#but that if you're not feeling the cool air on your skin
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is it that sweet? (joel miller x f!reader) 18+
masterlist | a/n i've had no motivation to write lately but this randomly popped into my head the other day and suddenly my brain was like okay let's roll!! let's do this!! let's jump in!! so idk what that says about the current state of my subconscious. anyway this is filth! pls read the warnings! love u.
summary: you probably shouldn't let some random middle aged man on the beach take nude photos of you, right? right?
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings: pervy!joel, age gap, voyeurism, coercion, objectification, sneaky picture taking, nude photos, paying for sexual favors, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy pronouns up the fuckin wazoo, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex, standing sex, creampie
word count: 8.4k
ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍
He's been watching you for about an hour. You'd sussed him out almost immediately after settling onto your beach towel and digging into your bag for your sunscreen, mildly aware of the shape of him in your peripheral vision. He's old, definitely in his late fifties, but certainly not the most unattractive man who could be eyeing you. You're used to it by now anyway, almost feed into the way men seem to gawk at you sometimes now that you've finally thrown caution to the wind and stopped giving a fuck about your beach body. You used to be self conscious about your curves, your tummy, your thighs - you decided this summer that it had to stop.
And you're glad you did. Because now he's staring at you, this unnamed, completely anonymous middle aged man only a few feet away. And it feels fucking good.
Should it feel good? Probably not. Should you tell him to buzz off and leave you alone? Take a picture, it'll last longer, something like that? Probably. But will you? No.
You like feeling his eyes on you.
Older men like you, you've noticed. They stare. They stare more than men your own age - boys, really. Twenty somethings who try to play it cool and more often than not come across as disinterested in their interest. They're cowardly, obnoxious. And you suppose some older ones are too, especially the ones with wives - they want you to be impressed by them, ooh and awe over their high paying jobs and big mansions, their fancy cars that they think make up for their tiny dicks.
But every now and then you'll come across one like this. You can read him like a book, peering at him from over your sunglasses every so often as he lounges behind a vibrant blue umbrella. His eyes caress your bare shoulders and chest, your exposed stomach, your soft thighs. They linger on the places they shouldn't and it makes you tingle. He's appreciating what he sees, basking in it, taking his time.
You could be content just lying here and letting him look. He is handsome after all, greying curls and soft scruff flecked with white, golden skin that almost glows underneath the sun. His legs stretch out over his own towel, long and lean and strong. He's got a soft looking belly, hanging out a little bit over his trunks, and now your eyes linger for a little longer than they should.
But you won't say anything. If he wants to talk to you, he has every opportunity to. You're not going anywhere for at least another hour, not until the sun starts setting and it's time to head back to your friend's vacation home. You've only been in California for a short period of time, but it's like it's somehow molded you into a different person - a more confident, sexier version of yourself that's been dying to get out for years. A version of you who lets this old man stare and get his fill as you smirk and turn over on your towel, arching your ass up into the air.
Oh, he likes that. You can tell because of the way his jaw clenches, neck tightening as his eyes fall to the globes of your cheeks. With a barely there smirk, you arch a little more, stretching and flexing and letting him take in the way your bikini bottoms barely contain them. Your breasts hang low onto your towel, practically overflowing from their own containment, and you have to admit - you're getting a little wet posing for him like this.
He licks his lips, eyes flickering downward again to something closer to him, something in his hand. You crane your neck a little bit to peer around the blue umbrella, and your breath hitches.
He's taking pictures of you.
It's obvious now, should have been obvious this whole time, really. Only one of his hands has really been visible, the other settled low against his side behind the umbrella. Now you can see that he's got his phone angled toward you, the camera peeking slyly out from behind the blue nylon as he repeatedly taps his screen with his thumb. To test him a little further, make sure you're really seeing what you think you're seeing, you push down into the sand with your hands and rise up a little bit on the towel, almost into a lazy downward facing dog. Your tits jiggle below you, threatening to escape, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as the man adjusts the camera to get a better angle. His thumb and forefinger glide across the screen, undeniably - and unashamedly - zooming in.
You're definitely wet now. You know you shouldn't be. You know this has probably gone too far and you should get up and leave, potentially tell someone about the creep on the beach taking photos of women in bikinis.
Instead, you make eye contact with him, settling back down onto your towel with your ass still perched a little in the air. He seems to freeze, eyebrows going up in the realization that he's been caught. In response, you blink slowly at him, pout a little bit as if to say, Really? You arch your back a little more and shimmy your hips, tilting your head as you continue to gaze over at him, eyes going a little hooded.
Come fuck me, you're almost saying, even though you know there's no way in hell you're gonna let him. It's just funny to watch him squirm, phone gripped tight in his hand as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. You arch a little more and then grind your hips into your towel, flattening yourself against it, holding his gaze. You rest your head and smile at him teasingly.
He's getting up and shuffling toward you in no time at all.
"Hi, darlin'," are the first words out of his mouth when he reaches you, and you certainly did not expect a Southern accent to fall from those plush lips. He's gorgeous really, now that you can see him up close - wide shoulders and big arms that strain against his white shirt, strong chest covered in little freckles, chocolate brown eyes that shimmer in the sunlight.
"Hi," you say with a smile, blinking up at him.
"I'm sure you saw what I was doin'," he seems a little embarrassed, voice apologetic as he scratches the back of his neck, "I know I shoulda asked, but you seemed so relaxed, I didn't wanna disturb you."
Bullshit, you only came over because I smiled at you. Any other reaction and you'd have run for the hills.
"I'm Joel," he reaches his hand down for you to take. For some reason, you shake it without hesitation. "I'm actually a photographer, believe it or not."
Huh. You raise an eyebrow at the words, doubt immediately swimming in your mind as you assess him.
"If you're a photographer, where's your camera?"
He chuckles, "Back at my hotel. I just came out here to relax, wasn't plannin' on takin' any photos. But then I saw you, and, well..." he smiles at you sheepishly, "You're just so pretty, darlin'. Never seen somebody like you before."
The words are not special. They're nothing you haven't already heard, nothing he hasn't probably already used on countless other women. And yet... you smile back at him, cheeks warming a little at the way the compliment sounds coming out of his mouth in particular, all Southern and sweet. "Thank you."
His eyes suddenly leave yours to flicker back toward your body again, scanning the length of you. As if on instinct, almost to show off, you tighten the muscles in your ass cheeks and then release, letting them jiggle a little bit under your swimsuit. He swallows tightly.
"Would you be interested in posin' for me, sweetheart? There's a little spot down the beach, outta sight. Still public though, of course. I wouldn't ask you to go anywhere unsafe," his eyes linger on your ass for a few more seconds before he's meeting your gaze again, soft and sincere, "I'd love to get some pictures of you in that bikini, and some with it off too, if you're comfortable with that."
Oh, he's fucking brave. You can feel disgust brewing in the pit of your stomach, a scowl beginning to dawn on your face. This is where you should draw the line. This is where you should get up and leave, tell him to go to hell, tell him he's a pervert and-
"I'll pay whatever you think is fair," he continues, "How's three hundred as a starting point?"
On second thought...
"Beautiful, baby," he's telling you softly, "You're so pretty like that."
You hum in contentment, laying in the sand with a little smile tugging at your lips as Joel maneuvers around you with his phone, snapping pic after pic as you peer up at him through rays of sun. You're a little ways down the beach now, in a sparser area behind some rocks. He was right about it still being public - if something happened, you know you could raise your voice the tiniest bit and be heard immediately by people on the other side. Somehow though, despite his forwardness and slightly perverted habits, you trust that he isn't going to force anything on you.
You've already got three hundred dollars in your purse. He'd given it to you before you'd even gotten up from your initial spot on the beach, placed it in your hand with a grin as your eyes widened. You suppose you could've taken the money and run, but part of you wanted to play it out, test the limits, see what else he'd pay you for.
Which leads you here, laying sensually in the sand with the strings of your bikini dangling a little looser off your shoulders and hips, a little careless, a little more teasing. The poses so far have been pretty basic, and you've tried your best to emulate what you think a supermodel on the cover of Sports Illustrated would do. Based on Joel's responses - excited nods and gentle praises - you think you're doing a good job.
"Turn over now," he tells you with a playful grin, "Put that cute little ass in the air again for me."
It should be demeaning, the way he's talking to you. There's a lot about this situation that should be wrong, and yet you can't help but feel pride swell in your chest at his directions, his compliments. You do what he says, flipping over to dig your hands into the sand and arch your back, turning your head to eye the camera directly with a sultry little smile on your face.
"Perfect," he's murmuring, thumb tapping the screen like his life depends on it, "That's so perfect, honey." You listen to the fake little shutter sounds the phone makes, still wondering if he's even really a photographer. Would it even matter? Wouldn't you have still let him do this anyway?
With this new angle you can feel the loose strands of your bikini top starting to slip, unraveling at the back and trickling gently against your sides. You watch with what should be a worrying lack of urgency as it cascades down onto the sand below, leaving you topless.
He whistles low under his breath, "Well, would you look at that. The girls are out."
"That's an extra fifty," you say with a coy eyebrow raise, "Or else I cover them back up."
"Extra fifty, no problem" Joel echoes, "Can you shake your ass for me again, darlin'?"
You nod, tilting your head and peering back at him as you tighten and release your muscles with a giggle, basking in the way he stares at it, like it's a five course meal he's about to devour. You do it a few more times, arching your back a little more and spreading your thighs slightly to allow for more recoil, more jiggle. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and you grin.
"How much to take these off too?" he lowers the phone and peers at you with pleading eyes, brown and soft, "Huh? How much extra to show me this lil' peach, honey?"
You grimace, looking down at the sand and trying to calculate an appropriate cost in your brain. You bite your lip, "You know that's not the only thing that'll show."
"I know," he murmurs, eyes trailing downward again to eye your ass, still perched high and plump, "Your peach and your pussy then, how much?"
Fuck.
"I won't touch you," he promises softly, "You can just tug it down and show her to me, lemme see her up close, yeah?"
Her?
Her.
"Christ," you mumble under your breath. He's filthier than you thought, and not in a bad way - in a fucking hot way. "Another fifty," you decide, voice firm, "And... and I wanna see you put the money in my purse first. And no touching my... her."
"I can do that, sweetheart," he's already digging into his wallet and yanking out the money, opening your bag slightly to place it inside. It could be counterfeit for all you know; this whole thing really might be a completely worthless venture, and yet -
He watches as you reach backward to untie the strings of your bikini bottoms, doing it in one fell swoop and then spreading your thighs again, knees digging into the sand. You arch and press your face against your towel, feeling goosebumps rise all over your skin at the knowledge that he's staring at where you're now completely bare.
You hear him groan, a rough little sound that goes straight to your core, and a few little shutter sounds go off, "Now, that's a pretty little pussy you got there, baby."
Heat rises throughout your body, up through your chest and to your cheeks. You turn a little to look at him shyly, lashes fluttering when you see where his gaze has settled.
"Yeah?"
"Oh, honey, she's so pretty," he breathes, "She's all wet. Leakin' for me, you see that?"
You can't see it of course, but you can feel it; feel the way you're dripping, knowing that he can see it, has a 1:1 view of the way you throb and drool for him. This random old man who about twenty minutes ago you'd never spoken to in your life.
"And your little clit is sayin' hi to me too, babygirl, can see her pokin' out." Fuck. You squirm a little in place as his camera continues to go off, legs spreading a little more unconsciously as you tilt your head downwards and close your eyes. Your clit twitches under his stare.
"Swollen little thing," he breathes, barely loud enough to hear, "Perfect pussy."
Jesus Christ.
"Roll over for me again, sweetheart," you hear him say quietly, "Show me all those pretty parts."
You don't know why, but you whine a little at his words. It's subconscious, a burning desire you can't describe as you slowly flip over and lazily lay back on your towel to show him your entire naked body. He stands over you with his brow furrowed in a gentle kind of way, eyes appraising you up and down like you're some kind of goddess. And fuck, he's kind of making you feel like one.
"Legs open a little bit, baby, that's it." You obey, spreading your legs and looking up at him with lidded eyes, lips parting a little. You bring your arms up to rest behind your head and he takes note of the way your tits bounce for him, shivering back and forth beneath his gaze. "You're perfect," he murmurs, "You're absolutely perfect."
"Stop," you say, unable to stop a grin from spreading across your face, "M'not perfect."
"But you are, darlin'," he shakes his head, eyes full of wonder as he kneels down to get some closer pictures. You watch as he brings his phone down directly in front of your pussy, snaps a few close-ups of your puffy lips and swollen clit. "I'd love to kiss her, honey, if you'd let me."
"N-no," you say quickly, though your voice cracks, "No touching."
"I'll pay you extra," his eyes return to yours, locking your gazes, "You name it, baby. I'll pay anything to taste how sweet you are down here."
You look at him calculatingly, tilting your head. Anything?
"Two hundred," you practically whisper, "In the bag."
You're half expecting him to tell you that he's run out of money, that he couldn't possibly give you any more than the four hundred he's already blown on this. But he surprises you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his wallet and tug out the bills. It's like he has an endless supply, and you're beginning to wonder if maybe this is a hobby of his, something he prepares for, carries money around to be ready to spend on women like you. Maybe he's rich rich, has unlimited money to throw away, and this is just his weird perverted thing he does on the side of something else.
Maybe you should have asked for more.
But he's already kneeling back down into the sand and you're already opening your legs wider for him, allowing him to settle between them and lean his head forward to place his lips gently against your pussy. You watch with heavy lids as he kisses you so softly there, his mouth tender and inviting and deliciously scratchy from his scruff. Without really thinking about it, you reach down and run a hand through his curls, smiling a little fondly as he kisses you again, and again, and again.
"That feels nice," you breathe, watching as he continues to press incredibly slow and gentle kisses to your cunt in an almost respectful way, a reverent way.
"Good," he murmurs, lips vibrating against your core, "Want it to feel nice for you, baby."
You let out a soft moan the second his tongue breaches your folds, wet and warm. You watch as he closes his eyes and seems to get lost in it, tasting your pussy like it - or she, as he'd said - is some rare delicacy he's never indulged in before. He trails the tip of his tongue through the mess you've made, maneuvering your puffy lips and flicking it against your clit. Your hips buck and another moan slips out, quiet and pitiful.
"That's it," he murmurs against you with a little half smile, "So sweet for me, honey." He dives back in immediately and slowly plunges his tongue inside your entrance, fucking into you a few times before carefully pulling back and opening his eyes to peer up at you again. God, those brown eyes are fucking sinful. He gives you one more smile and then reaches down to grab his phone.
"Gonna get some more pics of this messy girl, okay?" he breathes, and you're a little startled when his left hand is suddenly coming down to touch you there, two fingers carefully scissoring you open. You don't say anything, too horny to protest, too intrigued to see what he's going to do. "Gotta open her up a little," he tells you softly, answering your unspoken question, "Wanna take a little peek at what she's hidin' inside her, baby."
