and watches the view of you riding him while getting inches from behind. “s-still gotta finish, ‘m a little sensitive still.”
“ya think satoru should finish, princess? he looks like he’s about to cry,” geto sneers, his gaze was stoic as ever, he raises his head, a meaningless head tilt at you, locking eye contact and he’s so big.
gojo’s fingertips dig into the fat of your ass, spanking it and spanking it — the recoil turning him on even more and he just can’t shut up. babbling nonsense, his bottom lip pokes out as he feels himself grow hotter, immense pressure building up as he was rutting himself against you, geto as the same time.
tag team.
“n-no.” you giggled, being caught by surprise once gojo wraps his arms around you — body to body, his cold breath danced against your skin after each jittery pant of desperation.
geto only laughs at your answer, watching you keep up a somewhat reasonable pace with your hips, you lightly shove geto down against his back, swerving yourself against him, and he’s stretching you fully. “he’s been too bratty.”
damn…
“eh?! y-you guys are fuckin' bullies…”
he spasms, his pink-reddened lip quivers, glancing down to see your pussy getting devoured by two thick cocks. you couldn’t really talk because you were moaning just as much as gojo, he’s so close to you, his scent, his loud scent that never failed to make you dizzy, “shit, i-i can’t.”
“just kidding, you can cum,” you whimpered, feeling gojo suddenly reach down to squeeze your pussy — kissing it with a few spanks from his hand.
your legs clench and tremble, and he’s so relieved. poor baby, he’s all shaky, it’s almost like he’s the girl.
gojo’s sputtering out incoherent, “thankyouthankyou,” ‘s into your neck repeatedly, taking a moment to swallow before he’s shooting inside your clenching hole, his entire body locks and tenses.
his jaw mimickes the same and his orgasm was soooo loud.
“f-fuck, take it all for me. been savin' it for so long…”
it’s sticky and slimy — gojo’s cum spills out, and he pouts once he pauses, watching it pour out only to stuff his dick back in, plugging it in so it never leaves.
he swipes his thumb against his own created mess and moans. “phew shit... ‘m gonna have dreams about this, ‘bout your nasty pussy soakin' up my c-cum.”
it continues for hours and hours, actually let’s not exaggerate — half an hour.
a good half an hour of you being absolutely stuffed, fucked stupid with your pretty doe eyes staring into space, jaw dead open and legs feeling virtually nonexistent. they made you cum, cream…about at least a dozen times.
you were so conflicted, geto’s praising you, showering you with compliments in that sweet low voice meanwhile — gojo’s degrading you now after getting over his impactful orgasm, he’s so mean.
he grows a liking to spanking your pussy, telling you no, those single two letter words that never fails to make you pout and whine.
“this is so much better than culinary.” geto sighs, and he’s got you currently pressed up against his chest — full nelson, an arm swiftly and safely locked around your neck and your legs were all spread. you looked so stupid, eyes protruding at the position, your legs being just barely over your legs.
“she’s a good cook but an even better squirter,” gojo stares at you, taking full view of your cunt. it’s just spitting out gibberish, squelches…
geto’s got your body swinging and swaying against his own — you’re being stretched all the way out in more ways than one, you didn’t know you were this flexible. “one more, babe. show us your cute little velocity.”
“don’t be shy, you’ve made such a mess for us already,” geto eggs on, peppering your neck with kisses, your head’s spinning and everything feels so good. you can hear your heart pounding and thrashing out of your ears. “relax for me. yeah, like that. it’s okay…it’s okay gorgeous.”
geto’s words made you throb — his cock pulsed inside of you, so deep it makes you suck and kiss your teeth in envy. the curve of his dick hits and raptures against you, dragging out a sweet moan from your spit-glossed lips. “let me make you cream again. easy, girl..”
so much pressure rises and builds up, your head just smacks against geto. eyes subtlety rolling back to where you’re seeing straight black. “f-fuckkk. s-sugu.”
“give it to us, c'mon.” gojo whispers, he starts to maneuver circles against your clit, and since the position in you were in didn’t allow you to close your legs, you just jolted, panting and huffing out irregular breaths. “so sensitive, good girl. ‘s okay. be messy. i’ll clean ya up.”
once you squirt — it shoots out with such force, gojo’s in awe, a stupid grin plasters on his face before he slides a thumb inside your pussy that’s already being stuffed by geto’s lengthy dick. “ooooh.”
geto’s different when it came to his loads, it shot out hefty splotches, painting your insides white to where you’re chewing on invisible words, invisble moans.
he makes the both of you grow quiet so you can hear, himself shooting a filthy sticky load inside, he’s panting himself, sweat raced down the side of his head as he’s catching his breath. the way he used two fingers to pry your pussy open, showing gojo his own cum pour out of you — it’s racing down your folds as if it was in a contest.
“good…girl. f-fuck.” he says, his tone a bit drowsy.
“someone’s tired,” gojo teases, pulling you into a kiss. you moaned, kissing back. still on geto’s lap, he’s still got your legs spread open for him, but he takes you out of the head lock from full nelson, allowing your legs to breathe.
gojo’s tongue drags everywhere on your mouth, he was a sloppy kisser and wasn’t ashamed. he was obsessed with your saliva - moaning as you ran a finger down his toned biceps flexing underneath his tank.
you pull away after a whine, gasping for air only to fall back on geto’s chest, never in a million years thinking you’d screw your two culinary peers.
“we…we should do this again,” gojo sighs, swiping his hand across his sweaty forehead.
geto narrows his brows, still fucked out himself. “you weren’t even invited.”
“y-yeah? well i still made her cream more than you. let’s be honest, suguru. i won, heh.”
“you moan like a woman, just stop talking.”
“….”
then you remembered why, the constant bickering amongst the two of them — so damn annoying. but sexy, fighting over you and everything. gojo leans down, softly nibbling on your thighs. geto smiles, moving close to lick a stripe up your tummy as if your body was coated in nothing but sweets.
“f-fuck.” you’d pant, gojo’s tongue sliding between the crevices of your thighs now, running a finger down your sloppy pussy.
“we aren’t done with you, girl,” geto mutters, his hair strands tickle against your skin before he sits up — tapping a thumb against your cheek before smiling, poking his dick in hand against your lips, smearing it with your own spit. “open that mouth. wanna give you a treat. ‘s got so much vanilla waitin' just for you to swallow.”
maybe culinary wasn’t so bad after all..
#★vegasbaby.#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk x reader#gojo satoru smut#geto x you#gojo x you#geto suguru smut#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#tw sex mention#cw smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#geto smut#gojo smut#jjk smut#smut#anime smut#satosugu x reader#female reader#getou suguru x reader
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Frank Discovering He Bruised You During Your... Activities.
Back with another Frank drabble. What can I say? Frank + Angst = Comfort. I'm imagining when Frank discovers that he's rougher than he realizes.
Frank Castle x Reader
----------
If he was honest with himself, Frank had noticed you seemed to be moving a bit more tenderly than usual. He asked you about it this morning when he saw the way you lowered yourself on the couch, wincing just a hair when your body made contact with the cushion.
"You ok there sweetheart?" he asked, with his brows all screwed up.
"Oh yeah. Just went hard on the Peloton or something," you respond not meeting his eye. You hadn't even ridden the Peloton that week but if Frank had known that the sheer force of him the night before had left you tender and swollen, he'd be beside himself. And it's not as though you wanted it to stop anytime soon. So you had decided to keep it your little secret. Hiding the bruises blooming on your inner thighs were gonna be another challenge altogether.
When dinner rolled around you were out of your work clothes and into your comfy clothes-- Frank's old T-shirt and your comfiest cotton shorts. Frank had just made a pot of his spaghetti and you were both planning a night of carbohydrates, wine and Love is Blind.
"Grab the wine glasses, will ya doll?" Frank calls over his shoulder as he plates the spaghetti. You open the cabinet where they're kept and let out a tiny huff. Top shelf. This burly man was always putting items on the top damn shelf. Either he was height-blind or he liked seeing you struggle.
You lift one knee onto the countertop and reach your fingers toward the stem of the glass. Straining as your fingertips wiggle, your big toe the only part of you left on the floor as your ass sticks out and you grunt for the glasses. Franks hears your struggle and turns around, walking over the the cabinet.
"Right, I forgot you're a shortstack," he chuckles, his body enveloping yours from behind as he reaches with ease to the glasses. His hands land on the swell of your ass as he steps back to admire the view-- your one knee still propped on the counter, tiny shorts hiked up.
Bruises on your inner thighs made visible.
You instantly see the smile drop from his face and his fingertips land feather-light on your inner thigh and he squats on one knee.
"Shit sweetheart, you're hurt," he says softly. 'You get all this from the Peloton or somethin'?" he asks, looking up at you, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Uh, I.. yeah, I think so," you mumble, dropping your knee from the counter and tugging your shorts down. Frank remained on one knee and placed a hand on your hip to keep you in place, his other hand touching the blooming bruise on your other leg.
"Sweetheart... did I ... did I do this to you?" he asks, disgust creeping into his voice. It was the reaction you were desperate to avoid. Frank's self-loathing was always rippling under the surface, easy access.
"Frankie I bruise easy. I have my whole life. This is noth--" you start to ramble. Talking to make his guilt go away. It had taken so long for him to be vulnerable again-- to let you in. You weren't letting anything set back the clock.
"Sweetheart this ain't nothin'" he cuts you off, "I fucking bruised you. Like an animal." Frank was always so comfortable hating himself. He drops his hands from your body and stands, a sharp breath through his nose and he swipes his hand down his face.
"Frankie it's nothing. I mean it," you tell him, eyes pleading for him to crawl back from his self-loathing.
"Why didn't tell me? Why didn't you tell me I've been hurting you?" he asks, the anger at himself seeping in through the edges.
"Because I.... I---" you stammer, unsure how to stop this runaway train. Pleading in your head "no, don't pull back."
"Are you afraid of me?" he asks, misinterpreting your hesitation, his self-loathing dripping off every word. Like he was disgusted to exist in his own body.
"Because-I-don't-want-anything-to-change!" you blurt out in one garbled word. "I don't want a single thing to change! I don't care about the dumb bruises! I love the way you make me feel! Just stop. Stop pulling away. I can't go back to that time. I can't go back to you killing yourself on the streets every night" you shout at him, pleading and grasping at anything to just get him to hear. To understand.
"Hey hey hey," he says, hands up in supplication before landing them on your shoulders. You lean into him and slow your breathing as he shooshes you, broad circles rubbing your back. You stay like that a few moments. Neither of you speaking.
"I know, ok? I know how hard that was for you. I'm not... I'm not gonna do that again," he assures you. You nod your head against his chest, muttering a thank you. "I don't like hurting you though sweetheart. It kills me to see those fucking bruises on you," he adds.
You pull your head from his chest to look up at him. "I know... but I just want you to make me feel good,'' you practically whisper, hands digging into his shirt in fists. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, letting your body melt into his.
"Fuck sweetheart," he huffs, lifting you gingerly as he carries you to the bedroom, promising to make you feel good.
-------
ok lol got that out of my system.
#frank castle x reader#frank castle smut#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle fanfic#frank castK#frank castle#frank castle x you#frank castle x y/n
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in a hotchy mood you say? 🤨
i like it when we make that old man flustered 😌
wouldn’t it be fun if we ran into the team hanging out at a bar & they all are eyeing us like 😏 hold up she’s cute and hotch is trying to keep his cool.
When Aaron returns to the slightly sticky, loose-screwed bar table that his team is stationed at, Emily is tugging down the neckline of her shirt and tucking her elbows beneath her chest.
"There," She puffs, pulling at individual strands of hair so that they frame her face, "Does that look okay?"
"You look hot," JJ admits, sipping the drink she takes from Hotch with a nod of appreciation, "Only way she'll say no is if she's totally and completely straight."
"That's what I'm counting on," Derek props his elbows up on the table, forearms flexed.
"God, let's hope not," Emily cringes in anticipation of rejection, "Oh- she's coming this way!"
Aaron typically has no interest in his coworkers' escapades. Well, he'll admit, it's fun to gossip with Penelope over them later, but she's in on this one, too, shiny eyes glued to whoever the team has their eyes on.
He finally decides to follow Penelope's starstruck eyeline, and- oh, fuck, that's his girlfriend. You're staring straight back at him, but Emily's wishful thinking has made her think your eyes are on her, and Aaron can hear her breathe out a low sigh.
You send him a flirty little wave, and Emily nearly hits her head on the table.
"God, god! I can't," She laughs, still holding what she thinks is eye contact with you, "I don't think I can do this, I mean, I can never come back from this if it doesn't go well!"
"I'll step in," Derek assures her, sending you a wink that Aaron is sure just makes you laugh inside, "Don't worry, Emily. Some women aren't for the faint of heart."
"And they're not for the dumb of ass, either." Penelope sets a comforting hand on Derek's muscled shoulder, "Stay out of this one, Hotshot."
Aaron doesn't really know what to do. He's not usually lost like this, but half of his team is eye-fucking his girlfriend from across a bar like animals, and he doesn't know how to tell them he's seen you naked. Multiple times.
You break the eye contact when your friend taps your shoulder to tell you something, and Aaron does too. He sends subtle glances your way afterwards, but so does the rest of the team, and he isn't noticed. It seems like you're preoccupied for a while, because no new comments are made, but everyone can see Spencer combing his fingers through his hair every ten seconds.
He's sipping casually at his drink, about to speak to Rossi, when he feels a hand slide beneath the fabric of his suit jacket that he hasn't had time to take off yet, and hook around his waist. His first instinct is to tense, to reach for his side, even, but then a familiar scent washes over him and calms his nerves before they're burning for long.
"Hi," You croon, pressing yourself to his side, "I'm Y/N. You must be Aaron's team?"
There's tense silence so thick around the table that a bullet would pierce it, broken only by Rossi's snort into his glass.
"Yes," Aaron fills in, hand flying to your waist and hooking around it proudly, "Emily," He gestures with his free hand, "Derek, Spencer, Penelope, JJ, and Dave."
"Hi," You wave sweetly, albeit awkwardly, much like you're a kid new to a classroom, "It's nice to finally meet you all."
"You're, uh," Penelope stammers, blinking slowly, "You and Hotch- you're...?"
"We've been seeing each other, yes." Aaron nods once, then turns to you, "Honey, do you want me to get you your usual over here? You can join us for a round if your friends are busy."
When you peer back over at them, they're sucking each others' faces.
"Yeah, they're busy." You scoff, leaning into Aaron's shoulder, "That would be nice. Thanks, Aaron."
"Mhm," He ushers you into his chair, and he'll admit to drawing sick satisfaction from smoothing his hands up your shoulders and planting a firm kiss to your cheek before he leaves. He's even more smug when you lean into it with a warm-cheeked smile.
