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thebearer · 4 months

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the milestone menu: roasted red pepper and tomato soup for sad days

prompt: the death of mikey's anniversary is near. you make a comfort meal for carmen.

contains: mentions of death. angty with a side of fluff (at the end). anxious!carmen (i mean ofc).

INGREDIENTS

3 red bell peppers. 4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, chopped. An onion, chopped. 2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 tsp thyme. 2 tsp paprika. A pinch of sugar. Salt & pepper. Cayenne

1/2 cup Chicken broth. 2 tbsp butter. 1 1/2 tbsp flour.

DIRECTIONS

Cover peppers in oil, broil until black, turn to get all sides. Put them in a paper bag to rest, the skin & seeds should come off easily. Chop. Heat oil on med heat in a large pot, cook garlic & onions until soft. Add tomatoes, peppers, thyme, paprika, and sugar. Cook on med-low, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Stir in 6 cups of chicken stock, salt & pepper. Bring to boil & simmer for 20 mins, until the vegetables are tender. Strain soup. Use a food processor or blender, and blend solids to your desired consistency. In your large pot, melt butter & add flour. Add soup/purée and stir, simmer for a few minutes.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s voice came to you before he did. A heavy sigh, tired and heavy from the day, from the looming anniversary approaching.

Mikey’s death date was creeping closer and closer, the days darker and colder as did Carmen’s demeanor. Longer days at work, distant even when he was home with you. You worried about him, though everyone told you not to.

“He just… he gets like this when it gets closer to the date, you know?” Richie muttered when you’d confided in him at family dinner. “We all get kinda fucked up, but Carm… That’s just how he is, y’know? Just give’im some time.”

Anchovy purred, rubbing against Carmen’s leg. It was almost like he knew. Carmen would swear he did, that he could sense his owner’s upset, that he was trying to make it better. He’s like you, Carmen would say, giving you a half grin that always had you swooning.

Carmen frowned when he didn’t see you lingering about. Not in the doorway smiling at them, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping him in a hug. “Babe?” Carmen called again, looking down the hall. The lights were on in the kitchen, a small clinking of bowls and silverware.

Carmen found you in front of the stove, trying to keep quiet, stirring a pan on the burner gently. “Hey,” He frowned when you jumped, turning around with a wide eyed gaze, like you’d been caught.

“Carm,” You chirped, body shimmying in front of the stove, too close to the flame in a too loose shirt. Carmen fought the urge to tell you to move or tuck your shirt in.

“You’re-You weren’t supposed to be home early.” You turned to the clock blinking on the microwave. “I-I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour.”

“Richie told me to leave.” Carmen frowned, trying to peer around you.

“Why?” You blocked his view with your body, a side step in front of him.

“‘Cause he’s a fuckin’ jaggoff lately. What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffed lightly, grabbing your waist gently, holding you in place so he could see around you. A large pot on the stove, bubbling to life, steam clouding the clear lid that covered it.

“I’m cooking.” You huffed, shoulders deflating lightly. “I-I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned, and I got candles and I was going to change out of this.” You threw your hands down on your sweatshirt- Carmen’s sweatshirt. One from Copenhagen he’d picked up when it was especially cold. You’d stolen in, not that he minded, he liked you better in it anyways.

“Was going to at least try to look a little nice.” You mutter, wiping off a small stain, a glob of tomato that had flung when the processor lid wouldn’t come off earlier.

“You look beautiful, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head at you. “What’re you- Why’re you doin’ all this?” His heart skipped for a moment, looking at the calendar pinned on the fridge. “Did I- We didn’t have plans?” Fuck, he’d been so busy he’d forgotten. Head everywhere but where it needed to be. First he was fuckin’ up dishes left and right at work, and now he couldn’t even remember a fuckin’ date.

“No,” You shook your head, stilling Carmen’s racing mind. “I just… I wanted to do something nice.” You looked up at him, hands grabbing him sweetly, holding them in your own. “For you.”

“For me?” Carmen whispered, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about for me? What-Why would you wanna-”

“Because,” You shrugged lightly, hands swinging between the two of you gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Carmen saw the hesitation on your face, knew what was coming before you said it. He tensed in your hold. “I just… With everything-”

“-Don’t.” Carmen shook his head, the burn in his throat strangling his voice. “You don’t have to, baby.”

“I do.” Your eyes met his, rounding in his gaze. “I want to. I-I don’t really think it will help, but… I don’t know. Whenever I was sad my mom would make this for me.” You nod back towards the pot on the stove. “It always made me feel better.”

Carmen thought he might cry. He willed himself, squeezing your hands, pulling you into his chest to hold you. He just needed to hold you, to feel you, pressing his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent.

All the emotions he’d repressed, swallowed down and tried to power through. Anytime he’d turn the corner, see Mikey’s smiling face on the fall and he’d feel like breaking down. Screaming, crying, punching the walls, pulling his hair out, ears ringing and heart hammering; instead, he’d go to the walk-in to breathe through collapsing lungs.

You felt Carmen’s shaky breath, rattle out of his chest and shake into yours. Your hand rubbed gently against his back, up his spine in a soothing way you hoped would calm him.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, cheeks pressed against his chest. His heart raced in your ear, a pounding thud that made your own heart squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Carm.”

“It’s alright.” Carmen gritted, jaw clenching, willing his tears back. “It’s-it’s just a lot. I don’t even fuckin’ know why. Why-Why I even get like this when-when it’s been so long.”

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, frowning at him lightly.

“No, no it’s true. I- fuck, I shouldn’t be-”

“-Carmen,” You held his gaze firmly. His red rimmed blue eyes met yours, a little wary, vulnerable. You softened, fingers brushing through his hair. “It’s ok.”

The finality in your voice, soft but certain, it made Carmen’s jaw shake, emotions bubbling over. He held you, rocking side by side in the kitchen, cries muffled into your shoulder. You held him back, just as tight, cooing shushes over the hums of the appliances, his tears wet on his sweatshirt- your sweatshirt.

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave a small, teasing smile over your shoulder.

Carmen had settled into his usual seat at the small kitchen table. He’d sheepishly wiped his tears, letting you dote on him sweetly. Kiss his tears away, soft lips pressing to his wet cheeks, his nose, pulling him in so his lips were on yours, arms still tangled around the other.

“It’s not, like, gourmet or anything.” You shook your head, ladling out the hot liquid into a bowl. “It is my Nana’s recipe though.”

“Better than gourmet then?” Carmen’s voice was raspy with dried tears, though he smiled lightly. Bright enough to warm your heart, leave you smiling, plating the grilled cheese.

“She’d love that you said that.” You grin, setting the steaming bowl and sandwich in front of him. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, a hand running down the back of his neck lovingly.

He burned at the simplicity, the sweetness of it all. So loving and affectionate freely, without any strings attached. Mikey would’ve loved you, Carmen was so sure of it.

“This is good.” Carmen nodded, swallowing his spoonful.

“Yeah?” You grinned proudly, positively beaming.

Of course it was good, the best fuckin’ thing he’s ever had. It came from you, so it only made sense it was. Carmen didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, reaching over for your hand, squeezing it across the table. “Yeah. Amazing. Just what I needed.” He swallowed another wave of tears, happier this time. “Thank you for, uh, for doin’ this.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You propped your head in your free hand, a lopsided, lovey smile that warmed Carmen from the inside out. He knew his cheeks were blushing, tingling pink under your affectionate gaze.

“It’s really good.” Carmen took another spoonful, the warmth spilling down his throat, soothing his chest. “Sorry I came home early and didn’t call. I just… I’ve been out of my mind, y’know? I’m sorry about that too, it’s-it’s not fair to you, and-”

“-Carm,” You squeezed his hand lightly, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m glad you like it.” You smile sweetly.

Carmen nodded, leg still shaking under the table. He didn’t let go of your hand, held it in an iron grip like a lifeline and you let him, thumb sweeping over his inked knuckles calmly.

If Mikey could see him now, he’d be howling in laughter, cackling at Carmen at how “whipped” he was. Mercilessly tease him for being “soft” in a way that only a big brother could. But he knew Mikey would be so proud, so fuckin’ happy that Carmen found you- that Carmen had someone like you.

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livingemkayde · 7 months

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en route

joel miller x f!reader (post outbreak) | 3.5k

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f!recieving, light choking, dom!joel, a mild enemies to lovers mixed with sunshine!reader and grumpy!joel miller. no use of y/n. let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a /n: hey guys...heres a little one shot in a followers/blog milestone celebratory fashion (!!!!!!!). this sort of turned into a one shot from the scrapped ideas regarding my new series. its also helping me gear up for taking on the task of beginning to write a new dynamic (i am definitely putting off completing chaser because i have an emotional attachment to that story BUT itll be out sometime this week). i love you all so, so, so much. you have no idea. thank you for everything (can you tell i live for a flashback fic).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize. He takes a step toward you. You take a step back. “You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.” Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you. “Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

You can’t stand him.

You really can’t stand him. Hate is a strong word. Maybe not one you use often. But the disdain you feel for Joel Miller hinges to the breaking point each time you run into him.

What a fucking asshole — you finally willed yourself to believe after weeks of kindness. It was practically seeping from your skin but it seemed to brush off his worn leather winter coat onto the fresh powder. It died there, and so did your hopeless attempts.

“Hi,” you breathed out, that first fateful time. It was a surprisingly clear winter night. He had just moved in. The women were fawning over him, ogling, jaws dropping in the town square. You just observed and tried to keep your face neutral. As neutral as you can be.

But Joel stood in front of you and just grunted in response.

It made you try harder.

“I brought these — made these for you,” you said, extending a pack of sandwiches for him and the girl you happened to see by his side. You figured she was with him. You traded a hell of a lot to get the meat for the sandwiches. But kindness and new neighbors seemed to fare well. At least in your very limited experience.

“What is this?” he questioned. He didn’t take them from your hands. His fingers—big and rough and calloused, picked at the skin of its own. He didn’t take a step outside the threshold. You were suddenly unwelcome. You felt the weight of the sandwiches grow tiresome in your outstretched arm.

“Sandwiches. Thought I’d say hello since you’re new around here,” you smiled, sort of shaking the pack, here — fucking — just take them, jesus.

But he didn’t, and your arm grew tired, and so did your smile.

“‘M good, thanks,” he mumbled in response, and shut the door in your face.

And yes, of course he was handsome. He was — rugged — and you can see the wired muscles stretch the cotton of his shirt on patrol sometimes. In those especially unfortunate circumstances where Tommy has the nerve to pair you two up together.

Handsome, yes. With a hulking bounding step over snow, and menacing shadow when he towers over you. A southern drawl—something so pitch-deep and honey-like, something you’ve never heard before. Not until you met him. And you were nursing a stupid hopeless crush over a guy you hate, but not really. And that drove you insane.

Because he was fucking, rude, yes. Definitely.

But you lost it. That last time you saw him. Because what’s worse was he wasn’t even being Joel Miller, his usually brooding self. He was being — nice? Kind? Funny? Maybe. You weren’t sure. You couldn’t hear much over the piercing ringing in your ears.

“You like this route, Joel?” you said, peering over your shoulder at him on horseback.

You tried to keep it up, the kindness, the fucking — benefit of the doubt bullshit. You really did. He seemed keen on it sometimes more often than not.

“‘S fine,” he replied back in a rumpled, annoyed way.

“You gotta see my favorite part,” you say, almost to yourself, almost forgetting about his dark drawl, only thinking about the meadow half a mile from the checkpoint.

He just snorted at that. You just tried to keep a happy face on.

The songbirds twinkled around in the surrounding trees. The winter snow was receding, making the small dribble of water a full stream. You followed it, straying slightly from the beaten path, earning a couple protesting growls from Joel, but you ignored his pleas, and surprisingly, he just followed you.

You got off your horse. Joel followed suit. You trudged across a little bend of water. He let out a scoff sounding more like a complaint each time he let one echo in the silence of the forest.

“C’mon,” you said, smiling, that time, a real smile. Maybe this would make him smile too.

You reached the crest of the small hill, hiked up your sleeves over your elbows, and bent down to touch the soft petals of the flowers beneath you.

“Look,” you said, sending him a sideways glance behind you. He was still clamoring to the top of the hill.

“Yeah, alright,” he groveled. You ignored him.

Joel joined you at your side, his chest puffing slightly out of your skewed peripheral vision.

“‘S beautiful, isn’t it?” you said to no one in particular. He didn’t respond. You didn’t expect him to.

You bend down, picking a strewn orange flower blossom from the floor. Something broken off with the wind.

“This what you do all day? Pick flowers?” he mumbled.

“Maybe,” you grinned, maybe you were finally getting him to crack, too. “And what do you do all day?”

“Not this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Really?” you said, “Enlighten me. What does Joel Miller do everyday?”

“Joel Miller minds his business,” he replied, snarky, but he smirked.

It made you a little scared, you remember. Maybe you were under some sort of falsehood that made hating Joel Miller easy. So when he actually talks to you, teases, follows you through the meadow, it seems a little intimidating suddenly.

It’s different.

It’s fucking weird.

“Which one’s your — favorite,” he whispered, gesturing out to the field in a vague sort of motion with open palms.

“Lilies,” you replied, tense. You pointed down at a brighter purple lily plant to your right. Joel’s eyes followed your hand.

You wouldn’t dare look at him, but you could feel him moving beside you. He was in front of you suddenly, his indomitable presence made you turn your head and look up at him through the sunlight.

He lifted his hand, in line with your ear. Your head backed away from it instinctually, but you kept a keen gaze on his eyes.

Your brows knit together. So did his. Your mouth parted, almost speaking into the soft mountain air. But he moved his hand again, closer to your face. And you saw a flash of something orange. Like the little flower you picked up. He brushed those big calloused fingertips on your cheek, and slipped the orange flower between hair atop your ear.

You were so confused, you didn’t know what to say. But it was bad. He was risky. You tried not to think of the fact that maybe, if he wasn’t so fucking rude, and you didn’t hate him so much, maybe that small little schoolgirl crush would blossom into something bigger.

Because that’s all it was. A small, fucking stupid crush. He teases you. Pulls at your hair. Shoves you off the monkeybars. You put on a kind face anyways.

And you hate him for that. Decidedly.

“We should go,” you whispered. He dropped his hand. You both rode back in silence.

That put you in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. And when you went to sleep and woke up this morning still in a horrible mood, you know exactly why.

Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this. He can’t make you hate him and then pull the rug out from underneath you. Especially not with something as low as putting a fucking flower behind your ear.

You show up at the patrol meeting in an equally sour mood.

And maybe, yeah, you are being irrational. But at this moment you couldn't care less.

You find the assignment board for next week and see your name card slotted under Joels.

“Perfect,” you huff, already moving quickly out of the building, saving your usual chit chatting for another time. Maybe when you’re less pissed off.

“Hey,” a voice calls after you and you know. You could pick that voice out of a hundred recordings. It pulls you back, and you fight hard to keep moving forward. You’re close to your house already so you continue walking.

He calls your name this time.

You don’t falter in your huffing steps.