A little whimper falls from your throat again as his fingers scissor you wider, holding you open and baring your hole to his camera. You can feel your walls twitching and pulsing, contracting and leaking; you can only imagine what it looks like. Your eyes roll a little when his middle finger taps your clit, another gush of arousal flooding past your opening.
"Look at this lil' hole, huh?" he's murmuring, but your eyes are closing and your head is falling back onto the towel as he plays with you, "Oh, she's alllll messy for me down here, baby. And it's no wonder your clit came out to see me, she loves gettin' played with, don't she?"
Christ, he knows how to talk. His words send another helpless little sound past your lips, thighs trembling as he slowly caresses your clit with his finger, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure.
"Aw, you're all sticky here again, baby," he whispers and you whine, feeling your juices dribble down toward your ass, "Shh, I'll take care of it," and then he's leaning back in to lap at your folds, a little faster this time, more desperate, "Tastes so good, pretty girl. So sweet."
He suckles your clit into his mouth and you let out a breathless moan, brow furrowing as he suctions the swollen nub and lets one of his fingers fall to slip inside your entrance. You're so close you can feel it, coiled inside and ready to snap at any moment, his thick index plugging you deliciously as his tongue swirls. You tighten around it, thighs squeezing a little around his head, and then-
He's pulling away, removing his mouth and finger. Your eyes flutter open and you watch as he stands up with a little groan, older age apparent in the way he clutches at his back and exhales once he's upright. You want to tell him to get back down here, finish what he started, but part of you feels like it'd almost be letting him win, somehow. This perverted creep on a public beach that's somehow managed to lure you away and get you naked, take photos of your body and eat your pussy. He doesn't deserve to have you beg for him - even if you want to.
"Can you stand up for me now, honey?" he tilts his head, squinting against the sun and smiling like he didn't just ruin your orgasm.
On shaky legs, you manage to pull yourself up from the sand and stand before him in all your naked glory, legs crossing a little as you squeeze your thighs together. He smirks but doesn't say anything about it, instead angling his phone toward you again and snapping some full length photos. You immediately do your best to go back into Sports Illustrated mode, posing a little and trying to ignore the ache between your legs, the relentless throb of where his mouth just was.
"Squeeze your tits together for me," he tells you, voice a bit deeper, rougher, full of arousal, "Cup 'em a little, show me those cute lil' nipples."
You do as he says, biting your lip and showing the camera exactly what he wants to see. Your nipples are peaked and hard, begging to be teased and tugged, but you refuse to do it yourself - you're not giving him the satisfaction, not after what he just pulled. He takes a few up-close pictures, camera so close to them that you shiver with sensitivity, the smallest bit of air from his movements causing them to tighten even more.
"Those are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs softly, gaze trailing upwards to meet yours, "Can I give 'em a kiss too?" God, his eyes are so fucking soft and sincere, like fucking boba pearls. You wonder if anyone's ever been able to say no to him.
You swallow, keeping eye contact, "For another fifty, sure."
He chuckles at that, "You drive a hard bargain, darlin'."
"I know what I'm worth."
He smiles, nodding slowly, "That, you do." He pulls out his wallet and slips another bill into your bag, then shuffles toward you again. You try to keep your breathing calm when one of his hands comes up to cradle your bare back, pulls you in a little bit as he lowers his mouth to your right nipple. With hazy eyes, you watch as he presses the softest little kiss to it, then does the same to the left.
Part of you wants to pull back and say that's it, that's all you get, just to see what he does, give him a taste of his own medicine. But then he's wrapping his lips around the pebbled bud and suckling, your eyes going glassy, jaw dropping a little as your hands come up to hold his shoulders. Your pussy throbs at the sensation, thighs rubbing together again as he suctions just the right amount and swirls his tongue all over the hard peak. It's impossible not to let a quiet moan fall past your lips, something he returns with a little mmhmm around your nipple, a wordless I know.
It feels so good that you feel your guard going down even more than it already has, feel your head falling forward to rest against his. His greying hair is so soft, so warm from the sun. You blink slowly and inhale, cheek smooshing into his temple as he sucks and sucks and sucks, then turns his attention to the other one. Little whimpers are tumbling past your lips, your hands squeezing and caressing his shoulders as you feel yourself starting to drip down your inner thighs.
It's so fucking intimate, much more intimate than you anticipated. And when he finally pulls away and comes back up to peer into your eyes again, leaving your nipples puffy and a little sore, you betray yourself by leaning forward to kiss him softly, tugging his bottom lip into your mouth and returning the favor with a little suckle. You feel him smile against you, the hand on your back tightening as he brings his other one up to tangle in your hair. His lips are plush and wet - a little chapped from what he's just done to your nipples - and he tastes like pussy.
It's fucking heavenly.
"I wanna show you somethin', babygirl," he murmurs against you after a moment, and you nod a little too quickly, a little pathetically. You're starting to realize that you're losing the battle here, if there ever even was one.
He pulls back a little, eyes still soft. You watch as he reaches down to his swim trunks and unties them, heart suddenly in your throat as he slips his hand inside and comes out with an absolutely beautiful dick. It's long and thick, rounded and full at the tip with an extremely suckable looking mushroom head, as well as a prominent vein trailing up his shaft that makes your mouth water. You both stare at it for a few seconds without speaking, your lips parting but no words coming to mind.
"You wanna take some pictures with my cock, honey?" he asks you quietly, and you think he's probably looking at your face now, watching your expression, but you're still just staring at his dick.
"W-what?"
"Just a few, like...well..." he shuffles forward a bit and very gently presses the warmth of his cock against your bare stomach, letting the tip sit just above your belly button, "Like this."
Your brain is blank.
"That okay?"
His cock is so heavy.
"Darlin'?"
And warm.
He pushes some of your hair behind your ear, cradles your face in his big hand, "I know, honey," he murmurs, "You just gotta say okay."
Okay?
"O-okay," you finally whisper.
"Yeah?"
Yeah. You think it but don't say it, can't say it. You feel beyond overwhelmed, eyes still glued to where his throbbing tip is smooshed into your belly. You can't stop looking at it, ogling it, awed by its impressiveness and girth, the way it leaks a little onto your skin. You've never seen a dick this pretty before. You almost forget that you're standing there without any clothes on, barely aware of the shutter sound as he snaps multiple pictures on his phone.
"Good girl," he murmurs softly, "That's a good girl, just look at it."
Every few seconds he repositions a little, pulling you in closer to capture the way his cock stands at attention between your bodies. Precum gurgles from the tip and makes a sticky mess in his happy trail, dribbling down onto your skin. Without thinking about it at all, completely unaware of even doing it, your arms are suddenly around his waist, holding him close with your gaze still locked onto his cock.
"Yeah, that's for you, baby," he tells you softly, grinding his hips a little bit against yours and essentially fucking his cock against your stomach, "You did that to me."
It's only when he suddenly takes a small step back, holds the base and angles it downward to gently prod the sticky head against your pussy lips, that you finally come to your senses.
"Wait," you gasp out, yanking yourself back from him and shaking your head, "W-wait a second."
"M'sorry," he says quickly, brow furrowing as he puts his hands up. His cock hangs from his trunks almost comically, bobbing up and down as he takes a step back, "Shoulda asked first."
"Y-yeah, you should've," your voice cracks, heat flooding your face, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just then, that was too far." Why the fuck are you apologizing to him?
"S'not too far," his words are gentle, alluring, "We're just havin' fun, aren't we honey? You were havin' fun, got lost in it. It's okay."
You take a breath, staring at him as you try to get your bearings. Were you having fun? Is this fun? What the fuck are you even doing right now? Your thoughts are cloudy, hazed with arousal and attraction to this complete stranger in front of you. Are you really gonna let this continue? Is it really worth it? Your gaze falls back to his cock and the question is almost answered for you.
"What am I doing?" you ask aloud, a breathless little laugh escaping your lips.
"You're just havin' fun with a new friend, s'all it is."
You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble, "Is that what you are? My friend?"
"I'll be anything you want me to be, darlin'," his mouth turns up at the corners, eyes sparkling, "I sure would like to be your friend."
He peers at you for a moment, waiting for you to speak. Your mouth opens a few times but no words come out, your thoughts scrambled as you try to make heads or tails of this situation. You're suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you're still completely naked, and you quickly peek your head over the rock formation to make sure there's nobody nearby - there isn't.
Why are you checking?
"C'mere," Joel finally says, and you turn back to look at him with your lip between your teeth. He's standing there with his arms open a bit, cock still heavy between his legs. By all accounts, a fucking perv. And yet...
And yet.
Fuck it.
You're back in his embrace in no time, hooking your head over his shoulder and allowing his cock to press warmly into your skin again. You close your eyes and sigh as he brings one of his hands downward to squeeze your ass.
You know what he's going to ask before he even says it.
"Can I put it inside you, darlin'?" he murmurs softly, pleadingly, "Just to get a pic of your pussy all full?"
You don't say anything.
"Won't take more than a minute," he urges, "I promise, baby. Just wanna see it stretched around my cock. Don't you wanna see that, pretty girl? I'll pay extra, whatever you want."
More silence.
"I know you wanna see it," he's relentless, his other hand coming down to squeeze your other cheek and pull you impossibly closer, "You wanna feel that, don't you, baby? Big cock fillin' you up before you go?" His middle finger slides between your cheeks and settles at your pussy, slowly teasing your entrance, "Don't gotta do anything at all, just gotta stand here, we'll do it standin' honey."
"Standing?" you ask softly, pulling back to look at him with intrigue, and your response suddenly has him grinning from ear to ear as he slowly inserts his finger. You shiver, eyes fluttering closed as he fills you with it.
"Standin'," he repeats, "Just like this, baby, don't gotta do anything 'cept open your legs a little for me. You can do that, can't you?" The hand on your ass comes up to hold your chin; he pinches it gently between his finger and thumb and gives you another soft look as he starts to fuck you in earnest, "I know you can, 'cause you're a good girl, yeah?"
"Y-yeah," you breathe, arms tightening around his body.
"Yeah," he adds a second finger, smile faltering into a sympathetic pout when you let out another soft moan, "And you want that cock, don't you? I can see it all over your face, honey. Don't gotta pretend."
"I do," you whisper with a nod, swallowing thickly and trembling in his arms, "I want it, I do."
"So..." he's waiting for you to say the words, to tell him to go ahead and put it in, do what he wants, let him take control. His fingers are relentless inside of you now, plunging in and out at a speed you know he's purposely using to distract you, cloud your decision making.
Which is why his eyebrows go up in surprise when you're suddenly reaching down to grab tightly to his wrist, yanking his fingers out of your pussy in one swift pull.
"Three hundred," you state, "Take it or leave it."
To your surprise, his face alights with a gigantic smile, a deep laugh tumbling past his lips as he nods and digs his hand into his pocket, seeking his wallet one more time, "Yes, m'aam," he grins, "I'll take it."
You've never had sex standing up before. Not like this, face to face and completely upright with your feet planted on the ground. It's a little awkward at first, Joel having to crouch a little to align his hips with yours, one hand gripping your waist while the other grips his phone. God, this fucking phone. You're pretty sure you'll never wanna see a phone case with this ugly shade of cerulean blue again, let alone hear those obnoxious shutter sounds.
Your annoyance is quickly overpowered by the sensation of the warm head of Joel's cock pressing gently to your pussy. You look down to watch, lip between your teeth again as Joel snaps image after image of the way his tip crowds your outer lips, pushes them apart. You have to admit, it's certainly a sight to behold.
"Yeah, look at her open for me, baby," he's murmuring, thumbing the base as he slowly rubs his cockhead back and forth through your folds, "Bloomin' like a little flower."
The top of your head rests against his shoulder, face angled down to watch what he's doing. A tiny whimper falls from your lips when he very slowly eases the head of his cock inside of you, the stretch barely noticeable with how wet you are. He releases your hip to reach down and open your pussy lips with his thumb and forefinger, exposing where you're joined.
"Tell her to smile for the camera, babygirl," he whispers, and while part of you wants to roll your eyes, another part can't help but feel a gush of arousal at his words, soaking his cock even more, "Good, that's good."
He feeds his cock to you slowly, making sure to take as many pictures as he can. Little whines and squeaks erupt from your throat and your hands claw at his back, fingers tangling in the white crocheted material as he fills you up. It's only when he's fully sheathed inside of you that he suddenly tugs his trunks down a little more to expose his balls, heavy and round and full. You stare at them with a longing in your eyes you can't describe, lower lip trembling as you watch them bounce and settle against where you're joined.
"There you go," he murmurs, snapping one last picture before tossing his phone into the sand and bringing his hands up to cradle your back, pulling you close, "All done, baby, that's it."
Your toes curl in the sand as you embrace the feeling of being so full of him, his tip pulsing delicately inside the deepest parts of you. A distant thought in your brain wonders why he just threw his phone on the ground, but it doesn't seem to matter when you feel like this, so full and wet and warm, lost in a hazy glow. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out quiet little whimpers as he pulls you in tighter. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, seemingly reveling in the moment too as you stand there listening to the ocean waves, impaled on a stranger's cock.
"How's that feel, honey?" he asks you softly, thumbs tracing shapes along your bare back, "Hm? Feel good?" You don't answer, just nuzzle your face against his skin and let out another soft whine, hands clamoring underneath his shirt to grip his back. He chuckles, "Yeah, I know, baby."
You both stand there for what feels like forever, until you finally have enough sense to pull away from his shoulder and get a look at his face. He's watching you fondly, brow furrowed, eyes still incredibly soft and inviting. He really is gorgeous. Pervy, but gorgeous.
"You dropped your phone," you mumble, words faint and slightly slurred.
"Don't need it anymore," he murmurs, "Got my pictures."
"Then why are you still inside me?" you ask softly, eyelashes fluttering, "If you're done?"
He shrugs, smiling, "'Cause it feels good, don't it?"
You stare at him for a few seconds but end up nodding regardless, turning your face a little to peer over at the ocean, "It does," you admit, "Feels really good."
"Mmhmm," he kisses the top of your head again, then your temple, stroking his fingers through your hair. The way he touches you is reverent, delicate, like you're something fragile he needs to keep safe. It's not what you'd expected, that's for sure. But something you're not as sure about is what happens now, where you both go from here.
It doesn't take long for him to decide.
You feel his thumb on your clit, drawing your attention away from the ocean and back to his presence. You peer at him through bleary eyes, a dazed little smile curving your lips as he carefully rotates the swollen nub. His belly caresses yours, warm and soft, and you smile even wider.
"Feel good?" he asks you again - tender, kind.
"Yeah," you whisper.
The hand on your back comes up to cradle your hair, pulling you in close again and allowing you to rest your head against his smooth chest. You moan as his thumb picks up speed, the sound muffled by his tan skin.
"You want me to make you come, honey?" he murmurs, fingers brushing carefully through your hair, "You wanna come all over that big cock inside you?"