"Get to know each other," He prompts his team members, already stepping away, "And Derek, you can roll your sleeves down."
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction
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FULL COURSE MEAL
matt s. x gn!reader
genre: smut, you are responsible for what you read.
synopsis: when matt looks much more appetizing than the meal he made for you after a long, stressful day.
warnings: oral (matt receiving), reader (aka you) is very horny and very stressed, you and matt live in your own house although it is not explicitly mentioned in the writing, pwp, praise, degradation (he calls you a cumslut), matt calls you baby, hair pulling, rushed writing
a/n: for my first time writing smut this is kinda nasty. can you tell this is self indulgent ... feedback is always appreciated
imagine coming home from a long day full of stress, work, and catering to demanding people to see your boyfriend, matt, looking oh so good. thank god you don't need to imagine.
he stands there in a shirt that hugs his body in the best ways possible, highlighting his biceps you know he's been working hard on, paired with his plaid pajama pants that do little to nothing to hide the outline of his dick.
on any other day you wouldn't have bat an eye, seeing as he wore this around the house nearly every day. but today you were on your last straw.
matt couldn't even let out a word before you made your way over to him and smashed your lips onto his in a messy kiss. matt puts up little fight, instinctively wrapping his arms around you to prevent you from stumbling into the dining table not too far away.
"welcome home to you, too." matt's first to break the kiss, a nasty one evidently as a string of saliva connects to both of your bottom lips. he's breathless at this point as are you, but nonetheless, you know what you want, and you want it now.
"i cooked you pasta with that cream you said you liked." matt moves a bit to the side, enough for you to catch a glimpse of the dishes set on the table.
"fuck the pasta, i want you," you hastily reply. in an instant, you're back in a heated and needy kiss with matt, the two of you stumbling around the hallway as you feel your way to the bedroom.
once in your shared bedroom, you waste no time pushing matt down onto the bed. his chest heaves as his arms prop him up and off the bed.
without breaking eye contact, you sink to your knees in front of him, hands coming up to rub up and down his plush thighs.
"fuck baby." a breathy whine comes from matt making a smirk appear on your face. you're the first to break eye contact as you focus your gaze to the large bulge before your eyes.
slowly, you move a hand up from his thigh and over the tent of his pajama pants. he hisses at this, his thigh flexing under your other hand.
you inch your hand closer to the waistband of his pants before dipping in to his boxers, pulling out his painfully hard cock.
you've barely touched him, yet he's so painstakingly hard that it almost makes you feel bad for taking so long to finally give his dick the attention it needed.
without another word, you meet his gaze just as your tongue darts out to give his tip kitten licks. you can taste his precum on your tongue as it leaks out at your cheeky movements.
"oh, fuck." matt groans, his hand coming up to tangle into your hair, pushing his dick further into your mouth.
you waste no time, bobbing your head up and down at a steady and fast pace. your eyes are glassed over while spit dribbles from your lips and down to your chin. you're a mess, but to matt you're nothing short of breathtaking.
"taking me so well, you were probably thinking about my cock all day weren't you. such a nasty little cumslut." matt spits out as his grip on your hair tightens. with the tight grip he has on your hair mixed with the dirty words and moans he lets out, you let out a muffled whimper around his cock.
at this, matt's hips buck up causing him to slam into the back of your throat. you gag around him, but you manage to gather your composure as he continues to abuse your throat, using you like you were only built to take his dick and nothing else.
your hands grips his thighs tightly as tears begin to cascade down your cheeks from the sheer force of his thrusts and the strong grip he has on your hair.
"i'm so close, baby. gonna cum down your throat." you moan in response as matt's thrusts get sloppier. his whimpers are the only thing that can be heard throughout the house along with the sinful sounds of his dick pumping in and out of your mouth and the pathetic gags you let out every time he hits the back of your throat.
with one last thrust, matt lets out a pornographic whine as he paints your throat white. the warm, salty liquid coats your tastebuds as you swallow around him, causing him to hiss and slowly pull himself out of your mouth, releasing his grip on your hair while doing so. all he can do is sit back and heave as he takes in the sight before him.
you're now sitting back on your ankles, your face tearstained and hair disheveled, as you breathe heavily trying to calm your heart rate. there's saliva coating your chin mixed with the remnants of cum that you had choked out.
there's nothing said between you two, although you hold eye contact.
matt moves first, fixing himself up before gently caressing your face with both of his hands, wiping the stray tears off of your face. you lean into his touch, wanting nothing more than to be close to him. he reaches over and grabs tissues off the bedside table and wipes away the mixture of spit and cum off your chin, tidying you up.
"how about we heat up the pasta and talk about your day. maybe after we can have dessert." trust me, he didn't need to tell you twice.
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine
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Sarahs teacher ༊*·˚
pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader
Summary: Joel saves you from a uncomfortable interaction with a drunk, and it quickly devolved with him fucking you in a single stall at the bar. Though when you see the little drawings his daughter leaves in his car, you peice together your connection only after it's too late.
Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap, grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he's the sexiest, also this outfit he has on is pretty acruate to how I pictured him while writing, hair pulling, p in v, creampie, surface level degrading (slut, whore), praise degrading (pretty slut), pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby), southern hospitality!, crazy confident and blunt, breif harassment (not by joel), biting, leaving a mark, dom!Joel, sarah mentioned/met
word count: 4.4k
masterlist
inspired / requested by this wonderful anon!
Clanging of glass against wooden tables, the saturated musk of whiskey and heated bodies overwhelms your senses as you walk within the bar.
You watch as men raise voices in argument over games blaring on TVs hung high over the center of the room, feeling eyes trace your shape as you make your way to the counter.
“Just water for now, please.”
The bartender obliged, and as you sit down upon old wooden barstools with short backs to provide minor support to your height off the ground, a pair of eyes seems to fall on you that feels a bit more welcomed than those prior.
Hair fell long right above his eye, salt and peppered hair that was well groomed though currently unkempt in a way-- as though the day had been long on him. Multicolored stubble compliments the smirk of the man that gazed upon you with dark brown eyes hooded by thick lashes. His skin was tanned, and complemented greatly by the dark brown of his jacket coupled with the muted greens of a flannel below it. He had his sleeves rolled up, seeing both his elbows placed on the counter as a glass of whisky was held lightly between a few fingers over the cup just a few inches from his face did he soak in every part of you with his gaze.
His eyes resting on yours set your body aflame, the confidence of his intent made you compelled to want to let him do whatever he wished. A man probably twice your age, like a fine wine did he fire off nerves within you that even men you adored couldn't properly emulate. He was experienced, cocky. He wasn't shy about getting what he wanted like most men your age, and that felt new to you.
You were getting ahead of yourself, within the few seconds that held eye contact between you and this stranger you felt an eternity of lust seep deep in the pits of your stomach. There was no means to even believe that was his intent, the most you can really give yourself was the complement of his elongated gaze affixed on you. But after a few moments his eyes tore away and engaged in what played on the TVs, and watched as the people went by. Leaving you to yourself for a moment to yearn for him, after so much as a glance.
…
“This drink came from the man right down there.”
What sat before you was some sort of vodka tonic, and as your head moved to glance upon that stranger once more with a welling of anticipation for his next move, a different hand shot out and waved to claim that prize. Your heart sank. Some 20 something stood to approach you, a hat upon laid back hair that sported some football team you knew nothing about, and the careful steps of a man trying to impress whilst also being a few drinks in. he slides up tho the empty space on the counter next to you, and elbow propped against your side to lean in, does the stench of cheap liquor and sweat permeate your senses as he begins to talk to you.
“Mm, what's your name, pretty lady?”
A scoff quietly escapes you as the slur of his words make any attempt at flattery obsolete.
“What's it to you?”
Brows furrow at the harsh response to his kind gesture, he retorts;
“Well I just bought you that drink didn't i? Don't I deserve a little somethin?”
A little something what do you look like? A hooker?
“You don't deserve a damn thing. I didn't ask for this cheap thing.”
He leans in a bit closer to you, closing the gap of space between your body and his as you grow increasingly uncomfortable with his advances with no way out.
“Oh come on don't be like that, listen, how about we get a few more and you can join my buddies over there. We’ll have fun.”
Slowly you move yourself away from his body inching closer to you,
“No, I think I'm good where I'm at.”
He grabs your wrist as you try to leave, with the untamed grip of a man not wholly sober and increasingly offended;
“Oh don't be like that, are you even here with everyone? You’re just asking for attention.”
A new voice chimes in from behind the both of you.
“Now, the lady said she don't want anythin to do with you. Aint no sense in tryna force her, especially if you want to keep that nose of yours unbroken. Ya understand me boy?”
The stranger from earlier, carrying deep southern drawl and a sternness in his voice comes to you like a guardian angel. He looms over the short heighted man in comparison, with an air of dominance and intimidation that supersedes anything that that could have done in comparison.
“You didn't tell me you were with someone. I.. I'm sorry sir.”
His voice shrinks at the sight of conflict with him, he turns to you then to him for apology, before scampering off to his friends with a tail between his legs.
The man turns to face you now, dwarfing you in his shadow as he looks at you. There's a kind smile in his eyes, with a soft smirk on his lips as he goes to take the place of the man before him.
“I'm sorry that man was bothin ya darlin’. Aint no way to treat a lady like you.”
your ears perk up at that final part-- a lady like you. You feel flush at his flattery, giving a moment to shift your body closer to his ever so slightly to lean into his words.
“A lady like me hm? And what does that mean?”
Once again he doesn't properly cower at the confrontation of very bold flirting -- you can tell this isn't his first time playing this kind of game. And you were more than glad to play along.
“Well, just mean a lady pretty as you, that's all.”
Coy smile coats his face as he takes another sip of his drink.
“Oh well, thank you sir. Can't say it's every day a handsome man like you comes to my rescue.”
Sir. his eyes flick up from his drink to the sound of that, and you notice this time.
“No bother, names Joel.”
Joel. Where have I heard that name before?
“Ahh, well, sir Joel, I'll be heading to the bathroom for a bit. Think you'll still be here when i'm back?”
You hop out of your chair, brushing off and readjusting the dress you wore as you centered yourself on the floor once more.
“Mm I'm sure I will sweetheart.”
He smiles as his drink is raised to his lips once more from hovering fingers over it's top, he sends you off with a wink and the knowledge that as you walk away he gets a greater view of the body he could only see from across the bar.
…
Knock knock
“I'm in here.”
In a single stall are you leaning over a metal sink to correct makeup and hair in the mirror of the bathroom. You didn't need to use the bathroom, just needed to fix your makeup if you thought you could have any more confidence with Joel.
Knock knock knock
“Dude- i'm fucking in here.”
You go to open the door and chew out whoever was pounding on the door, like there weren't other stalls to use. Though as you crack open the side of it you see Joel standing before you, before quickly pushing his way inside it as well. Turning you around does he pin you against the wall adjacent to the door itself.
“Listen here darlin’. I wont play coy, there aint nothin I want to do to you more right now then to have ya all to myself. I cant fuckin stand it.”
His hand lays flat on your shoulder as it pushes you against the wall, the other hand making its way to cup your jaw. His calloused fingers stroke your cheek as you stand there speechless.
“Use your words baby. Come on, I know you fuckin want it.”
“Y-- yes sir. I…I wouldn't mind”
You stammer out a weak consent that seems to be the only thing that can come to mind as you grow intoxicated by his scent, his aura. Whisky coats his breath as he looms over you, the smell of his cologne masking scents of sawdust and tobacco as you feel his heat on you with how close he stands to you.
“Good.”
His lips smash into yours, feeling his tongue immediately trying to invade every part of your mouth, taste every last drop of your spit as though he was addicted to it. His hands trail up and down your body as his fingers pay no regard to the loose fabric that made up your dress. Gripping your waist he let up from your kiss, turning you around to face the mirror that was just moments ago used as a means to fix your makeup, now you found yourself pushed down onto the cold metal of the sink that still held your eye makeup and brushes. His hands traced all up and down your back as though he was worshiping the body below him, standing right at your backside you could feel his bulge growing from the inside of his worn jeans.
Fuck hes big.
His body falls to cup yours, fully clothed does the request become but a low whisper deep in your ear as his hand trails up your neck to your hair, pulling it back as your back arches to compliment the placement of his bulge.
“Good girl. Now don't you look so pretty?”
He refers to the mirror in front of you, and as you gaze at yourself within it you see hairs falling in front of your face, as arms twice as large as yours grip onto your hair to force your face to look directly within the mirror. You look at him, watching as his face contorted into what looked like a proud lion with his fresh prey. His smirk was selfish, and the way he looked at your body made you feel naked. Undressing what was left of you with his eyes, he didn't leave any more room for imagination as he let up from you for a moment to unbuckle his belt. Watching as the jeans fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, and all that remained was his boxers that swiftly followed. You couldn't see his cock, but as he grazed it along your folds you could just feel how much there was.
“Now ain't that a sight. All this ‘cause of me hm? Gotta say I'm honored.”
He pushes your panties down, a trail of your own slick following suit that leaked down your thigh unabashedly. You feel a heavy hand pressed down onto your back.
“Arch your back for me darlin’.”
And as you do so, you feel him grab your ass, slapping it and pulling it apart to look at your heat before you could feel his tip directly at your entrance. He lets it linger for a moment, cupping himself to you slightly and brings your hair back to look at the mirror once more.
“Look how pretty of a fuckin’ slut you are baby. Absolutely drenched for my cock, you better take it good alright? I'm not here to play nice with ya’.”
You nod your head as much as you could in understanding before you felt him piercing you. It was so much, too much. You felt as though you were going to be split open entirely as the first pulse he did in you felt as though he’d never reach the base. As he grew to be halfway inside of you you felt full to the brim, biting your lip with closed eyes to try and take it all without a whine.
You feel a jerk of your hair as he went deep into you. You felt his body flush against yours but with eyes closed he yanked your neck up to look at him.
“Don't close your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me.”
A steady pace was founded soon after, feeling him go in and out of you elicited timed whines and moans, your brain felt as though it was melting in a way, the only thing that your body could think of as every pounding force inside of you made your nerves shoot off and you felt it everywhere in your body. Down to your fingers was the sense of taking in every vein, every curve, every little inch of his cock as it used you like you were some toy.
Your fingers fall to your own clit, desperate to cum on his cock already do you draw circles over your own throbbing parts, as your mind grows numb at the feeling of the two combined. Though Joel is quick to notice.
“Do you want to fuckin’ cum for me darlin’? Come on now all ya gotta use is your words and I can do all that for you. You're mine right? My pretty little slut.”