“Stop,” he says, grabbing at your arm, pulling you around towards him. When he sees your face, he hesitates. Though the air seems a little humid and sticky, you wrap your arms around yourself. A shield.

“What, Joel?”

“You—left,” he breathes out, looking down to your body slightly. It’s unnerving, him making you squirm.

“Yes. I’m leaving,” you roll your eyes, turning around again, but he locks hard onto your arm and pulls you back to him.

“What’s—” you shake out of his grip, “what’re you doin’?”

“I’m going home,” you say, and then under your breath, “Obviously.”

“What’d you say?” He's a bit defensive now, maybe falling back into old habits. Back when things were so perfectly hostile between you two.

“I’m going home, Joel,” you say, annoyed. “Is that okay with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth parts in confusion. You start walking again, this time, he lets you, falling in time with your steps next to you.

“Are you alright?” he says, almost worried now. Your footsteps fall faster as you see your mailbox sneak into view.

“I thought Joel Miller minded his business,” you grumble under your breath. But loud enough for him to hear. You know it. You reach your porch, stepping onto it. The morning dew springs to life from the vibrations of your rough boot.

“So you’re gonna throw a tantrum?” he growls, following you up, reaching the first step, you, on the top one.

“Real mature,” you say, turning around, hands on hips.

“Right,” he nods and looks down to his feet, “Ignoring people is mature?”

“‘M not!” you say, looking down at him, throwing your hands out at your sides, “You’re right here talking to me!”

“Yeah ‘n I had to chase you down the fuckin’ street,” he extends one arm towards the road.

“No one asked you to,” you bite, the venom sneaking past your lips.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“You wanna play that?” he mumbles. An empty threat at best. You hope.

“No,” you say. Tears are already in your eyes. “No, I don’t wanna — fucking — do this anymore, Joel,” you whisper while unlocking the door and walking inside. It doesn’t shut behind you, not all the way. And you hear his boots follow you in.

“The hell is your problem?” his voice echoes. He follows you in your house, to the skinny hallway which leads to your room.

You spin around, pushing at his chest with a pointed finger.

“You are my fucking problem,” you affirm.

You crane your neck to look up at him. His hair is pushed back, like he just got out of the shower before attending the patrol meeting. His chest puffs in time with your rapid heartbeat.

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t say anything.

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize.

He takes a step toward you. You take a step back.

“You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.”

Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you.

“Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

“You’re —” your breath accidentally catches in your throat. He places his palm on the cold wall next to your head, leaning down closer to you. He’s fucking intoxicating. You’re drunk off his lowbrow and the curls that form at the base of his neck. What you wouldn't give to run your fingers through them right now—

“C’mon,” he chastises. His mouth is so close to yours, you keep switching between his eyes and his lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble.

“Yeah?” you nod. “You already said that, baby.”

Baby.

“Don’t stop,” his lips get closer to yours, “What else?”

“You’re…” you look at his lips. He gets so close that his chest brushes up against yours. “You’re mean…and you’re arrogant.”

You find it in you to put your open palms gently on his chest. You don’t find it in you to push him back. It’s not like you want to push him back though, not when all you need is to bring him closer. His breath punches gently on top of your nose.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he grumbles, you shudder. He snakes his head down to whisper in your ear. His beard brushes the delicate skin on your neck.

“I think,” his lips brush over the spot right under your ear. You breathe so hard you might get light headed. “You’re a pain in my ass,” the hand on the wall catches on your waist. You squirm against his body.

“With your distractions, and your sandwiches, and your little flowers,” he’s so close, he’s almost kissing you. He slots his thigh between yours.

“Shut up,” you say, because that’s all you can say right now. The dark hallway encases him in the shadows. Even when he picks his head back up and looks into your eyes.

“Careful,” he warns.

You stay there, silence filling the air. Your shoulder blades dig into the wall there.

“You need to learn some manners,” he mumbles, shaking his head, looking down at your lips.

“I have manners,” you breathe, admittedly a little shaky, “just not for — fucking —”

“Not for what?” He smirks.

“Not for you,” you push against his chest again. He doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah?” something in his tone makes you fight harder, “You gonna be a bad girl?”

“Shut up,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself. You brace yourself against the wall in a desperate attempt not to whine. He’s making you slip. You silently chastise yourself. What happened to ‘Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this’?

You suppose all rational thought flies out the window when his roughed hands land on you.

“You can be a bad girl,” he said, pushing his fingers under your shirt. They’re surprisingly warm. You fight the urge to groan. Your eyes flicker down to your bodies touching and drag them back to his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to be a good girl, too.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, half under your breath. Joel’s eyes dance with yours, flickering from your lips to your left eye, to your right. Your nose, your eyebrows. Then back down to your parted mouth. You’re fighting a losing battle, you both are. You had no chance of winning it. Not even in the slightest, not at all. And you both know it.

So, fuck.

You kiss him. You learn forward, as much as the space between you will allow, and kiss him. He smells like pinewood, and fresh soap, and something smokey. He almost tastes sweet. His fingers splay across your waist. You feel the tips of them dig in there. You fight the urge to groan when you shift on top of his thigh slotted between your legs.

He hauls you into your bedroom, you sink down on the bed. He takes off his flannel. He’s slow, in his movements, almost like he’s teasing you.

Punishing you.

“Joel,” you say. You hate how you sound so whiny, so desperate. But after all, maybe you are desperate for him.

“Sit back,” is all he says, in that honeyed drawl.

You do.

Joel stands in front of your slightly open legs, playing with the hem of your shirt in his fingers.

Contemplating.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t look at you, just raises your shirt up slightly.

And you know what? You don’t have an explanation for it. But you just say it—

“Yes,” while looking up at him. The salt and pepper on his patchy beard. His hardened brow and quirked lip. His fingers drift from the hem of your shirt up, up, up. Until his thumb grazes your nipple and you moan at the feeling.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb playing at your chin, your bottom lip. Your hands dig into the comforter at his words. Your bottom jaw slowly falls under the weight of his singular thumb.

He pushes in, tugging your mouth open. You suck his finger obediently.

“‘S good—baby,” he whispers so low under his breath you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

You look up at him through your lashes, he pushes you back with his hand in your mouth until you’re laying flat on the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, pulling back his hand. While he shucks off his shirt, you undress frantically.

You snap your legs shut when your panties are finally off. The cold air bites at your ankles.

He nudges them apart until he’s slotted in between your open thighs. Your cunt stares back at him, glistening.

He runs his hands along your frame, kneading at the skin on your thighs. His fingers, big and rough and calloused—but it feels fucking good.

“Fuck—” you puff out, reaching for him, “I—”

He puts his finger up to his lips. Quiet. He says.

You listen.

“Just let me—” he says, drifting off when his fingers brush over your cunt. “Jesus—baby,” he mumbles, running his thumb through your slick. You moan and whine against his hand.

“Joel,” you say again. Pleading.

“I know,” he is all he says before twisting his hand and slipping a thick finger into your cunt. You gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and at the cotton beneath you. His free hand comes up near your neck, resting there. Not really doing anything.

“You’re loud,” he points out, pumping out, adding a second because you’re so wet. You moan, gasp, whimper.

“’N you never fuckin’ listen.” he mumbles, looking at his fingers pumping out of you.

“I do—”

He shuts you up with a strong hand wrapping around your neck. Not enough pressure to really do anything, but enough pressure to cut your words short halfway garbled into an excuse.

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, straining against his boxers, rutting up against your thigh. “Needed someone to tell you what to do?”

You’re close. You moan. He thumbs at your clit. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering into his ear. His hand finds yours, pinning it back to the gray cotton there.

“You needed me, baby?” he drawls.

Just when you’re about to come, he stops. Your eyes widen, he’s breathing heavily, his fingers are statues deep inside you.

“Joel—just, fucking—” you whine. He starts pulling his fingers out, receding away from you. “No—fuck, please, I—please,” you reach for him.

He looks at you. You whimper.

“I—fuck—I needed you,” you whisper. And you think to yourself that it’s true. “I need—you.”

His face goes soft.

“Okay,” Joel breathes, pulling out, but reaching down to take himself out of his boxers. Your legs part silently. “Fuck, angel. Okay.”

He guides himself through your folds, you squirm underneath him. He mumbles something into your ear but you can’t focus on anything besides he dull stretch when he pushes past your walls. He’s stretching you out already, just the tip. But the pain feels surprisingly good.

“God, Joel,” you whine. He goes slow. Excruciatingly slow.

“You—” he eases into you. He groans against your hair. “You’re — fuck.”

“Shit,” you curse out, he slips into you all the way, until his hips are flush with you. “Shit—you feel f-fucking good.”

He stays like that for a bit, letting you mold around him. He pants into your ear. You scratch designs into his back. Memorabilia for when he returns back to his house and gets a good look in the mirror. You grasp at the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re soft. Just like you thought they might’ve been.

He pulls out—almost all the way. And then thrusts back in. You both gasp into each other’s mouths.

“Goddamn — tight, fuck,” he says, finding a pace that elicites the most unintelligible moans from you and sets it. He’s rough—but not too rough. And he’s hitting that spot that inches you further to a pulling blinding light.

“Good, fucking girl—” he moans, he holds himself up above you with a strong hand next to your head. “You’re doin’ so—fuck—so good, pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the pretty girl. Or his praise, or his cock punching deep inside you, so deep that you can feel him in your fucking stomach, but you get closer. Tighter around him. He can feel it too.

“Joel—gonna—ngh—” you whimper. He hikes your leg over his hip, hitting something deeper.

“C’mon, angel,” he groans, “lemme — ah — lemme f-feel you.”

He drags it out of you, your muscles pull taut and your vision pulls white and he keeps going through it all. You moan, whimper, maybe even yell. But he keeps up his relentless pace. You dig your fingers in his back, marking him with little crescents to go with all the rest of them.

“Fuck—fuck,” he pants, his hips stuttering while you clench around him.

He thrusts into you, one, two, three more times, your aftershocks sending towards his release.

He lets out a broken groan spilling into you, rocking his hips with each pulse of his cock. “Shit,” he says, gripping your waist, “You — jesus, fuck.”

Joel collapses down next to you. He cleans you up, too. You both drift off to sleep. He kisses your forehead in between a floating, dreamless slumber.

Somewhere between then and dinner he leaves, mumbling in your ear. You’re too tired to wake up and walk him to the door. And when you wake up, and make your way downstairs you spot it, sitting pretty on your front porch through the glass.

A little makeshift bouquet, with fraying string wrapped around two stems.

Lilies.

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peachypinkygloss · 9 months

Note

Oh em gee hey babes 💖 congrats girly on the 2k!! May I request a min yoongi x reader where he's mean to her and fucks her dumb? (Like bully!yoongi x nice reader?) And she has no idea why he's mean to her. sorry I've just been on a yoongi spiral. I need that August dick tbh 🥴

hey baby!! 😘 thank you so much 💕 love u 💋 x

there's more to him

Yoongi hates you, but he seems to never get enough of your pussy.

pairing: bully!yoongi x fem!reader

genre: (implied) university au, smut

warnings: yoongi's ... really mean lol, is he secretly whipped for her??, degradation, unprotected sex, ruined orgasm, 500 words.

a.n.: i feel like i'm the one being mean to you with this ending lol sorry!!

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! 🤍 (requests are closed!!)

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

Yoongi is so ruthless, he has no pity for you, yet he seems so enthralled by you. So excited to see you, so turned on by your body. His feelings are totally the opposite of what he says, of what he does. It confuses you because you've never had someone who hates you that much, but seems so obsessed with you at the same time.

"Who do you think you are, hm?" He asks, sounding so angry but so aroused, too. "Walking around in that short little skirt of yours," he continues, hips snapping against your ass. "Looking like a fucking slut."

With what he says, you'd think he doesn't like your skirt. But the fact that you're still wearing it, just pulled over your butt so he could have access to your pussy, tells otherwise.

You never know what to think about him. You keep being nice to him no matter what, seeing the good in him because you know he's not just an angry person who lets out their frustration on someone else. You know there's more to him.

"It's almost unbelievable how stupid you are," he insults you, pounding into you like a mad man and maybe he is mad, but not at you.

"Please," you whine, not really sure what you're begging for. Mercy? Kindness? Empathy? Or to finally cum around his cock? Maybe you're asking for all of that.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He questions, but he doesn't give you time to answer. "You can't even say a sentence, you're too dumb for that, aren't you?" His lips are beside your ear, sending shivers all over your skin.

"Let me cum," you manage to moan out, his cock restlessly thrusting in and out of you. Tears form in your eyes at how rough it is, but you have to admit it; you love it.

You love how mean he is to you, how his cock stretches you out, how he pins your hands behind your back, how he kisses you until you can't even breathe.

You just wish he would be honest with you, with himself.

"Is that what you want, mh? Greedy little girl," he groans and obliges, passing his arm around your waist and reaching for your pulsating clit.

You moan when he touches it, rubbing fast circles on it. He doesn't stop his thrusts, he even goes deeper somehow. You feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your high coming really, really close.

But when it reaches you, he stops the movements of his fingers and halts his hips, ripping away your orgasm, ruining it. You whimper, but it sounds broken, sad you didn't get what you wanted, what you asked for.

"You really thought I was going to give it to you?" He snickers, his lips brushing against your ear. He slips out of you, making you gasp, missing how his cock was filling you up so well. "Get down on your knees, I'm not done with you."

#🍑 [drabble game]#requests #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi drabble

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cripplecharacters · 1 year

Text

Writing Intellectually Disabled Characters

[large text: writing intellectually disabled characters]

Something that very rarely comes up in disability media representation are intellectually disabled characters. There is very little positive representation in media in general (and basically none in media meant specifically for adults or in YA). I hope this post can maybe help someone interested in writing disabled characters understand the topic better and create something nice. This is just a collection of thoughts of only one person with mild ID (me) and I don't claim to speak for the whole community as its just my view. This post is meant to explain how some parts of ID work and make people aware of what ID is.

This post is absolutely not meant for self diagnosis (I promise you would realize before seeing a Tumblr post about it. it's a major disorder that gets most people thrown into special education).

Before: What is (and isn't) intellectual disability?

ID is a single, life-long neurodevelopment condition that affects IQ and causes problems with reasoning, problem‑solving, remembering and planning things, abstract thinking and learning. There is often delay or absence of development milestones like walking (and other kinds of movement), language and self care skills (eating, going to the bathroom, washing, getting dressed etc). Different people will struggle with different things to different degrees. I am, for example, still fully unable to do certain movements and had a lot of delay in self-care, but I had significantly less language-related delay than most of people with ID I know. Usually the more severe a person's ID is the more delay they will have.

Intellectual disability is one single condition and it doesn't make sense to call it "intellectual disabilities" (plural) or "an intellectual disability". It would be like saying "they have a Down Syndrome" or "he has autisms". The correct way would be "she has intellectual disability" or "ze is intellectually disabled".