"Yeah," you repeat, a little broken this time, "W-wanna come."
"You've been so fuckin' good for me, you know that?" he breathes, barely a whisper, brow furrowed as he continues to rub your clit, "Posin' all pretty, showin' me that soft little pussy, lettin' me taste her," he gives a low whistle, shaking his head, "And now she's all full, huh? She full?"
You nod, eyes rolling a little, "Y-yeah." Apparently yeah is currently one of the only words in your vocabulary.
"She all messy for me?"
Again, you nod, expression blissful as you let out a moan, "Yes, Joel," you whimper, and you're pretty sure it's the first time you've said his name this whole time. It's like you've been trying to be disconnected from it, from him, and now suddenly he's everywhere; inside you, in front of you, above you - there's no escaping him. And you don't want to escape - what you want is him. Badly. Desperately.
He seems to realize this at the exact same time you do, the moment he hears his name fall from your lips. Which is why you're not surprised in the slightest by his next words.
"What if I wanted a pic of my cum leakin' outta this little pussy?" he whispers, mouth suddenly directly next to your ear, sending insane amounts of pleasurable tingles throughout your whole body, "Huh? How much would that cost? Tell me."
"You can't," you mumble, lightheaded, but you're lying to yourself, completely lost in the pleasure he's giving you, the movement of his thumb and the girth of his cock.
"Only take a few seconds, honey, m'already close," as he speaks, you feel his hips slowly begin to buck, cock pulling from you for only a moment before easing back in, making you shudder, "You don't gotta do nothin', 'cept show me how she drools when she's full. You can do that, can't you baby?"
"Joel," you whine again, eyes shut tight as you dig your toes into the sand, holding tight to his back as he slowly starts to fuck up into you. He's so big, so thick, plugging you full and then leaving you again, slow and warm. You can only imagine how it would feel to have him burst inside of you, to fill you to the brim.
"I wanna see her drool, honey," he murmurs, voice desperate again, full of arousal, "Wanna see her push it out."
"Fuck," you moan, high and whiney as you suddenly grip both sides of his face in your hands to peer directly into his eyes, "A thousand," you whimper, your hands clawing at his scruff as his hips pick up speed, as his hands fall to your waist and hold tightly as he starts to pound up into you, "A thousand and you can come in my pussy."
He presses his forehead against yours, lets out a guttural sound and then hisses, "Deal."
And for some reason, you believe him.
Getting pounded while standing upright is a fucking trip. His nails dig into the pebbled flesh of your hips, knees bending and unbending as his cock fucks up into you relentlessly without stopping or slowing. Your hands are still holding his face, eyes locked with his as your mouth pops open in a silent scream, thumbs digging into the apples of his cheeks. Holy fucking shit.
"I know, I know, I know," he's groaning, voice wild and unhinged, groans vibrating in his chest, "Fuckin' take it, s'what you were made for, honey. Knew it the second I saw you, knew you were gonna go wild on that dick."
"Please," you moan out, tears pricking in your eyes, the sensations almost too much to bear, "Please, please." You don't even know what you're begging for, thoughts muddled as you release his face and wind your arms around his neck, "Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, don't stop, please."
"I got you, honey, I got you," you feel his thumb return to your clit as he speaks, the sounds of your skin slapping together almost rivalling the sound of the ocean waves, "You gonna come, pretty girl? Huh? You gonna cream on my cock?"
"Yes," you practically squeal, and before you can really process what you're doing you're suddenly jumping up from the sand to wrap your legs around Joel's waist, ankles tangling together behind his back. He has no issue shifting positions, his arm cradling you and holding you in the air while his thumb continues to ravage your clit. You feel it building in your stomach, tightening more and more with the insistent pressure of his thumb and the continuous thrusts of his dick hitting your cervix over and over.
"Ohh, I feel her, baby," he groans in your ear, "Sloppy little cunt wants to make another mess, doesn't she?" And that's all it takes for your orgasm to hit you, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter around Joel's body as you moan and whine and cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and shaking in his arms. It's like having the wind knocked out of you, arguably one of the best orgasms you've ever had in your life, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sob into his neck.
"Joel," you whimper, pussy pulsing repeatedly around his dick through the aftershocks, "Joel, come inside her, please."
"Oh, fuck."
You feel it then, the twitch of his cock and the warm ropes of his release pumping into you. You sigh almost dreamily, burying your face in his shoulder and listening as he groans, feeling the way his fingertips dig into the soft plush of your ass. It's steady - there's so much more than you thought there'd be, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper again, murmuring his name one more time as he empties himself.
You stay like that for a moment, the ocean loud in your ears, all other sounds seemingly drowned out by the hiss of sea against rock and sand. Eventually, he carries you a few steps to your towel, your ears ringing and his body trembling a little as he carefully lowers you down. You let go of him a bit reluctantly, a pout on your lips as he lays you out and then slowly pulls himself from you with a wet squelch.
"Good girl," he's murmuring - you realize he's been saying it the whole time - "Good girl, that's it, open your legs."
There's no hesitance at all anymore, not after that. You open your legs wide with abandon and sit up on your hands, watching with heavy lids as he grabs his phone from where he'd discarded it, bringing it down to your leaking pussy.
"Look at that," he breathes, awestruck, and your eyes trail downward to see what he sees. You feel heat return to your cheeks when you see the way his creamy white release is slowly beginning to dribble out of you and onto the towel.
"Wow, that's a lot," you whisper with a faint little giggle, eyes coming back up to look at his face as he watches it drip. You're not sure he hears you, intensely focused on where you're swollen and leaking, but you don't mind. You push back lazily on your hands and smile fondly at him as he takes his precious photos. In the afterglow, you find that the shutter sounds aren't that annoying, not really.
"Open her up for me, baby," he tells you softly, "Spread her wide and push it out."
You sit up a little, feeling drowsy and dreamy as you reach down and pull yourself open with your hands. You apply a little pressure, closing your eyes in a daze and hearing the wet little sounds as you push his cum out of you and onto the towel. You hear him groan, hear the shutter sounds again, and you can't help but grin.
"Are they good?" you ask him, genuinely wondering, "Is she pretty?" As you speak you pull yourself a little wider, allow him to take one more picture as close inside as possible before he pulls it away.
He looks up from his handiwork with that familiar soft smile on his face again, brown eyes shimmering in the sun that's already beginning to set, "You're perfect," he tells you, "And don't argue with me, I just gave you almost two thousand dollars."
You snort, releasing yourself and falling backwards onto the towel to stare up at the sky. Your limbs feel heavy, eyelids drooping as you watch Joel in your periphery slipping his soft cock back into his trunks, as well as his phone.
"It's real money, right?" you ask, a little unsure.
"I promise it's real money," he says with a chuckle, walking over to stand over you, "D'you wanna come back to my hotel with me and get cleaned up? Maybe have some more fun?"
You bite your lip, "Would you pay me?"
"I'd pay you."
Admittedly, as reality begins to wash over you, the idea doesn't sound anywhere near as appealing as it might have an hour ago. With a little effort, you sit up again and reach for your bikini, half buried in the sand near your feet.
"Nah, I think I'm good."
Joel reaches his arm down and you take it, letting him help you to your feet. As you put your bikini back on, you watch with a little smile as he digs the rest of your money out of his wallet, slipping it into your purse like it's just second nature at this point - which, it basically is. He stands there then, a little awkwardly, like he's not sure what to say.
"Well, uh, thank you, darlin'," he finally says, taking a step back and nodding toward you with a kind expression, "Not many girls would have, um... not many would've done this. I'd offer you my number, but I get the feeling that's not what this is."
You wince, shaking your head, "Yeah, this, uh- this isn't gonna go anywhere, sorry. But it was fun."
He nods, "It was. And, I mean, those pictures aren't just gonna collect dust, I can tell you that much."
You laugh, walking forward a little to pick up your bag. You stop in front of him and, after hesitating for only a moment, lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. Just a peck - a goodbye.
"Have a good rest of your summer," you tell him as you pull away, heat rising in your cheeks again as he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, "And uh- maybe try to be a little more covert with that camera."
This time it's his turn to blush, his cheeks tinging a dark shade of pink as he laughs and tosses you a wave, turning to begin walking away from you. He only makes it a few steps, and then-
"Hey, Joel?"
He turns on the spot, a hopeful look in his expression that makes you wonder, if only for a moment, that maybe you're making the wrong choice.
"You're not really a photographer, are you?"
His blush deepens, a look of embarrassment crossing his features, "No, I'm not. But after today, I just might try my hand at it."
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Hitchhiker | Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader
word count: 4.7k
warnings: fingering, very brief titty sucking, fingering, unprotected sex, cum eating, slow build up (SORRY)
summary: After your friends ditch you at a festival, you find yourself stranded on the highway and a kind stranger picks you up.
Fresh from the festival, the sun beats down on your skin as you squint against the glare. You're a bit disheveled from the wild concert, but you've still got a smile on your face. The highway offered a lonely walk, but the memories of the music still ringing in your ears. Staggering on, the lonesome highway seems to stretch on endlessly, with no escape from the scorching sun. As you continue, you decide it might be wiser to hitch a ride. You stick your thumb out, hoping to catch the attention of any passing cars, although glare from the sun probably isn't helping. After a few cars speed past you, ignoring your plea for a ride, a sleek, red mustang pulls up to the side of the road. It reverses slowly, coming to a stop next to you.
“You need a lift?” The man grins, the words rumble along with the car engine.
“You offering?” you say with a laugh. He's handsome, with a scruffy jaw and light blue eyes that hold an amused glint.
“Maybe.” He speaks again, his eyes searching your face. You approach the car, the gravel crunching under your feet. As you open the door, the scent of leather and clean air wafts over you. You slide into the seat, feeling a bit relieved that someone finally stopped for you. You shift in your seat, feeling the warmth of the day slowly dissipating. The car interior is cool and comfortable, the wind from the air conditioning brushing against your skin. Anakin starts the engine, the car rumbling beneath you.
There's a small awkward silence as the car begins to move, the sound of the tires against the pavement filling the space.
The man breaks the silence, his voice smooth and deep, “You didn't tell me your name.” The question is casual, friendly, and shot through with a sly charm. He steals a glimpse at you, a wry smile playing at the corner of his lips. You tell him your name with a friendly smile, glad that the awkwardness has been lifted.
“And you are…” You let your sentence trail off, gesturing towards him with a tilt of your head.
“Anakin.” he replies, his eyes never leaving the road. As you look at Anakin, the sun casting a warm glow on his fair skin, you can't help but admire his features. His light blue eyes seem to glisten in the fading light, his dark, honey-colored hair tousled softly on his forehead. His strong hands grip the steering wheel with a sense of confidence, his broad yet lean physique and stubble making him all the more ruggedly attractive. As the car smoothly moves along the highway, you can't help but feel a little thrill at being in his company.
You lean back into the seat, feeling the leather comfortably hug your body. “So, Anakin,” you ask with a playful note in your voice. “Where are you heading?” Anakin shoots you a sly grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Just a little town off the highway. Nothing too fancy, but it's home.” He asks, glancing at you again. “What about yourself, where are you off to?”
“I was supposed to go back into town with some friends but they all decided to leave me the show early, so I just left.” you explain in a dull tone. Anakin's brows furrow slightly, a hint of concern etched onto his face.
“Well, that's not very nice of them, is it?” He says disapprovingly. You can see that he was a bit bothered by your situation. “But at least you got a better ride than you bargained for.” He adds with a chuckle.
“You know I really do appreciate the ride.” you say sincerely. Anakin smirks, his eyes still on the road.
“Well it’d be a shame to leave a pretty little thing like yourself out in this heat, wouldn’t it?” He says as he steals another quick glance at you, giving you a short look over before returning his gaze to the road.
You look at Anakin, your eyes lingering on his features for a moment before you look back out of the window, your cheeks flushed. “You can drop me off at the gas station coming up.” You say, trying to change the subject and regain your composure. As much as you’d love to stay in the vintage vehicle and chat with the man you met just a short while ago, you had to get your hands on some food.
“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice. The approaching gas station signals the end of your impromptu road trip, a bittersweet feeling washing over you as you prepare to say your goodbyes.
“Yeah it’s okay, I’ll figure out somethin’.” You respond. You weren’t exactly sure what you’d do after leaving the gas station, but you were sure you’d figure it out.
“I might as well get some gas while I'm here," Anakin says, his tone lighter as he tries to make the best of the situation. “Thanks for the company.” he speaks with a smile, parking his car next to a gas tank in the process. You step out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath your feet once more.
“I’ll see you around Anakin.” With a final smile, you close the door behind you, the metal clanging softly. You move towards the small gas station, the glow from its windows beckoning you. The humidity smacks you in the face once again, the warm air heavy against your skin. Inside the little store, you can't help but steal glances out of the window towards Anakin. He's pumping gas, his broad shoulders and strong hands in full view. You turn your attention to the shelves, filled with a variety of snacks and drinks. You select a few items, the crinkling of the wrappers filling the quiet store, accompanied by the low hum of the shitty air conditioner.
You make your way to the register after grabbing a coke, the cold air from the fridge tickling your back as the door zips shut. The clerk smiles at you as you place your items on the counter, but you can't help but be a bit distracted, still thinking about Anakin.
You reach into your pocket to pull out your wallet, but are met with nothing. Dread prompts your eyebrows to furrow and your heart to miss a beat. You must've lost it back at the concert or maybe left it with a friend. You had to come up with something, and fast.
“$6.66.” The clerk's smile never falters as she informs you of your total. You offer her a weak smile, unsure of what to do about the missing wallet.
“Unlucky number.” you say with a nervous chuckle, gesturing towards the total. You felt stuck like there was absolutely nothing you could do.
The clerk chuckles, perhaps sensing your unease. “Some people believe in that kind of thing. But I think it's just a number. Besides, maybe it'll bring you some good luck instead.” She says, her tone friendly and reassuring. You smile, grateful for her lighthearted demeanor.
“I hope so.” You murmur to yourself, your eyes still locked on Anakin. Just as he finishes pumping gas, you turn and rush out of the store without thinking. The bell above the door jingles as you exit, your heart pounding in your chest. You make your way towards Anakin, the bit of a grin on your face conflicting with the guilt from leaving without paying.
You yell for Anakin while waving your unoccupied hand frantically. “Anakin! Go go go!” You call out, your cheeks flushed. Without waiting for an answer, you jump into his passenger seat, the door slamming shut behind you. Your eyes dart around, realizing the predicament you've just put yourself in. Anakin starts the engine, the car rumbling to life beneath you. You can see the surprise in his eyes when you jump in, but he recovers quickly, shifting the car into gear and speeding off from the gas station.
“Well that was dumb,” Anakin says with a wry smile, his eyes never leaving the road ahead, “What do you plan on doing now.” His tone is lighthearted, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.