His free hand snakes over your thigh to find your fingers, pushing them aside as his calloused fingers match the same motion you had just done but with greater intensity. Your whole body is at his disposal, feeling nothing but the pleasure he's giving you, your hands grasp at nothing to try and stabilize yourself against his cock. Looking at the mirror he forces you to watch as he groans over you, watching the sweat drip off his hair down onto his chest as he grows less and less controlled in his movements. You watch as your own face pathetically contorts into inexplicable pleasure, you are addicted to him. The way his cock feels inside of you, his fingers on your clit. You feel your heat building up in your stomach quickly, a flame sweltering in your stomach that was going to peak at any moment.
“God-- fuck Joel, i’m going to cum. Oh my god--”
You feel yourself contract on top of his cock, your insides desperately wrapped around him as you finish. your legs shake but as he presses himself into you even more you cant move almost anywhere.
“Fuck you feel so good, god-- so fuckin’ good i'm--”
His fingers still trace a sensitive clit as your body moves involuntarily to the rhythm of his cock inside of you, your body completely overwhelmed as he finishes inside of you after only a few more strokes, you feel a heat fill deep inside of you. Keeping it in for a second does the excess of his finish seep out of the edges of you, trailing down your leg onto the floor.
Jagged breath fills the air that was once filled with groans and whimpers, shallow breaths to try and come back to reality fill your lungs as you lay against the counter ever still. You listen as Joel adorns his jeans once more, looping the belt into propper hole before grabbing paper towels from the nearby dispenser. His hands travel down the side of your leg where you and him mixed together in remis of pleasure and slowly takes the dry towel to it, mopping up all that he left on you.
“Here ya go darlin’. Now, turn ‘round for me.”
Waiting as you turn slowly, your body just getting in tune with being able to move on it's own again you face him. A face covered in sweat, hair stuck to his face he still looked enchanting. He takes you in, a look of yearning and hunger still coated his eyes as he looked you up and down.
“This’ll only hurt for a second sweetheart.”
His fingers move the straps of your dress to your shoulders, moving them down to expose your chest. Bending down does he place small kisses on your chest, but before you could question it you felt his teeth sink into your chest. Sucking with intent to leave a mark, shallow pants meet fingers through his hair as you whine softly. Soon his lips let up, and a wet mark along your chest remains.
“Didn't want ya to forget me too quickly. Just say this is a little reminder of me.”
Joel smiles at you, a wink following his brazen claim on your body well after tonight somehow made you more attracted to him. There was something so matter of fact, demanding about him. He just took whatever he wanted and it had just happened to be you. The perfect combination of southern charm and degradation was enough to fuel you for a lifetime off this very night.
He opens the door for you as you exit, following you out swiftly after does the walk to the general bar feels like your own walk of shame in a way. But were you really ashamed? They all knew what had just transpired, but part of you was proud of it. Joel certainly was.
“You got any ways of gettin’ home sweetheart?”
His voice inquired from behind you, making you turn to face him once more as more proper light shone on him giving him even greater features to be enamored by.
“Oh well, my place is around a 20 minutes walk from here, so that's how I got here.”
His brows furrowed at that notion, though it's better than any alternative of driving here with the intent of getting drunk.
“Seems like I'll be takin’ you home then. You want anything before take ya?”
“What? No- you don't need to take me home. It's such an inconvenience and-”
“Listen sweetheart. It wouldn't be right of me leavin’ you hear all by yourself after all we just did. It's only proper.”
You acquiesce. He does make a good point, and as he opens the door for you once more he leads you to his old truck, the seats smell of wood and coffee and you survey the insides to see a small drawn picture of what seemed to be him and a small girl upon his dash. A medium of crayon depicted two simple figures holding hands under a sun.
“I didn't know you were such an artist Joel”
You nudge him, teasing him about the photo briefly.
“Now, you know I didn't do all that. Was my girl Sarah, made it when she was about 5 I think. Shes my whole world that little girl.”
His smile lit up at the mention of his daughter, one that left you a bit dumbfounded because you didn't expect him to be a proud father given his introduction but you had no doubt he was a good one nonetheless.
The drive home was slow but soothing, low country music played on his CD player as he drove down the road to your apartment. And as you signified to him which one was your place he pulls off to the side and drops out of the truck before you. Opening the door for you does he lead you out and to your door, with a kind farewell that despite all his degradation can never override his innate hospitality. Bidding you farewell as he leaves back into his truck, there's no part of you that feels as though you’ll ever see him again. But for a hookup, it's the nicest way you’ve ever been treated after. By a longshot. You won't be quick to forget him, with or without his hickey.
…
School bells ring in your ears as you stand atop a small ladder that gets you to the top of the ceiling to tack on the final decoration for your parent-teacher night. It’d been over a week since you’d met Joel, and as the Friday before a long weekend creeps up on you the last thing you need to do is go through a line of parents and hope none of them have bad things to say about you. You fancied yourself a very good 7th grade teacher, with some of the children within your grade holding bright futures ahead of them. Specifically Sarah, not only was she a rising athlete but she was incredibly academically gifted. The anticipation to meet her parents grew purely out of curiosity, on what kind of scholars they were to raise such a well behaved child.
Parents began to pour in before too long, the clock ticking from 4 to 6, conversation over conversation about the behavior of students, curriculum taught, and teaching philosophies wore you out by the time there was a little less than 30 minutes left of the window to greet parents.
A clock shining at 6:16 made you feel as though your day was done, no real stragglers came in at the last 15 minutes, and as you finished up with the ones who came in the last 30, you began to relax at your desk for a moment.
Until, of course, you see the thick curly hair of a certain sarah enter your classroom. You felt rejoiced, noting that if you had to deal with anyone, it’d gladly be her and her parents. Though as you watched with a smile on her face as she walked in it was soon no longer matched by you once you saw who her father was.
Alone in the classroom did you stand across from Joel, whose daughter he held softly by her shoulder. your heart sank.
What are the fucking odds?
His usual confident demeanor was completely wiped by what seemed to be genuine shock at the sight of you.
“I'm sorry we’re so late miss, dad always works super late so I can never come as early as I want. This is my dad, Joel!”
Thats where I knew his fucking name from.
Sarah breaks the silence with apology on his behalf, followed by an introduction as you slowly lower yourself within your seat once more and usher them to sit across from you.
“Oh- oh, there's no worries. There's still time before we technically finish, so I'm more than glad to see you Sarah.”
Your conversational tone is light, you keep eyes on Sarah while trying to talk to her about school and life, hearing about her new position on the soccer team is the only thing keeping you sane as the same musk you tasted down your throat is sitting right across you once more.
Sarah's eyes darted over to the entrance to the classroom, spotting what seems to be one of her friends who also arrived quite late.
“Oh-- dad. Dad, I'm going to go say hi to my friend. Can I go? Please?”
“No sarah, you’ve gotta stay right here.”
A diversion of eye contact with you that put all eyes on a whining sarah led you to chime in at the sight of her dismay,
“Oh it's alright, there's a few things i’d like to speak to you about anyways.”
She darts away without a second thought, taking your word more to heart than her own fathers.
So there you two are sat-- eyes locked in on one another as you watch Joel's demeanor falter. He’s barely the man you met at the bar, all semblance of confidence gone to be replaced with a much more sheepish embarrassment at the face of his daughter being directly connected to his hookups.
“So, Mr. Miller then is it?”
You take this as a means to taunt him.
“Funny seeing you here isn't it? Your daughter is exceptional, I'll give you that. But doesn't every day something like this happens does it?”
He clears his throat, arms crossing as he lies back slightly upon the chair.
“Now, I mean no disrespect here but you can’t be tauntin’ me like this darlin’. Taking everythin in me to not pin you over that desk just like I did before.”
Your cheeks grow red and flushed. He wasn't sheepish, he's holding back. If it wasn't for his daughter being right down the hall he’d probably already have you wrapped around his cock again.
Silence consumes you two once more as you feel your words choke in the back of your throat, you don't have a proper response to something so brazen but his eyes read yours and he makes it clear you needn't say anything at all.
“Listen sweetheart, if I spend another minute in here with you you’ll probably wanna shut that door and hope no one comes a knockin. So I'll save you the trouble. How’s about you give me your number, and I'll make sure to find time to see you again.”
You scramble for pen and paper to give him what he wants, you now sheepishly handing him your number as you watch him rise from the seat and straighten himself.
“Was meanin’ to do this last time. I ain't felt anything as good as you for as long as i can remember. Usually I wouldn't do this, bein’ sarah's teacher and all, but hope you can understand that I can’t resist another night with you.”
He grabs the paper from trembling hands, feeling his calloused fingers graze yours once more, shooting a shock of nerves to heat up your lower stomach from a mere touch.
“I’ll see ya around darlin’.”
A wink and a smile are the last thing you see of him before he takes himself to your door, disappearing as you hear a group of young girls as he walks into the hallway all clamoring something about Sarah as he takes her home.
You’re left sitting in an empty classroom once more, a clock shining at 6:28 as your cue to leave is imminent. But as you look around you, all you can see is Joel. Every place you look there you are pinned against it with a skirt ridden up and cock shoved inside of you. Even in the empty space in the middle of the classroom you see your knees bare against linoleum as his hands grip your hair and guide it up and down him. You yearned for him, you needed him.
A text chime snapped you out of your trance.
“5pm, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.”
And it seems like he needed you too.
“And wear what you wore today, I want to take it off of you myself.”
#joel x reader#joel smut#joel miller x reader#joel fanfic#joel#joel tlou#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro x reader
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continuation and happy ending for this break up fic. i fixed it! (and maybe did a sloppy job of it oops) BUT I hope this brings someone, somewhere joy.
When Daniel gets to the door of his apartment, there is a tall, cardboard box propped up against his door. He doesn’t know when it was delivered because he’s spent the last few nights since being back in Monaco bouncing between Scotty’s place and Blake’s, drinking more and sleeping less than he should.
It’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place; stuck in the minor injuries unit, bleeding and embarrassed, waiting for Max to come and rescue him. Because even now, six fucking months later, he still hasn’t changed his emergency contact information back to Blake.
Sighing, Daniel balances the box in one hand and fumbles with his keys in the other to get his front door open. Once inside he dumps the box onto the counter and pours himself a glass of water. Takes a sip, sets the glass back down, and feels lost.
The truth is, he doesn’t know what was worse. That he hadn’t expected Max to show up, or that he did, and even though Daniel saw him nearly every weekend still, like this it was- Different. Max with his mussed up hair like he’d rolled straight out of bed to come to the hospital for Daniel, reminding him of everything he didn’t want to remember.
Like how their kind of falling apart happened slowly, so slowly that the track limits crept up on them, and by the time Daniel tried to hit the break they were already in the wall. Small disagreements built on top of months of half-conversations, until resolution stopped being the goal. Instead, it was to get through a week, a day, a morning without cracking whatever tentative peace they’d found the last time.
Shaking his head is a bad idea considering he might have a concussion, but Daniel can’t stop himself from doing it. As though his brain is an etch-a-sketch from which the fights and the furious words he spat at Max regularly can be erased.
He groans out loud, tipping the rest of the water down the sink before turning his attention back to the parcel. Ripping it open gives his shaking hands something to do, gives his nail bed a rest from his anxious chewing.
A sweet smell hits him first, before his eyes can make sense of what he’s seeing, and-
Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t a bouquet of tulips and a small, hand-drawn card.
To brighten your day, Uncle Daniel, the note attached said, in Isaac’s messy scrawl, but he bet the wobbly hearts underneath were all Izzy. The words all Michelle.
It’s enough to put the smile back on his face for just a moment, even as his stomach churns with the same homesick feeling he’s been unable to shake since he left his and Max’s apartment. Placing the card down, he takes one of the petals between his thumb and finger, feeling the waxy smoothness against his skin.
They’re a bigger bouquet than the tulips he’d brought for Max one time, back when their fights could be so easily fixed. Daniel can still remember the pleased flush that warmed Max’s cheeks as he’d looked between Daniel’s face and the flowers, eyes wide like this was the most romantic thing someone had ever done for him.
At the time, it had made Daniel proud of himself. Now, it just makes him sad. The idea that crappy, half-wilting tulips brought from a supermarket in Monaco could mean so much when Max deserved the world.
But this had been the way things always went. Daniel would show up with a poker chip from Vegas, a guitar pick from LA, a seashell from Perth, and Max would beam at him like he was the sun for bringing him a gift. Or just- maybe just because Daniel showed up at all.
I don’t understand, Daniel, why nothing with you is ever enough. Max had always thrown in his face whenever Daniel picked a fight as a plea for words, for attention, for affection. I am here, aren’t I? The more than you was always unspoken, but still deafening.
I’m always going to be here.
And he still was, living in their apartment that Daniel moved out of months ago. Still sending Daniel’s dad a bottle of wine on his birthday, still cuddling Izzy when he saw her at the grand prix last weekend. Still turning up to hospital waiting rooms for Daniel at four in the morning.
Why do I feel like I have to be a fucking games console to get the tiniest bit of interest from you, Daniel had spat at Max, another evening he’d come home to find Max engrossed in the sim. How am I supposed to trust that you love me when you hardly ever fucking say it?
For not the first time, Daniel wonders if maybe Max had been trying to all along, just not with words.
“Fuck, Maxy,” he says to the empty room. “Fuck sake.”
Rubbing his eyes, he paces to the window, wanting to press his throbbing head against the cool glass. He should go to bed, should crawl beneath the covers and sleep until he wakes up feeling strong enough to try forgetting Max all over again.
Needs to forget his worried eyes scanning over Daniel’s body as though trying to catalog where he might need fixing, the soft way he’d said Daniel’s name under the harsh glare of the hospital lights. His stupid fucking car, flashy even for the streets of Monaco, and far too fast at the same time, that-
That is still parked beneath Daniel’s building on the street below.
His eyes catch on it as they slit open against the rising sun, the sparkle of the paintwork against the tarmac. Daniel glances at the clock above his oven. He’s been home an entire fifteen minutes, and still Max hasn’t moved. If he’s not careful he’ll get a parking ticket.
Some things are worth it, he’d told Daniel when he’d warned him of the same thing, a million years ago now, picking Daniel up from the airport and lingering too long in the ‘kiss and fly’ lane.
In another life.
The life Daniel wants more than he can remember the reasons he walked out of it.
“Max,” Daniel finds himself calling out stupidly, even though it’s obvious Max can’t hear. He opens the balcony door, stepping out onto it and calling it louder. “Max!”
Though the traffic on the street below is quiet, almost non existent at this hour, Daniel’s shouts still don’t seem to carry far enough. There’s no sign Max has heard, no opening of a car door, no emergence of his blonde head from the drivers seat.