Around 1-3% of people in the world have intellectual disability and most have mild ID (as opposed to moderate, severe, or profound). It can exist on its own without any identifiable condition or it can be a part of syndrome. There is over a thousand (ranging from very common to extremely rare) conditions that can cause ID but some of the most common are;

Down Syndrome,

Fragile X Syndrome,

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,

Autism,

Edwards Syndrome,

DiGeorge Syndrome,

Microcephaly.

Not every condition always causes ID and you can have one of the above conditions without having ID as long as it's not necessary diagnostic criteria to be met. For example around 30% of autistic people have ID, meaning that the rest 70% doesn't. It just means that it's comorbid often enough to be counted as a major cause but still, autistic ≠ intellectually disabled most of the time.

A lot of things that cause intellectual disability also come with facial differences, epilepsy, mobility-related disabilities, sensory disabilities, and limb differences. A lot, but not all, intellectually disabled people go to special education schools.

Intellectual disability isn't the same as brain damage. Brain damage can occur at any point of a person's life while ID always starts in or before childhood.

"Can My Character Be [Blank]?"

[large text: "Can my character be [blank]?"]

The difficulty with writing characters with intellectual disability is that unlike some other things you can give your character, ID will very directly impacts how your character thinks and behaves - you can't make the whole character and then just slap the ID label on them.

Intellectually disabled people are extremely diverse in terms of personality, ability, verbality, mobility... And you need to consider those things early because deciding that your character is nonverbal and unable to use AAC might be an issue if you're already in the middle of writing a dialogue scene.

For broader context, a person with ID might be fully verbal - though they would still probably struggle with grammar, what some words mean, or with general understanding of spoken/written language to some degree. Or they could also be non-verbal. While some non-verbal ID people use AAC, it's not something that works for everyone and some people rely on completely language-less communication only. There is also the middle ground of people who are able to speak, but only in short sentences, or in a way that's not fully understandable to people who don't know them. Some might speak in second or third person.

Depending on the severity of your character's disability they will need help with different tasks. For example, I'm mildly affected and only need help with "complex" tasks like shopping or taxes or appointments, but someone who is profoundly affected will probably need 24/7 care. It's not infantilization to have your character receive the help that they need. Disabled people who get help with bathing or eating aren't "being treated like children", they just have higher support needs than me or you. In the same vein, your character isn't "mentally two years old" or "essentially a toddler", they are a twenty-, or sixteen-, or fourty five-year old who has intellectual disability. Mental age isn't real. Intellectually disabled people can drink, have sex, smoke, swear, and a bunch of other things. A thirty year old disabled person is an adult, not a child!

An important thing is that a person with ID has generally bad understanding of cause-and-effect and might not make connections between things that people without ID just instinctively understand. For example, someone could see that their coat is in a different place than they left it, but wouldn't be able to deduce that then it means that someone else moved it or it wouldn’t even occur to them as a thing that was caused by something. I think every (or at least most) ID person struggles with this to some extent. The more severe someone's disability is the less they will be able to connect usually (for example someone with profound ID might not be able to understand the connection between the light switch and the light turning off and on).

People with mild intellectual disability have the least severe problems in functioning and some are able to live independently, have a job, have kids, stuff like that.

What Tropes Should You Avoid?

[large text: what tropes should you avoid?]

The comic relief/punching bag;

The predator/stalker;

The "you could change this character into a sick dog and there wouldn't be much difference";

...and a lot more but these are the most prevalent in my experience.

Most ID characters are either grossly villainized (more often if they have also physical disabilities or facial differences) or extremely dehumanized or ridiculed, or all of the above. It's rarely actually *mentioned* for a character to be intellectually disabled, but negative "representation" usually is very clear that this who they're attempting to portray. The portrayal of a whole group of people as primarily either violent predators, pitiful tragedies or nothing more than a joke is damaging and you probably shouldn't do that. It's been done too many times already.

When those tropes aren't used the ID character is still usually at the very most a side character to the main (usually abled) character. They don't have hobbies, favorite foods, movies or music they like, love interests, friends or pets of their own and are very lucky if the author bothered to give them a last name. Of course it's not a requirement to have all of these but when there is *no* characterization in majority of disabled characters, it shows. They also usually die in some tragic way, often sacrificing themselves for the main character or just disappear in some off-the-screen circumstances. Either way, they aren't really characters, they're more like cardboard cutouts of what a character should be - the audience has no way to care for them because the author has put no care into making the character interesting or likable at all. Usually their whole and only personality and character trait is that they have intellectual disability and it's often based on what the author thinks ID is without actually doing any research.

What Terms to Use and Not Use

[large text: What Terms to Use and Not Use]

Words like: "intellectually disabled" or "with/have intellectual disability" are terms used by people with ID and generally OK to use from how much I know. I believe more people use the latter (person first language) for themselves but i know people who use both. I use the first more often but I don't mind the second. Some people have strong preference with one over the other and that needs to be respected.

Terms like:

"cursed with intellectual disability"

"mentally [R-slur]"

"moron"

"idiot"

"feeble-minded"

"imbecile"

is considered at least derogatory by most people and I don't recommend using it in your writing. The last 5 terms directly come from outdated medical terminology specifically regarding ID and aren't just "rude", they're ableist and historically connected to eugenics in the most direct way they could be. To me personally they're highly offensive and I wouldn't want to read something that referred to its character with ID with those terms.

(Note: there are, in real life, people with ID that refer to themselves with the above... but this is still just a writing guide. Unless you belong to the group i just mentioned I would advise against writing that, especially if this post is your entire research so far.)

Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Intellectual Disability

[large text: Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Intellectual Disability]

[format borrowed from WWC]

I want to see more characters with intellectual disability that...

aren’t only white boys.

are LGBT+.

are adults.

are allowed to be angry without being demonized, and sad without being infantilized.

are not described as "mentally X years old".

are respected by others.

aren't "secretly smart" or “emotionally smart”.

are able to live independently with some help.

aren't able to live independently at all and aren't mocked for that.

are in romantic relationships or have crushes (interabled... or not!).

are non-verbal or semi-verbal.

use mobility aids and/or AAC.

have hobbies they enjoy.

have caregivers.

have disabilities related to their ID.

have disabilities completely unrelated to their ID.

have friends and family who like and support them.

go on cool adventures.

are in different genres: fantasy, romComs, action, slice of life... all of them.

have their own storylines.

aren't treated as disposable.

don't die or disappear at the first possible opportunity.

...and I want to see stories that have multiple intellectually disabled characters.

I hope that this list will give someone inspiration to go and make their first OC with intellectual disability ! This is just a basic overview to motivate writers to do their own research rather than a “all-knowing post explaining everything regarding ID”. I definitely don't know everything especially about the parts of ID that I just don't experience (or not as much as others). This is only meant to be an introduction for people who don't really know what ID is or where to even start.

Talk to people with intellectual disability (you can send ask here but there are also a lot of other people on Tumblr who have ID and I know at least some have previously answered asks as well if you want someone else's opinion!), watch/read interviews with people who have ID (to start - link1, link2, both have captions) and try to rethink what you think about intellectual disability. Because it's really not that rare like a lot of people seem to think. Please listen to us when we speak.

Good luck writing and thank you for reading :-) (smile emoji)

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #writing intellectually disabled characters #neurodivergency #terminology #long post #writing advice #writing disabled characters #writeblr #writing reference #writing disability #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #intellectual disability representation

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kikiyoomis · 7 months

Text

you've accepted the fact that sakusa does not enjoy physical affection. early on in your relationship you did try to initialize some small forms of physical affection but you were always met with the expression of repulse and so you quickly gave it up. so now, almost a year into your relationship there has been little to no physical affection between you and sakusa.

"so you haven't even had your first kiss even though you've been dating someone for almost a year?" your friend says, baffled at the thought of it.

"f/n nevermind their first kiss they haven't hugged or even held hands," your other friend pipes in.

"wow, y/n you're really a virgin in all aspects."

"guys it's really not that bad. he's a nice guy and physical affection isn't everything," you say sheepishly but you can't help but agree with them to some extent.

you too, aren't someone that needs physical affection as a form of love but you do enjoy it. and a little ashamed to admit it, but you do get touch starved sometimes.

there are many nights where you wished that sakusa would just hug and hold you to comfort you on your rough nights or give you a kiss in appreciation. even though he's willing to call and listen to you rant, sometimes all you want is just a hug from him as a form of comfort.

so your solution to this, was to by plushies as his hug replacement.

the first time he came over to your place roughly seven months into your relationship, he was shocked at the amount of plushies you acquired. you remember coming up with excuses about how they were so cute you couldn't help yourself but you were too embarrassed to tell him the real reason.

"i'm so happy that you're available today for a date," smile happily as you take a bite out of the homecooked meal sakusa made for your anniversary.

"i took the day off," sakusa says, taking off his apron before taking a seat across from you. you look up in surprise but you're greeted with sakusa's soft smile. "does it taste good?"

"yes it tastes amazing but why did you take the day off? the tournament is starting soon," you say. sakusa rarely took days off especially when tournaments are around the corner. you were sure that when he said that he was available today that meant that the entire team was given the day off.

"because you're important too. i wanted to celebrate this milestone with you." you face flushes red at his statement so you busy yourself with the food to hide your embarrassment.

"...thank you for taking the day off then," you say quietly, heart fluttering just like when you had a crush on him.

"y/n, there's something i want to talk to you about."

and just like that, your heart instantly drops to your stomach. what could he want to talk about? he literally made your heart flutter just a moment ago but now he makes it feel like it weighs a thousand tons all of a sudden?

"w-what do you want to talk to me about?" you stutter out, nervousness evident in your voice.

"it's nothing to worry about but..."

"but?"

"i've been thinking for a while that uh..." sakusa's face suddenly starts to turn red. so much so that the tips of his ears are also turning red. from the sweet and confident air that he had just a moment ago suddenly turned nervous and bashful.

"... thinking that... you..." he mumbles out.

"pardon?" you ask, not quite hearing what he said.

"i said, that i've been thinking about how i wanted our relationship to be more... "

"kiyoomi i literally cannot hear what you're saying," you say, suddenly wondering what he wants with you.

he rests his chin in one of his palms and he turns away from you so that all you can see is the back of his head and his bright red ears.

"i want a more physical relationship with you. i want to hug and kiss you y/n"

your eyes widen in shock. was this the same guy that displayed an expression of disgust whenever someone's hands accidently touches him? who is this and where did your boyfriend go?

"but i thought that you..." you trail off, not believing your ears.

"i wanted to for a while actually, but i thought you didn't like it so i held off on it. there were times where all i could think about was how nice it would've been if i wasn't a coward to just give you hugs and kisses like a normal boyfriend would," sakusa says sheepishly.

this was a new sakusa that you've never seen. in fact you don't think anyone has ever seen sakusa like this.

you quickly get up from your chair and walk around the table to sakusa's seat and without any hesitation you throw your arms around him.

"kiyoomi you're actually so stupid!" you laugh as sakusa jolts in surprise at your sudden back hug. but he quickly relaxes into your touch and turns so that he wrap an arm around your waist.

"yea, yea i'm stupid," he smiles before quickly planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. "happy one year my love, no need to hug those plushies when you have me" he whispers before hiding his bright red face into the crook of your neck.

#haikyu #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #msby sakusa

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teaboot · 13 days

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Hi! (just a personal ask. Sorry if it's not okay to ask for advice out of nowhere but I wanted to see an outer perspective and didn't wanna ask my friends. No pressure to answer of course but I would love to hear your thoughts!)

Is it normal for me to feel overwhelmed about something I want? I am just starting med school and it's a lot but I am fighting. And in my culture, parents buy their daughters their like things?? (like towels and bed sheets and a fridge. Anything they can buy except the apartment basically) for marriage from a young age. But my mom just started recently. And when she first bought me something. The idea of getting married & being a doctor (both things I want) felt like too much I teared up. My mom said I was being spoilers I guess?? Like I was ruining a good moment? Of course it is not that serious since I wasn't outright crying, and I just laughed afterwards as I felt silly lol ,but It got me thinking if I was being that dramatic.

This honestly felt like the moment in the movie where the mom hugs her daughter and says something like "oh how much you've grown" . Her retort felt like it was out of the script.

If you find time to answer, please be extremely blunt. Because I know for a fact I have a tendency to exaggerate things.

You are not overreacting. You are not exagerrating things. And I'm going to tell you this, because I experience this, the tendency to downplay your own feelings and recollections of events very often comes from having other people do it to you first. People tell you your feelings are wrong, or stupid, or irrational, and you learn to listen to them instead of yourself.

It makes complete sense that coming up on a major cultural milestone would make you feel excited, or scared, or overwhelmed. It sounds like you came upon the first step of a very big change and the reality of it all hit you at once, which sounds completely normal and expected!

Fuck, *I* used to get that about moving houses, and YOU'RE expecting shit like marriage? Holy fuck! I'd be a complete mess! The fact that you're level-headed enough to ask questions and process your feelings and talk things through is impressive, because I think I'd be losing my mind.

Personal story, but when I turned 17, my mom asked me if I wanted to go to a restaurant to celebrate. When I told her that it sounded nice, but I'd rather have dinner at home with the family, she told me I was a selfish narcissist, and that I was so busy thinking of myself that I didn't consider that other people might have been excited to go out.

At the time, I thought she'd been harsh but ultimately correct.

Now, I see that she had decided what kind of perfect evening she had wanted, and had expected me to play the part in the movie she had written herself. It had never been about what I wanted at all- it had been about her personal desires and expectations.

And it's normal to feel frustrated about things that don't go the way we want or expect, but lashing out at others is not an appropriate way to handle those emotions.

The way we feel cannot be controlled like a machine. The way we feel is usually not a problem. The problem is what we do, and the choices we make based on those feelings.

Children throw tantrums and sat mean things because they haven't learned better yet. They don't have the practice or experience. Adults like your mother and mine should have that on lock, but often don't, especially if culture or tradition or social expectations tell them their actions are justified.

If I had to take take guess, I'd say it sounds like your mom gave you this gift with an idea in mind of how she wanted you to react. She probably wanted you to be grateful and praising and sweet, so she could fulfill the role she envisioned for herself, and when you deviated from that picture, she was disappointed. From that perspective, it would seem that she felt slighted, and that she was owed your gratitude, and you were at fault for withholding it.

This perspective makes sense, in an emotionally immature sort of way, but would completely overlook your feelings, which are just as important.

Your exact situation is not one I've been in before, but if I'm correct in my assumptions (which I may not be) then I'd suggest keeping an eye out for other instances of your perspective and feelings being minimized.

Are you often told you are behaving irrationally? That you're over-emotional? That you're self-centered or greedy or entitled? Are you told that you don't remember things or do things as you're told? That you see problems where there aren't any? That you male trouble where there is none? That certain conversations aren't worth having, or that "you're always like this"?

It sounds like you know that something is off. I'd encourage you to keep asking questions and follow your instincts. At the end of the day, your life is your own, no matter where it came from.