You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “I don't know,” you reply honestly, your cheeks still flushed. “Hopefully nothing bad will come of it.” You can't help but feel a bit nervous about the consequences of your actions.
Anakin chuckles, his grin widening. He reaches over with his large, calloused hand and gives your thigh a consoling rub. “It was practically nothing. Just a few snacks.” He says. His confidence in you is comforting, easing some of the tension that had been building within you.
You look over at Anakin, your curiosity piqued by the events of the night. “So, you always pick up random strangers off the side of the road?” You ask, leaning back in your seat. You're intrigued by the man who's been nothing but kind and charming, making you wonder what drives him to be so generous.
“No, not always,” Anakin shakes his head. “But when I do, I'm glad I did.” As the car continues along the long road, you can't help but feel allured by Anakin. The way he carries himself, the charm in his wit, and the kindness he's shown you have created an indelible impression. His rugged exterior and the way he seems to effortlessly command the road make you feel safe and protected, despite only knowing him for less than a day.
Anakin peeks up at the sky, a hint of melancholy in his voice. “Looks like the sun's startin’ to set,” He muses, his eyes lingering on the horizon for a moment. The sky shimmers in shades of pink and orange as the sun dips below the horizon.
“So,” Anakin begins, his voice soft and curious. “Do your parents know where you are?” He asks, his eyes flicking over to you for a brief moment before returning to the road. The question, while seemingly innocent, carries with it a hint of concern. You can't help but appreciate the thoughtfulness beneath it.
“Kinda,” You hesitate for a moment, contemplating how much to share. “My parents didn't want me going to the show, but I went anyway.” A tinge of guilt lacing your words. The thought of the potential consequences of your actions weighs heavily on your mind.
“You know, they might be worried about you. Maybe you should call them when we stop for a bit. Let them know you're safe.” He suggests. You nod in agreement, knowing he’s right.
After a while, Anakin slows the car and pulls into the parking lot of a vacant auto repair shop. There, next to a broken-down Coke machine, stands an old-fashioned payphone. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of quarters before passing them to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Here, use these,” He says, the kindness in his voice as evident as the kindness in his eyes.
You take the quarters from him, the small gesture filling you with gratitude. You walk over to the old-fashioned payphone, the silver buttons shining in the dingy overhead light. You dial your parents' number, your heart beats faster as the phone rings.
“Whatever.” You mumble to yourself. After slamming the phone back on its cradle, you turn back towards the car. Anakin's eyes meet yours, concern etched into his features. “They didn't answer. Maybe they're asleep.” Anakin nods, recognizing your disappointed tone.
“Well, I'm sure they're just fine. Maybe they'll wake up and find your missed calls,” He says reassuringly. You offer him a weak smile, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “No, not really,” You admit, your voice soft. The truth is, you hadn't thought that far ahead, caught up in the excitement of the concert and the thrill of the unexpected journey. But now, the prospect of finding somewhere to stay in the middle of the night seems daunting.
Anakin considers this for a moment, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “Well, if you'd like, you can spend the night at my place. It's not far from here.” He offers, his voice even, unrattled by the potential implications of his words. The proposition is unexpected, yet comforting in its simplicity.
“I could just get a motel room,” You say, feeling a pang of hesitation. The idea of spending the night at a stranger's house, however well-intentioned, is a bit unnerving. But Anakin shakes his head, his expression unwavering.
“The motels nearby aren't the safest, I'd feel better about you staying with me.” Anakin insists firmly. There's a sense of finality to his tone, as if he's made up his mind and won't be dissuaded.
You chew on your lower lip, contemplating the offer. The thought of navigating a potentially shady motel in the middle of the night is enough to make you reconsider. The trust and care Anakin has shown you throughout the night reassures you somewhat, making it easier to see the good intentions behind his words.
You nod, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. “Alright then.” You say, grateful for the kindness and the offer of shelter. Anakin puts the car back into gear, the engine purring to life. You lean your head against the cool glass of the window and out at the darkness that surrounds you. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, the events of the night tumbling through your mind in a haphazard rhythm.
As the car hums along, you find yourself dozing off, the motion of the vehicle lulling you into a light, restless sleep. The world outside blurs as your eyes flutter shut.
“Hey sleepy girl,” The sound of Anakin's voice snaps you back to consciousness, your head jerking up from the window. “We’re pulling up now.”
Anakin pulls into a driveway and parks the car and you catch your first glimpse of his home. It's an old little house, nestled within a grove of trees, their branches reaching out like arms, enveloping the house in a natural embrace. The porch light flickers on, casting a warm glow that seems to beckon you.
The house has a charm to it, its weathered wood and stone, layered with a history that speaks of comfort and solace. A hammock swings gently from two trees, the scene reminiscent of quiet afternoons and relaxation. The porch is lined with potted plants, their greenery breathing life into the otherwise still night.
The two of you step out of the car and make your way up the porch steps, the creak of the weathered, wooden planks adding to the tranquil atmosphere. Anakin unlocks the door, the brass handle yielding with a soft turn. He holds it open for you, gesturing for you to enter. The aroma of wood and spice wafts from within, a faint hint of tobacco lingering just beneath the surface.
You step inside, the door closing gently behind you. Anakin follows, the door's latch securing you both in this refuge for the night. The room is cozy, with a worn-in couch and a large armchair by the un-lit fireplace. A wooden table sits in the center, a lamp on its surface casting a warm glow.
“The bathroom's down there,” Anakin gestures to the hall, his voice a soft rumble. “Take your time. I'll bring you some clothes when you’re done.” He informs you, his eyes briefly meeting yours once more.
You smile gratefully, the offer of a shower after your long day feeling like a true blessing. “Thank you.” You say softly. You nod your gratitude and head down the hall, the wooden floor creaking beneath your feet.
The bathroom is clean and simple, with a shower stall and a tub. You turn on the water, the steam rising as the heat envelops you. The sound of the water washes away the residue of the day, the tension slowly draining from your body.
After a while, you turn off the shower, the sound of running water replaced by the gentle drip of water from the tap. You wrap a towel around yourself, your hair hanging in damp ringlets about your face.
You hear a soft knock on the door, followed by Anakin's voice. “I got you some clothes for tonight. I'll just be outside when you’re done.” He says, his tone gentle.
You open the door a crack, revealing just your face behind the barrier of wood. Your hands brush against Anakin's as he gently hands you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. His fingers linger on yours for a moment, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.
The pants Anakin left were a little too big for you, so you decide to just wear the shirt. It's a comfortable fit, the fabric soft against your skin. You tuck your hair behind your ears, gathering your things, before making your way down the hall. You make your way through the dark house, your footsteps light on the wooden floor. There, you find Anakin, seated in a long, outstretched lounging chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The faint glow from the tip illuminates his face, casting shadows that play across his features.
He looks up as you approach, his eyes meeting yours before returning to the night. The silence between you is comfortable, the hum of the night insects and the crackle of the fire serving as a soothing soundtrack. You join him on the porch, the chair creaking softly as you settle onto it. The stars above are brilliant, their light casting a dream-like veil over this unexpected sojourn.
The cool night air is punctuated by the sound of his inhale, the smoke curling upward like tendrils of fog.
Anakin glances over at you, his eyes lingering on your bare legs for a moment before he speaks. “The pants didn't fit, did they?” He asks with a smile.
You shake your head, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. “No, they were a bit too big for me,” You reply, your voice light, attempting to brush off the awkwardness. “You’ve got a nice place here,” You say, your words soft, as if to break the ice. You're not sure what else to say, the unfamiliarity of the situation making you feel a bit exposed.
Anakin nods, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling a plume of smoke. “It was my grandma's house. She moved to a nursing home a few years ago,” He responds, his voice filled with a hint of nostalgia. “I decided to keep it. It's been a good place for me.”
The revelation adds another layer to the enigmatic stranger before you. The house, with its charm and history, now seems like the perfect vessel for his stories. You can't help but feel a bit envious of the heritage and the connection it must provide.
“You got a girlfriend?” You ask. You're not quite sure why you want to know, but the question tumbles from your lips, the night seeming to demand answers.
Anakin pauses for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Not at the moment,” He replies, his voice even. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze for a brief moment before flicking back to the night. “If I did I don’t think she’d like the thought of me picking up pretty girls from the side of the road.” He says with a lopsided grin.
You reach your hand over, your fingers brushing against his as you take the cigarette. He passes it to you without hesitation, the warmth of his skin lingering on your fingertips. You take a drag, the smoke burning your throat, your eyes watering slightly. You cough, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you pass the cigarette back to him. “I guess I should thank you for that then.” You say, your voice light and teasing.
The two of you lock eyes, the silence between you thick with unspoken thoughts. Anakin's gaze is intense, filled with a desire that is, for the moment, unspoken. He slowly leans in towards you, his nose brushing against yours softly. Your heart races as his lips meet yours, the kiss tender and hesitant at first. But as your lips part, the kiss deepens, the sudden intimacy of the moment overwhelming. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, the warmth of his body enveloping you.
Anakin's hand glide along your thighs, the other coming up to brush across you now hardened nipple, his touch a trail of fire that leaves you shivering. The air between you crackles with electricity, the tension thick as you both surrender to the magnetic pull that has brought you together. As Anakin continues to brush his hands against your body, your hips shift, accidentally grinding down against his. The sudden contact sends a jolt through both of you, the heat between you reaching a fever pitch. Anakin's breath hitches, his eyes widening for a brief moment before he recovers, his hand coming to rest on your hip.
“Fuck- not here.”Anakin stands up from the chair, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the solid strength of his body beneath yours. He makes his way inside, the creaking of the floorboards echoing softly as he carries you through the house. His room is cozy, with a large bed dominating the center. He sets you down gently on the mattress, the fabric cool against your skin.
Anakin hovers above you, his body poised over yours as he continues to kiss you, his lips exploring yours with a steadfast passion. His hand reaches between your legs and begins to rub his thumb against your panties, the warmth of his touch making your cunt clench pathetically around nothing. You arch your back, your hands gripping his shirt, the fabric straining under your fingers.
“Please do something.” You whisper, the plea barely audible as your body writhes under his touch.
“Be patient,” He says, his lips barely leaving yours. He slips his hand beneath your panties, his fingers teasing your entrance before slowly sliding inside, his thumb still working against your clit. “You’re so wet.” Anakin groans at the slick warmth that envelops his fingers, his own desire evident in the sound.
Anakin begins to pump his fingers inside you, the steady rhythm of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your hips rising to meet his hand, the hunger for release growing with each passing second. He leans down, his lips trailing kisses down your neck. The sensation of his lips against your skin combined with the rhythm of his hand is almost too much to bear. His other hand cups your soft skin, his thumb brushing over your nipple, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. He slides your shirt up, revealing your breast to his eager gaze. Anakin takes your nipple into his mouth, the sensation of his lips and teeth sending a jet of pleasure through you.
“I'm s-so close, ‘m gonna cum.” You gasp, the words barely audible over your racing heart.
Anakin responds to your plea with unbridled fervor, his fingers digging into you, his mouth working furiously on your nipple.
“Cum on my fingers baby, you got it.” He growls, the command laced with a need that mirrors your own. Your voice rings out in a cry as your orgasm swallows you whole, Anakin's fingers soaked with your wetness.
Anakin pulls his fingers from your pulsating cunt, bringing them to his mouth. He sucks on them hungrily, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans in forward and kisses you again, the taste of you on his lips and tongue as he deepens the kiss.
You reach out, your hand finding the hard bulge in Anakin's pants as you kiss him. He groans into your mouth, the sensation of your touch sending waves of desire through him. Anakin breaks the kiss, his eyes filled with a raw hunger as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants. His erection springs free, standing tall and proud, the evidence of his intense attraction to you on full display.
He positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance. With a slow, deliberate motion, Anakin pushes himself inside you, the sensation of his length filling you causing a gasp to escape your lips. He pauses for a moment, the two of you locked in a heated embrace, the weight of the moment hanging between you.
“Hold on just…give me a second.” Anakin's breath hitches, his head drops to your shoulder as he gathers himself, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.
After a second or two, Anakin starts to roll his hips into yours, his rhythm slow and deliberate at first, the sensations building as he moves within you. His voice is heavy with yearning, the words spoken from a place of raw need.
“You’re so tight, clenching around me so good angel.” He murmurs into your ear, his hot breath causing a shiver to race down your spine. Anakin increases the pace of his movements, the new pace causing you to moan louder, the feeling of him inside you becoming more and more intense. Your nails latch onto his shoulder blades, your body arching up to meet his thrusts.
“Need more Anakin, please.” You breathe out between moans. Responding to your plea, Anakin leans back, his arms tightly gripping your waist as he tilts your hips up, driving himself deeper inside you. The new angle sends jolts of pleasure through your body, the intensity building with each subsequent thrust.
“You like that? ‘S that better?” He speaks breathlessly. Words babble from your lips, the coherency of your speech lost to the bliss that courses through you.
“Such a sweet girl getting fucked by a stranger.” Anakin teases you with a grin, aware of the circumstances that have led you here. You haven’t even known him for twenty four hours and you’re already dumb for his cock.
“I’m gettin’ close angel.” he growls, his breathing harsh and erratic as he continues to jackhammer himself into you.
You gasp as the sensation of him within you reaches a fever pitch. “Me too,” You manage to get out between breaths, your eyes locked onto his as you feel the hot coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with each thrust.
Anakin eggs you on, his voice a guttural growl as he feels the moment drawing near. “Cum on my cock baby, give it to me.” He demands, the need in his voice only serving to fuel your own. The intensity of the moment becomes almost unbearable, your body convulsing your orgasm washes over you once more. Anakin doesn't hold back, following in your wake as he releases inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm.
Anakin takes a moment before slowly pulling out of your worn pussy, the heady scent of sex hanging heavy in the air. Anakin kneels in front of you, his gaze locked on your throbbing core, savoring its abused form. His tongue darts out, cleaning the swirl of your shared fluids, his tongue lapping gently at your folds.
“T-too sensitive, I can’t-” His thumb rubbing your inner thigh offers a soothing balance to the sensations, the gentle pressure providing a comforting contrast to the lingering pleasure.
“ ‘M almost done.” He says, his tone calm as his tongue continues its delicate motions.
Anakin finishes cleaning you, his tongue retreating, leaving you slick and satisfied. His eyes meet yours as he crawls back up the bed, his lips claiming yours in a tender kiss. The two of you fall into a contented silence, your bodies tangled together. The weight of the day’s wild events fades as exhaustion claims you both, the warmth of the shared intimacy enveloping you as you drift off to sleep. Though the future remains uncertain, the intimacy of the moment lingers.
#nai writes ୨୧#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker blurb#anakin skywalker drabble#anakin x you#anakin x reader#anakin smut#hayden christensen#hayden christensen blurb#hayden christensen drabble#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen smut#st4rfckerz
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Okay but like changbin gives me I don’t care that you just went to the gym and want to shower, I want you now
“LUNCH” S. C.