Daniel needs to do more, he needs-
Stepping back into the apartment, his eyes search his kitchen frantically until his hands grab the flowers on instinct. For a moment, he considers walking down the stairs and handing them to Max, an offering, an apology, a chance, but-
Daniel can’t let him drive away. He can’t risk running down the stairs only to find him gone when he reaches the pavement and steps back out into the Monaco sunrise. This moment is his tenth of a second, small but capable of making all the difference as long as he doesn’t take his foot off the pedal.
A split second of madness passes, and he finds himself back on the balcony pulling one of the stems loose from the bouquet. Before he’s thought about it anymore, he’s watching it hurtle off the edge towards Max’s car. It misses, landing just to the side by his front left tyre, Daniel isn’t giving up.
Stem by stem, he pulls the flowers loose, throwing them down onto Max’s car. His aim gets better, and soon nearly each one is landing on his bonnet or his windshield. Their petals make a soft sound as they hit the shiny bodywork of the car. Sunshine yellow against Ferarri red.
Finally, the car door opens and Daniel waits, arm suspended backwards in midair, still clutching a fistful of stems.
“Daniel, what the fuck are you doing?” Max shouts eventually, scrambling from the car looking pissed.
He covers his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the growing daylight, face screwed up as he squints up at Daniel. His expression should be a reminder of so many bad memories, and it is, but it’s also something Daniel doesn’t want to miss anymore.
“Maxy!” He shouts, letting the rest of the flowers drop to the floor in favour of leaning over the balcony. His heart is pounding so hard against his rib cage that he’s surprised the railing beneath him isn’t vibrating with it. “Can you- I love you. Can you come upstairs?”
For a moment, Max’s face just melts into blankness. The moment stretches, long enough that Daniel’s brain starts scanning for a joke to make, to backtrack, to just get out, but then-
Max smiles. A different kind of sunshine, but still so fucking bright.
“I love you too,” he calls up, his voice more than a little croaky. “I think- I think it would be better if I told you this more, before, but- But also I think it would be better if you came home.”
Daniel’s trainers slap quickly against every other step on the way back down the stairs.
#for once i stuck to my word and wrote the happy ending!#and it was bloody hard lol so#sorry if it sucks!#fic#max/daniel#also ignore delivery logistics that dont make sens plsss lol
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“BEACH DAZE,” {v.s}
A/n: I owe so many thanks to @heartfully10 for this beautiful idea. Madam, please, feed me moar!! I read your idea and my brain fucking zoomed I tell you, it zoomed!!! I need more inspos like that <3
Summary: you were a fool to think the day couldn’t get any more perfect, because of course your handsome chef would make sure it did
Genre: fluff with spice
Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader
Requested: ❌ (suggested, requests are open!)
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings/tags: some spicy themes, massages, established relationship, mixer!sanji, the man’s a chef of course the dude can mix drinks too, flirting, just two people being madly in love on the beach, crew bonding, whipped!sanji, whipped!reader, sensual application of sunscreen, teasing, fluff, it’s just really lovey y’all (and a bit more spicy than I originally intended)
{{:================================:}}
The sun’s harsh glare was tapered by the shadow casted by the umbrella above you, its warm rays only able to caress the skin of your ankles to your toes. Pounding feet over shifting sand, lapping waves, loud splashes, the squeals and laughter of children and adults alike, and the cries of gulls harmonized together to create a symphony that bled nostalgia from your heart — you missed this.
Your eyes had slipped closed some time ago, the warm, lively atmosphere of the beach settling deep into your bones and relaxing you from within, so the arrival of another person in front of you was only detectable by the sudden coolness their shadow offered your toes.
“You seem pretty comfortable there, sweetheart.”
A smile found its way to your face immediately, the smooth timbre of that voice slithering into your ears pleasantly and melting your already sun-baked brain. With a simple flutter of your eyes you were greeted with one of the best sights of your life; clad in only patterned swim shorts and skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration, one hand casting a shadow over his blue eyes and the other holding a sweating glass of something, stood Sanji. Your skin heated ever so slightly and your gut stirred, but you pushed away the sensations and merely patted the space beside you.
“Towel is big enough for two, if you're curious to see how comfortable it is.” You teased silkily, and Sanji’s lips immediately pulled into a smirk. Further prompting was unnecessary, the blond man sinking down almost immediately beside you without a word. You eyed the glass in his hand, curiosity brimming at the oddly brightly colored liquid within.
“What’s that?” You asked, propping yourself up to rest your weight on your elbows and procure a better look at the drink. Sanji glanced down at the drink before shooting you a dazzling smile.
“It’s a drink I made. I call it ‘Little South Blue’.”
“The name fits.” You murmured, eyes taking in the ombré blue of the liquid, neon bright at the top and abyssal black towards the bottom. Flicking your eyes back up to meet Sanji’s, you asked, “what was your inspiration?”
“Have a taste first, love, and see if you can guess.” Sanji tutted, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. You opened willingly, maintaining eye contact with him as the liquid slowly coated your tongue. Despite its blue color, it carried a heady citrus taste, not tangy enough to be off-putting but just enough to leave a bit of an aftertaste. There were sweet undertones in the current, too, something reminiscent of vanilla buttercream. All in all, it was a perfect blend of flavors, with none overshadowing the next, or standing out blatantly in a way that made the drink hard to swallow.
Once you swallowed down the generous amount Sanji had given you he pulled the rim from your mouth, eyebrows raised and lips quirked in a challenge. You licked the remainder of liquid from your lips, the action of which Sanji immediately zeroed in on, the look in his eyes fanning the ever-glowing embers of desire in your gut, and you pretended to consider.
“It’s sweet, with a citrus aftertaste… rather fruity, if you ask me. Which leads me to believe your inspiration was…” you trailed off, furrowing your delicate brows and jutting your lower lip out ever so slightly in that pout you knew drove Sanji crazy and got you anything you wanted out of the chef, and then sighed deeply.
“Nami.” You deadpanned, amusement zipping through your chest at the look of pure disbelief that overcame Sanji’s features — it was like watching sunlight glisten off of a rainbow trout’s scales, the colors shifting with such speed that the human eye couldn’t dare to identify where or when the shift started or ended.
“I’m speechless, love,” Sanji jested, scooting his body closer to yours and placing a large hand atop your plush thigh. “That you would assume I could even think of another woman when I have all of this right in front of me, any time I want it.” Sanji ended this statement with a firm, yet gentle squeeze of your thigh, sending various feelings and thoughts rushing to the forefront of your mind — memories of similar touches in the dark, picking you apart molecule by molecule and then gluing you back together again, simultaneously.
You sucked in a sharp breath and pushed your thighs together, the habitual movement not escaping Sanji’s watchful eye, and he smirked, skimming his fingers along your flesh. Your skin pimpled despite the heat of the day, and those embers once more flared hotter — gods, how you wanted him right now.
It was dizzying how quickly Sanji was able to alter your moods — with one well placed sentence or touch, Sanji could turn you into a dripping puddle of want, no matter what emotion you could have been feeling at the time, nor the strength of it. It was the same story for every emotion, the man able to influence them so easily, as if they were attached to strings and he were the puppet master pulling them.
And, to be frank, you loved it.
You looked down to Sanji’s hand on your thigh, bringing your own hand up to run your fingers over the bumps of his knuckles. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you dropped your voice to a low murmur, the volume prompting Sanji to lean in towards you to hear your words.
“You shouldn’t tease me unless you plan on seeing it through.”
Sanji’s eyes widened fractionally before they clouded with barely-contained interest, orbs darting down to trace the shape of your lips. You mirrored his actions, eyes falling to his lips, electricity skirting along the flesh of your own as you imagined pressing them to Sanji’s. Their dance would be fluid and familiar, as always, consumed by the ever-present hunger you held for one another.
“This is a public beach. Get a room.”
The sudden onslaught of words sliced through the tension swirling around you, and you whipped your body around to face the source; you inadvertently knocked your elbow into Sanji’s arm, dislodging his hand from your thigh and upsetting his balance slightly. You snapped your eyes up to meet the face of Zoro, who wore an expression of mixed discomfort and amusement.
You couldn’t help but flush slightly. You’d been so wrapped up in Sanji that you’d completely lost awareness to your surroundings. That wasn’t much of a surprise, if you were being honest. It had happened many a time on the Going Merry, and you just knew it would continue to happen going forward. That was the effect Sanji had on you. You glanced around to see if your little personal moment with Sanji had drawn the attention of anyone else, but thankfully, everyone on the beach were too busy in their own worlds to really pay you any mind.
“Go mind your own business, mosshead. Take a swim, or something. You need a bath anyway.” Sanji retorted back, but the relaxation of the day must have affected Sanji in some way too, for his words lacked their usual heat. Zoro rolled his eyes but stalked away regardless; Sanji focused his attention on you once more, but Zoro’s appearance had bursted that bubble of intimacy around the two of you, and you couldn’t find a way to work up the same level of desire you had felt just seconds prior. You gave Sanji a morose smile, and the message was conveyed clearly to the man, who simply shook his head with a smile on his face.
No worries.
Despite no longer feeling the urge to clamber into Sanji’s lap and ride him til the sun set, you still felt the need to be physically close to him, so you once again closed the distance between the two of you. Your thighs and sides were bow flush against one another, and you looked out across the span of the beach and rested your head on his shoulder. Sanji responded by wrapping an arm around your waist and placing his chin atop your head. A perfect embrace, one that had your chest feeling light and fluttery.
“This reminds me of home, you know.” You said suddenly, blurting out the same thought you’d had since the Going Merry had docked on the island. Sanji hummed and fiddled with the knot on the side of your swimsuit bottoms.
“You mean back in the South Blue?”
You nodded mutely, lips pulling into a smile as waves of nostalgia crashed over you. “Mhmm. Many islands in the South Blue are a lot like this one; hot, sunny and sandy. Coconut trees as far as the eye can see and enough tiki bars that even Zoro couldn’t drink an island dry.”
Sanji chuckled at your analogy and released his hold on the knot, now tracing shapes into the skin of your hip with his fingertips. Pleasant pimples dotted across your skin from the sensation.
“Was your island like this one?” Sanji asked, using his free hand to bring his drink, Little South Blue, to his lips. You could feel the undulation of his jawline and throat as he swallowed.
You shifted your body closer to his, crossing your right ankle over his left and digging your foot between his. The heat was near scorching, and the proximity of your bodies wasn’t helping, but it felt too nice to not link your skin in some way.
“Somewhat. There’s a lot of activities that I’ve noticed are exclusive to the South Blue — surfing, beach volleyball, free diving. But there’s a couple here that I recognize from my island. The tiki bars, for example, and the sunbathing.”
You pointed to a group of women to the left, splayed out on large beach towels and soaking up the sun’s rays like hungry plants. Sanji made a strange sound, a mixture between a grunt and a chuckle, and before you could question its origins he said,
“Won’t they just burn? It doesn’t even look like they’re wearing sun screen.”
You narrowed your eyes and looked closer at the women; it was hard to discern from the distance, but you could just barely notice the lack of the tell-tale shine of sunscreen. You hummed deep in your throat.
“They probably forgot to reapply it. It does dry up, eventually.”
“Did you put some on?” Sanji asked, palm flattening around your hip and rubbing, as if he were trying to feel the slick oil on your skin. You burrowed your side deeper into his and reached across his lap to pluck the drink from his hand. Sanji unhooked his chin from your head so that you could pull a drink from the rim. That sweet vanilla-citrus bloomed over your tongue again, and you found yourself quite liking the taste.
“I rubbed some in earlier. It’s not too big of a deal for me, since I’m in the shade. This is actually pretty good, by the way.” You took another slow, purposeful drink, letting the liquid linger in your tongue for a few moments before swallowing.
Sanji clicked his tongue, and his other hand, now freed of its previous burden, slid over to connect to your thigh once more. He stroked the plush flesh with his thumb as he rumbled, “of course it’s good. Its creation was inspired by the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
You looked up at Sanji with wide, doe-y eyes, voice sickly sweet as you teased, “awww, that’s going to flatter Nami to the moon!”
Sanji rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, though you could see no real agitation in his expression when he reached forward and slipped the drink from your hand. With a light smack to your thigh Sanji ordered, “alright, that’s enough. Lay on your stomach.”
“What?” You said smartly, amusement flattening quickly to confusion.
“On your stomach. You said it’s been a while since you’ve put on any sunscreen, and there is no way I’m going to let the sun do any damage to your beautiful skin.”
You raised a brow and pointed up at the umbrella. “I’m under the shade.”
“I’m not taking any chances. Now lay down and tell me where the sunscreen is.” Sanji huffed, and you rolled your eyes but complied, rearranging yourself to spread out on your stomach. Sanji’s skilled hands rubbing sunscreen into your skin actually didn’t sound half bad.
“It’s in my bag.” You said softly, crossing your arms in front of you and resting your chin atop them.
Sanji shuffled through your bag for a few seconds before grasping and pulling out the circular container of your sunscreen. Sanji unscrewed the lid and placed the container gently near the side of your head, its strong vanilla fragrance quickly rushing into your nostrils.
Vanilla…
Sanji shuffled beside you then stood, placing either foot on each side of your legs before squatting down to cage your calves beneath his thighs; Sanji made sure to put most of the pressure and body weight onto the backs of his own feet so that he didn’t squash your legs, a rather gentle and endearing consideration of his. Silver glinted in your periphery as Sanji dipped his fingers into the container and scooped out a generous amount — a lot more than you’d personally use, but you didn’t utter an objection to it — and anticipation spiked in your gut when you heard the unmistakable sound of Sanji slathering his hands in the substance.
The first stroke across your shoulder blades had you sighing into the warm air, but when Sanji used his palms to smear in the sunscreen you were helpless to the sounds your lips released. Sanji put a gentle pressure into his hands, sliding his palms up and down your back — all the way from the tips of your shoulder blades to the dip of your lower back and back again — repetitive and slow, and your muscles were quickly turning to putty beneath his attention.
Sanji took immediate notice of this, and his intentions of applying sunscreen morphed into a delicate massage, splaying his thumbs so that they gently dug into the muscles close to your spine with every drag along the length of your back.
“You’re tense, love. How long has that been going on?” Sanji asked in a murmur, leaning his body over yours so that he could speak inches from your ear. The combination of sensations had your gut stirring, his deft hands turning your body to putty and his rumbling timbre doing the same to your brain.
“A little bit.” You answered breathily, eyes slipping closed as you allowed yourself to feel — to feel Sanji’s subtle weight against your legs, his hands on your skin, the breeze in the air, and the soft sand beneath the towel — it was a combination that made your chest feel floaty and full, the beach drawing out homesick nostalgia and Sanji’s presence supplying a different sense of home. A sense of home that you only felt with Sanji.