#Teaboot advice #Good luck

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doumadono · 29 days

Note

Hello, hello, I'm so so happy for you ❤️ And I'm glad I'm able to celebrate your milestone with you 🎊

As for the request, I want a cone with a little scoop of mint-vanilla ice creams topped with maple syrup! I want to ask for a coffee shop quirkless au with Bakugo

A/N: thank you so much, sweetie! Your support means everything ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

Every time you walk into the coffee shop where Bakugo works, he feels a rush of excitement. Your presence brightens his day, and he can't help but smile when he sees you.

He'd always notice you from afar, your gentle demeanor standing out amidst the hustle and bustle of the café. As you approached the counter, he'd feel a strange flutter in his chest, something he couldn't quite explain.

You always order the same thing: a large cappuccino and a carrot pie. Bakugo has memorized it by heart.

You have a habit of sitting in the same corner of the café, studying while enjoying your coffee and pie. As you settle down with your books and papers, Bakugo can't help but steal glances at you while he works behind the counter. Your dedication to your studies impresses him, and he secretly admires your focus.

Your voice, when you place your order, is like a soothing melody to Bakugo's ears. It cuts through the noise of the bustling coffee shop and calms the storm raging inside him. He finds himself looking forward to those brief exchanges more than he cares to admit.

Sometimes, when the shop isn't too busy, you engage in small talk with Bakugo as he prepares your order. It's nothing more than idle chitchat, but to Bakugo, it's a precious moment of connection amidst the chaos of his daily routine.

Despite being just a customer, you have a special place in Bakugo's heart. He cherishes the little interactions you have when you place your order, relishing the chance to exchange small talk with you.

On one particularly hectic day, as Bakugo prepares your usual order, he catches himself stealing more glances than usual. The sight of you engrossed in your studies, a faint furrow between your brows, stirs something within him.

"Here's your cappuccino and carrot pie," Bakugo says, his tone softer than usual as he hands you your order.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a smile. "Thank you. You always make the best cappuccinos."

His heart skips a beat at the sound of his name on your lips. "Yeah, well, it's my specialty," he replies, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth spreading through his chest. He's puzzled. What's going on with him?!

Later that day, as you're about to leave, Bakugo gathers his courage and stops you. Summoning every last ounce of courage, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath, approaching you. "Hey, before you go, I was wondering if I could ask you something," he begins, his heart pounding in his chest.

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity shining in your eyes. "Of course," you reply, your smile encouraging him to continue.

Bakugo takes a moment to gather his thoughts, then blurts out the words that have been on his mind for weeks. "May I have your name?"

You turn to him with a smile, and your eyes sparkle with warmth. "It's Y/N," you reply sweetly, offering him a smile. "And yours?"

"It's Katsuki," he tells you with a little smile dancing in the corners of his mouth. "You have a very pretty name. It's nice to finally know who I'm making all these cappuccinos for," he jokes, a genuine smile gracing his slightly chapped lips.

You chuckle softly, slowly packing your things.

"Well, Y/N, would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?" He asks before reining in his boldness.

You pause packing your books into your bag and gaze at his face for a moment, staying quiet.

Bakugo feels his cheeks flush beet red and his heart race. Why is he acting like this around you?!

Finally, you nod, smirking slightly. "Do you like manga?" you ask instead, catching him off guard.

Bakugo nods. "Yeah, I do, especially something with some decent action."

"So I'd love to chat about the new "Chainsaw man" issue over a cup of cappuccino," you reply, grinning. "How about tomorrow after your shift? What time do you finish?"

He tells you when he finishes his shift, and you bid farewell to him before leaving the cafe.

Bakugo can hardly believe his luck. Not only does he finally know your name, but he also has the opportunity to see you again tomorrow, and on a private level this time! He realizes that he wouldn't have it any other way.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugo headcanons #bakugou headcanons #bakugo angst #mha headcanons #barista bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x y/n

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peachdues · 8 months

Note

Heyy, so I was wondering if you could do the "I'm gonna fuck all memory of him out of your head" nsfw for Sanemi? ty and have a great day lovely 🥰

ONLY YOU

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA (NSFW)

PEACH'S 2.K MILESTONE EVENT

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • FWB (maybe toxic?? Idk) • titty slapping • slightly mean Sanemi • creampies • mentions of toxic cheating ex-bf • getting folded in half like a lawn chair • I think I blacked out while writing this • not proofread in the slightest

“I told you when we started this not to expect anything from me,” you were surprised at the way your voice remained calm and steady, even though internally, you felt anything but. “You’ve no right to get jealous over me going to see him.”

Him being your ex-boyfriend, whose apartment you’d just left after spending the night. You knew it was a mistake; you’d known it the second you let the asshole lay you down on his couch and felt the hard press of his cock against your upper thigh as he kissed you with those lips that were so warm and familiar.

Your intentions had been pure when you’d gone over there to collect the last few of your belongings that neither of you had realized he’d still had until a good three months after your breakup. But then he’d offered you a glass of wine, and the two of you sat on his soft, plush sofa — the sofa that used to be yours, just like that apartment; just like him — and got to reminiscing about old times. And then he’d looked at you with those eyes, so sad and so full of regret at the way he’d thrown a three-year long relationship out the window like garbage for the sake of some one-night stand on a work trip with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember, and you’d caved.

Because really, it felt nice to pretend like nothing had changed, and that he would rock your world and then order Chinese food so the two of you could cuddle and watch some dumb movie while you ate; just like old times.

But everything had changed, and that apparently included your post-sex ritual of takeout and TV, because the moment he’d finished spurting his pleasure onto the curve of your ass, he’d tossed you your discarded shirt and said he’d see you around.

You tried to pretend like the fact he’d used you for a quick fuck hadn’t stung, but you’d walked out of your old apartment still feeling a little bruised.

But you sure as fuck weren’t about to let the quietly fuming, white haired, abrasive, jackass standing in your new living room make you feel worse than you already did; no chance in hell.

Said jackass was really your long-time friend, Sanemi, who, for the past three months, had been at your disposal as you sought to satisfy your urge to be fucked absolutely senseless on a regular basis. The two of you had been friends since college, and had spent the better part of your adulthood ignoring the sexual tension which mounted between you the more time you spent together, huddled away in the dingy corners of your university’s library to study, or late night dining hall runs when neither of you could sleep.

You’d kept in touch for a time, even after you started dating your ex, but admittedly, you hadn’t been the most exemplary friend to the hothead with the heart of gold.

But then, you’d found yourself single and alone in a brand new apartment with nothing but a pile of moving boxes full of memories youndidnt want to revisit and a mattress on the floor. So instead of unpacking, you choose to reach for your phone to shoot a text to your old college friend.

Sanemi agreed to meet up for coffee within minutes of you messaging him. Within a matter of hours, you found yourself back at your new home, face pressed down into your mattress and your ass in the air as you let yourself forget that there was a world beyond the feeling of Sanemi’s cock ramming into your desperate, sopping core.

Only after you’d been thoroughly filled by his cock and cum were you able to form a coherent thought, and so, you’d propositioned him with an offer for a friends with benefits situation — on the sole condition that no one caught feelings.

Sanemi hadn’t hesitated in agreeing, sealing the deal with a rough yet intoxicating kiss as he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders and took you again until you passed out from exhaustion.

Things had been running smoothly, with both of you holding up your end of the bargain — until a few weeks ago, when you’d casually mentioned that you were texting your ex again and Sanemi’s mood had soured considerably.

Not that his apparent jealousy had tempered him when it came time to reduce you to a sobbing, trembling mess beneath him — if anything, he seemed more committed to blowing your mind and back each time the two of you met up.

But you’d blown him off in favor of going to your ex’s only to end up leaving feeling emptier than ever. Only now, you somehow felt lower because beneath the judgmental irritation in his pretty, lavender eyes, Sanemi looked hurt.

“I don’t,” he said tightly, his arms folded tightly across his chest, those mouthwatering biceps rippling slightly. “I just don’t like getting ghosted without so much as a courtesy text.”

You winced, realizing that, in your haste to see your ex, you’d indeed forgotten to tell Sanemi not to bother stopping by. But you were feeling vulnerable and truthfully, you just wanted him to stop looking at you like a kicked puppy. Because, though it pained you to admit it, it broke your heart a little.

Perhaps Sanemi wasn’t the only one who was catching feelings.

But you weren’t about to admit any of that, and so you only mirrored his stance, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out, cocking your head at him. “Oh yeah? Then you won’t mind if your services aren’t needed tonight?” Guilt settled heavy in your gut like a stone as Sanemi deflated slightly at your jab.

That guilt wasn’t enough for you to resist taunting him a bit. “Because I’ve had all about I can handle for the day,”

Sanemi took the bait.

“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed, his eyes running sensually over you as you stood there, defiantly glaring at him. “‘Cuz you’re not satisfied until you’re damn near passed out,”

He sauntered over to you until the heat rippling off his body threatened to burn you, too. A jolt of electricity shot down your spine as he leaned in close, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispered, “And babydoll, you’re still standing.”

Without warning, Sanemi’s arm shot out and wound around your waist, hauling you flush against him, your noses nearly bumping together. Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle caress of his warm breath against your lips, awaiting one of his needy, bruising kisses of which you often found yourself daydreaming about.

But a kiss did not come; rather, Sanemi only spoke a promise that sent chills rippling over your skin and unleashed a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m going to fuck all memory of him right outta your pretty little head.”

Unsurprisingly, Sanemi made good on his word; for not twenty minutes later, you found yourself draped over the back of your sofa, the silvery-blonde fucking you so deeply, you weren’t sure you even remembered your own name, even if you somehow still knew his.

The edge of your couch dug uncomfortably into the small of your back, and idly you wondered whether the force with which Sanemi was pounding into you would cause your spine to snap clean in half. If it did, you probably wouldn’t care; not when Sanemi had one of your legs lay flush against his torso, and the other wrapped tightly around his hips to desperately clinging on for dear life as his cock bullied in and out of your dripping cunt.

A warm, calloused hand teasingly traced up your stomach until it came to your breast, squeezing harshly as Sanemi savored how it jiggled beneath his palm with every bruising thrust of his hips against yours. Your eyes rolled back as Sanemi slapped the plush mound lightly around your nipple, a breathy moan falling from your lips as your walls clenched tighter around him.

“Fuck baby, you like that?” Sanemi’s gravelly voice called you back down to earth as his hand repeated the action on your other tit, a whine tearing from your throat. He chuckled at the way your cunt grew sloppier with every repeated smack against your chest. “Naughty girl.”

Sanemi’s lips latched around your stiffened nipple as his hand rose to pinch and roll the other between his fingers, the pace of his hips never faltering. “Tell me — fuck — sweetheart,” he ground out against your skin. “Did he make your pussy this fucking sloppy?”

As though to emphasize his point, Sanemi swiveled his hips harshly against yours, repeating the move over and over until your living room was filled with nothing but the sounds of your whimpers and the lewd squelching of your cunt.

“N-no,” you managed to stammer out, fingers digging harshly into his hair as Sanemi’s mouth sloppily danced to the valley between your breasts. He seemed please with this answer, as his other hand worked between your sweat-slicked bodies to work furiously at your clit.

“That’s right,” he growled. Sanemi pulled off you in favor of standing up, his cock reaching a spot even deeper within you as his thrusts grew sloppy. His grunts began to be tempered by a slight whine as he drew closer and closer to his climax, his thumb rubbing steady circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs.

With a slight graze of his nail against your clit, you came apart around him with a scream, back arching impossibly higher as you howled his name. Sanemi rode you through the waves of your pleasure, the heavy smack of his balls against the underside of your ass guiding you back down to reality as you realized you still weren’t satisfied — you wouldn’t be, not until you felt him spill inside you only for him to fuck his seed right back into you.

“Sanemi,” you whined, your hands grabbing blindly for him, desperate to bring him closer.

Sanemi chuckled under his breath. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you.”

His hands were surprisingly gentle as it lowered the leg you had hooked over his shoulder and unlatched the other from around his waist. He tugged you forward slightly over the edge of the couch, bending your legs at the knees and pressing them back against your sides.

He was buried deep within you now, the new angle allowing the blunt tip of his cock to press against that one spot that made your toes curl, again and again. As your whimpers devolved into cries of overstimulated pleasure, Sanemi leaned down close to your face, his lips teasingly grazing yours as his pace quickened.

“And did you let him cum in your sweet little pussy, baby?” The look in his eyes almost would have been cruel, but it was undercut by the faintest trace of insecurity. “Do I have to fuck that out of you, too?”

But you were so lost in the post-orgasm haze that you did not answer; at least, not until Sanemi slowed the relentless pistoning of his cock into your spent cunt, and the resulting friction became intolerable.

“I asked you a question, princess.” Sanemi said mockingly, ducking his head to graze your throat with his lips, before giving a mighty thrust of his hips, as you cried out. “Answer me. Did he cum in you?”

“N-no!” Your answer was choked off with a hitched gasp as Sanemi resumed his previous pace, intent on reaching his end and giving you what you both wanted — your cunt, stuffed to the brim with him.

“Only you, Sanemi,” you blubbered, tears of pleasure and pain gathering in your eyes as your arms tightened around his shoulders, clinging onto him like he was salvation’s incarnate. “Only you get to cum in this pussy!”

Sanemi’s groans turned to low growls as his hips snapped against yours, the coil in his gut tightening as you continued to babble, only you only you only you only -

#🍑’s 2k milestone event #demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #hashira au #hashira fic #kny fic #demon slayer fic

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wisteria-blooms · 9 months

Text

*NSFW* strawberry wonderland (ii) (bill weasley & reader)

*MINORS DNI!*

PAIRING: Bill Weasley/You SUMMARY: Unbeknownst to you, you have more of an effect on Bill than you could ever imagine. And he can't stop thinking about all the things he wants to do to you in Nice. WARNINGS: sex, fingering, oral, masturbation, unprotected sex

A/N: To get me out of a writer's block, I present you this. I've only read it over it once so I'll fix any mistakes as I go. I hope this doesn't ruin long hair & tattoos for you... it doesn't need to be part of the original series if you don't want it to be. It's set after Bill and Reader arrive in Nice.

STRAWBERRY WONDERLAND (II)

Strawberries.

That’s what you smelt like to Bill Weasley. And very much overwhelmingly so as you nestled into his arm, preparing to disembark the ship that had just docked the nauseatingly rocky French shores. He attributed it to all the fresh strawberries you crushed up at the bar.

“What kind of liquor do you reckon goes well with this?” you asked, holding up the bleeding purée to his face.

‘Anything that would get you to kiss me,’ a voice in his head willed him to say. He swatted that thought away and instead replied, “Rum.” All his family recipes and all his female cousins’ favourite girlish drinks came to mind.

“Hm.” You turned away from him and perused the shelf for the highest of top-shelf rum. “And what else?”

“Maybe some simple syrup, a dash of lime and—,”

You slammed a bottle of rum on the table and twisted it open. Bill closed his mouth and let you speak. “Keep rambling and one might think you’re an expert at cocktails or something of that sort.”