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Everyday I cry about the fact that I’ll never have a chance to be strong armed by Changbin. We all can suffer together though…
[ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ ORAL ] + [ NO PLOT… ]
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Changbin doesn’t know what it is about seeing you working so hard next to him at the gym that gets his blood running hot.
Maybe it's how you look into the mirror as you stretch, so focused but undeniably ethereal at the same time.
Perhaps it's the gentle smile you give him any time you waltz past to another station or area of exercise.
He can’t help but stare you down while working out by himself.
You're gorgeous, and you know he knows.
Maybe the subtle sheen of sweat coasts your skin when your shared workout is all said and done.
You take your time to cool down with him, making sly remarks about his progress and refuting the praise he gives you out of instinctual humility.
He can't quite put his fingers on the reason his cock twitches to life when you make it a point to be touchy with him all the way home.
Leaning into his side as you walk.
Holding his arms in a tight embrace with your head on his shoulder.
Playing with his free hand as he drives while rambling about anything and everything.
Pecking his cheek the instant your apartment door clicks shut behind you both.
The tension is tortuous for him, but he deals with it well.
That is until you bend over to grab a water from the fridge.
His will snaps in two, seeing your backside out for the taking, the brace of your hands gripping cool steel not helping his imagination, and the soft hums you let out as you search for a snack to share, pulling him in close like a siren song.
You jump, feeling his hands on your hips without warning, comfortable but confused.
Changbin has always been touchy, and you don't mind, but the absence of a quick shower has you squirming away from him.
You ask what he wants, leaving the snack choice up for debate as he presses into you.
“Just you..” he murmurs so low you aren't sure if he even spoke, to begin with, but he did, and that much is evident by the heat his breath leaves on the shell of your ear.
It's distracting, his heavy breathing, the subtle grind of his hips as you gasp in shock, and the gentle grip his hands impose on your ass.
“Not now..” you whisper stubbornly, a half-hearted attempt to pry him off your body, but Changbin doesn't hear a word you say.
He's busy slamming the fridge shut, lips trailing your neck for a specific spot as he does, and he finds it in seconds.
You stiffen as his tongue runs over a healing mark, a tender spot he abused on the regular, and you crumble at it.
He bit down a tender nip that roused a high-pitched moan from you.
That lingering adrenaline from the gym surges back, intensifying as his tongue lapped at your surface wound.
You shudder as the wet muscle collects your sweat, lathering his tongue and adding to the thrill you wanted to hide.
“You're disgusting..” you huff defiantly, smiling despite the harsh observation, but Changbin seems to take it to heart.
A sharp slap is given to your backside, unforgiving and completely petrifying.
Your head whipped to the side to glare at him, mouth open to curse him, but you didn't get a chance to.
Changbin takes his time then, exploring your open mouth with care, tongue diving deeper with each lick, luring yours in with sloppy intent.
Drool trickles down your chin, mixing with salty skin and dampening the exchange.
He pushes, and you pull.
One rough movement on his part has you pinned between him and the steel door, chest to chest, eye to eye.
You take a breath, gasping for air as he tears away to mark your neck again, hungry for the taste of you.
In shock, you mewl and writhe, forgetting the desire to freshen up as his hands slip down the underside of your thighs.
One solid tap from him is all you need to jump; legs secure on his waist and hands clasped around his nape.
Changbin steps back twice, turning a heel to lay you down on a countertop.
“Cold!” you hiss, mildly alarmed by the sudden temperature change, but your worries vanish as he tugs at the zipper keeping your cropped athletic shirt together.
You watch as his eyes drift upwards, never leaving yours as the silver zip comes undone above your navel.
Cool air surrounds your breasts, nipples peaking high and remnants of sweat glistening on them.
He stops to admire, smiling wide as your chest rises and falls from slow breaths.
You tug a tuft of his hair, begging him to get a closer view of them, even better taste.
Changbin concedes immediately, warm mouth sinking on your left breast first, suckling slow and harsh before his tongue found a strategic pattern to entertain your bud.
He switched with vigor, going from one mound to the next with a grateful grin.
You shuddered after each menstruation, back arching from the solid counter to meet his firm weight.
He smiled against your skin, purposefully spitting down the valley of your breasts to lick it up with a proud smile.
“You're sick..” you moan wantonly, running your hands through his hair and fisting the dark strands tight as he chuckled.
“And you're aren't?” his rhetorical response earns a blush from you, a rare bashful look in your eyes as his hands tugged at your bottoms.
“M’ not..” you deny out of habit, knowing full well you were lying through your teeth and that the moment your cunt was exposed to him, the red be evidence.
“I doubt that..” Changbin cooed playfully, sweet words contrasting the nearly brash way he pulled your shorts and panties off.
The articles of clothing settled on the floor at his feet, his shirt joining soon after, and you shifted to add your top to the pile but stopped as he shook his head.
“Leave it be. You look cute this way.”
His compliment makes you blank out for a second; it is honest but straightforward.
You attempt to thank him, lips parted to speak gratitude, but all that rushes out is a satisfied whimper as his head nestles between your legs.
How he knelt so fast to get a taste from your cunt wasn't a concern as your focus lingered on his tongue passing through your folds.
One should feel disturbed by the ordeal, being eaten out so vigorously, but you're not allowed to be.
Changbin negates it with pleasure, lapping at your clit religiously, alternating his focus on the bundle of nerves and your heated walls.
His hands keep your thighs apart, forcing them wide open and leveraging that access for all its worth.
You pant physically, losing concentration as he suckles your clit and applies delicate intrusion into your seat heat.
The taste is different to him, more addictive and intoxicating.
He goes back in for more, selfish with his goal to make you come, and thoroughly enjoying the shy screams you let out as your high ramps up.
Changbin eyes your reactions, not stopping you from sitting up on your elbows to watch him devour you.
“Fuck..is it that good?..” you tease him through a string of broken moans, tangling a hand in his hair to push him in closer.
He doesn't fight you, smiling as your walls contract around his tongue.
A rigid shudder through you follows, your smile widening as he moans against your mound, and your toes curl at the primal sound and vibration it imbues.
The gentle swirl of his tongue along your folds and clit is electrifying, dizzying even, and your knees go weak at the feeling.
Was he that deprived of you?
That morbidly starved from your cunt?
You could only assume that was the case with the way he drooled on your entrance, a gentle hiss of approval leaving his slick lips as a mixture of cum and spit slithered down your folds and onto the countertop.
A bit stunned by the vulgar sight, you made a move to hop off the edge out of embarrassment, but Changbin imposed himself on you again, holding you hostage with his clothed cock prodding your cut through his shorts.
His tip twitched at your entrance, the overt action rendering you speechless as he ground his hips harder into you.
Sensitive, you were ever so sensitive as he edged you to delirium.
You glanced downward, getting impatient with him but thrilled by the sight of his erection.
Changbin followed your gaze, smirking as he halted his movements, not minding the pout on your face as he did.
If your stomach wasn't already full of butterflies, it was the moment his bare cock came into view.
You couldn’t look away as he gently pumped his length, precum leaking from his tip in steady drops, and you nearly frowned, seeing the liquid go to waste.
Changbin watched you eyeing him, biting back a grin as your breaths grew heavier with every jut of his fist, “My eyes are up here, baby doll.”
He inches closer, satisfied with how slick his cock is and not hesitating to pass it up and down your folds.
The sensation is a literal adrenaline rush, with wet and soft skin meshing together at the most sensitive point, and your head spins from it.
“C-can’t help it,” you hiss quietly, eyes rolling as they flutter shut.
Changbin steadies himself with a hold on your thighs, grounding you both before he presses forward into your cunt.
The blatant intrusion of his cock makes you weak all over, not a painfully long penetration, but a pleasurable thick one.
In your opinion, Changbin was a perfect fit for you; it was just the right amount of sweet and sultry.
The juxtaposition of his lips pecking at yours softly while his hips snap at an even pace between your trembling thighs is mind-numbing.
All your worries seem to fade when he’s delving inside you so passionately, eyes fixated on your face, hands planted on your waist.
You keep him in place with a lock of your legs around his waist, fingers tousling his hair, and your chest pasted to his with slivers of sweat running down both your bodies.
He’s in no rush, muttering words only deprived lovers share, testing resolve to cum early with rougher thrusts.
“Should’ve fucked you at the gym…let everyone hear how pretty you sound working out on my cock, hm?”
Changbin taunts you through a groan, subconsciously prepared for the vice grip your walls inflict whenever he speaks so explicitly with no hesitation.
You nod lazily, mouth agape as the sloppy rut of your hips creates an exciting rhythm with his, practically drooling, feeling a puddle of cum form on the counter.
Changbin glances down to where you two connect, breath catching in his throat as the skin-on-skin contact presents a sight for sore eyes.
“It kills me how long you make me wait to have you like this. I finally get you all to myself, and you wanna run off…” he pauses, thrusts, taking a faster pace, and one you scream out for.
“It’s not my fault- oh god..” you shudder violently as he pins your hips down, hyperfocused on overstimulating you, and it’s working too well.
The knot in your core winds faster, pulling in on itself with every passing second, and you scramble to hold it at bay with a weak attempt to push his hands off your waist for freedom to move.
You fail, wrists now pinned on the counter with his fists, leaving you helpless.
Changbin readjusts his hold, intertwining your fingers with his, sliding your conjoined hands up above your head.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
He refutes your point, breathing in your moans as your noses brush against each other.
You have more to say; try to tell them, but the impending end of your control nears faster than your will to speak.
It’s a building pressure in your chest that spreads to your cunt in heat waves, flustering you into a fit of cries.
“Fine, it is! It’s my fucking fault! Please don’t stop!..”
Changbin passes his lips over yours, barely hushing your pants as his hands squeeze your fingers gently.
The tenderness of your inner walls baring down him harder and harder the closer you got to an end.
Your agreeable nature infects his ego, a cocky glint in his gaze as he kisses you tenderly.
The swirl of his tongue past yours is comforting, a subtle shove your body accepts before the knot in your core snaps, and arousal pools from your slit.
“Mhm,” he cheekily hums as you come undone against his mouth, lazily gliding his tongue to capture whatever bit of release you had left before kissing your trembling thighs.
“I can’t believe you…” a dramatic groan leaves you as Changbin stands up and leans over to flash a satisfied smirk your way.
“Couldn’t help myself…you know how I get after a workout…”
You scoff, masking a shy smile with a roll of your eyes, “Then remind me to never go workout with you again.”
“Sorry, what’d you say, sweetheart?” He feigns a confused expression, helping you hop off the counter with ease, and you slap his bicep in return.
“Suddenly you’re deaf…”
Changbin laughs, following close behind as you head for a shower, taking the chance of your back being turned to slap your ass.
You yelp, face turning shades of red as he drags you into a back hug.
“I’m not deaf. I just know you’d never pass up a chance to work out with me and I’d never pass on fucking you after…”
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It’s like I’m a ghost of my own page atp. I appear to haunt you guys and then disappear without a trace…🖤
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
#skz#changbin smut#stray kids#skz smut#stray kids x reader#changbin x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#changbin stray kids#changbin x you#seo changbin hard thoughts#seo changbin stray kids#seo changbin#changbin skz#changbin x y/n#changbin headcanons#changbin scenarios
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Plzzz tell me we are getting a part 2 of you had me at hello
You ask and you'll receive.
had me at hello ll | oscar piastri
oscar piastri x perez!reader
part l
oscar and you are dating but when dating someone with such a high profile scrutiny is unavoidable.
You checked your phone nervously, glancing around the corner of the dimly lit café. It was your first real date, away from the prying eyes of the paddock and the ever-watchful media. You smiled as you saw Oscar approaching, his usual quiet demeanor replaced with a boyish grin.
Oscar slid into the seat across from you, his eyes sparkling. “This place is perfect,” he said, looking around at the cozy décor. “How did you find it?”
“An actress never tells her secrets.” You teased, winking. “But seriously, I thought we could use a break from all the chaos.”
You ordered drinks and settled into an easy conversation, talking about everything from your favorite movies to the challenges you and Oscar have faced in your careers. The more they talked, the more You realized how much you enjoyed Oscar’s company. He was kind, attentive, and surprisingly funny.
Midway through your conversation, Oscar reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I have to tell you something,” he began, his cheeks tinged with pink.
“What is it?” You asked, intrigued by his sudden seriousness.
Oscar took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I absolutely love your accent. The way you speak… it’s beautiful. I could listen to you talk all day.”
You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. “Thank you, Oscar. That’s really sweet. I guess I never really thought about it.”
Oscar smiled, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “It’s just… it’s a part of you. And I like everything about you, even the way you say my name.”
You squeezed his hand, feeling your heart race. “You’re making me blush, Oscar.”
You finished their drinks and decided to take a walk along the quiet streets. The night air was cool, and You shivered slightly. Without a word, Oscar draped his jacket over your shoulders, his hand lingering on your arm.
Y/n looked at him through your lashes, taking hold of his hand, gently giving him enough time to pull away, but he didn’t. He brought their interlinked hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand.
A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through you as you felt the gentle pressure of his lips on your skin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it carried so much meaning. You squeezed his hand, your fingers intertwining perfectly.
As they walked, the city lights casting a soft glow around them, Oscar suddenly stopped.
“Y/n, can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” you replied, looking up at him.
“What happens if this gets out?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I don't want to cause something with your brother," He swallows watching you with careful eyes.
You took a deep breath, considering his words. “We’ll deal with it together,” you said firmly. “I don’t know what Checo could do, but I do know that I want to be with you.”
Oscar smiled, relief was evident in his eyes. “I want that too.”
Oscar let out a huff. "So, you're my girlfriend?" he asked, swinging your hands. You looked over at him, "Looks like it."
You continued your walk, eventually reaching the front of your hotel room. Standing there, basking in each other's warmth, he opened his mouth to say something, "I'm sorry, I have to," he said, grabbing the side of your face and bringing you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, your hands gripping his wrist.
You both pulled away, lips swollen. "Good night, Oscar," you smiled, ducking into the room.
You quietly entered the hotel suite, as you settled your bag down you heard knock on your door, using your code knock like when you guys were little.
letting him in he takes a seat on the loveseat.
He took in your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, and the way your pupils were slightly dilated.
"¿Dónde has estado?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just out,” you reply nonchalantly, trying to hide your smile.
Checo notices and sits up straight."¿Con Oscar verdad?"
You sigh, knowing you can’t hide it. “Yes, with Oscar.”
Checo frowns. “estoy preocupado por ti. Todo esto con Oscar… es complicado. Ustedes tienen carreras exigentes y los medios son implacables. Simplemente no quiero que te lastimes.”
You sit down next to him, your excitement from the date now mixed with concern. “I understand why you’re worried, Checo. But Oscar makes me happy. And I think we can handle it.” You rest your head on his shoulder.
Checo looks at you, his expression softening. “Simplemente no quiero verte lastimado. Si él te hace feliz, eso es todo lo que importa. Pero prométeme que tendrás cuidado."