“You should have told me sooner, darling. I’d have been more than happy to massage you.” Sanji gently chastised, and in your dopey state, all you could do was hum in response. Sanji’s hands slipped up to your shoulder blades, his thumbs digging into the meatier sections with a gently firmness, and electricity exploded within your body — you could feel the tension melting out of your muscles, and it felt so good. Sanji repeated this action along the entirety of your back, rubbing and soothing out every kink in the muscles with hands that bordered on sinful.
“I’m sure you probably knew from the start, but Little South Blue’s creation was inspired by you.” Sanji wisped, hands never slowing or stopping their movements. “I’d read in a book long ago that citrus fruits were very common in the South Blue, and that they were the staple ingredient of all kinds of foods and drinks.”
You peeked open an eye just in time to see Sanji dipping his fingers back into the container of sunscreen before returning to your back — now his hands moved up further, grinding pleasantly into the muscle of your nape.
“Vanilla is your favorite scent, and you especially like the taste when it’s used in buttercream.”
Your heart constricted in your chest, adoration flaring strong and consuming. You remembered the vanilla-y undercurrent in the mouthfuls you’d swallowed previously, along with the tangy citrus.
“I decided to combine them in a base of your favorite alcohol; sweet rum. Then I named it after your home sea, so that you could have a little piece of it when we leave here.”
Your heart felt as if it would implode out of your chest; time and time again, Sanji was able to exceed any and all expectations with his generosity and romantic soul, but this felt like it was on another level — one that you were finding difficult to process at the moment. Sanji’s hands felt heavenly on your body, but if you didn’t get your lips on his this instant you were going to combust.
With Sanji essentially weightless on top of you, it was easy to roll onto your back quickly. The movement startled Sanji and he retracted his hands, still lathered in the sun screen, and you slipped your legs from underneath him and sat up on your knees. Grasping both sides of his handsome face you leaned in quickly, connecting your lips to his. As always, the contact sent ripples of electricity through your entire body, and when Sanji’s lips quickly responded by initiating a dance with yours, the chilled embers in your gut roared into an inferno.
You slid your tongue along his bottom lip, phantom traces of vanilla-citrus rewarding your movement, and you groaned against Sanji’s lips, which parted for you quickly. The beach and everything else faded into the background as you slipped your tongue against his, coaxing it into the same familiar dance you’d rehearsed time and time again. The flavor was even heavier on his tongue, and when understanding the very reason behind every ingredient, it tasted like pure heaven, enhancing the natural taste of Sanji that you’d come to love and crave.
You only pulled away when you found yourself getting a bit dizzy from lack of proper oxygen, and by that time you had subconsciously scrambled into Sanji’s lap and had your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in the blond strands at the base of his skull. Sanji’s pupils were blown and his eyes were hazy, a subtle hardness pushing into the flesh of your thigh, and you licked your lips.
“You taste a lot more like home than some drink, Sanji.”
Sanji smiled at you in a breathless daze, but the perfect, sensual moment was ruined by one phrase uttered with distaste from behind you,
“Seriously, get a room.”
{{:================================:}}
2 posts in under 24 hours??? I’m on a roll lmao. I just wanted to send a quick thank you to everyone who has sent in requests/suggestions. You guys really helped bring me inspiration and I appreciate it so much!! If you guys enjoyed this please consider liking/reblogging/commenting. Love you all and thanks for reading!
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ok but mob au
1.
“You really didn’t know who I work for?”
When Yuki found out that Pierre’s boss is the Sebastian Vettel, the Lion of Singapore, and the unofficial heir to Schumacher & Co., he had only raised his eyebrows. Pierre took that to mean he had already figured it out.
Yuki blinks at him. “No.”
“But.” Pierre frowns. “Why did you — I always have so many knives on me! Is this not weird to you?” He gestures at his jacket which hangs open, showing four different perfectly sharpened blades tucked into the lining.
Yuki shrugs. “You are French, yes? You like to cut things. Like cheese.”
Pierre mouths wordlessly. Cheese.
“Anyway,” Yuki adds. “You are weird, so. This would not be weird.”
2.
The first time Sebastian meets Lewis, his runners are wet with Michael’s blood and Lewis’s hands are pressing his head into the glass door. His face aches, nose throbbing.
“Can I help you?” he says, or tries to say. It comes out vaguely smushed.
He pushes back a little just to see. Lewis lets him move half an inch before shoving him back.
“Jesus, Hamilton,” Sebastian hears Michael say. His voice cracks roughly. Sebastian nearly cried when the doctor told him Michael survived the surgery, that they got all the bullets out and he was in recovery. He swallows thickly, as the relief makes him all dizzy even now. “I know you got out today but c’mon, let him go. This is Sebastian — I talked about him.”
The hands on Sebastian’s neck disappear and he’s rubbing at his jaw when he turns around. “Ow,” Seabastian tells Michael. His cheeks are pale and his chest is wrapped in white bandages but his eyes are alert and he is grinning.
“Sebastian, this is Lewis Hamilton. Lewis, Sebastian Vettel. Mika says we are all friends here.”
He pats Mika’s ankle that is propped up on the bed beside his hip. Mika’s eyes stay closed, arms folded in his chair, chin on his chest. There are dark bruises under his eyes under now.
“Right. If Mika says so.”
Lewis steps back towards Michael’s bed, grabbing the duffle bag from where it was leaning against the wall. Sebastian looks at his bare arms, the tattoos that go all the way down to his fingers, the rings there. His jeans sit low on his hips. He needs a shave. Sebastian recognises him from his mugshot, even of his hair is longer now and his face is more lined.
They hadn’t had the time to arrange for Michael to share a cell with someone affiliated with them, and when they had got in contact with him, a week later, he had settled in well enough with his cell mate. By Michael standards at least.
Does not talk much, Michael had told Sebastian over the phone. Likes his fucking singing though. Stares at the picture of his dog. Do you think he is lonely?
When Sebastian had brought it up with Mika, the best person for this kind of thing when Corinna is away, Mika had only shrugged, and told him that he doesn’t think it is just Hamilton that is lonely, and that of fucking course anyone who could survive nine weeks in solitary with just Fernando Alonso as company in the next cell over is someone that Michael would find interesting.
Sebastian looks away from the breadth of Lewis’s shoulders in his white tank and pulls a face at Michael’s waggling eyebrows.
3.
“How old do you think I am?” Jenson asks, as Alex adjusts his long-rifle until it sits comfortably against his shoulder, supported by the flat roof they are lying on.
Alex doesn’t answer, because he knows exactly how old Jenson is, and the fact that people continue to tell Jenson to his face that he looks ten years older than his actual age will never stop being funny.
“Ollie, how old do you think I am?” Jenson calls.
“Jen, leave the kid alone,” Alex says. “You could dye your hair.”
“Do I look like a man who would dye his hair solely to stave off questions about his age?”
“Yes,” Alex sweeps the street below them, marking the buildings bracketing the shop they are surveilling. “Ollie, how are you doing over there?”
He can hear him scramble around for a second before a burst of static. “Radio ready for orders, sir.”
Alex grimaces, still not used to that, as Jenson only laughs beside him.
4.
“Michael? We got him.” Eddie leans back against the closed door.
Michael hums, closing his leather notebook. He leaves his fountain pen tucked into the middle so he remembers what month of intakes he was going over.
“Send him in.”
The kid’s hair is long and dirty, falling into his eyes and around his ears. His knees are all busted up under his baggy shorts. His face is drawn and thin, and he is glaring at Michael, jaw clenched.
He goes all pale when he sees who sits in front of him. Seems like he didn’t know whose car it was.
“Jesus,” Michael says. “You’re tiny, how did you reach the pedals?”
This morning, the kid — Sebastian Vettel, Michael had asked around — had hot wired Michael’s car in under two minutes and driven away. Michael had watched from the restaurant’s window, amused and impressed.
Mika had been decidedly less so when Michael told him, ten minutes later, that they were going to have to order a cab.
“I’m not that short!” The glare intensifies. His eyes are kind of freaky, Michael thinks. Very big and bright.
Michael holds out a hand, level with his chest, and squints. He lowers it considerably. Sebastian looks like he wants to bite it.
“Of course not,” Michael tells him soothingly. Eddie gives him a reproachful look. Michael holds back his eyeroll but takes his hand out of reach of Sebastian’s mouth.
“I have a job for you,” Michael says, watching Sebastian’s eyes sharpen. He smiles thinly. “If you’re up for it.”
“A job. For me? What kind of job?” Sebastian tilts his head to the side, making his eyes wide. His curls tumble across his forehead. The whole effect is rather sweet, Michael considers, delighted. This will be interesting.
Mika has been nagging at Michael to stop picking up strays but he thinks he will agree with Michael on this one.
5.
Michael stretches out his back, legs interlocked at the ankles, until something clicks along his spine. He exhales slowly, sinking back into the shitty mattress.
They called for lights out fifteen minutes ago. Lewis is still in the bunk above him. Michael looks at the scratches across the metal rods. He had a good workout today, no interruptions, and his arms are nicely sore.
Seventeen minutes.
Lewis moves in his bed, rolling over to the right and for a moment, Michael thinks he will roll right off the edge, but then he is swinging down, silent. Michael holds himself very still.
"I am not interested in fucking."
"Yeah," Lewis says. "I heard."
Michael swallows. The sharpened edge of Lewis's plastic spoon presses into his throat. Lewis is dense and solidly heavy, knees on either side of his hips, one foot digging into his knee.
Michael has seen him fight. In an enclosed space like this, and unarmed, he isn't sure who would come out the better. His fingers itch with excitement.
"I found the picture you left," Lewis says quietly. The spoon doesn't move an inch. His eyes gleam in the dark like an animal.
"Okay," Michael says, not bothering to pretend not to know what he is talking about.
Lewis was fine this morning. He hummed to himself the entire way to breakfast, and he spotted Michael in the gym without even being asked. It wasn't until after dinner that he went all weird and still in himself.
Lewis presses down, just a little. Michael raises an eyebrow.
"Is he alive?" Lewis asks like he doesn't want to show his hand but is doing so anyway. His mouth trembles at the corners. Michael frowns at him. He has seen Lewis hustle in the yard at card games enough times to know that his poker face is better than this.
"Is he."
Oh. Jesus.
Michael laughs. It is too loud of a sound for where they are. He laughs anyway.
"You have issues," he tells Lewis, who only sends him a cutting look.
"That was supposed to make you feel better! Stop crying and all. You miss him, yes? Thought I could help."
Lewis stares at him. Blinks those animal eyes.
Michael makes a frustrated sound in the back of his mouth. He misses Mika. He never has to talk when Mika is around.
"He is being taken care of in that shelter you put him in. I had my people check. I was being nice! Friendly too!"
"We're friends," Lewis says slowly as if he expects Michael to say no.
"Obviously. You are being ridiculous," Michael says. "You think I would kill a dog? No!" He is a little hurt.
"You are the chief suspect in fifteen open murders," Lewis says, flat.
"Not of dogs!"
Lewis looks at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes. "How are you still alive, man? For real? I thought it was a threat."
He pushes off Michael and pulls himself up onto the top bunk, as silent as he climbed down at the start.
"No one else would see this as a bad thing."
He can hear Lewis roll his eyes.
"Literally every other person here would think you were sending a message. And not a good one."
"I was being nice!"
There is a clang of metal against metal, and their cell bars rattle. "Oi! You two! Shut the fuck up. Save the fighting or fucking for the morning."
"Gross, man," Lewis says, and Michael kicks at the underside of his bunk. "You are gross."
Maybe Mika was right when he said that Lewis might not take his generosity in the way he wanted it, Michael considers. He decides not to tell him. He would be too smug if he did.
He palms the sharpened spoon that Lewis had held to his neck and left on his pillow, beside his cheek. It is small and narrow. Michael presses his thumb against the slice, feeling it. He smiles, and tucks it under his sheet. He had needed a new one.
+1.
Sebastian had been small when Michael met him. All eyes and bony knees and dirty hair.
Then he opened up his mouth and his personality crawled out.
Michael has never looked back.
#listen. i entertain myself#sewis#yukierre#makkinen#five head cannon ask game#kyle tag#niamh.asks#little fics
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My fav AEW dilf <3
Summary: Adam has trouble coming to terms with his attraction to the reader due to age gap of the pair.
It's still relatively early in the morning when the sound of rustling wakes you up from a wonderful dream. You let out a yawn and rub the sleep from your eyes as you prop yourself up into a sitting position.
"Adam?" You yawn and peer out into the dim-lit hotel room you're staying in.
"Crap, sorry, YN," Adam grumbles from his bed across the room. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
You squint your eyes toward the other side of the room where Adam is busy digging through his bag for something. "What are you doing up so early?" You ask him in a sleepy tone as you hold back another yawn.
"I woke up and couldn't seem to fall back asleep," Adam explains, still digging through his bags. "So I was going to head down to the gym for an early workout. But it seems that I can't find my gym clothes in the dark." He chuckles to himself. "I must sound like such an old man, huh kid?"
You drag yourself out of bed and switch on the lamp on the nightstand. "Well, I'm awake now. So you can switch on the light." You offer with a small laugh. "And you aren't that old yet, Adam." You assure him. "Shit, my eyesight is as bad as yours when I don't have my contacts or glasses on." You squint and feel for your glasses sitting on the nightstand.
You slip the wide-frame glasses on your nose and your vision clears up. Adam now has his lamp on as well and is digging through his bag with ease now. "Still can't find them?" You walk over to him when it seems that Adam hasn't made any progress. "Here, let me look."
Adam steps out of the way when you trot over to him with still-sleepy eyes. He'd forgotten that you'd slept in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt that he loaned you last night since you forgot to pack something to sleep in. Adam's gaze transfixes on the way his shirt hangs off your body, your bare legs practically screaming in his face as you bed over to look through his bad.
'No, Adam. She's too young for you, perv.' He tells himself as he stares at you. He's more than twice your age and old enough to be your father. But fuck do you look so damn good right now.
"Here they are!" You finally manage to retrieve Adam's usual workout attire from the bottom of his bag. "Here you go, Adam. I'm going to shower and grab some breakfast. But we can catch up later when you're back from the gym." You hand him his clothes before you walk over to the bathroom door.
Adam nods and watches your hips sway under his t-shirt all the way to the bathroom door. "Fuck." He mumbles to himself under his breath.
"Oh! Here's your shirt back, Adam. Thanks for letting me borrow it." The door cracks back open and Adam catches a small glimpse of your bare skin as his shirt comes flying at him and the door closes again.
"No problem," Adam shouts back as he catches his shirt.
Adam stares at the shirt in his hands for a moment. It's not even near his nose, and yet he can smell your perfume wafting off of it. He grumbles to himself and tosses the shirt in his bag. Now he's the one that needs a cold shower. It's a good thing that the gym has ones for the patrons to use.