“You asked me!” Bill said in defense, a chuckle erupting from his lips. A lush haze was concentrating in your eyes from the wine you’d inhaled the moment you boarded the ship. Bill figured his taller and heavier figure was better in diffusing the alcohol than your smaller one.

“Whatever,”—you slid the cup of strawberry puree towards him—“let’s just drink.”

And now the scent of fresh strawberries, lime, and wine lingered on your person, stuck to it like summer honey. It was the most heavenly of scents. He imagined it would be most concentrated on your lips and tongue, and he would risk everything—a lot—to test that hypothesis. And what if that old saying were true? ‘You are what you eat.’

Would you taste like strawberries elsewhere, dare he dream, on another pair of lips?

“Do you think we had too much?” you asked him, snapping him out of his dirty reverie where he was in between your legs. “I might be sick.”

“I’m sure the sea made it worse,” he reassured you, letting you grip him tightly. He looked back at the relentless waves. Merlin, if you kept touching and squeezing his arm, he wasn’t going to make it until after you left. “And you best recover before your dinner tonight.”

“Right—ooh.” You drew the last vowel, lips rounding, which sent a chill up Bill’s spine.

Then when you let out a deep sigh into the crook of his arm, he found himself at war with himself. He looked down at your eyelashes, fluttering down to cover your eyes and traced your pouty pink lips. You were the sweetest, most innocent thing at twenty-three years old. And he didn’t realize how much desire had stirred up inside him in the past few months that he now really wanted to kiss you—Oh, what was he sugarcoating his own private thoughts for? He wanted nothing more than to fuck you.

He just wanted to know what your innocence would feel on him and his experience. But he couldn’t. He was much too old, much too tainted compared to the likes of you. What he wanted was above any voice of reason.

Fuck it, he was tempted by the thought of ruining you.

Bill Weasley had to wonder how he got himself in this tricky predicament as he settled into a bed miles away from home. With age came maturity and emotional growth, right? At thirty-one, he had years to leap over and meet his milestones. Clearly, he missed a couple landmarks because he felt as if he was trapped in the body of a fourteen-old boy who’d discovered pornography à la Wicked Witches Weekly for the first time.

Everything in his mind was just wrong, wrong, wrong.

After the whole debacle with you walking in on him mid-shower complaining that your own room had flooded and him checking that it really had, you’d insisted on taking the couch in his own room. He pulled off his shirt and shut the lamp off. Then, he laid on his left side and tried to make out your figure on the couch.

He shouldn’t be thinking about having sex with you as you were peacefully asleep a few metres from him. He was supposed to be the epitome of your older, more mature (pretend) boyfriend who could will away an inopportune erection at any time. But what was consuming his mind right now was, well, the fictitious scenario where you did agree to share a bed with him tonight. There wouldn’t be a cold and empty space beside him. You’d be right up against him, unknowingly grinding up against his aching nether region as you combed through a bad dream, and teased out his erection further as a result. The fantasy echoed in his mind again and again until sleep finally caught up with him.

“Ngh, Bill,” you whined, your voice thick with sleep.

You nestled into the cove of pillows, trying to chase away your bad dream. Your body followed suit. Your ass was turned towards him, giving him full permission and the ability to grind against you. He meant to be gentle, but his thrusts—like his breathing—were growing more rapid and frantic.

His hands weaved their way past your loose cotton top and landed atop your naked breasts. He was grateful that your shirt was cut so loose and short. His hands latched onto your breasts tightly, mainly out of lust and secondarily to find an anchor for his writing body. His calloused fingers began their usual routine of teasing your nipples. He pinched them occasionally as he continued to rub his stiff cock on your behind. You were responsive, both in the soft moans that left your lips only to be subdued by the pillows, and the wetness collecting in your cunt.

Your panties were fucking soaked. Bill could detail your folds through the slickness, and feel your spilling entrance through the thin fabric. And that thin fabric was the only thing preventing him from thrusting his full length into you. You writhed harshly when he pinched your left nipple again. The nub was standing at full attention for him.

“What do you think?” asked Bill, voice husky as he asked in your ear. “Can you take my cock or will I have to stretch that tight pussy out?”

You responded with nothing more than shaky breath. You grinded against him, trying to shove your panties aside. “....want… your big cock inside me, Bill.”

That was all the confirmation he needed.

One of his hands hastily left your breasts in pursuit of your panties. He shoved one side to join the other which gave him freedom to trail the head of cock against your cunt. How much better you felt without a fabric barrier was indescribable. The precum leaking from the tip of his cock met your own wetness. He felt like he was being enveloped in silk. And your opening swelled as if inviting him in, begging him to fill you up with his endless cum and impregnate you.

He dove two fingers straight into you, just to really confirm you were ready. He immediately began curling his fingers inside you, feeling the engorged, sensitive area inside that drove you wild.

“Your cock, Bill,” you whined.

His hand was drenched when he pulled his fingers out. Immediately, he replaced the emptiness with his cock. With one thrust, he entered you. You let out a sharp gasp. He knew his size was hard to take, and it always took you a minute or two to adjust to him. But he knew how much you wanted him to ruin you, begging him to fill you up to the hilt. And he could only oblige in those moments, watching as your eyes rolled back every time your orgasm washed over you.

“Please,” you begged through gasps. “I need… need all of you inside me.”

Bill flipped you over so your face was pressed against the pillows. His hands spread your ass cheeks apart. He could see the tight ring of muscle that was clenched around his thick cock. He was really stretching you out. And as much as it hurt him to do, he pulled out.

“No,” you whined, your hand flying back to find and guide him back into you.

“Patience,” he commanded.

He ran the tip of his cock up and down your folds, gathering enough lubrication to meet your increasing demands. And when he felt it was sufficient, he slid himself back into you, pushing past the drier spot that was cutting him off halfway.

“Yes, that’s it, ah—,” you moaned, meeting him halfway for the last couple inches. Your ass raised in the air, desperate for more of him. You held yourself up with your elbows, using them to anchor yourself as you pushed back on him. You worked through the part of him that was thicker than the rest. It was always tricky, but how fast you got there depended on how horny you were, and tonight, you were insatiable.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling himself being enveloped by more of your sweet cunt. You were so helpless and needy for him. When he looked down again, he realized he was completely sheathed inside you. He began thrusting, the first couple of seconds working at a steady pace. He earned a few moans. Then, he pulled himself all the way out only to fill you completely again.

“Bill!” you screamed. Your legs trembled as you clenched around him. He did it again, and again, so hard and fast, aching to hear those delicious screams. Wetness dribbled down your thighs and onto the sheets as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“Stop, Bill, I’m going to cum—”

Bill woke up with a jolt. His chest heaved up and down and his breathing was significantly laboured. When he grew accustomed to where he was—the Malfoy summer house in Nice—he looked over to you. You were buried under your covers, blissfully unaware of the lewd positions he held you in in his dreams. He hoped you didn’t hear his breathing, or that he hadn’t said anything weird in his sleep.

He felt a severe ache between his legs. He had feeling this was the most intense erection he’d had in ages. He already knew he was intensely red and swollen.

Maybe he needed to have sex with someone, anything that wasn’t his own damn hand, but he wasn’t fond of an anonymous hookup.

Curiously, he reached past the waistband of his briefs, looking for some sense of relief. He was pulsating hard and it was barely what, seven in the morning? He gave himself a stroke, gripping hard at the base and letting go near his wet tip. He suppressed a moan. An image of you, edging him with your tongue, came to mind.

No, he couldn’t do this with you in the room. It would be most improper and he had to hold himself to a higher standard. Instead, he grabbed a newspaper on his nightstand. It was two days out-of-date, but he figured he should get up to speed with what was going on in Egypt. He was certain that reading about excavations and pyramids and uprisings would take his mind off things.

Not more than a few minutes later, he heard some ruffling and kicking about on the couch.

“Morning,” Bill greeted.

“Good morning,” you said, rubbing your eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Very well,” he responded. A fucking bold-faced lie. “You?”

“I slept well, too.”

You were all bed-headed, doe-eyed innocence in the white sheets and he was corrupt was hell.

You got on your feet and pushed open the curtains, letting the sun fully stream in. Bill gulped silently, watching your legs sway around the room. Fortunately for his sanity, you had on some white shorts. Unfortunately, they were so short that any unplanned movement could reveal your panties, and he wouldn’t be able to stop there.

“We usually eat breakfast together downstairs," you yawned, covering your mouth, “but maybe some caffeine is in order first. I’m still waking up.”

“A morning swim is the best way to do that,” Bill suggested. He was really treading a fine line with that suggestion; he was adding fuel to his own wildfires. He really loved the idea of a morning swim, he really did. But there was the bonus aspect of you having to be properly suited for the occasion, and you weren’t going to do it in those itty-bitty shorts and a tank top.

“It’s one of the things I miss about Egypt that we don’t have back home. And it helps quell the heat, too.” He, honest to Merlin, did do this in Egypt. But not for any underlying reasons.

“That’s a good idea,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do that.”

When you arrived at the private stretch of beach, Bill watched as you slowly unwrapped yourself from the shawl you had on. When you found the will to submerge yourself, even if it was just a toe, he approached from behind you.

“Gently grazing the water isn’t the definition of a swim, you know,” he said, lightly tapping the inward curve of your bare hip.

“I know,” you mumbled back, a tinge of pink on your cheeks.

He jumped in without thinking and you soon followed suit. He submerged his whole body into the pristine waters of the French Riviera. When he resurfaced, he was treated to a view he was sure he didn’t deserve.

The wet, white material of your bikini clung onto the skin of your breasts like it was a matter of life or death. Drops of water dotted down your cleavage, slowly, tantalizingly so. The weight of the water dragged your bikini straps down, giving him an expansive view of your breasts. And was that an erect nipple poking through? The cold water must’ve teased it out.

Yeah, the swim was a bloody awful idea.

“You’ll never catch me, (Y/N),” he teased. He sent another wave of water towards you to stall you, laughing as you squeezed your eyes shut and sputtered.

“This means war, Bill!” you cried. You outstretched your arms to pull him back towards you. You were aided by a little current that carried you closer and your fingers finally made contact with his strong shoulders

“Ha!” you exclaimed, your fingertips getting a grip on him. “You’ll be sorry!”

He held his breath as he fell back into the water with you on top of him. When he felt sand and little pebbles dig into his back, he knew you’d both arrived on shore. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw you directly on top of him. Your wet hair grazed his cheeks and—

It wouldn’t be technically wrong to say you were grinding on him, not with the way your legs were splayed on both sides of him and the pressure you were putting on him. Your breasts were planted on his chest, and he could appreciate the clothed erect nipple on his skin. And as he looked down, there was more to see of your breasts than before. One wrong move and he would have a full view of the girls. It would be such a shame if your top came undone. But never mind that, he had to resist to urge to plant his hands on your hips and—

“Bill, it’s too deep,” you whined.

Bill’s hands were planted firmly on your hip bones, holding you down, forcing you grind on him with his cock deeply planted in you. You’d enveloped him to the hilt before, but you’ve never had him like this before, not in this position, and it was becoming too much.

“I think you like it, (Y/N),” he said with a chuckle. You looked down, embarrassed at the sudden spurt of wetness that ran down your thigh from your sex. As he began thrusting, you lost any sense of speech besides the ability to give a silent moan. When one of Bill’s hands loosened their grip on your hip to tease your engorged clitoris instead, you threw your head back.

The moment you’d realized how you’d fallen, you yelped immediately and apologized.

“Time for breakfast?” you offered impassively, carefully looping your other leg over and rolling yourself off him. Sand stuck to the side of your wet legs. You offered him a hand.

“About time for it,” Bill responded as you pulled him up.

“That was fun,” you commented, wrapping the beach towel over yourself and slipping into your sandals. “Better than my usual idea of a swim.”

Bill hummed in agreement, saying, “your idea of a swim isn’t much of a swim,” and followed you back into the house.

When you were back in your room, you’d dried off hastily, saying you were going to be late to breakfast.

“Is there a set time for breakfast?” he asked, eyeing as you flew around the bathroom looking for a comb.

“Not really, but it’s always at eight, and I was already chastised for being late yesterday.”

He had suppressed a comment about how beautifully haphazard you looked. Your hair was half-tamed, your cheeks flushed. You looked like you’d just had a good long romp in the sheets.

“Then I’ll join you in a second,” he promised. “I’d like to look a little more presentable for your parents.”

“You look fine,” you commented. “But that’s alright, I’ll let them know.”

When you’d left the room, Bill headed straight to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and removed his clothes. As he felt his hardening cock spring loose, his frustration grew tenfold. He shouldn’t have suggested the swim; he was going to lose circulation to his brain if you kept turning him on like this. He stepped in the shower and placed his left forearm on the wall. His right hand reached out to stroke his uncomfortable erection.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. Drops of cold water ran down his back as he leaned over. He was so close already and thinking about your body atop of his, your wet cunt pushing down on him, begging to be fucked, was really expediting the process. “Shit.”

In no time, he felt the intense pressure break. He bit down on his lip to keep from making too much noise. Ropes of cums spurted out of his cock, falling into the shallow water that’d accumulated in the shower base. He heaved, his heartbeat rapid, as his strokes slowed.

When he looked down at the mess he’d made, he could only think: ‘what a waste.’ It should’ve gone into some orifice of yours instead. Maybe your mouth, where his hold on your head would be iron-clad, and he’d make sure you swallowed every single drop. Or even better, your cunt, where it would all spill out on the sheets the moment he pulled out because it was just too much for you.

When Bill felt himself harden again, he cursed the higher deities. He’d never recovered this quickly before. Again, not since he was a teenage boy. And there was what, another two weeks of you frolicking in bathing suits and sun dresses?

You were slowly and surely going to be the death of him.

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley smut #bill weasley imagine #harry potter smut

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Note

Hey Peach!!

I just read the ultimate angst post you made and I'm literally not ok but I absolutely love your writing. You write angst so so well it's astonishing and I strive to write at your level one day.

But I can't get all these possible scenarios out of my head about that au so I thought I might share them with you.

So I'm thinking Darling is going to the motions of grief and anger as the boys leave and so decides to ignore them completely. Like she goes ghost mode on them. They text her their apologies on the day their leaving and for obvious reasons can't keep in touch after that.

Darling is a complete mess for the first couple of months after their departure. Living in that apartment alone would become too much for her. Every nook every coner holding precious memories of their times together. She would cry looking at the knick knacks they'd left behind accidentally. Fantasizing about what could have been if she had told them, If they hadn't decided to break up on the spot without consulting her, if they had communicated better. But it's too late now, their gone and she can't even let them know she's pregnant, not that she wants to anymore after being dumped like that.

She decides eventually to pull herself together for herself and her growing child. An apartment move was very necessary for her mental well-being so she decides to move somewhere her child can have a fulfilling upbringing. A fresh start somewhere where she isn't consumed by their memories. Somewhere that doesn't remind her of them when she's walking through the park where she would pick wild flowers together with Johnny to put in pretty vases on the dinning table or going to their favourite grocery store and shops looking for ingredients to try new recipes together which might not always turn out great. Or when the local pub owners ask where her pretty men are when their away on ops. Those little things would chip away at her if she had to think about them constantly.