You nod, hugging him. "Te lo prometo. Y gracias por preocuparte tanto."
"Solo recuerda, siempre estaré aquí para ti, pase lo que pase."
you let him out of your room, then collapsing onto the bed with a hazy expression on your face. Your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, from guilt to excitement to fear of the consequences.
Later that night, you can't stop thinking about Oscar. The day's excitement has only heightened your feelings for him, and you find yourself wanting to be close to him again. You text him, and within minutes, there's a soft knock on your door.
You open it to find Oscar standing there, a shy smile on his face. "Hey," he says softly.
"Hey," you reply, stepping aside to let him in. "I just... I wanted to see you."
He closes the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours. "I wanted to see you too," he says, his voice a low murmur.
Without another word, he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your face. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and then his lips are on yours, soft and gentle.
You melt into the kiss, your hands gripping his wrists as you lose yourself in the moment. The kiss deepens, and you feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. He walks towards the couch, sitting down, and you straddle him, your hands making their way to the hair at the base of his neck. You tug slightly, making him let out a quiet groan.
The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and you press closer to him, feeling his hands move to your waist. The intensity of the moment builds, your heart pounding in your chest as you lose yourself in his touch and the heat between you.
Just as things are starting to heat up, you hear a soft knock on your door. Both of you freeze, pulling away from each other reluctantly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to compose yourself.
"Y/n, are you okay?" It's Checo's voice, filled with concern.
You glance at Oscar, who looks equally startled. Taking a deep breath, you call out, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a minute."
You quickly straighten your clothes and smooth your hair before opening the door. Checo stands there, his expression a mix of worry and curiosity.
"What's going on?" he asks, his eyes darting between you and Oscar, who is now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
"Nothing, we were just talking," you say, trying to sound casual.
Checo raises an eyebrow but doesn't press the issue. "Alright, just wanted to make sure you're okay. It's late, try to get some sleep."
You nod, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. "I will, thanks, Checo."
As Checo turns to leave, you close the door and lean against it, your heart still racing. Oscar steps closer, his hand finding yours.
"That was close," he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Too close," you agree, squeezing his hand. "Maybe we should call it a night."
Oscar nods, leaning in to give you one last, lingering kiss. "Good night, Y/n. See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Oscar," you whisper back, watching him quietly leave the room.
With your heart still pounding, you crawl into bed, laying there your fingers dance around your lips, they feel swollen, and you sigh trying to fall asleep, for now, you let the warmth of his kiss linger as you drift off to sleep.
-
You and Oscar have been dating for a while now, you attend races as much as you could, switching up which team you would support.
Checo has accepted that you and Oscar are together, and he's happy to see his little sister happy.
The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stretch languidly, the memory of last night bringing a smile to your face. The clock reads 8:30 AM, giving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Oscar.
You slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot helping to shake off any lingering sleepiness. As you go through your morning routine, your thoughts drift to Oscar, and a giddy excitement bubbles up inside you.
Once you're dressed in your carefully chosen outfit—a sleeveless white top with a tailored, fitted design and a deep neckline, paired with high-waisted, wide-leg jeans—you step back to admire yourself in the mirror. The red Prada heels, red handbag, and delicate necklaces add just the right touch of elegance and color.
Your phone buzzes, pulling you out of your reverie. It's a text from Oscar
Morning! Ready to go?
Yeah meet me in the lobby in 10?
Perfect see you soon 😊
Feeling a rush of excitment, you grab your things and head down to the lobby. As you wait, you check your reflection one last time in the lobby mirror, adjusting your hair and making sure everything is perfect.
Just as you finish, you hear a familiar voice behind you. "Y/n?"
You turn to see Checo walking towards you, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing down here so early?"
Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly compose yourself. "Oh, just meeting Oscar."
Checo chuckles, "You sure do love him."
Just then, the elevator doors open, and Oscar steps out, looking slightly flustered but undeniably handsome. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he quickly makes his way over.
"Good morning," he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.
"Good morning," you reply, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.
Checo watches the exchange with a neutral expression, but you can sense his protective instincts kicking in.
"Ready to go?" Oscar asks, offering his hand.
You take it, feeling a surge of happiness. "Absolutely."
Checo clears his throat, drawing both of your attention. "Oscar," he starts, his tone serious, "Look out for her."
Oscar nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I will."
Satisfied, Checo steps back, giving you both a nod. "Alright, you two. Have a good day."
You and Oscar head out of the hotel, hand in hand. The drive to the paddock is filled with easy conversation and laughter. Oscar seems more relaxed than ever, and you can't help but feel the same.
When he parks, he doesn't get out immediately he looks over at you, he runs his thumb against the back of your hand, "you look beautiful." he says.
You blush, thanking him, he get out of the car, opening your car door helping you out, he grabs your had walking towards the etrance of the circuit.
Fans push against the barricade trying to get Oscar to sign things, he slows down you let go of his hand to let him sign things for fans, you stand next to him, a fan greets you, you greet back, "y/n you look so cute today," you smile at the fan thanking her.
Oscar peers at you, "she always looks cute," he says handing back a cap to a fan, fans around you "Aw" and you giggle, Oscar bids them goodbye walking towards the garage.
The race went great for your brother, but for your boyfriend not so much, P16 wasn't a nice look, he walked toward the garage, his head hung low, and mechanics and engineers pat his back, you walk towards him taking his helmet that clutched he wrapped around your waist burying his nose into your shoulder.
you let him sit there, rubbing his back comfortably, he lets go, pecking your lips, and going to his drivers room.
That night Oscar layed down his head against your chest, an episode of Criminal Minds played in the background, you can hear him mutter something at the TV when the Team missed a clue.
Your phone vibrates, it is an email from your agent, she attached a letter from Sony, it read.
Dear Y/n, you got the part! You were amazing, the scripts are attached to this, and we can't wait to brainstorm with you, here is a rough draft schedule for filming.
SCREEN TESTS: JULY 25, 2023 BARBADOS
TABLE READS: JULY 26, 2023 BARBADOS
FILMING STARTS: JULY 30, 2023 BARBADOS
BREAK: OCTOBER 20, 2023 BARBADOS
FILMING STARTS: OCTOBER 31, 2023 BARBADOS
FILMING ENDS: NOVEMBER 20, 2023 BARBADOS
Kindly,Tony Vinciquerra
You blink, before processing anymore Oscar sits up, "we should order ice cream." he says slipping out of bed, he grabs the phone calling room service.
You stare at Oscar, and when he notices he gives you a wink, you look down at the email, you turn off your phone facing Oscar promising you'll tell him tomorrow
-
You found Oscar sitting in the jacuzzi on the balcony of your room, his head leaned back, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly ajar. His eyes opened as you approached, his face lighting up with a smile that quickly faded when he saw the worry in your eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly, watching you as you sat on the ledge of the jacuzzi, the ends of your thin nightgown getting wet.
“Hey,” you replied, “We need to talk.”
Oscar nodded, taking your hand in his.
You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I got an offer for a film role. It’s a big opportunity, but it’s in Barbados. I’d have to be away for three months.”
Oscar’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his expression serious. “That’s amazing, Y/n. You’ve worked so hard for this.”
“But it means we’d be apart,” you said, your voice trembling. “And you know long distance doesn't work.”
Oscar cupped your cheek with his free hand, looking into your eyes. “We’ll make it work. I won’t lie, it’s going to be tough, but we’ll figure it out. I believe in us.”
You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away. “I believe in us too. But I’m scared, Oscar. Scared of losing you, of what people will say…”
Oscar pulled you into a tight hug, not caring if your nightgown got wet, his voice gentle but firm. “You have to go, and I’ll support you every step of the way. We’ll find a way to make it work, no matter what.”
Feeling the warmth of his embrace, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. It started softly, but soon it deepened, fueled by the intensity of emotions. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, holding him close as you poured all your love and longing into the kiss.
-
The following week, Checo and Oscar stood before you. You wore sunglasses to conceal any signs of tears.
Oscar respectfully stepped away, allowing you and your brother a moment together. "Vas a estar bien, te estaremos esperando, no te preocupes," he assured you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.
Planting a tender kiss on your forehead, he signaled to Oscar, who approached. After placing your glasses atop your head, Oscar gently wiped away a stray tear. "I love you," he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheeks before landing a soft kiss on your lips. You reciprocated, whispering, "I love you, Oscar," as he smiled warmly. "I love you more," he replied.
As Checo returned to your side, your gate was called. Grabbing your bag, you walked away from them. Checo patted Oscar on the back reassuringly. "She'll be okay."
-
You sat in your trailer, staring at the script in front of you. You had just finished another exhausting day of filming, and your body ached for rest. Your phone buzzed with a message from Oscar, asking how your day had been. You smiled at his thoughtfulness, but a pang of guilt hit you for not being able to respond immediately.
Later that evening, You found a quiet moment to call Oscar. “Hey,” you said softly, leaning back against the couch.
“Hey,” Oscar replied, his voice filled with warmth. “How was your day?”
“Long,” you admitted, sighing. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Oscar said, his tone sincere. “But I have some good news. I’ve been doing really well in the simulations. The team thinks I might have a good shot at the podium this weekend.”
Your heart swelled with pride. “That’s amazing, Oscar! I knew you could do it.”
“But there’s something else,” Oscar continued, his voice growing serious. “The team wants me to stay focused. They’re worried that our relationship might be a distraction.”
Your heart sank. “What do you mean?”
“They think we’re spending too much time together,” Oscar explained. “They want me to cut back on our calls, at least until the season ends.”
You felt a knot forming in your stomach. “Oscar, I don’t want to be a distraction. I want to support you.”
“I know,” Oscar said gently. “And you do. But I have to prove to them that I can stay focused."
You took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “Okay. We’ll make it work. I believe in you, Oscar.”
Oscar’s voice softened. “Thank you, Y/n. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you whispered, ending the call and staring at your phone, you sigh running a hand through your face.
before dwelling on your thoughts too much, your assistant called you out to film some promotional videos.
-
Later that week, You found yourself on a film set in a picturesque but remote location. The long hours and demanding schedule left little time for anything else. You missed Oscar terribly, your brief texts and calls never feeling like enough.
It also didn't help that he was traveling around the world.
One night, after an exhausting shoot, you returned to your trailer to find a bouquet of flowers and a note from Oscar: "Thinking of you. We’ll make it through this. Love, Oscar."
Tears welled up in your eyes as she read the note. You called him immediately, needing to hear his voice.
"Hey," he answered, sounding equally tired but happy to hear from you.
"Hey," you said, you voice breaking. "Thank you for the flowers. I miss you so much."
"I miss you too," Oscar replied. "But remember what we talked about? We’re in this together. No matter what."
You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reassurance washed over you. "I know. And I’m here for you too, Oscar. We’ll get through this."
You and Oscar stayed on the phone for hours that night, until you fell asleep.
-
Your co-star bangs on your trailer door you jump up from your spot, quickly opening the door to be greeted by him. "Y/n, stop being so boring. The crew and I are gonna go get a bite. Wanna come?" he asks.
You consider for a moment, then reply, "Yeah, I'll go."
You sit at the pizza parlor with the crew, enjoying the sweet Barbados air as it tickles your face. It takes your mind off Oscar, though you feel slightly guilty for not thinking about him. But it feels good to relax.
Your co-star leans towards you. "So, how's your Australian?" he asks. You smile at the thought of Oscar, reaching for your phone and opening up your photos. You slide through them, showing pictures of your boyfriend. What you don't notice is the flashing camera of the paparazzi. All they capture is you and your co-star sitting closely as you smile at him.
If you felt a strain in your relationship before you felt it now.
The tension reaches a boiling point when a rumor spreads that you were seen with a co-star, leading to speculation about your loyalty to Oscar. The headlines scream: "Trouble in Paradise for Y/n and Oscar?"
Oscar sees the news and feels his insecurities flare up. That evening, he calls you, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.
"Is it true?" he asks, skipping the usual pleasantries.
"Is what true?" you reply, confused.
"That you’re getting close to your co-star? The media is having a field day with it," Oscar says, his voice tight.
Your heart sinks. "Oscar, no. It’s just a rumor. You know how the media is. Please, don’t let them get to you."
Oscar's tone remains skeptical. "How can I be sure, Y/n? These pictures don't lie."
You feel a pang of hurt. "Oscar, please believe me. I would never hurt you like that."
There's a tense silence on the other end of the line before Oscar speaks again, his voice strained. "I need some time to think. I'll talk to you later."
The line goes dead, leaving you feeling shaken. As you hang up the phone, a sense of dread settles over you, wondering if your love for each other will be enough to overcome the doubts and rumors swirling around you.
-
Unable to bear the weight of uncertainty any longer, Oscar decides to confront you about the photo. He knows he needs to hear the truth from you, even if it's painful.
He knocks on your trailer door, and you open it, your eye bags dark and your eyes watery, signaling the stress you've been under. There's a palpable tension in the air. Oscar's expression is guarded, but it softens as he looks at you, his eyes searching yours for answers.
Your eyes widen, wanting to jump into his arms and seek comfort in his warmth, but you hold yourself back.
"Y/n, we need to talk," he says, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and frustration.
You nod silently, gesturing for him to follow you to a more private spot away from prying eyes.
Once you're alone, Oscar confronts you about the photo, his words tinged with accusation. "What's going on, Y/n? I thought you said there was nothing between you and your co-star."
You feel a pang of guilt at the hurt in Oscar's eyes. "Oscar, I swear it's not what it looks like," you begin, but he interrupts you, his tone tinged with bitterness.
"I don't know what to believe anymore, Y/n. This isn't the first time I've heard rumors about you and him," he says, his voice trembling with emotion.
You reach out to touch his arm, desperate to convey the sincerity of your words. "Oscar, please, you have to believe me. There's nothing between me and my co-star. You're the only one I care about," you plead, your voice cracking with emotion.
Oscar's gaze softens slightly at your words, but the hurt in his eyes remains. "I want to believe you, Y/n, but it's hard when there's evidence like this," he says, gesturing towards the photo on his phone.
You feel a sense of despair wash over you, realizing the gravity of the situation. The trust between you and Oscar hangs in the balance, and you're not sure if it's enough to salvage your relationship.
Your lip trembles as you continue, "I didn't cheat." you tell him, "he opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. "And the fact you think I would, is horrible, is that how little you think of me Oscar?" you ask, he swallows, he had his answer.
"I'm sorry I don't know what got into me," he says, you reach for him, hugging him tightly. You hide your face in his neck as he rests his head on yours, rubbing your back to calm you down.
You pull away, whispering, "I've missed you so much," before crashing your lips onto his. There's a newfound urgency in your kiss, and Oscar holds your waist while your hands rest on his cheeks. As the intensity of the moment builds, your shirt lifts slightly, exposing your skin. Oscar's cold hands touch your waist, his thumbs rubbing small circles.