Later in the morning Adam comes back from the gym and heads up to the hotel room. When he gets inside he finds the bathroom door wide open and you standing in front of the mirror doing your makeup. His jaw damn near unhinges when he gets a glimpse of your outfit.
A pair of jean booty shorts hug your ass for dear life as you lean over the sink to see the mirror closer. You've got on a black halter top, boobs threatening to spill out the front of the shirt because you're leaning so far over the sink. And then there's the fishnet tights covering your legs and hugging your thighs in a way that should be illegal.
"I'm back from the gym," Adam announces himself to the room after swallowing a bucket of saliva.
"Hmm? Oh, hey, Adam." You set down your mascara wand and return to a straight upright position. "How was the gym?" You ask him nonchalantly.
Adam walks over to his bags and distracts himself by looking for a change of clothes. "It was fine." He shrugs. "Did you get breakfast yet?" He asks you.
"Yeah, I ordered some room service." You answer him and finish up your makeup. "What about you? We've still got some time before that meet and greet with Darby, Sting, Christian, and Nick, later."
Adam finds himself a clean shirt and pants and prays that you aren't leaning over the bathroom counter again when he looks back at you. And thankfully for him, you aren't.
"I grabbed something on the way back from the gym," Adam answers your question with a relieved sigh. "You look nice." He can't help but comment.
"Thanks!" You grin innocently. "You can change in here now. I'm just going to clean up my suitcase and grab my shoes and bag. Then we can head out to the venue." You step out of the bathroom.
Adam nods and shuts the bathroom door behind him.
The ride to the venue is mostly silent. You and Adam arrive a bit early and head inside to get situated at your booth for the day. Adam runs into Christian and chats with him for a while. Meanwhile, you chat with Darby and Nick on the other side of the booth.
"Holy shit, is that YN?" Christian comments when he spots you over Adam's shoulder.
"Yeah," Adam mumbles to himself.
Christian blinks a few times at you before he turns back to his best friend. "Adam, buddy. You want to switch travel partners with me?" He jokes with Adam.
"Shut up." Adam scoffs, but Christian easily notices the flustered look on his friend's face.
"Oh, you are so looking to bang her aren't you?" Christian laughs. "I mean. I don't blame you one bit. But still." He chuckles and claps Adam on the shoulder.
Adam swats Christian's hand away and shakes his head. "She's young enough to be my daughter." He protests.
"Young girls are the most fun." Christian fires back. "Trust me on that one, buddy." He grins. "Come on, Adam. How long have you and Beth been split? Almost a year, right? When was the last time you got laid?" He asks Adam.
"Christian!" Adam glares at his friend.
Christian rolls his eyes playfully and shrugs. "Hey, all I'm saying is if you don't make a move soon, Adam. Then someone else is bound to." He points across the booth.
Adam turns around and spots Ricky Starks now talking with you and Darby. Starks is also getting ready for a meet and greet. And the current tag champ is standing closer to you than Adam would like.
"Don't take the guy's head off, man." Christian laughs when Adam's face warps into one of hate and jealousy. "YN ain't your, remember, Adam?" He teases Copeland. "Not yet anyway." He mumbles that last part to himself as Adam stomps off.
Adam marches over to you and Ricky chatting. As he grows closer he picks up on Ricky blatantly flirting with you like there is no tomorrow. And it pisses him off.
"Ricky! I didn't know you'd be here." Adam stops when he's looming right behind you.
"Hmm, oh! Hey, Adam." You jump a bit when you hear Copeland's voice, but turn around and greet him with a smile. "Ricky's working a booth on the other side of the venue. He just swung by to say hello to me and Darby." You explain.
Adam looks over your shoulder at Ricky and Starks takes an instinctive step back when he sees the look on Adam's face.
"Yeah...I'll catch you later, sugar." Ricky quickly tucks tail and retreats back to his booth.
"Bye, Ricky." You wave at Starks with a smile, unaware of Adam giving Starks the death glare from behind you.
The venue is set to open soon so you take a seat with Adam and get ready for a day of taking photos and signing things.
As the day drags on you can't help but notice Adam mean-mugging every dude that lingers a bit too long when they ask for photos or autographs. Normally you'd just choc it up to his overprotective dad instincts kicking in since he's got two daughters. But there's something about the way he always looks at you after whatever man he scared off is gone. Like the way, an alpha protects his girl from other potential suitors stalking around her.
At the end of the day, the venue is closing up and you wait around to see if Ricky is going to ask you to dinner. You spot Starks heading your way and smile at him. But Ricky only makes it about halfway across the room before you watch him stop cold in his tracks and turn right back around. Confused, you turn behind you and find Adam standing a few feet away.
"Hey, Adam?" You walk over to Copeland, unable to keep this behavior to yourself anymore. "Can I ask you something?" You ask him.
"Sure, YN." Adam nods.
You bite your lip, unsure how to phrase your question. "I sort of notice that you spent all day shooing away some of my more handy and stalky fans." You explain. "Which, thanks. But, I guess I just have to ask. Was that like your fatherly instincts kicking in?" You ask Adam. "Or was it something else? Because I don't know if it's because I've always had a huge crush on you. But It kind of seemed like to me like you were keeping guys away, like Ricky, because you want me all to yourself." You explain in a nervous ramble. "And if it wasn't that? Well, I'm sorry that I even brou-"
Your nervous ramble is cut off when suddenly Adam cups your face in his hands and crashes his lips to yours.
"You've been driving me fucking crazy from the moment we met," Adam whispers against your lips.
"S-mm-sorry." You whisper back between desperate kisses.
Your hands cling to Adam's jacket as he kisses you. Your head spins uncontrollably as Adam presses his body into yours. You had a dream just like this once. And if it is another dream, then you don't ever want to wake up.
You and Adam both finally come up for air but remain smushed against one another as you both pant. "Thank Christian for me please." You giggle.
"Christian? For what?" Adam replies breathlessly.
"For encouraging you to take a chance with me." You reply. "I know Cage has been eyeing me up like a dog. But he never made a move, which confused me. But now I know why." You explain.
Across the room, Christian spots you and Adam and smiles to himself. "YOU'RE WELCOME!" He shouts from across the room.
#wrestling#aew#all elite wrestling#adam copeland x reader#adam 'edge' copeland#adam copeland#aew fanfiction#aew fandom#aew fanfic#wrestling fandom#wrestling fanfiction#syd's wrestling fics#wrestling fanfic#aew x reader#aew wrestling
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Jake smugly adjusting his girl’s glasses, setting them just right where they’ve gone askew, just before he goes down on her. “So you can watch me wreck you properly, sweetheart.” 🌻🍦
Y'all can thank V for getting me to write Hangman smut. 18+ this GOT me good
It's absolutely sinful, how you can feel his signature smirk against your core, how his stare burns into you.
The thickness of his fingers create a stretch that leaves your legs shaking, your body on the precise of pleasure.
His sea green eyes never leave your face as his tongue draws circles on your clit, watching your every reaction. Jake’s hands have your hips pinned down to the bed, your body at his tongue’s mercy.
It's cruel when he retreats, removing his lips and fingers, leaving you empty and aching. One hand grips the bedsheets while the other adjusts your glasses as you bring your head up, making eye contact with him.
"Said I wanted ya to watch me sweetheart," Jake grins, "You gonna be a good girl and listen?"
A snarky remark dies on your tongue as his fingers trace up and down your slit, just enough to feel his presence. Just enough to leave you a wanting, withering mess on your bed.
"What was that?" He asks with a smirk. It wasn't that he was unsure of what you said. In fact, he was about ninety percent certain.
But he had missed your voice and your beautiful pleas.
You could be catty right back to him. Jake loved that about you. But it had also been six weeks since you last saw your husband. You could be bratty later, after your bodies became familiar with one another again, after your body remembered how to handle all of him again.
"I-I'll be good. I'll be your good girl."
The words were music to Jake's ears. He was great at keeping up the confident façade, but that didn't stop the worries that plagued his mind late at night while he was on a carrier. The possibility that you could find someone whose work trips didn't last months, who could call you more than a few times a week while away, who could actually be physically there for you. The worst part was if that happened, he couldn't blame you, couldn't be upset with you.
That's what made his stomach lurch; it would be reasonable, even understandable if you left him for someone like that.
But you didn't. You were always there when he came back, ready to greet him with open arms and gentle kisses. Ready to assure him that you were all his and no one else's.
Ready to remind Jake that only he got to see you like this, laid out and wearing nothing but those glasses he was absolutely obsessed with.
"Enjoy the show, sweets," was all he said before diving back in between your legs.
It wasn’t his words that made your eyes roll to the back of your head (though that wasn’t uncommon), but rather his mouth all over you, pressing searing kisses and nips along your most sensitive flesh.
Remembering his orders, you propped yourself up with your elbows, taking in the sight of Jake devouring you.
One of your hands found purchase in his blonde hair, gripping the short strands. A moan escaped Jake’s lips at the sensation of your fingernails grazing against his scalp. Your legs couldn’t help but tremble at the vibrations, your teeth digging into your bottom lip in a desperate attempt to follow your husband’s orders.
A broken moan fell from your lips as you felt the cool metal of his class ring as another finger thrusts in, creating a pleasure ache that began pooling in the lower pit of your stomach. It was all too much; the intensity of his stare, the lewd sounds of your wetness on his fingers.
No sooner did the back of your head reached your pillow that you felt a harsh sting upon your right thigh. Your head shot up, a whine escaping from your mouth as you felt his lips leave your clit.
“What did I say baby?” He chuckled at the way your body shuddered at his breath against your core.
“Fuck you,” you gritted between your teeth, your words only amusing Jake even more.
“Later,” Jake grinned, “But for now, I want you to see how I make you fall apart on my tongue.”
You tugged on his hair, guiding his mouth back to where you needed it the most, your eyes never leaving his.
He wrapped his free arm underneath your hips, lifting them off the mattress. The new angle allowed his fingers to thrust in deeper, causing your voice to reduce to nothing more than strangled whimpers of his name and pleas.
"C'mon baby, missed ya s'much."
His encouragement was your undoing, causing your legs to shake as you fell apart against his mouth as white hot pleasure ran through your body.
Your whines did nothing but motivate Jake to keep going, prolonging your high. The grip on his hair tightened. Whether that was your way of trying to tell him to stop or continue, who knows.
"J-Jake, s'sensitive," your voice was broken, his tongue overwhelming you as it continued to trace circles on your clit.
Jake said something against your soaked cunt, his voice muffled. Somehow, you found the strength to look up, your eyes meeting his.
He was shaking his head, his fingers continuing to thrust against that spot that made your back arch.
It shouldn't be a surprise. Your husband was a man of his word and he did say he would wreck you.
At least you warned told your neighbors that Jake was coming back today.
#my writing#jake hangman x you#hangman smut#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin smut#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman x reader#hangman imagine#hangman x y/n#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman imagine#jake hangman x y/n#jake hangman fic
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・✶ ｡ﾟ[10:44am] — hanma shuji.
“breakfast is almost ready.” you hum when you feel hanma’s daunting presence in the doorway, for someone who was normally an 8am riser for work — there was a certain sort of charm to seeing him a little more lax and drowsy, face still puffy with sleep while his lips look like they almost twist into a pout.
“fuck sake, you didn’t wake me up, doll.” he grunts but despite the annoyance that laces his tone he can’t deny the sense of familiarity he feels in his chest when he catches sight of you at the stove — in his apartment, being so fucking domestic.
“was i supposed to.” you ask him in turn, your own lips pursed even though there’s still a smile that graces your features when you watch hanma take a seat at the counter with a grin of his own.
“come on, you know i get cold.” hanma huffs, teasing as his amber gaze narrows at where you stand and he props his chin up against his palm when you turn to eye his lanky form — but you can’t deny how pretty he looks like this.
hanma had always been a feared man, he had a reputation — punched peoples teeth in for a living and was part of the organisation who ran this city, adorned in expensive suits and high-end glasses, blonde and black curls and black cursive ink adorning each hand, the sight of sin and punishment would make anybody else tremble.
except you, because this shuji — your shuji, was someone that only you had the pleasure of seeing and to your delight, he was always a little softer in the mornings when his reflexes and sharp tongue were still lost under the fuzziness of sleep.
his dyed hair was messy, unstyled as it hangs over his eyes — making him look a little younger, softer than the man people were used to. the way his smiles curled were gentle, a little less cruel and unhinged, although you know you wouldn’t catch him dead being this soft if he was fully awake, and it was charming to watch him squint at you, missing the usual clarity his glasses or contacts would give him.
those same hands were the same touch you yearned for rather than feared, fingers that adorned sin that would intertwine with yours or his other hand, punishment, that was always too preoccupied with drawing his initials softly into the skin of your waist.
“see somethin’ you like, baby?” hanma grins when he notices you staring, pulling you from your thoughts as he pushes himself up from the counter. he’s checking you out, blatantly and shamelessly as he drinks you up and it doesn’t take him long to be by your side — hooking his arm around your waist before he’s curling you into him and you sway when you look up at his imposing, tall stature.
“cause i sure do.” he purrs, soft, crooning syllables against your cheek when he leans in, nipping at the skin of your jaw and you feel a smile twitch on your lips at the words that curl down your spine.
“you want sugar in your coffee?” you return, shooting him a humoured grin as you deliberately let his teasing roll over your shoulders just so you can feel the way his fingers flex into your waist, pulling an irritated groan from your boyfriend when he stands up straight again — only so you can see him roll his eyes with a huff. “you know i do.”
“just checking.” you smile and hanma’s hand doesn’t leave your figure, feeling it slide along your lower back but you still feel your skin burn hot where his long fingers press along your skin.
if he was honest, he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, taking advantage of your fatal attraction to him at the most exhilarating times but he secretly likes the moments like these, because truth be told, you’ve got him eagerly wrapped around yours too.
“fuckin’ hell i’m hungry, doll.” hanma groans, clicking his tongue as he lets one of his inked hands lift his t-shirt a little to scratch at his stomach, showing off the smooth ivory muscle that dips into the waistband of his sweatpants. “you’re such a baby.” you retort and he shoots you a look that’s supposed to be hostile, but the grin that twitches on his lips says otherwise when his index finger finds its way up to trace along your jawline.
“i’m a fucking criminal.” he warns, amber gaze narrowing at you but you only smile, “wow, you are so scary.” and theres a sort of playful mocking to your words before he’s rolling his eyes again.
“shut the fuck up.” he grumbles but he secretly likes the sort of give and take he found in you — watching the way his eyes light up when they meet yours and he’s throwing his head back to laugh. the sound sends a pleasant shiver down your spine but he’s still pulling you closer and because you love him, you find yourself laughing too.
you feel hanma’s fingers squeeze around your waist before he’s taking a drink of his coffee, but when you turn to look at him his eyes are already on you from over the rim of his mug.