So she moves and begins her difficult and lonely journey as a single parent but still trying to enjoy all her first milestone of her pregnancy. She goes to these wellness classes for expecting mothers where she has to watch couples enjoying their pregnancy together while she sits there all alone. It's difficult to attend these check-ups and classes but she manages for the sake of her child. She might have a little gender reveal by herself or with some friends but in my head darling might go to a bakery with the little slip of paper the maternity nurse had given her and asks them if they could make a cupcake with the adjacent colour filling on the inside so she can celebrate at home, probably with some nice food and her favourite movie. Deciding the name of the child, painting and decorating a nursery, going clothes shopping she wishes she had them there with her as much as she doesn't want to admit missing them, she also might cry alot along her journey but she is constantly learning as she goes along to give her child the best possible life she can provide. But as her mental health fluctuates she finds it increasingly difficult to take care of herself as she nears the due date to give birth.

All this is happening while the boys are on their very difficult and taxing mission. Trying their best to stay alive for each other while dealing with the guilt of hurting darling the way they did . They try to rationalize their decision to break up with her to dissipate their growing guilt but to no avail. They're constantly thinking about her, wondering how she's faring, if she's eating well, if she's recovering from the hurt they caused. They hope to come back alive to talk to explain their reasoning for their decision and try to make it up to her again. Not realising the darling they had left behind was long gone by the time they would get back.

Sorry for going off on a tangent I hope you enjoy my little take on your au. The real angsty parts comes when they get back a realize she's gone for good. Thanks again for blessing us with your writing 💗

I am throwing writing tools at you! Books! Notebooks! Pens! Paper! Laptops! Disco baby au 18+ Mature themes.

I love all of this, but one thing that really sticks with me is the image of Darling, sitting at the kitchen table, alone with a cupcake. You don't have a party, don't have friends over, you just go to the bakery and get this one, singular cupcake, made for yourself.

And then, when you finally get home, after a way too long day at work, your body sore and back tired, you sit down in front of it.

You always thought, that if you were to have a baby, this is something you'd do with your partners, if you even chose to do it at all. You always envisioned not finding out, leaving it for a surprise when the time comes, but this... none of it feels right. None of it feels like it should, and you think that means you shouldn't wait. You should get to know, right now, since there's no one else to share it with, no one else who even cares.

So, when you finally cut into it, and finally see that stupid color on the inside (because also, screw this whole concept to begin with) you don't feel joy. Or excitement. You feel crippling sadness, and you rest your head on the table as you start to cry, cradling your belly with a hand when the baby starts to move.

This was supposed to be good. We were supposed to be happy. You can't not think about the way Johnny would whoop and cause such a ruckus at the news, the way his eyes would light up and how he would pull you in for a devastating kiss. You think about Simon, and the way his eyes would grow wet, even though he swore he wasn't crying, how he would hold you and tell you how happy he is, how much he loves all three of you now. You, Johnny, and little baby girl.

You can almost see them, in the flat, almost hear them, and if you close you eyes, you can picture them sitting on either side of you, holding your hand, kissing your skin slowly. Making you feel loved. Making you feel safe.

But they're not there. You're alone. You, and little baby girl, doing it on your own.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #disco baby au #ghost x soap x reader

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thebearer · 4 months

Text

ok but on a very real and very serious note...

carmen's first valentine's day with you.

i'm going to share some thoughts, feel free to add:

carmen has always hated valentine's day since he was in elementary school. he hated the everyone make a valentine thing because people would go out of their way to be an asshole and not give him one.

he bought one of those flower-grams in middle school to give to the girl he had a crush on, and she didn't even acknowledge it and he was so embarrassed he never did it again.

carmen hates valentine's day. has always worked on every valentine's day because he would rather and he's never had a serious relationship.

until this year with you.

it's new-ish. one of the bigger milestones. and he's torn. does he do something? does he not?

"are you out of your mind? yes, carmen, you do something on valentine's day." sugar scoffs like it's obvious.

"yeah... you should definitely do something." sydney adds.

but what? what does one do? carmen's not sure.

"just take her somewhere nice. get her some flowers, a little somethin'- not too much, though, alright? you gotta be able to top it, so don't hit your peak. just somethin' small." richie tells him.

so carmen makes some calls, gets reservations, asks you out- you agree, of course, and for once, carmen berzatto has valentine's day plans.

he buys you a tiffany necklace, which makes both sugar and richie a little confused.

"i said small, cousin."

"no, it is. it is. it's just, it's just like a normal one. no diamonds." carmen is now very nervous because, fuck, he thought it was a good gift!!! "the sales lady said it would be perfect. that-that she'd like it."

"she's not wrong." sugar shrugs. "she will like it, it's just... y'know."

"it's a lot? fuck, it's a lot."

"she'll like it, carmen." sugar tries to stop his spiral. "promise, she'll like it."

and you do. you love it, squeal and gasp over it, give carmen the biggest hug and kiss in the restaurant. he's blushing under the low light in the booth.

"i feel... i got you something, but-but it's not like this..." you're a little embarrassed and suddenly carmen's heart is racing because he didn't even think about you getting him something??? now he looks like a jagoff trying to show off.

"you didn't- you really didn't have to get me anything."

"no, but i wanted to." you smile, reaching for your own little bag. "it's just... it's not a lot. not like this."

and to carmen, it's better. a little 'emergency kit', you'd called it. first aid, deodorant, note pads, a little pocket agenda, sharpies- so many sharpies. carmen had been complaining about always forgetting things in the office, so consumed with the kitchen, and you'd listened. you'd heard him, and remembered it, and put this together for him. in a cutesy little tackle box, decorated with fruit and vegetable stickers he found adorable.

"wow," carmen is swallowing back tears. "this is..."

"i'm sorry." you cringe. "i didn't- i should've got you a real gift-"

"-what? no, no this is." carmen nods, looking up at you. "you remembered."

you blink at him. "well, yeah. you said you were always forgetting and-and i figured it would be useful-"

"-it is. it's... thank you." carmen beams, the wave of emotions that hit him startle him a little, make him a little unsure. "thank you for this." then he's leaning in to kiss you, cradling your jaw in the dark lit restaurant.

as you're sharing your meal, pressed side by side, giggling and whispering to each other sweetly, a wave of clarity washes over carmen. he kinda gets the hype around valentine's day, for once.

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unwantedtomost · 10 months

Text

never before — miguel o’hara

neighbor!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 1071

summary: you had a hot neighbor. you can’t be held responsible what came out of that (inuendo?)

warnings: oral (fem receving), protected sex (for literally the first time. this is a milestone for me), dirty talk

masterlist if you would like to see more

It was something you didn’t anticipate but something you were utterly happy about, two things that didn’t happen much. When you came home from college you never would have assumed that you’d be laying on your neighbor’s bed with his head between your thighs.

From the first moment you saw him, you were speechless by how hot he was. You weren’t blind. Even though he was utterly attractive, and he might have been a guilty pleasure when you were touching yourself, you never thought anything like that would happen. You weren’t even sure if you would really want it. It was a nice idea nonetheless.

But when you went over to his house to help decorate for his daughter's birthday, it was all over. It would only be the two of you all day. At first it was just a nice fact but now it meant everything.

“Where’d you go there, mi amor?” Miguel asked curiously. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as you looked down at him. He looked so beautiful. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were.

“Nowhere, Miguel. I’m right here. Promise.”

“You’re sure you want this?” He asked as his fingers hooked in the hem of your panties.

“I can’t tell you how badly I want this.”

He wore a prideful smile as he tugged the fabric down your legs. Your ankles rested on his bare shoulders for a moment. You felt so exposed yet extremely comfortable. His gaze only made you feel warm inside. He planted a quick kiss on your ankle before his lips drifted down your legs. He took his time kissing your inner thighs. You squirmed, your hands falling into his hair. Your grasp tightened as he finally relieved some pressure by lightly kissing your clit. His first few movements weren’t hesitant but they tested how comfortable you were. After a few moments of curiosity he was eating you like a starved man.

The most guttural noises escaped from your lips and damn you never thought you could feel this good. Your hands turned into fists in his hair. Everything you were doing spurred him on further. His hands held tightly on your thighs. His nails slightly dig into your skin. You swear to god he grunted as he ate your pussy and your back arched off his bed.

“Fuck, Miguel!” you screamed, his tongue never once stopping. At some point you started rutting against his face. This turned Miguel into an animal. He always thought you had a thing for him but he never imagined you’d be this hungry for him.

“You want to cum, sweetheart?”

“God, yes,” you muttered, looking into his beautiful eyes.

“Be a good girl, cum on my face.”

Your mind went foggy as you got lost into the pleasure he was bringing you. No one had ever made you feel like this before. Like you were losing control of yourself in the safest way possible. Your orgasm came in a wonderful crushing wave, making your thighs shake. Miguel kept going, making the feeling infinitely better. By the time he started to slow down, you were panting.

He smirked as he sat up and examined your state. “Did I make you feel good, princess?”

You launched yourself forward, shaky legs be damned, and crashed your lips into his. Your hands tangled into his hair again, hungrily trying to get more from him. His hands gripped at your hips and you were praying that there would be bruises there tomorrow. A reminder on your skin of this moment. You finally pulled away from him and saw a red glow in his eyes.

“I want you to fuck me,” you confessed. “You want that too?”

“‘Course I do, princess.”

He kissed you, cupping your head as he laid you down on the bed. Your hand ran down his toned stomach to his boxers, grinning as your hand palmed him.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked him.

He leaned over and opened his night stand, frowning. “Fuck, I don’t.”

“That’s okay, I have one.” You quickly grabbed your jeans from the floor and pulled a condom from your wallet.

He laughed as you handed it to him. “Were you expecting me to fuck you?”

“I wouldn’t say expecting,” you smiled, “maybe hoping.”

He kissed you again but it was sweeter, simpler. He went to lay you down again but you stopped him. With your hand on the middle of his large chest, you shoved him to sit down.

“Can I ride you?”

“Fuck,” he groaned to himself. “Yeah, baby. Show me what you can do.”

You grinned as he put the condom on. Your hands were placed on his shoulders. One of his hands held your waist and the other guided his cock to your entrance. Your lips formed an ‘o’ as you sunk down on his member. You had never taken anyone this big before but the small burn was a delicious feeling. Your nails dug into his shoulders when he was completely inside you.

“You feeling okay?”

You nodded with a smile. “I feel great.”

You slowly moved yourself up and down, finally picking up on a good rhythm. As you moved your hips, you felt like you were putting on a show. Trying to show Miguel how much you had wanted him. Slowly, you started to realize he had known the whole time, and you started to let him take charge.

His feet flattened out on the bed and his grip on your hips grew tenfold. He thrusted up inside of you with a brutal pace. Your mouth fell open and let out the prettiest noises Miguel had ever heard. Your hand slithered down your body to rub your clit.

“Close again, honey? Dirty little girl going dumb on my cock. Wanted it this bad the whole time, yeah? Gonna touch yourself while I’m fucking ya, bet you dreamed of doing this so many times.” He started babbling as his hips pistoned into yours.

“Yes, Miguel—Fuck! I’m gonna … shit—cum.”

“Go ahead, baby.”

You screamed as you came on his cock, falling forward into his chest, trying to catch your breath. His hips slowed until they stopped completely. Your brows knitted together in confusion.

“Did you cum?” you asked him.

“Just tryna give you a break. I’m not gonna be done with ya’ anytime soon, honey.”

You grinned knowing you were in for a long day.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut

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annaxbree · 7 days

Text

talk back (pt 2)

nate doe x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol

previous part

"a few people" was their answer when i asked how big of a gathering this would be.

the triplets had just hit another milestone in their career, which called for a celebration.

and while the get-together was limited to close friends, it was still more than a few people.

and, of course, they had invited him to the celebration. why wouldn't they ? nate is their best friend, after all.

despite this fact, i was still surprised to see him walk through the door with that annoying smirk planted on his face.

he looked good, i'd never tell him that though.

his head turned in my direction, but before we could make eye contact i moved my head to face the direction nick was sitting.

"im getting a drink" i whispered, standing up from the couch. nick only nodded, already engrossed in conversation with a friend.

i let out a sigh as i made a beeline towards the table that was littered with drinks, i guess they planned on getting a little drunk tonight.

before i could even pick out what drink i wanted, i felt his breath on my neck.

his hand found its way to the small of my back while he reached around me to grab a cup.

instead of doing so, however, he craned his neck downward to look at me. his face was mere inches away from my own.

"so do you just never know what you want to drink, then, princess?" he asked, his breath tickling my face. "or did you need my help again?"

i watched his lips move while he talked, caught in a daze as i thought about the way they felt against mine.

it took me a minute to snap out of it, but when i finally did i was quick to make a comeback.

" i never asked for your help in the first place" i spoke.

"so you're just standing here looking around for no reason?"

"i got here like four seconds before you did" i deadpanned.

"yeah, it seemed like you were running away from me. you scared of something?"

"yeah, that massive forehead"

before he could say anything back, he was interrupted by the voice of nick.

"of course you two are here together" nick spoke. "the hell is that supposed to mean?" i asked.

"all i'm saying is you two have a tendency to disappear together at parties. what were you two doing in the bathroom together, anyway?"

"oh, i'd actually love to talk about this right now, but i'm pretty sure i hear chris calling me" he spoke as he backed away slowly.

before anyone could stop him, he was already gone.

"do you hear that? i think i hear madi calling me" i spoke, poking my thumb in the opposite direction.

"yeah, nice try"

"are you kidding me? nate just did the exact same thing" i pointed out.

"yeah, well nate doesn't owe me an explanation. you do"

"ok, fine. we just spent time in the bathroom...but nothing happened" i spoke.

"spent time in the bathroom doing what?"

"you know....talking"

"girl, you're not fooling anybody...especially not me"

"we kissed..."

"....for 10 minutes?"

"what, did you time it? "

"no, bitch, it was an educated guess"

"ok... so, we kissed for 10 minutes" i spoke with a shrug.

"and why are you just telling me this now?" he asked.

" 'cause i regret it, and it never should have happened in the first place"

"nick!" madi yelled from across the room, "come over here! matt and chris want pictures!"

while nick walked away from me, nate walked towards me. instead of stopping, however, he grabbed my arm and pulled me around the corner wordlessly.

he pushed me against the wall, caging me in with his arms.

"that's funny, didn't seem like you regretted it when you were moaning my name" he rasped.

"what are you talking about?" i asked.

"don't act like you didn't just tell nick you regretted it"

"how do you know i was talking about you"

"who else would you be talking about?"

"well, why would you assume you're the only guy i'm talking to?"

"am i?"

"that really doesn't concern you"

"what if i want it to?"

"what if you shut up and kiss me?"