Y/n," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, "I'm sorry. I let my insecurities get the best of me. I should have trusted you."
You reach up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. "Oscar, it's okay. We're both human, and we make mistakes. What matters is that we're here, together, now."
He nods, a weight lifting off his shoulders as he exhales deeply. "I love you, Y/n. I trust you."
Tears well up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed with emotion. "I love you too, Oscar. More than anything."
@willowpains @ilovefictionalm3n
#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x fem!reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri angst#o#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x you
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Hello!
I vote first kiss or fake relationship and supercorp for the prompt.
Thank you 😊
Hi there...thanks so much anon!
First kiss/realization - Lena goes to Ireland...Kara comes and goes...it becomes a habit...other things do to.
inspired by Little Crazy Love Song by Mary Oliver
----
Lena sighs as she hears the familiar 'thump' outside her window. She sets her book down and walks over, sliding open the pane to find Kara brushing mud and bits of dirt from her knees.
"You know, Ireland still has doors," Lena muses, laughter tinging her voice.
Kara grins sheepishly as she stands, slipping her hands into her pockets after giving them one more swipe down her pants.
"Sorry about that," she said, gesturing towards the turned-up soil and bent flowers in the garden bed.
"I just got a little overexcited to see you."
Lena shook her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. "It's okay. But maybe next time, you could try the door?"
Kara ducked her head. "Right, doors. I can do that."
"Now, come on inside. You're making me let all the warm air out."
Kara beamed as she disappeared around the corner towards the front path.
As promised, the thud outside her window is quickly replaced by careful knocks at her door.
"No flowers were harmed this time." Kara grinned.
"Much better," Lena said, stepping aside to let her in.
"I'm learning."
It becomes a habit after that.
Other things do too.
Days stretch and fold in on themselves, woven together with landscapes, histories, and something else— something more.
5 a.m., then noon, then dusk falling to dark.
Kara becomes folded into them, too.
The days are growing longer, the sun lingering on the horizon as if reluctant to leave.
She feels its pain.
"Do you ever think about staying here?" Kara asks one afternoon
"Sometimes" she admits lying on her back staring up at the sky.
She goes for a walk the next day.
She finds herself in the meadow. In the forest. She finds herself at the edge of the lake.
Cool water lapping at her feet — washing over her heart. She closes her eyes, breathing the salty air and peaty earth.
It’s dark and Kara is soaked through. Rain clinging to every part of her as she waits to be let in. Lena hurries her inside, heedless of the water soaking into the floors and her socks, wrapping her in a blanket she pulled from the back of the couch and rummaging through the cabinets for the hot chocolate she kept tucked away.
"Thanks," Kara murmurs, her teeth chattering. "I-I'm sorry."
She stutters, staring into her cup. "I just… I needed to see you.
The wind howls outside, and rain lashes against the windows.
Kara's eyes met hers.
"Are you mad at me?" Words woven with guilt, and fear, and sadness
"For this? — of course not."
And something else— something more.
"For other things?"
She shakes her head.
"No, not anymore."
Kara reaches out, trembling slightly, and Lena takes her hand, fingers intertwining.
She wipes her nose with back of the other, damp sleeve offering little help.
"I'm sorry I got your floors wet.…and your couch…and your blanket."
"They're just things," Lena said softly.
Kara's stares at her, her smile a slow, unfolding thing.
The next morning Lena wakes up later than usual. Body aching with the dull hangover of waiting.
Underneath the covers she fits her right hand over her left and folds them together — it doesn't feel the same.
It's 5 a.m. It's noon. It's dusk falling to dark.
It's 5 a.m. It's noon. It's dusk falling to dark.
It's 5 a.m. It's noon. It's dusk — there's a careful knock at the door.
Lena opens it and Kara closes it gently behind her.
She slips off her shoes and shrugs off her coat.
It has become a habit.
"Do you ever think about staying? Lena's fingers twist together.
Kara stops, head halfway through the top of the sweater she's pulling on, t-shirt halfway ridden up her stomach.
She yanks them both down quickly. Sweeps the hair from her face with a puff of air.
Lena can feel a chill left in the between them, frost nipping at her skin.
"In Ireland?"
Blue eyes shift between doubt and hope.
"With me…" she pulls at the ends of her sleeves, small threads coming undone.
Kara's smooths the goosebumps from her skin, hand sliding into her palm, bits of yarn tangling between their fingers.
"Yeah…"
It becomes a slow, unfolding thing.
"…yes…of course."
Kara's smile becomes an extension of her own, becomes a shuffling of bodies, a bumping of noses, a loss of gravity — it turns into a kiss, a little off center — a pause of laughter, a second try, and maybe a third.
"Sorry about that." She grins sheepishly, "I am a little excited to finally kiss you."
"It's okay. Maybe start by keeping our feet on the ground.
"Right, I can do that."
Soon it will become a habit. Kissing each other. Loving each other.
#supergirl#supercorp#sg prompts#ask away friends#they are both learning okay#it's soft look#no one is danger#well non-existential danger#there's maybe a little existential danger#part of the Lena goes Ireland as told by Mary Oliver trilogy#haha
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Greedy
(Tobio Kageyama Smut)
[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Kwonrugger]
Requested by: Myself, per usual
Word Count: 3,781
Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:
Name Calling: Brat, Dove/y, Lair, Greedy, Desperate
Hickeys/Scratching
Titty Play
Fingering
Degrading
Mean but soft Dom
Thigh Humping
Accidental Orgasm Denial
Choking
Raw Dogging
Thigh Shot
———————————————————————
I can feel the sweat rolling down my back, sliding between my boyfriend and me. Despite the broken air conditioning in the hotel room, Tobio refuses to give me space, partly because he's stubborn and partly because he can't sleep without touching me.
Well, because of all that, I'm lying on my stomach, his arms wrapped around my waist and tucked under me, uncomfortably pressed into my belly. His head is settled between my shoulder blades, his soft breathing mixing with the sweat coating my back to bring a hint of cooling to my body. Our legs are tangled together, only adding to the heat wrapping my body.
All the blankets have been pushed to the floor, Tobio in a pair of boxers as I lay in booty shorts and a crop top. His added body weight on top of mine makes the heat so much worse. My skin feels like it's scorching, melting right off the bone and joining the puddles of sweat I'm sure are forming under us.
"Tobio," I huff, rolling my shoulders to try and wake him out of his shallow sleep. He only stopped stirring five or six minutes ago, so he can't be too deep into sleep yet. "Tob," I call again, his name coming out whiner this time. "I'm hot. I want to sleep. You're not helping. Get off so I can cool down for a second," I continue, fully giving in to the tantrum as I thrash around under him.
"Stop whiny. You sound like a brat," he finally answers, voice raspy from being jerked awake. "You'll be fine once you fall asleep."
"I can't fall asleep. It's too hot."
"You can," he sighs, his head shifting so he can rest his chin on my back. "You're just not tired enough." I let out another whine, this one long and pitched. "Don't do that. I don't like when you whine." No, he doesn't, which is why it's my go-to when I want to get my way, and right now I want to cool off enough to fall asleep.
"Tobi," I whimper, wiggling around under him again. "Fix it."
"Fine," he grumbles, tipping his head again as he picks some of his body weight off of me. A soft sigh releases from me, happy he's finally going to talk to the hotel staff about giving us a different room instead of 'leaving it be'.
His mouth stumbles a trail up my back, coating his lips in the salty sweat that seems to drench every inch of my skin. Tobio's arms loosen from my waist, one sliding to rest against my hip as the other one shoves its way down my exposed stomach, struggling to move from being sandwiched between the mattress and me. "Move your hips, Dove," he grumbles, tightening his hold to move them himself.
Tobio lifts my hips upward, just enough to freely move his hand under me. Despite the barely arching and him moving off of me earlier, we're pressed against each other again. He nuzzles at my shirt, pushing the material until it's balled up on the back of my neck. He trails his kisses across the newly exposed skin of my shoulders. One hand keeps inching down as the other one loops around my side again, racing up my body.
"This isn't fixing it," I breathe out, a different warmth quickly crawling across my skin.
"Yes, it is," he softly argues, nimble fingers dipping past my waistband. "If you're tired enough, you'll sleep. I'm just helping to waste some energy," Tobio babbles, the most eager of his hands shoving its way under the short shirt I'm wearing, happily cupping my breast.
His fingertips toy with my boob for a second before catching my nipple, instantly pinching it. "Tobio," I whine, my hips jerking against him.
"Dove," he murmurs, still half asleep but his hands are very much awake. "Stop squirming," he orders, lips latching on my shoulder blade, quickly turning the kiss into a rough suck. The hand down my shorts toys with me, his middle finger rolling through my pussy. Up and down, up and down; he pinches my nipple every time the pad of his finger rolls over my clit.
My back starts to arch, Tobio's gentle teasing slowly building my lust. "You're teasing," I whimper, jerking my hips again in hopes of his finger slipping in. I don't get what I want.
"Stop squirming," he grumbles again, his hips working against mine to shove me back into position. Tobio's finger settles on my clit, slowly circling it in tone with him rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger.
A soft ache starts blossoming from the spot on my shoulder he's sucking on. The ache mixes with my arousal, tying my stomach in all kinds of knots. "Tobs," I hiss, my needs lacking fulfillment starting to make my body feel like it's vibrating.
"Dove," he mutters, his tongue sliding over the forming bruise. "Take your shirt off," he orders, nuzzling the material of my crop top again. I eagerly obey, squirming around under him so I can wiggle my shirt off. The clothing is thrown to the floor and added to the piled-up blankets.
Tobio's hand drops away from my titty, disappearing behind me as his fingertip pushes on my clit just a tad more. The sloppy sound of him sucking on them only excites me more, my hips grinding against his hand and the mattress for just an ounce more of stimulation. There's a popping sound, his fingers leaving his mouth and then a "You're greedy. You know that, right?"
"I know, I'm sorry, I know," I babble, irritation from lack of and the need for attention quickly making me more desperate.
"You should be, Dovey," he coos, pulling his hand away from me. It's quickly replaced by two of his spit-soaked fingers, toying with my hole, stretching it but not allowing his fingers to dip past the first knuckle. "You woke me up knowing I have a big game against Italy tomorrow just because your pussy tingled."
"I woke you up because I was hot," I whimper, trying to shove my hips further downward, aching for more. For more of literally anything he's willing to give me. It's not fair how quickly he makes me needy. It's not fair that he always turns it on me. I just wanted to cool down, he's the one that turned it sexual and the one that made me even more bothered by the heat.
"Lair."
I tremble more because of the degrading. "I'm not a lair," I continue to whine, propping myself on all fours, deepening the curve of my back. My hips shift backward with the movement, my ass pressed against Tobio harder and my boobs pushed outward because of the arching.
He shifts too, settling on his knees but still bent over me. "You look like a porn star," he mumbles, the feeling of his eyes scorching over my skin. "Are you trying to be an amateur porn star?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You're acting desperate." Tobi asks, finally inching down to his second knuckle. The shaky moan that rips from my throat is embarrassing. More soft moans spill from me, eased out by the soft suckles and the few nibbles he paints my back with.
It's not fair. Why does my boyfriend get to be so hot? So good at playing me? So mean? So quick to make me desperate by the smallest of touches?
My head quickly nods, hips bucking backward again. I need him deeper, I need him to move faster, I need more. "It's pathetic how much you get off on being talked down to. A greedy cunt gets wet from being treated like this. Is your cunt wet? Is it?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. Tobio, I'm sorry. Please?" I ramble, continuing to rock my hips.
He lets out a sigh, his fingers thrusting deep into me. Another embarrassingly broken moan falls from my mouth, my pussy finally getting the attention it wants. "It's okay, Dove. You're a pretty girl, even if you are greedy and desperate," he mutters, lips brushing across my spine, spilling shivers across my body. "My pretty girl," he adds, slowly pulling his fingers out of me before inching them back in.
"Your pretty girl. I'm your pretty girl," I mumble, the attention I desperately wanted quickly not being enough anymore. "Please Tobio?"
His hips roll against my ass, his dick pressed against me and starting to harden. "You sound desperate. Are you desperate? You're certainly greedy. Is this not enough for you? You're ungrateful."
"I'm not desperate. I'm not greedy. I need more, please," I whimper, shifting my weight so I can shoot my hand down, gripping the wrist that's resting against my stomach.
Tobio's fingers stall in me, unable to thrust in and out because of my grip. "You're not greedy?" He taunts, curling his fingers in me, keeping the slow teasing rhythm. "I should be sleeping and you're whining that it's not enough. That's greedy."
"I'm not greedy," I repeat, nails digging into his wrist, rocking my hips again. "Tobi, please." He clicks his tongue at me, yanking his hand to take away what little stimulation he was giving me. "Tobio," I huff, shoving my butt against his boner.
"Nope," he mutters, hands gripping my hips and pushing them off of himself. "Greedy girls don't get what they want, so I'm going back to bed."
"What?" I yelp, jerking my head around to look at him. Tob moves from behind me, flopping on the bed next to me. Disapproving noises spill from my lips as I watch him stretch out in the bed, eyes shut as he lays on his back. "Tobio," I whimper, darting toward him, settling with his thigh between my legs.
"Dovey," he hums, a hand jumping to grip one of my titties. His thumb rolls over my nipple, his other fingers squeezing my flesh. My hips roll against his thigh, grinding against the defined muscle to stimulate myself. "Greedy girl," Tobio coos, peaking at me with a soft grin on his face. "So desperate to get off that you're willing to hump my leg until your cunt is drooling all over me."
"You're being mean. Why are you so mean?" I babble, my hands pressed against his chest to steady myself as I ride his thigh.
"I'm sorry, Dove," he coos, twirling my nipple between his fingers again. "I'm just tired," Tobio hums, dragging himself into a seated position. His back is to the headboard and his dark blue eyes are locked on my face, watching me pathetically trying to get myself off.
"Tob," I try whining again, my hands jumping to cling to his shoulder. My nails are instantly digging into his muscles, clinging to them, tearing at them, as I hump him like a dog.
His grin only grows at my little act, his free hand jumping up to play with my neglected boob. "Dove?" Tobio calls back, skillful fingers twirling, pinching, and tugging at my nipples. "Stop whining and tell me what you want."
"You," I exhale, my breath rising the closer I get to finishing. I change my mind, I don't want Tobio, I just want to cum. An approving hum leaks from him, his hands leaving my chest to grip my hips. "No! No, no, no, no," I almost cry when he lifts my hips off of him.
"You're fine, greedy but fine," he lectures, continuing to pull me forward until our noses bump each other. "Give me a kiss," Tobio murmurs, fingertips sliding past my waistband again, slowly pushing my shorts off of me. I happily oblige, brushing my lips against his as my hands slide to wrap around his neck.