“what’re you up to, shuji?” you giggle, a little suspiciously before you narrow your gaze at him and he snorts, rocking forward and you can tell clarity has finally started to get a hold on him when he sends you a smile that’s just as cheeky as it is smug. your boyfriend’s large frame draping over you while you try to plate breakfast, resting his chin on the dip of your shoulder so you can hear the way his voice drops to a growl, before he’s playfully biting at your neck.
“hm, just dunno if this is gonna satisfy my appetite, doll.”
© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#tokyo rev x reader#tokyorev fluff#tokyo revengers x you#tokyo revengers fluff#tokyo rev fluff#tokyorev x reader#tokyo revengers x reader#hanma shuji x reader#hanma x reader#hanma fluff#hanma x you#hanma shuji fluff
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Never have I ever (drabble)
Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader
Summary: just a tiny cutesy drabble. My fav trope: friends to lovers.
Warnings: fluffy fluff.
Word count: 1500
A/N: I'm rusty af and I had no inspiration whatsoever but I've been wanting to write Javi for some time so here you are. Proofread but you know how that goes. Hope you like it!
“C’mon just tell me!” he threw at you the cushion he had carefully tucked under his head at the beginning of the night. It hit you square in the face and you huffed.
“I don’t want to, it’s embarrassing!” you said throwing the cushion back at him. He caught it midair and smiled triumphantly at you.
You were laying on his couch opposite of each other. His arm rested over your legs as he held his half empty glass of whiskey. You had been playing never have I ever for the last half hour and since you basically knew everything about each other the questions were getting weirder by the second.
Never have I ever puked while getting laid.
“That’s the whole point of this game, silly! C’mon I promise I won’t laugh.” He patted your leg encouragingly as he shamelessly lied. You knew Javi and there was no way in hell he would miss the opportunity to have a good laugh at your expense.
You sighed while placing the glass on the coffee table and propped yourself back on your elbows. “Okay, this was a long time ago...” he smiled reassuringly, urging you to continue. “I was getting down to business with my date after prom. As you can imagine I was absolutely wasted, it was prom after all. Anyway, I was about to go down on him so I pulled his pants down and… oh God…” blush started to creep up your face.
“I don’t really know when was the last time he had showered, cause I’m telling you, that wasn’t normal.” his eyes widened and he covered his mouth trying to stifle a laugh. You narrowed your eyes at him “it reeked! and I just… I couldn’t stop myself and I puked all over him.” you managed to pull a small smile trying to hide your embarrassment. It was stupid, really. Javier knew everything about you, he had to endure your hour long rants after shitty hookups so it wasn’t like you shied away from talking about sex. This time, however, it felt completely different.
He stared at you in shock. “You puked all over him?”
Your smile widened out of pure nervousness and you nodded “I puked all over him.”
He couldn’t help the cackle that bursted through his mouth. He grabbed his sides while letting a laughing fit take control of his body.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” you said grabbing at his legs and tickling him, unable to stop the smile spreading on your own face. “¡Malo!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he said wiping the few tears that had fell down his face. “Dios mío, it's the most embarrassing story I’ve ever heard. What did you do after?”
“He screamed at me and I got the hell out of there.” you shrugged. “I guess I was a bit of an asshole.”
“He was the asshole! should’ve showered before prom.” he laughed reassuringly at you. “His loss really.”
You chuckled in agreement and stared silently at him while he reached for the whiskey bottle to refill your glass. The domesticity of it all filled your heart. You really loved him. It was difficult not to fall for Javier and, despite being almost sure he didn’t see you as anything more than his best friend, it was impossible for you to stay away from him. For you, in a sense, he was home. You cherished the fact that he had let you in, let you witness the warmth he carried inside, shown you that he was capable of softness after all. It was a privilege only you and Steve had and there was no way in hell you were giving that up.
"Penny for your thoughts." He said sipping on his whiskey, clearly noticing the fact that you were blatantly staring at him. His hand came to rest on your ankle, drawing small circles with his thumb. Fuck Javi and his constant need of physical contact.
Your eyes snapped to his, so deep and dark you felt shy all of a sudden under his questioning stare and for a split second you feared he was able to read your mind. You reached for your glass and took a big gulp, hoping alcohol would inspire a better answer other than “nothing”.
"Oh, I was- I mean…” blush returned to your cheeks and he smiled softly at you. That damn dimple. You sighed before blurting. “I was just thinking about you.” Your voice came out small, shy, and you hoped he hadn’t heard you.
But he did, of course he did, and he hummed as he started running his hand up and down your calf. “and what about me, cariño.” His smile seemed cheeky but you could see the fondness in it. The pressure on your chest was getting unbearable, his deep stare combined with his touch was setting your skin on fire and you could hear you heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You shouldn’t have said anything.
Your fight or flight instincts kicked in.
Flight, definitely flight.
You stood up, letting his hand fall onto the couch, and downed the rest of the glass. “About how stinky you are.” you scrunched your nose. “It’s gettin’ late so I think I’m gonna get going.”
You tried to ignore his confused stare as he sat up and watched you place your glass on the sink. “Are you okay? Weren’t you staying the night?” he made his way to the kitchen and stopped at the door frame, stepping aside to let you exit.
“Yeah Javi, don’t worry. It’s just– I don’t feel well” you said as you walked past him, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Well done, not suspicious at all.
“Listen, if this is about the story, I’m sorry for pressuring you to tell me. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His hands were now on his hips as he watched you put your shoes on, clearly not convinced by your excuses.
“I’m feeling a bit funny, that’s all” you smiled weakly at him “I’ll make myself some tea when I get home, see if it calms my tummy.” Why did he have to be so fucking insistent.
He reached to grab your arm softly, giving you the possibility to let go if you wanted, but you didn’t. “You and I both know lying is not one of your strengths.” he chuckled but his eyes remained serious. “What’s going on, cielo. You can tell me.”
Fuck him and his stupid pet names.
There was no way you could lie your way out of this one. The prospect of fucking this friendship up and not having Javier in your life was completely paralyzing. It was something you couldn’t afford to lose. Not now, not ever. Still, you couldn't keep running away from reality. This was something that was meant to happen sooner or later.
In a surge of courage you looked up at him and met his eyes, your face still tinted with a reddish hue. The tenderness that swirled in his gaze knocked the air out your lungs. His hand travelled upwards until he cupped the side of your face, gently gracing your cheekbone with his thumb. He knew, he fucking knew. His stupid grin, the expectation in his eyes. Maybe he really could read your mind, or maybe it turns out you weren't as subtle as you thought and it had been written on your face all along. He inched closer and whispered “I just want to hear you say it.”
You hesitated, the thought of him messing with you crossed your mind for a second but you quickly pushed it away.
“I– I think I’m in love with you.” you gulped as his eyes studied your face with adoration.
“You think?” he smiled cheekily. His breath ghosted over your face. “C’mon cariño, I’m gonna need more than that.”
You huffed and shook your head in disbelief. Anxiety had died down by now, the only remnants were the butterflies that swirled violently in your stomach. “You’re a pain in the ass, Javier, you know that?” a big smile spread on your face.
He laughed and whispered “I know, you tell me often.” his brow furrowed “Quite often actually…”
“Shut up." you placed your hands on his chest and felt his heartbeat thumping wildly against your palms. "I’m in love with you.”
He looked up and mumbled “gracias a Dios” before pressing his lips to yours. It was soft, almost shy, so unlike Javier’s general confident demeanor. Before he could pull away you grabbed the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips against his again, hoping he would stop holding back. The kiss was sloppy this time. He lapped hungrily at your mouth, swallowing your whimpers as you clung to his shoulders. His teeth bit and sucked briefly on your bottom lip before pulling away.
"Fucking finally" he said as he leaned his forehead against yours trying to catch his breath. "I love you too. I've been loving you for a long time now I just didn't want to ruin whatever we had going on."
Your heart swelled at his words, a small chuckle escaping your mouth. "Well, thank god you got me to confess then.”
He smiled and slid his hands down your body, resting them on the curve of your ass and giving it a playful squeeze. "So... does this mean you’ll stay the night?"
#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña angst#javier peña fluff#javier peña x y/n#javier peña#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#narcos fanfiction#narcos fic#javier pena
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Ghostface Choso
Part 2
I was just not done with this lol
Part 1
NSFW below the cut
Choso gets up to get you both some water to share. Not because 2 glasses is hard to get but for the sake of intimacy. He wants you to drink after him. Wants to swap spit with you however he can.
After you take a sip he sets the glass down for you on his side of the bed and grins. Pulling you into a sweet snuggle. His warm palm following the curve of your hip and dipping to your back as the front of your bodies press together.
Lazily draping your leg over his waist, Choso understands You want more.
“Can I fully eat you out this time?” He mumbles in your ear. His hand is already sliding up your thigh and around your ass, each circle brings his finger tips closer to your center.
Finally reaching your lower lips he grazes your clit. You nod in affirmation that you want whatever he’s willing to give. “Please” you whisper out. Your hands are idly tracing up and down his back.
Repositioning he lays you on your back. The position is tender for a moment as he kisses your mouth. Then he sinks and his lips are kissing the crease between your thighs and slit. Thumb slowly circling your clit before kitten licking you.
His hands reach around your thighs and spread you fully for him to see. “God you’re fucking pretty”
Gasping at the contact of his tongue on your skin, your hands fly to your face again.
“Nu-uh” he wants to see your face and he pulls at your elbow as he reprimands you. “Please don’t hide this time love” the pet name makes your stomach flip. It’s far too intimate to be said so casually.
Sinking your fingers into his sheets instead. He continues, pressing your thighs open so you’re fully exposed to him. Dragging his tongue up the center from your entrance to your clit. Over and over, slowly lavishing in the pleasured moans and gasps escaping your lips. His lips move to your clit and he sucks on it hard. The hot wet feeling sends goosebumps up you arms and heat to your stomach.
Gently tracing the rim of your entrance with his index finger, he lets his mouth continue to work on you. Gently pushing his middle finger inside you. Your cheeks heat in embarrassment and your legs squirm at how soft he’s being.
“You okay?” He looks to you while reattaching his lips to you. Words escape you as you nod yes. He chuckles and continues to push his ring finger in too. Your body rocking instinctively on his fingers. The mixture of your release and his saliva makes a smacking sound between your legs.
Choso slides his hand to your tummy, holding you down before licking a flat stripe up your slit. Your hands dig into his hair, one hand for each now very loose bun. Rutting your hips against his mouth he lets you use him. You let out soft grunts and pants until you’re pressing against his tongue and fingers so hard you don’t think you can get any closer.
Removing his fingers, his tongue slides to your entrance and pokes in and out; Tongue fucking you before his lips move to your clit. His big warm hands hold your thighs open, not relenting his pace, he sucks and licks you through an orgasm. It rips through your body as you rock your hips as much as you can against his mouth.
“Fuckfuckfuck” is all you can hear coming out of your mouth between panting. His mouth stays on you sucking up your juices. Heat settles across your body and your legs go a bit limp.
Finally he removes himself and you turn to your side, too tired to move but needing to feel comforted. Choso pulls you into his chest and cuddles you, rubbing your back softly.
“You’re really cute when you come” he whispers in your ear. “Gonna see it again tonight sweet angel”
You push him away softly, but laugh a bit at the cute little joke.
“Can I have some of that water first? Please.” Your voice is sweet and cracking slightly. He giggles and drags the cool condensation on your chest before handing you the cup.
“Are you okay?” He props himself up on an elbow and plays with the ends of your hair. The other hand is rubbing your thigh languidly.
You give the cup back and he sips it too before returning it to the nightstand.
“C’mere beautiful” he says as he pulls you in closer to his body.
“Thank you” you say quietly to him. He just nods and kisses your cheek.
“You’ll have a hard time getting rid of me at this point you know”
He laughs a slight chuckle and a goofy smile crosses his face. “That’s fine with me”
A wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing you’ve said too much. You bury your head in his chest and close your eyes. Taking in the sweet smell of him and the sex you just had.
“So ..”
“So” he parrots back to you in a serious tone.
“Sooo I just think you’re really hot and sweet and I’m glad I ran into you tonight”
“Yeah this is nice” he’s laying on his back and pulls you into his side. The covers are pulled up around your waists. His hands linger around your thighs, stroking them up and down with his finger tips.
“You know .. I could go again”
“Oh yeah? Now?”
“Mmhmm” you confirm “you’re like really hot. There’s no shortage of want here” you can already feel that he’s hard, has been since you laid down like this.
“Is that so?” He teases and kisses your neck, dragging his lips over your chest and latching on to your nipple. The contact has your back arching, pressing him onto you more firmly.
You let out a whine as he sucks on your nipple and licks circles around it. Slotting his body between your legs, he plays with your sticky nipple and moves his mouth to the other one. Licking and play biting at it, watching every action your body is making in response.
His cock starts sliding against the wetness between your thighs. His tip sliding up your puffy slit and catching on your clit every so often.
“You’re really sexy under me” he says breathlessly. “Do you want the mask again?” He teases.
You nod and he flips you over. His chest hits your back as he leans over you grabbing the mask. A trail of kisses has your tummy flipping again.
Flirtatiously you wiggle your ass at him before turning your head over your shoulder to see Choso dawning that damn mask.
“Fuuuuck” you whine and press yourself back against him. Choso chuckles mischievously and watches as he toys with your entrance. Pushing his tip in and out a few times before sinking into you. Taking his time, he lavishes in the feeling of you. Grasping your hips he pushes inside your pussy fully. Stilling his hips before he ruts again. A short groan comes from under the mask.
“That’s so hot but - nngh- I really just wanna see you again. S’pretty” you mumble out.
This time Choso doesn’t remove the mask. Wrapping a hand around your waist and another on your shoulder he starts fucking into you fast. Just a few hard and fast thrusts have you spinning. You grasp at the pillow, anything for some stability as he’s fucking you stupid.
He slows his movements and rubs his hands over you back and curls his hands around your waist. Sliding a calloused hand up your back he throws the pillows to the floor and presses your face into the mattress. He fucks you quick and hard. All you can see over your shoulder is that fucking mask.
You let out a whimper every time he thrusts into you. Over and over again until he’s pressing you so close to his body. Cumming inside you, he presses as close as possible to your body. Choso slumps over you and rolls you both to the side.
He grabs a towel from his bathroom and cleans you both up. Laying back down with you under the covers he fully faces you.
“Choso” you look him in the eyes searching, before kissing him.
“You’re really pretty” he looks at you with little stars dancing around his head.
You both catch your breath in comfortable silence for a minute.
“Sooo”
“So we can go shower together if you want” he suggests.
“Hmm sure” you confirm to him.
“I actually do want to ask you though… could I get your number or Instagram?” He looks to you and you’re nodding yes.