"you know for someone who claims they don't want me, you're pretty needy"

"if you don't want to kiss me, i'll go find someone who will"

"shut up" he spoke before leaning down and closing the gap between us.

tag list: taglist: @creamoncreamoncream2 @freshloveforthefit @patscorner @sturniolosmind @sturniolosloves

#nathan doe fic #nate doe fanfic #nathan doe x you #nathan doe x reader #nate doe x you #nate doe x reader #nathan doe imagine #nate doe fic #nate doe imagine #nathan doe #nate doe

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kai-anderson-whore · 8 months

Note

Hi!!! Could you do an imagine where y/n is the first serious girlfriend he’s had since Emma so she’s insecure and she gets hate because she’s a good bit younger and has to deal with the fact Evan and Emma still work together on AHS so their fans still want them together. Lots of fluff with a touch of smut? Thanks!!!

Insecure of the ex (Evan peters x fem reader slight smut)

Warnings: hate comments, doubting a relationship, being compared to an ex, smut, heavy kissing, p in v sex nothing too major, fluff

Word count: 1,4k

A/n: in my flop era xoxox

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

The dim light lit up the room the coffee cup in your hand, your phone in the other. Evan your boyfriend of two years sat on the other side on the room watching tv. You had just posted a picture of you both on instagram it was a picture one of your friends took when out for dinner you were cuddling into Evan, his lips on your head hugging you close with the caption "here's to two whole years with you my love, and many more 💕💕".

You loved the picture one of your favourites. You received nice comments from your close friends and family congratulating you both on the milestone. But you couldn't help but notice the negative comments. "They won't last any longer", "I miss Emma", "he's probably going to go back with Emma", "she's so much more younger than him probably only with him for the money", "god I hate her #evan&emma". You knew you shouldn't have let it bother you but it did.

Sure you were a couple of years younger than Evan five years to be precise but you weren't with him for his money. You loved Evan you both met at a convention and hit it off from then on sure it wasn't too long after his split from Emma roberts. He still worked closely with her in ahs which did make you feel unsettled but you learned to get on with it since Evan loved working on the show despite his ex girlfriend being there too.

But the comments on each post didn't stop you from getting into your head. You wondered why he was with you, was he just using you to get over Emma and you were just sticking around to something that means nothing to him. You didn't know. Every time Evan was filming for ahs you knew Emma would be there and with their history you didn't know if there was still feelings or not between them. Their fan ship them more than you and Evan it was just something you learned to become accustomed with.

You glanced over at Evan his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. "What time is it?"you asked you already knew the time it was past midnight already but you wanted him to notice. "Twelve fifteen- oh happy anniversary babe" he says after pulling out his phone getting off his seat giving you a kiss on the lips. But you couldn't help but feel hurt at the fact you had to tell him.

"What's this?" Evan asked his eyes glued to your phone. 'Shit' you thought you forgot to lock out phone so he wouldn't see all the comments. "It's nothing Evan really" you tried to dismiss but Evan wasn't having it. "Come on let's see the post it's obviously us" he smiled taking your phone from your hand his smile grew at the picture remembering the day clearly.

With a short scroll of his thumb his boyish smile dropped seeing all the horrible hate comments you were receiving for the first time. Evan's brows scrunched in confusion reading all the comments. "How long has this been going on for?" He asked the tears pricked your eyes uncontrollably you felt like you couldn't breathe.

"Almost the whole of our relationship, I delete the comments so no one can see but there's so many of them" you started to sob. "Sometimes I think they're right what do you see in me Evan, they're obsessed with you and Emma I can never compare to her" you started to sob. Evan just placed your phone down engulfing you in his arms.

He smelled of your favourite cologne hints of wood, tobacco and citrus notes it was all so comforting to you. Your tears staining his white t-shirt but Evan didn't care about that all he cared was making you feel better and putting a stop to these comments. "Listen to me" he started cupping your chin so you can meet the gaze of his brown eyes.

"They might be obsessed with me and Emma and can't get it in their heads we're history. But I'm obsessed with you okay your the best thing that's happened to me what I see in you is a beautiful, smart, independent woman who loves me just as much as I love her and no dumb comments will change that you can't compare to Emma because your better and I mean that". His words made you cry more but a smile crept on your lips which Evan didn't hesitate to kiss.

"I love you so much Evan I'm sorry for-" you tried apologised which Evan placed his index finger to your lips shushing you. "Don't apologise you have nothing to be sorry for it's natural to get upset and let these comments get to your head and I know me working with Emma still isn't necessarily helping but your the only one for me". you could see the hurt in his eyes Evan hated seeing you upset. Nodding your head you whisper a small "I'll stop apologising" to him before burying yourself back into his arms.

"I'll put a stop to these comments I'll log back into my instagram account and say something I promise" he added kissing the top of your head. You still felt shitty these comments really have took it's toll on you. "Hey look at me" you looked up at Evan again who placed a kiss on your lips, "I - promise- I'll- sort- this" he said in between kisses. His lips continued to kiss you your hands roamed his hair. His body pushing you further down on the couch slotting himself between your legs.

A giggle escaped your lips Evan took those thoughts away a smile once again invaded your lips, "there's that beautiful smile" he sighed happily. His lips peppered themselves along your neck, your head moved to the side slightly giving him more access to you. "Happy anniversary babe" he mumbles against the hot skin of your neck. "Happy anniversary" you sigh in satisfaction completely forgetting about those comments you knew they shouldn't matter all that matters is you and Evan.

His hand roamed your body slipping under your sweater feeling every curve. His lips continued its work along your neck and collarbones. "Evan" you hummed desperately, Evan knew what you wanted and wasted no time in giving you it helping you out your sweater and sweatpants leaving you in just your undergarments. Evan then proceeded to remove the remaining articles of clothing from his body, you took the time on getting completely bare for him showing him every curve and shadow of your body.

"How did I get so Lucky with you" he smiles his eyes drinking all your beauty before him. He slotted himself back between your legs your arms wrapped around his neck, your legs hooking along his waist. Evan gave himself a few tugs before lining himself up with your entrance. Your body quivered as he started pushing into you slowly.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as evan thrusted into you in a slow passionate way. Your arms still wrapped around his neck bringing him down to meet your lips. Your lips moved in sync swallowing each others moans. Wanting to be more closer to him if that was even physically possible. “I love you so much” he whispered against your swollen lips bringing his back upon your own.

Soon enough you felt that knot form within you. Evan picked up the pace a little more bringing you closer to the edge. Your moans got louder as you came undone beneath Evan. He stopped for a moment drinking you in a smile forming on his lips, “god you so beautiful” he thought out loud coming down from your high Evan started to chase his own high coming undone on top of you.

You both felt limp laying on the couch not saying anything just trying to collect yourselves. Evan had his arm slung over your frame a small smile on your lips completely forgetting about the comments. “I’ll sort all that out I promise” he broke the silence nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck placing a lazy kiss there. “I know thank you Evan” you sighed tracing your fingertips along his back.

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daisynik7 · 8 months

Note

hi, nikki :) congrats on 2k, my love 💕you deserve it and more! i’m just sending in a lil something for the milestone event: (i bet you look good on the dancefloor) by arctic monkeys — fluff/smut for reiner braun! thank you so much in advance, lovely! 🎀

I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor

Pairing: Reiner Braun x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.7k

cw: modern-day au, college au, drinking (everyone is 21+), fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, pet names (sweetheart, baby)

Summary: You, a college senior who’s lived a mostly vanilla lifestyle the past four years, meet the alluring and mysterious Reiner at your friend’s birthday party. He’s different from you in many ways, but something about him captivates you like no other. When he invites you to an underground concert, you take a chance with him, craving for a taste of something different.

Author’s Notes: @pinkmirth Mira, my love! Thank you for participating in the y2k karaoke party! I appreciate you so so much and I hope I did your hubby justice with this one! I went a little over the word count that I originally thought I would, but I just couldn’t help it! I got too caught up in the setup, LOL, sorry! Special shoutout to @mobolanz for always posting amazing Reiner content that kept me motivated to finish this hehe.

Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (although I’m fairly certain it’s from the manhwa 19 Days).

It’s Annie’s 22nd birthday today; instead of going out to a club or bar, she decides she’d rather have a kickback with her closest friends, eating pizza and drinking cheap alcohol. Armin and Eren offer to host at their place, which is a twenty-minute walk from the university. As an RA for one of the freshman dorms on campus, it’s nice to get out every once in a while in the city that you so rarely have a chance to explore, even if it is just at someone else’s house. When you arrive, you recognize all of the people already there, other students you either personally know or have seen in passing. You greet Annie with a hug, handing her a small gift bag with a bottle of her favorite liquor. “Thank you!” she exclaims. “I’m so glad you were able to make it.”

“Me too! Though, I’ve got my work phone on me in case there are any emergencies,” you reply, pointing to the crossbody bag hanging on your shoulder.

“Always so responsible. Such a good girl,” she teases, pinching your cheek.

In your four years as a college student, you haven’t done anything outside of your comfort zone. You waited until you were officially legal to drink, and even now, you barely do it. Studies and extracurriculars always took priority over your social life, and while you have a solid group of friends, you haven’t done anything remotely wild. It’s not because you don’t have the desire to, there’s just never been a good opportunity.

You spend the next half hour chatting with a few of the partygoers, sharing stories on certain professors, gossiping about other students, all while nursing a White Claw, sipping it slowly. It seems all of Annie’s friends are already here, so you don’t except anyone else to arrive. So, it surprises you when there’s a loud pounding on the door. Everyone glances towards it, curious at who it is. Annie answers, revealing two well-built men. One of them is incredibly tall that he has to duck down to enter through the doorway. The other is slightly shorter, though still impressive, with broad shoulders and a muscular physique. He has short blond hair, a trimmed goatee, sharp jawline, and an intimidating gaze. Something about his appearance is striking, and you’re immediately intrigued.

You watch as they embrace the birthday girl, who punches them playfully in the shoulders. “Long time, no see, punks.”

“Sorry, Annie,” the taller one apologizes. “Classes have been a colossal pain lately.”

“And I’ve been busy at the shop,” the other adds. His voice is exactly what you imagine it would be like: gruff, husky. Sexy. Your interest piques even more, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this way about anyone, especially a complete stranger. When he removes his black leather jacket, your eyes widen at the reveal of his biceps, toned and sculpted like a marble statue. He’s wearing a fitted white tank with dark jeans, a chain hanging on the loop of his waistband with a small set of keys dangling. As if he couldn’t get any more attractive, here he is, flaunting his ripped body. You continue to watch him as he hangs his jacket on the coat rack by the door, inspecting the room while talking to Annie. “So, are these all college friends of yours?”

“Yup. You’re the only delinquents here,” she jokes, passing each of them a beer.

“Shut up,” he laughs, twisting the cap off to take a swig. “Whose house is this anyways?”

She points to Armin and Eren, who sit on the couch, talking animatedly. “It’s theirs. They were nice enough to offer.”

“Cool. I guess I should go mingle, then. Unless you think these people will be scared of me.”

“Some of them could use some scaring, if you know what I mean,” she replies with a smirk.

The two strangers make their way towards the hosts, shaking their hands to introduce themselves. You take this chance to approach your friend in the kitchen. “Annie, how do you know them?”

“Bertolt and Reiner? Oh, they’re childhood friends of mine. We all grew up together in Marley.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Cool.”

She raises a brow at you. “Why? Are you interested?”

“No! I was just curious! I’ve never seen them around before.” Your voice is squeaky, and you’ve clearly given yourself away.

She snickers, nudging you in the arm. “I can introduce you if you want. They’re a lot nicer than they look.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to bother them – ”

“Reiner!” Annie calls out to the blond, and heat instantly surrounds your face. Too late to turn back, you stand up straight, watching the attractive man return to the kitchen, finished with his beer. “What’s up?”

“I want you to meet my friend.” Annie beckons you forward, stating your name. You smile at him, holding your arm out.

He flashes a charming grin at you, enough to send a flutter in your belly. “I’m Reiner. Nice to meet you.” He shakes your hand, gripping you firmly.

“I’m going to go socialize. You two get along, okay?” Annie departs quickly, leaving you and Reiner to get acquainted.

“I heard that you’ve known Annie since she was a kid,” you start, attempting small talk. “What was she like back then?”

He leans on the refrigerator door, folding his arms across his chest, displaying his large chest. “She was a little shit, just like she is now,” he laughs. “She’s probably tamer since college though. We used to get into a bunch of fights together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She can really kick some ass if she wanted to.” He licks his lips before asking, “How do you know her?”

You try not to get distracted by the dirty thoughts swimming in your head right now, more and more attracted to him by the second. “We met in a class back in sophomore year, and we’ve been friends ever since. She’s really fun to be around.”

“And how about you?” His eyes bore into yours, and there’s an intensity in his gaze that you’re drawn by. “Are you fun to be around?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Probably not. I’m pretty vanilla.”

“Vanilla is good.”

“Vanilla is safe,” you argue.

“It’s also sweet, creamy, and delicious.”

You giggle, already so smitten by him. “Are you telling me that I’m sweet, creamy, and delicious?”

“I guess I’ll have to find that out myself.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he speaks to you, and this could be wishful thinking, but a spark ignites between you. For the first time in your uneventful college life, you’re flirting with the outsides of your comfort zone, slowly gravitating towards this mysterious and alluring stranger. And it’s exciting.

You continue your conversation, exchanging little flirtations here and there, learning more about him. The friend he arrived with, Bertolt, currently goes to school in Marley, where they both live. Reiner is a mechanic at a car shop in his hometown of Liberio. He’s never attended college and doesn’t plan to, already set to inherit the shop when the owner retires. On the weekends, he enjoys riding his motorbike around town and going out to underground concerts. You reveal to him how different your weekends are compared to his, considering you usually stay in.

“Have you ever been to an underground concert?” The two of you have moved into Annie’s room now, where it’s quieter and away from the rest of the party. It was your idea; you weren’t thinking about how it would look, asking him to move into a more intimate setting. He keeps a safe distance from you at the edge of the bed, the door ajar so that you can barely hear the chatter outside.

“No, never,” you reply. “I used to listen to some alternative rock back in the day.”

“Really?” He seems surprised as he takes a sip out of his water cup. “Who?”

You hum, trying to remember. You name a few, then end with, “Oh! And the Arctic Monkeys!”

When he starts singing the chorus to one of their songs, your face lights up, recognizing the familiar tune. “Yes! I love that one!” you beam, nodding along with him.

There’s that endearing twinkle again, scooting closer to you. “You’re so cute.”

His comment catches you off guard, and just when you thought you were keeping your cool, your whole body starts to heat up, completely flustered at the sudden compliment. “What?”

“I said you’re so cute,” he repeats, unfazed. As if he didn’t just rock your world.

You swallow loudly. “Thank you. You’re really…handsome.”

He bursts out laughing, maintaining his gaze on you. “Handsome. The last time I heard that was from my mom when I was a kid.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to say?!”

“Hey, I’ll take it. I’m more than happy with that.” He leans forward and you’re gravitating towards him, gradually closing the gap between you. You’re inches from his face, so close to kissing, when your phone rings loudly in your purse on the nightstand. It startles the both of you, taking you a second to realize that it’s your work phone, indicating some sort of RA emergency.