“I’d love to see more of you and not just like this. I mean yes like this but also in other ways” he fumbles over his words and covers his eyes with his hand.
You pull his hand from his face kissing his knuckles. “I’d like that too” you confirm softly.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo#jjk choso#kinktober#choso x female reader#choso smut#choso x reader#choso x you
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we shouldn't be in love || warren rojas x reader
tw : kissing, profanity.
synopsis : avoiding warren was always easy for you, that was until you were questioned.
words : 1.1k
Y/N : Yeah, of course I knew we couldn't be together. Everyone knew, but that doesn't stop shit.
Warren : I mean, it’s their younger sister, and she was hot. Of course I was gonna try.
I always knew Y/N. She would come and listen to our practices with Camila. She didn’t start standing out to me until we got our house in Laurel Canyon though.
I mean you have this girl, that you never noticed and then one day, you wake up and you see her walking around the house, laughing with whoever, and she turned into the hottest girl in the world.
She avoided me though, so groupies helped me take my mind off of her.
Y/N : I liked him since the ninth grade. And my brothers would kill me if i even had a crush on him. I had to avoid him. I had no other choice.
All of us were snuggled, watching a movie that was airing at night. Karen held onto my side as Graham was on her other side, passed out an snoring lightly.
I had kept making eye contact with Warren all night, and I couldn't be more thankful that it was dark in the room besides the television.
I got up abruptly after making eye contact for what seemed like the millionth time. Karen looked at me worriedly.
"Sorry, just needed some water." I said, flashing her a smile.
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, pouring cold water into the glass.
"So, what's wrong?" Warren's deep voice asked from behind me.
I turned to him, raising an eyebrow, "You're lucky I don't get scared easily, or I'd get a heart attack."
He gave me a slight smirk, "Tonight's the first night you've made eye contact with me... in what, like three months?"
Silence separated us, but it was horrible tension.
"Why have you been avoiding me all of a sudden?" Warren asked.
I took a large gulp of water, "I haven't been."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Can't we just go and watch the movie?" I questioned.
"No, because you're not avoiding anyone else, so what's wrong with me?"
"Warren, I promise you I didn't mean to. It's nothing, so now if you don't mind, I'm going to sit with Karen and finish the movie." I stated, walking out of the kitchen and leaving him there.
Karen held up her arm for me to cuddle in next to her. I noticed that she had pushed Graham off of her as well, as he looked to be dangling off the arm rest, still peacefully asleep.
"Everything alright, love?" Karen asked.
"Yeah, just was really thirsty." I said, laying my head down.
I quit making eye contact with Warren that night. I tried my hardest to avoid him, I really did, but he made it so fucking hard.
I didn't want to avoid him, no, but I knew how my brothers would get. Especially since Billy hates any guy I talk to.
Warren's arm brushed past me the next morning as he grabbed his toast from the toaster. I couldn't help but feel butterflies.
Everyone was cramped in the kitchen, sitting at the table or leaning on the counters. I caught Karen's eye too as she smirked at me, which I rolled my eyes to.
"Y/N and Camila, can you guys help me with something in my room?" Karen asked.
"I can help." Graham said as he got up from the table.
Karen shook her head no, "Sorry, it's a girls thing."
Camila grabbed me, leading me towards Karen's room.
Karen shut the door behind us as she couldn't even hide her smile.
"So, what's going on with Warren and you?" Camila asked, sitting on the bed.
I looked at the two, crossing my arms, "Nothing, nothing whatsoever, I'm wondering what's going on with Karen and Graham."
Karen laughed, "No, don't switch up the conversation, Y/N! Now what's going on with you and Warren!" She urged.
I sighed, giving in, "I don't know! I don't want anything because I don't want Graham or Billy to be mad at him or I, but then last night he asked why I've been avoiding him and ugh!"
Camila looked at me in shock at my rant.
Karen propped herself up on her bed, "Well fuck it. Fuck what Billy and Graham think."
"I agree." Camila added.
I sighed "But what if he's not interested? He's making out with a new groupie like every day."
Karen and Camila only laughed at each other before Camila spoke, "Trust me, he is obsessed with you."
The more days I avoided Warren, the harder it got.
He would sit next to me when we watched movies and put his arm around me slightly, or he'd start calling me new nicknames. God I wanted to smack him sometimes. Graham would look at me, questioning what was going on as well.
I was cooking breakfast by myself, because everyone was sleeping in. A hand touched my waist as an arm went to grab something near the cabinet.
"Sorry, princess." Warren's voice said from behind me.
God my heart was racing.
I turned off the stove as I looked at the boy, "We have to talk."
"I'm all ears." Warren said with a smirk.
"Warren, do you like me or not. Because you're always making out with a new groupie and I don't know." I rambled
It must've caught him by surprise as he stood up.
"Of course I like you, I'd be stupid not to like you. I've been in love with you since I started practicing in your garage." He said, a slight chuckle.
Before I knew it, his lips were on mine and the world seemed to have stopped. I stared in shock before fully closing my eyes and kissing Warren back. His hands were securely on my waist as I had my hands on his neck.
He broke the kiss, allowing the two of us to catch our breath, but his hands never left my waist.
"I don't kiss any groupie like that." Warren laughed.
"What the fuck?" I heard Graham's voice say.
Everyone stood at the door frame looking at us in shock, besides Karen and Camila of course, they were smirking.
Billy looked like he was a bomb about to blow up.
"Y/N? Wanna explain yourself?" Billy questioned.
"Uhh..."
Camila stepped into the conversation, "It's love Billy, leave them be."
"Even if you were a groupie I'd still love you." Warren whispered in my ear as Billy continued to look fumed.
"That's sweet, isn't it?" I said, smiling up at him.
#warren rojas#sebastian chacon#warren rojas x reader#warren rojas x y/n#sebastian chacon x reader#daisy jones and the six#camila alvarez#camila dunne#graham dunne#karen sirko#fanfiction
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can you believe on twitter people are starting to make regulus be fem
*GASP* THEY DID WHAT??
dunno if fem stands for identifying as female or presenting more feminine but yeah i sure can and Actually what a coincidence, would you look at that nonny, i dug this out of the depths of my docs just for you~
enjoy 1.7k of fem regulus (that i wrote for the jegulus microfics a few months back that took a life of its own and i never finished lol)
It had started with a debt.
No, that’s not true– actually, it had started with Professor Slughorn.
He’d sat down on his desk—yes, on, not at, long colorful knitted robes fluttering as he maneuvered himself into a pretzel. He’s a very strange man, that one, Pandora wagers he’s possessed by multiple old spirits, Shakespear and Van Gogh being only two of them—and had tapped a finger against his temple conspiratorially, “I’ve cooked another something up for you guys in here.”
Whenever Slughorn cooks something up in that cauldron of a head of his it’s either brilliant bordering on manic genius or it’s entirely stupid.
The given assignment is to write a song and produce a music video for it. Their final this semester.
Which sounds easy enough, but Slughorn had stressed multiple times that he wanted to be wowed as he’d slurped on his open coconut.
Which means they’re gonna have to put in a shit ton of effort.
“Form groups of five and figure it out,” he’d clapped his hands twice and then slid off the desk and went to leave as students started moving around the room and erupting into hushed discussions.
They’d pretty quickly figured out that Barty and Regulus would come up with the lyrics, they’d done it often enough, sometimes by accident when the brownies Pandora occasionally baked were a whoopsie too strong. Evan had leaned back with a grin and told them not to worry about the soundtrack and Lily and Pandora had already fallen into a tangent about cameras and equipment and location, possible props and friends they could rope into staring.
That’s when Regulus had taken her snake bite piercing between her teeth to smother a mean grin at the idea that popped into her head.
She plops down on her brother’s usual table in the yards, chunky platform heels propped on the bench and long legs on display under her mini skirt. Drives a hand through her wild mane and smiles sweetly, “Hi Jamie.”
As expected, his jaw drops slightly as James’ gaze breaks eye contact and takes on sliding down Regulus’ form where she’s propped herself deliberately right next to his meal.
Another voice at the table pipes up before the object of Regulus’ attention gets the chance to, “What do you want, Reggie?”
Regulus tilts her head, curls falling over her shoulders, eyes not letting off her target, “That’s none of your concern, Sirius.”
James licks his lips, “Hi Reg, how can I be of assistance to you today?”
Regulus leans forward with a smile, noticing the way James’ eyes flit down her low cut shirt for a second, “Remember that one time you’ve dared me to let the whole hockey team drink body shots off me?” Voice honey thick, the Just so you could get a taste goes without saying.
Behind her Sirius chokes on his lunch.
But James’ grin widens and he raises an eyebrow intrigued.
Regulus cards her pale fingers through James’ messy, black hair, makes it just a bit more messy as he looks up at her through his rounded glasses with those baby cow brown eyes of his and the corners of Regulus’ lips tug, “I’ve come to collect my debt.”
Evan produces a banger beat over the course of a single all-nighter that Regulus and Barty write their songtext to, tipsy as fuck on vodka lemon sodas out on Regulus’ small as fuck student housing balcony in the dead of night, moonlight just bright enough to see the pen of what they scrawl down onto the paper of their sketchbooks.
Regulus had left Lily in charge of the planning of availability on the location and the hockey team and Pandora to come up with a range of outfits to choose from for Regulus and the boys.
Evan finishes the song in record time for Regulus to record the vocals to and when it’s mixed and ready Evan’s grin is so bright Barty drives the girls out of the studio to do whatever debauched things to his boyfriend on the couch in there which one, Regulus doesn’t want to worry her pretty little head about too much since it’s her fucking voice– and two, means the song fucking slaps.
Barty also comes up with a slutty and good enough choreo that’ll give the video the dynamic it needs and together the four of them sweat away a few afternoons blending into evenings in front of the mirrors while Lily does whatever magic she does organizing.
Regulus hates that she’s not into girls in times like this.
It takes some time, obviously, you don’t just finish a song overnight and it takes a few weeks until almost everything is ready for the video shoot.
Regulus is sitting curled up on her desk chair while Pandora absolutely just takes her fucking closet apart, Ipad in one of her tiny hands, the Greedy Pinterest board open.
There’s already a pair of trainers and another pair of pointy, glittery heels thrown haphazardly on the end of her bed over the formerly neat sheets as well as a pair of black overknees and a cute lace-y, sage green bra that Regulus didn’t even know she had.
“Here,” Pandora blindly throws something over her shoulder at Regulus. They’re some older, white basketball shorts with black highlights. “Put these with the heels and the green top.”
Regulus does as told, albeit an eye roll that’s nearly painful as Pandora throws some white Nike socks after her. “Those too, babe.”
Another few beats pass where Regulus is bored and Pandora is rummaging and then she says, “Oh. my. gods,” and turns with a shiny faux leather bra hung loosely on her index fingers and a bright smile on her face, “You absolute slut.”
Regulus takes the compliment and gives her a sweet grin and a wink.
Pandora’s eyes take on a milky quality and then she asks, “Can you still do a split?”
Regulus takes a step into the middle of her room and falls into a nearly perfect split without any warm-up.
Pandora rolls her eyes at the showing off, badly containing another smile, “Again, I love you,” and then, a more contemplating expression, “How much do you think you think you can milk James of that debt of yours?”
Regulus scoffs, pointedly looks down at herself where she’s still sitting wide legged and at ease on her bedroom floor.
Pandora’s grin sharpens, “Text him you’re gonna need an old jersey and matching uniform shorts of his.”
And Regulus does just that. And if she sends the demand on Snapchat with a picture of her still in a split that’s none of anyone’s business but hers and Jamie’s.
James, as captain of the hockey team, is courteous enough to let them in with his own keys early in the morning of the shooting day.
They check out the rooms and halls for good spots and start bringing in bags and setting up equipment.
And James is just…helping.
Sticking around the whole fucking day actually.
Xeno and Mary have joined at some point with coffees, donuts and breakfast bagels, bless their fucking souls.
And when everything is as set in place as it can be it’s time for Regulus to change into the first outfit and start filming and James is still just…there.
Hovering with the crew, jostling elbows with Barty and Evan and peaking over Lily’s and Pandora’s shoulders and throwing Regulus glances and toothy smiles from across the room, showing no intention whatsoever to leave and come back later with his fucking team.
——— NSFW
James encourages the jerky movement of Regulus’ hips against his thigh, grip unrelenting on her waist as he leans impossibly closer, dragging his thumb along Regulus’ plump bottom lip, “You’d come like this, wouldn’t you, princess?”
Instead of answering Regulus sucks the thumb into her mouth, laving her tongue around it sloppily and making James breath stutter on the exhale.
“Fuck, good little slut– so desperate for it,” James says as he watches the movement of Regulus’ lips transfixed, continuing to get her off against his leg, “Want me to fuck you, don’t you, baby?”
And Regulus’ mouth drops around the sudden moan as her pace stutters, her eyes pricking with tears of the overwhelming toomuchnotenough and the degradation and sweet pet names and James’ lewd fucking mouth.
He pulls his thumb away and grabs at her ass with both hands, pulling their fronts flush together, two hard lines pressing at each other, “C’mon, princess, words.”
Regulus’ hands ball into fists at the front of James’ soft cotton shirt as she nods hopelessly, brows knit and voice husky, “Want you to fuck me.”
In the next blink James has her turned in his arms, palming at her stiff cock and pulling her ass back into him, his other arm coming around her front. Trailing faintly up her stomach, eliciting goosebumps, then grabbing at her breast and pressing a wet kiss on the side of her neck as a thumb brushes over a hard nipple behind the lace and Regulus groans.
“Be a good girl and stay down for me, yeah?” James rumbles into Regulus’ ear, nuzzling at the curls around her ear and the next moment there are calloused fingertips pressing into the nape of Regulus’ neck and she’s being pushed down against the counter.
James spanks her once across her right ass cheek for good measure it seems, another stay, and Regulus is helpless against the whine that crawls out of her, long hair falling into her eyes when her temple thumps against the marred, red countertop as James sinks to his knees behind her.
The hockey player palms at the swell of her thigh, right under the seam of her ass and kneads, warm humid breath puffing against Regulus’ entrance and she shivers against the exposure of the chilly air, whines something that sounds too close to Jamie and the man does nothing but keep looking and fucking chuckle. Bastard.
And then, “Oh, baby,” a groan and a bite to Regulus’ ass that has her whimpering pathetically, “Prettiest pussy, gonna get you all nice and wet for me.”
Regulus moans, and James hums as he dives in face first, grip strong around her thighs and tongue wet, slowly coaxing the tight ring of muscle open.
#not typically a fan of marauders twt from what i’ve heard but ay just let ppl do with their blorbos as they want#jegulus#jegulus fic#trans regulus#mtf regulus#lune writes
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