One of your residents is begging to be let in after losing their keys somewhere. You tell them you’re on your way, giving Reiner a guilty glance. When you’re finished with the call, you explain the situation. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” he offers, standing up.

“I drove here, so I’m fine. But thank you.”

“Then I’ll walk you to your car.” You don’t have the heart to reject him once more, so you agree, delivering quick goodbyes to your friends and to Annie, who eyes you curiously as Reiner follows you out. He walks beside you with his hands in his pockets, not speaking. When you’re at the door, he utters your name. “I’d really like to see you again.” He looks nervous, all the confidence he exuded earlier reduced into a shy expression.

You smile at him, chest swelling. “I’d really like to see you too.”

“Next weekend, there’s a concert I think you’d enjoy. It’s in Marley, but I can totally come here to pick you up and – ”

Before he starts rambling, you interrupt him politely. “I don’t mind driving to you. It’s not that far.” You give him your phone; he enters his number as a new contact. You give him a quick call so that he has yours. It’s like you’re teenagers, awkwardly exchanging info, all giddy and timid. “Text me the details, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.” He waits until you’re in the car, waving at you one last time before he shuts the door carefully. You glance at him through the rear-view mirror, grinning as he watches you drive off, already wishing it was next weekend.

~~~

Saturday finally arrives, the day you’ve been eagerly anticipating since the night you met Reiner. It’s unusual for you to be so enamored with someone you’ve only known for a week, worst of all, met once. You’ve been messaging non-stop since, even upgraded to a phone call last night that almost went until morning. And now, you’re pulling into a guest parking spot outside his apartment complex with an overnight bag hidden away in your trunk, just in case.

You head up a flight of stairs, searching for his number on the row of doors until you find the correct one, knocking twice, heartbeat already quickening. He answers promptly, dressed in a fitted black t-shirt that accentuates his ripped build. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth to greet him casually, hoping he doesn’t notice you practically drooling for him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he mimics, smiling at you. “You ready to go?”

You nod, surprised when he dangles two helmets, presenting one of them to you. “Are we taking your bike?”

“Yeah. That’s the only way I get around. Is that okay with you?”

You hesitate before responding, “Sure.”

He gives you a reassuring look. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I promise.”

You learn soon enough that Reiner is a man of his word. With your arms around his waist, latched firmly to his abs, all you feel is exhilaration. He cruises through the streets of Marley, the night sky illuminated by the blur of city lights as you pass through downtown. The two of you don’t speak, the whoosh of wind rushing past your ears too deafening to hear anything but that and the engine. When he’s at a stop, he turns around to check on you, giving you a thumbs up, which you return enthusiastically. It also helps that he smells amazing: the subtle cologne on his clothes, the clean scent of his skin. Everything about him is attractive, and you can’t help but be drawn to him even more than you already were.

He parks his bike in an alley next to a venue with a big marquee, spelling the name “Lakua”. Below it shows that a band called “The Warriors” are playing tonight. You hop off first, unbuckling your helmet and passing it to him. He knocks a specific rhythm on a nearby door, and suddenly, a girl with wavy, black hair answers, grabbing them from his hands. “Thanks Pieck,” he says.

“Sure. Who’s you’re friend?” She examines you, smiling.

He states your name, adding, “I met her at Annie’s party last week.”

“I see,” she muses. “Well, have fun tonight.” With that, she winks at you, then shuts the door.

“We can go through the front,” he tells you, leading the way out of the alley and underneath the bright sign you saw earlier. There’s a bearded bouncer with wire-rimmed glasses at the front who acknowledges Reiner with a nod. “Evening, Reiner. IDs please.”

As you retrieve your licenses, Reiner slips him a wad of cash for admittance. “Hey Zeke. Did you hear them warm up?”

“Yep.” He juts his chin towards you. “Porco and Marcel are in top form tonight. Your pretty friend here is in for a real treat.”

“Great, we’re going in now,” Reiner responds quickly, wrapping his arm around you to steer you through the door. There’s a bar on one side, stocked with the typical shelves of liquor and four bartenders serving those that crowd around them. On the opposite end is a stage, set up with instruments, speakers, and lights. There’s a horde gathered near the front, waiting for the main act to start.

Reiner’s breath is warm on your ear when he says, “Follow me.” He holds your hand delicately, expertly maneuvering through the throng of concertgoers. He leads you past a curtained door towards the back, towards a closed room, knocking the same rhythm from earlier. It’s Pieck who answers, opening the door to usher you inside. “Hello again.”

On the couch are two men who resemble each other. Another with light brown hair stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair. When you and Reiner enter, they all look, happily yelling, “Reiner!”

He introduces you to the brothers, Porco and Marcel, the two who are seated. They both play guitar and do vocals, Porco being the lead. Colt, who gives you a friendly wave, is their drummer. Pieck, the bassist, formally introduces herself. Together, they are The Warriors.

“We mostly do covers,” Marcel explains. “But we have some stuff in the works.”

“We tried to get Reiner to join, but he’s as tone-deaf as they come,” Porco teases, poking him in the arm.

Reiner chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s true. I’m pretty awful.”

“But he’s really good at other things. I’m sure you know that already,” Marcel comments, smirking.

Pieck shoves the guitarist’s arm. “Don’t be gross.” She redirects her attention to you. “Anyways, I hope you enjoy the show. Reiner’s been bugging us all week with requests. I have a hunch that you have something to do with it.”

You smile at him, noticing a faint blush on his cheeks. “Requests?”

“You’ll see,” he replies, grinning.

When it’s time for the band to perform, you make your way back to the dancefloor, more packed than it was when you first arrived. You manage to squeeze your way towards the front, Reiner huddled close behind you. Normally, you’d be claustrophobic, surrounded by all these hot, sweaty strangers. Reiner places his hands on your shoulders, leaning in to say, “I’m right here, okay? It might get a little rowdy, so if you want to leave, just tell me.”

You crane your neck to face him; he’s extremely close to you, enough that your noses are almost touching. It’s tempting to shift just the slightest bit forward and kiss him, but you resist the urge, already thrilled to be with him like this.

The crowd hollers as The Warriors strut across the stage, waving. At the mic, Porco yells, “Y’all ready to have fun tonight?!”

Louder applause erupts, and once Marcel starts a familiar guitar riff, it’s chaos in the best way possible. Soon, the bassline hits, then the drums, and your entire body thumps with each beat. It’s a song you recognize, and you’re impressed at how accurate they sound to the original while maintaining their own unique style. Marcel harmonizes perfectly with his brother, and together, their charisma on stage hypes everyone up. You bop your head to the melody, grinning ear-to-ear at how fun this is, the energy that surrounds you contagious. Reiner sways with you, grazing your back. You reach for his hand, brushing it with yours, turning to face him. “They’re so good!” you yell.

The two of you continue to enjoy the concert, dancing in whichever way the rest of the crowd is moving. You notice halfway through the setlist that many of the songs they’re playing are from artists you listed for him the night you met. The realization really hits you when the iconic intro from the Arctic Monkeys song Reiner hummed for you starts, and you turn completely around with the biggest smile on your face. He beams at you, equally as thrilled, dancing erratically with your fingers entwined together, mouthing the lyrics at each other, completely in sync.

~~~

It's past midnight by the time you make it back to Reiner’s place. Your skin is sticky from sweat, eardrums heavy from the concert, and you really don’t want to go home. You’re unsure if Reiner feels the same way until he unlocks his front door, suggesting, “Do you want to sleep over?” He asks it casually, though there is a hint of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I have enough stuff you can use. You can borrow my clothes.”

You’re completely aware of the bag tucked away in your car right now, but the idea of wearing his clothes is too enticing, so you don’t mention it.

While you shower in his bathroom, your curiosity gets the best of you. You inspect all the products he uses, sniffing the pleasant scent before lathering it on yourself, satisfied with smelling exactly like him. You brush your teeth in front of the foggy mirror, wrapped in a towel, wondering how tonight is going to end. Should you make the first move? Should you make any move at all? Even with the vibes totally there, you’re still uncertain if he reciprocates your feelings. There’s this titillating tension hanging in the air, but you’re too nervous to cut it, afraid of rejection, of misunderstanding. Maybe this is the furthest the two of you will go, so you take advantage of this moment, hugging yourself in his t-shirt and boxers he lent you, inhaling his essence until it’s ingrained in your memory.

After you’re done, you walk out of the bathroom. He sits at the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone. When he sees you, his eyes widen, scanning you up and down. “Wow.” It escapes out of his mouth abruptly, and he stammers, “Um, sorry. I’m…I’m going to shower now.” He gets up, avoiding your gaze, locking himself inside.

Maybe this isn’t the furthest the two of you will go.

~~~

You sit up in the bed, resting against the headboard, waiting for him. After a few minutes, he walks out, waist wrapped in a towel, chest bared and dewy with water. He glances at you, looking away to search his drawer for a new shirt. The tension is palpable, even more so now than ever before.

You clear your throat, wanting to break this unbearable silence. “Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, sliding a shirt over his head. He bends down to retrieve a pair of boxers on the lower shelf, slipping it underneath his towel. Dressed, he returns to the bathroom to hang his towel on the rack. You watch him carefully, so many thoughts racing in your head, the words on the tip of your tongue. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at the carpet beneath his feet. “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything,” he murmurs, heading towards the door.

“Reiner, wait.”

He faces you, eager. “Yes?”

“Sleep here with me.” You pat the space next to you. “Don’t make me lonely tonight.”

He swallows thickly, taking long strides to get to you quick, crawling beside you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Absolutely sure.”

Fingers laced around the nape of his neck, you pull him in for a kiss, his plush lips surrounding yours seamlessly. He kisses you with fervor, slipping into your mouth, tongue swirling around yours. You yank on his collar, stretching the fabric, imploring him to strip his top off, which his does in a fluid motion. Caged between his biceps, you lay beneath him, caressing his face while you smother him in your kisses. When you break free to catch your breath, he nuzzles his nose to yours, whispering, “I’ve been waiting all night to do this. All week, actually.”

“Yeah?” you coo, trailing down his neck, flushed with excitement. “So have I.”

“You’re so fucking sexy in my clothes,” he huffs, hooking the elastic of your boxers with his finger. “You’re not wearing any panties, are you?”

You shake your head, and he smirks, sliding down the bed to position himself between your legs, tugging at your bottoms. You lift your hips up, wriggling out as he removes them off you, tossing it behind him. He stares at your pussy, throbbing and aching for his touch. Grabbing you behind the knees, he spreads you open, exposing your cunt. He doesn’t dawdle any longer, diving in to spread his tongue on your clit. You throw your head back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling, vision blurry from pleasure as he eats you out, determined to have his thirst quenched. He swallows every ounce of you, running his tongue along your slit and flicking it on your bud. And when your orgasm is so close to the peak, he puckers around you, sucking on your clit until it’s raw and swollen. You climax, squirming and whining, clenching the bedsheets, twisting it in your fists.

“Fuck,” he muffles, lapping at your cum as it spills out of your cunt. “Getting so messy for me.” His finger teases your entrance while he continues to flick his tongue on your sensitive bud. “Can you give me one more?” he coos, peering up at you with adoration, placing a wet smooch on the inside of your thigh. “Pretty please, sweetheart?”

You have no choice but to oblige, sinking into the cushions once more, twitching with ecstasy as he strokes your pussy with your clit in his mouth. There’s nothing on your brain except for Reiner and all the different positions he can fuck you in. You come a second time with two of his digits inside you, pussy covered in spit and arousal. He chuckles, scattering kisses along your body until he’s face-to-face with you, rubbing his nose to yours affectionately. His stiff cock protrudes from his boxers, and you reach down to palm it, kissing his lips, glossy with your slick.

He moans, rutting into your hand. “You’re a fucking dream, you know that?”

You smile, pressing your forehead to his. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

He stretches his arm towards the nightstand, searching the top drawer to retrieve condoms and a bottle of lube. “Think you can take me?” he smirks, shoving his underwear down his legs, erection sprung against his chiseled abs. He’s bigger than you fantasized; your pussy throbs, yearning to be filled by his impressive cock. You nod dumbly, salivating for him. He scoots closer, removing his boxers, stroking himself rapidly, licking his lips. “I knew you would taste good. Sweet, creamy. Delicious.”

You giggle, remembering what he said to you a week ago. Spreading your thighs open, you caress your clit between your fingers, watching him pump his cock in his fist. “Fuck,” you moan, growing impatient. “Fuck me, Reiner. Hurry.”

Ripping the wrapper with his teeth, he rolls the condom on his cock, coating it with a generous amount of lube. “Okay, beautiful. I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give it to you so good.” He guides himself inside you, stretching your pussy until he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he drawls, nestling in comfortably. “So fucking hot.”

You drape your arms over his shoulders, holding him limply, already spent from your previous orgasms, still so horny for him. He fucks you, legs coiled around his torso, gripping your waist, dragging your body towards him with each thrust. Saliva dribbles out the sides of your mouth, eyes half-closed in a dumb expression, blissfully fucked. He takes pleasure in seeing you unravel like this, clutching you tighter, increasing the pace. “Oh fuck, you’re amazing.” He holds you close, bucking his hips frantically, staring wildly at you beneath him. “I knew it the moment we met, then tonight at the concert. Knew you were special.”

You whimper his name, squeezing him tighter. “Reiner, right there, right there!”

“Yeah? Feels good?” he purrs, circling your clit with his thumb. “Then come on my cock, baby. Show me how much you love it.” He presses his groin to your pussy, burying himself deep inside you, ceasing his thrusts to focus on your approaching orgasm. Frothy spit drips from his mouth directly onto your bud, smearing it with his fingers. You convulse around him, ecstasy coursing through your body, electrifying every nerve all the way down to your toes. His name pours out of you in moans, skin sweltering against the sheets, dewy with sweat. You’re a sticky mess for him, overstimulated from your three consecutive orgasms. And yet, you’re desperate for more.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, reaching out to him weakly. “You’re amazing, Reiner.”

He takes your hand, holding it to his lips, kissing your fingertips lightly. “You take it so good. My beautiful, gorgeous girl.”

You orgasm twice more in this position until he’s nearing his own. His jaw is clenched, brows furrowed tight, ready to lose it. “Tell me where you want it.”

You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “On me. Come on me, Rei. All over my clit and pussy.”

He groans, pulling out quickly to snap the condom off, pumping his cock in his fist. Within seconds, he’s nutting on you, shooting his seed onto your bud, watching it trickle down to your sopping cunt. “Fuck,” he moans, dick rigid in his grasp. He taps the tip on your drenched clit, relishing the lewd squelch it makes. “So fucking creamy for me.” There’s a wicked glint in his eyes, fixated on how his cum glazes your loins, and excitement bubbles in your core again, realizing that he has no intention of ending it here.

“Like what you see?” you goad him, dipping your fingers in his mess, stuffing it into your cunt. “I told you not to stop, didn’t I? So what are you waiting for?”

He leans over you, kissing you passionately, grinding his dick between your pussy lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got all the time in the world now.”

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