Our kisses heat up with every passing second it takes him to tug my shorts off of me. By the time they're around my ankles, ready to be tugged full off of me, Tobio's tongue is exploring my mouth. His tongue rolls over mine in tune with his lips dancing with me. A displeased groan escapes me when he pulls away, pearly teeth pressed into an egotistical grin. "Greedy girl," he coos, pulling my shorts off and tossing them off the bed.
When his hands are off of me, my hips instantly fall back down, grinding against his thigh again. "I know. I'm greedy. I'm so greedy. I need," I cut myself off with a bumpy moan, my hands knotting with the hair on the nape of his neck.
Tobio chuckles at me, the tone of the laughter soft and entertained. "You need what, Dove?" He hums, a hand on my hip, helping me ride his thigh. "To cum? Is my greedy girl so greedy that she needs to cum too? You can't stand just being edged, you just have to finish too," he rambles, his eyes crawling across my body, sticking on my titties before falling to the mess slowly leaking onto his boxers.
"Please?" I murmur, yanking on his hair before my fingers loosen my hold. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," I ramble, running my fingers through his hair.
"You're fine, Dove," he mutters, his free hand shooting back to rub at his neck, soothing the ache I'm sure the hair tug left. "My greedy, Dovey," he teases, both arms on my hips before he flips us over.
Tobio's lips explore my chest, his mouth sucking on any skin he can reach. My back crashes to the mattress, legs wrapped around his thigh and arms tighter around his neck. He's settled on top of me, pressing his leg against my dripping cunt, continually rubbing against me. One of his strong hands settles on the pillow next to my head, holding his weight.
His other hand is sliding down his stomach, inching toward his boxers. My hands loosen before falling away from him, colliding with the bed sheet and balling it up. "Tobio," I whimper, my back curving to work with his leg. My eyes are locked on his boner, chilled claws ticking down my spine when his dick pushes past his waistband.
"Patience, greedy," he mutters before his mouth latches on my boob, sucking on my nipples as his tongue slides over it. My body is buzzing with excitement, sparks of my approaching orgasm making my pussy tingle and waves of arousal coating my chest from Tobio's fixation on my breast. His hands grip my knees, tugging my legs off of his thigh.
"Tobio," I hiss, disappointment and irritation from another stumped orgasm replacing the heavenly vibrations that were just coating my veins.
"Hush, you're fine," he grumbles, situating my legs over his shoulders before his long fingers settle on my throat. Tobio's lips dance over my breast, pressing me further into a ball so he can reach them. "Here you go, greedy," he huffs, his breath rolling over my spit-soaked nipples, making them harden even more.
The tip of his dick pushes into me, instantly sparking the edge of my orgasm again. "One," he mutters, head lifting, his forehead settled against mine as his eyes stare straight into my soul. The fingers wrapped around my throat tightening the slightest. "Two," he adds, pushing himself further into me. "Three... four." For every inch that slips in, Tobio's hand tightens around my neck. "Five... six." His head falls to my titties again, kitty licks sliding against each nipple before he looks up at me again. "Seven... and eight."
My legs are already trembling, tightening around Tobio and squeezing his cheeks. Wetness leaks from me, coating his balls resting against me. His tongue clicks a couple of times as he looks over me, almost bored eyes scanning my face. "Your pussy is still trying to suck me in. Are eight inches not enough? Do you really need more? Are you that greedy?" He taunts, my cheeks heating from being called out o my pussy clenching around him.
"You're perfect. I swear. Perfect. Tob, please," I babble, my voice wheezy from my airflow being cut smaller.
He hums, eyes glued to my breasts as his fingers relax just a smudge. "I should go back to sleep. I have a big day tomorrow." A whimper mixed with disappointment and need squeaks out, breaking some of the boredom in his eyes, and causing his lust to start taking over. "You'd probably spend all night humping my leg though, wouldn't you? Too horny and greedy not to get your way."
"Please?"
Tobio rolls his eyes, a grin toying the edges of his mouth. "Fine, Dove," he mutters, failing to hide the excitement in his voice. He drags himself out of me, slowly inching his way back in. "Who's my greedy girl?" He coos, thrusts picking up speed as his lips slide across my boobs, littering them with kisses.
"Me. I'm greedy. I'm your greedy girl," I instantly give in, degrading myself so he doesn't get any ideas about denying me again. My hands release the sheets balled up in my fingers, jumping to cling to the wrist wrapped around my throat. "It's me, Tobio."
"Ya, it is," he huffs, hips snapping against mine, adding to the aches starting to form. The position hurts my joints, being folded in half, and pushed into a ball so Tobio can enjoy having his face squeezed and getting to suck on my breasts. "My greedy girl. My greedy pussy. So desperate for me. All mine."
"All yours," I echo, squirming under him. His dick feels good, I love being split open by Tobio's cock, but it's not enough.
The squirming catches his attention, his thrusts slowing down as his eyes scorch over my body, trying to figure out what's going on. "Always wanting more," he grunts, moving himself on top of me. More of Tobio's weight is pressed into me, helping his dick reach deeper and adding more pressure to the chokehold he has on my throat.
With his weight off his free hand, it slides down, the pads of his fingertips instantly finding my clit. "Better, greedy?" He grumbles, his hips snapping against mine again.
"Yes," I hiss, nails digging into his wrists and my thighs crushing his face harder.
Tobio grumbles, spilling out insults about my greediness, a few insults being broken up by his grunts. His cock is never out of me long, plunging right back into me as soon as he pulls out. "Do you hear that?" He mumbles, latching on my nipple for a second. "Do you hear how wet you are? How sloppy your cunt sounds? It's only going to sound sloppier when you cream all over my cock."
The degrading and teasingly slow swirls to my clit do it for me, finally, bringing the orgasm that's been denied twice already tonight. "Tobio, Tobio, Tobio," I moan, releasing his wrist to reach for his shoulders. My nails tear at him, clawing up and down his chest and shoulders, unable to keep a grip on him because of his continuous thrusts. My chest pumps quicker as my orgasm washes over me, the choking I'm receiving making it difficult to keep up with my breaths.
Tobio is unfazed by the scratching, but his fingers do loosen around my neck, allowing more air to pump into my lungs as I come undone. "Breathe, Dove, calm yourself," he murmurs, his thrusts slowing - but not stopping - as his fingers massage my neck. "Calm down, you're doing great, greedy girl."
"Tobio, Tobi, Tob," I whimper, finally being able to grip his shoulders, using my hold to pull him closer. "Please!"
"Calm down," he coos, but he does give in, thrusting into me faster. My head is filled with a soft cloudy buzzing. Tobi was trying to be nice, trying to let me take a breather as I wind down, but I'm too greedy to take the offer. Too greedy to allow him to stop while his dick is still hard, still prepared to pump me full. "Greedy girl," he insults again, soft sucks being littered across my breasts, chunks of my flesh being sucked into his mouth.
"Please?" I whine again, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. Everything feels like a lot. Tobio buried in me, rubbing my pussy, his fingers feathering over my clit, his mouth and tongue sliding over my breasts, paying attention to my nipples. Still, I need him until he's spent.
"I'm almost there, Dove. I promise, just hold on for a second," Tobio murmurs, hand tightening around my throat again. His breath is huffy, his end approaching quickly like he promised. His head snaps up, leaving my nipples sore and soaked from his constant sucking. "Needy, greedy, dove," he hisses, hand squeezing until my oxygen is completely cut off, filling my head with a new layer of fogginess.
The thrusting of Tobio's hips picks up, snapping faster, pressing into me harder. His eyes stay locked on mine, sharp and focused, the same look he has right before the ball falls into his hands, ready to be perfectly set in the middle of an intense game. "Fuck," he almost whimpers, breaking the burning tension that was spilling from his eyes.
Both his eyes and dick tear away from me, cum shooting out of his tip. His movement isn't fast enough for him though, the warm stickiness coating my thighs. "Damn it," he groans, fingers loose and his head buried in my titties once again. "I wanted to finish on your boobs," Tobio mutters, brushing feathery light kisses across my skin. "You make me greedy too, Dove. Greedy for your pussy."
I can't help the smile that pulls at my lips, enjoying the fact Tobio is as needy for me as I am for him. "Next time," I hum, careful fingers crawling across his shoulders, feeling for the already puffing scratches that coat them.
After a few moments, he moves off of me, his actions slow and careful. "Are you tired now?" Tobio asks, his whole body freezing when he moves my legs, my hip popping from finally being let out of the position it was stuck in.
"Ya, I am," I mutter, sleepiness washing over me like a spell as soon as his question is out.
Instantly, Tobio's attention is on my hip, massaging it as he lathers it with kisses. "You stay right there," he mutters pulling away to climb out of bed.
My droopy eyes follow his movements, watching him head toward the bathroom. "Gladly."
He looks over his shoulder for a second, a soft smile on his face as his blue eyes sparkle at me. "What a greedy Dove I have."
#haikyuu#haikyuu oneshot#haikyuu x reader#tobio kageyama oneshot#kageyama oneshot#tobio kageyama x reader#kageyama x reader#tobio oneshot#tobio x reader#tobio kageyama#haikyuu smut#tobio kageyama smut#tobio smut#kageyama smut
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Lucky Singlet
Full Story and 2nd Image FREE for free members at link in my Bio!
--
Tyler's wrestling buddy, Tent ripped his singlet during a match and had a second match scheduled in an hour. Unfortunately, he didn't have a second singlet. Tyler was done for the day and offered Trent his singlet, but they both knew he wouldn't fit in it. Trent was running out options and was going to have to forfeit, which would cost him his shot at college regionals.
Tyler, already lost too many matches to go to regionals so he contemplated helping out his friend. Tyler, was a Chemistry major and had been working on a mixture that would change living organisms into a objects, but only if a piece of that object is mixed in with the mixture and a person drinks it. He had tested it on bugs and it worked on one mouse, but he'd never tried it on a person…
He looked over at Trent who sat forlorn in the empty locker room, head in his hands, and clutching his torn singlet. With an aching feeling that he would regret it, Tyler knew he had to help out his friend and told Trent about the mixture and what it could do. He told Trent that he would be his singlet for this match and this match only.
Trent's smile beamed and he bear-hugged Tyler, squeezing a little too hard. Trent was elated and was hopping up and down, still not loosening his grip on Tyler. It was only 5 minutes until the next match started and Trent encouraged Tyler to hurry up and drink it while Tyler tried to explain how to apply the second vile of serum that would change him back.
"The white serum is in my duffle bag and I'm leaving it under the bench in the locker room by your locker," Tyler said, "Just fold me up and make sure I am fully covered with it and I'll turn back in an hour, or so."
"Yeah, yeah, got it! Please hurry! Right now! I need it right now!" Trent responded.
Ripping off a piece of Trent's singlet, Tyler put the fabric in the uncorked bottle of yellow liquid and swirled it a round. The object started to bubble and dissolved in the potent concoction. Tyler looked at it and put it to his lips, hesitating, wondering if it was truly a good idea to drink the untested experiment.
"Come on, dude!" Trent begged and grabbed the base of the bottle, tipping it up forcefully into Tyler's mouth.
Without much of a option to protest, Tyler drank the contents of the bottle dry and immediately could feel the toxic liquid changing him from the inside out.
His skin felt weird, light, and cool as any slight breeze of air became more sensitive. His body felt hollow and it was getting hard to stand. He folded in on himself and fell to his knees, however, his knees to not catch his fall. He fellll directly onto his face, which started shifting downward to be the crotch of the singlet he was becoming.
You're shitting me, my face is really going to end up here? Tyler wanted to say but his mouth vanished into the pouch of the singlet. Pale white skin changed to yellow and black fabric, at an alarmingly rapid pace. He didn't expect the transformation to go that quickly, maybe it was because he drank all of the liquid while the test subjects only had a few sips? Whatever the reason, his body morphed into its final goal, hollowing out holes for Trent's massive legs to go.
"Thanks, buddy! I owe you one!" Trent said, wasted no time stripping naked and walking over to Tyler's flat form and picking him up.
Weighing only a few meager ounces, not being able to control any part of his form, and being completely fabric was extremely disorienting to Tyler. He didn't expect to have so much of his senses still. He could see, smell, taste, hear, and his touch felt heightened in a way. He was dropped to the floor and Trent swiftly yanked both of his beefy legs through Tyler's leg holes, stretching them past their intended limit. At first, being stretched like that was scary for Tyler, but surprisingly, it felt… arousing? it was as if someone were stretching his prostate. The other leg going in him felt the same way.
The motions were quick but Tyler new exactly what to expect next, just not to the extent of what to expect next. He knew Trent was hung, the singlets don't hide much when it comes to the imprint of another man's junk. He had also sneaked a couple of peaks at Trent when he was changing in the locker room, but getting to feel Trent's oversized cock press against his face, he didn't expect it to feel that big.
His pouch bulged out, every crevasse filled to the brim with Trent's man meat, yielding the same stretchy pleasure that he felt when Trent's legs filled his form, but this time in his face and mind.
Why does it feel so… so good? Tyler wondered as if could speak.
Trent, with not much consideration to his friend, adjusted his dick and balls through Tyler's former face and finished pulling Tyler up and over his body. Too sexually confused, and rather appalled for that matter, Tyler did not notice the rest of him being stretch onto Trent.
Trent quickly threw on his helmet, put in his mouth guard, and snapped on his pads, and walked out the locker room door on his way to his regional qualifying match.
Every step would elicit a feeling for Tyler. The wind blew through every strand of his fine fabric body. Every bounce and jiggle of Trent's horse cock sent micro-pleasures through Tyler's fabric mind. Trent's muscles contracted and expended, pushing and pulling Tyler's fabric, helpless to do anything but follow.
Tyler reminded himself, this was just temporary and would be over in less than 30 minutes. And whatever bursts of pleasure he was feeling, to put aside and just observe what was happening in the match. Heck, this was practically an up-close-and-personal lesson from Trent to learn his style and see what makes him so good.
Before he knew it, Trent was standing on the wrestling mat and the bell rang. The match had started and Tyler was too busy thinking about Trent, and needing to be changed back and…
The collision of the two men sent and uncanny wake-up-call through Tyler's entire existence. Like every strand of his fabric had goosebumps. The two men didn't stop, rest, or hesitate to grab and man-handle the other to the ground and Tyler could feel every part of it.
Whatever inkling of learning from Trent Tyler had, was now out the window as he was thrown around, grabbed, stretched, collided, and pressed in between two toned, muscular, giants.
Every movement he felt and every rub released some sort of pleasurable feeling, like nothing he felt as a human. He could compare the feelings vaguely. Being rubbed was like having his skelp massaged, and being pressed was like receiving a hug, but again, every part of it felt more than any of those actions would've if he were just a human. More stimulating and more arousing.
Beads of liquid sweat soaked into Tyler from every pore of Trent's muscular body. Trent's dick flopped and bounced in every direction, rubbing against Tyler's fabric face and getting half-hard in the process, further stretching Tyler out.
The bell rang. It was over? Trent's body was over his opponents. He was breathing heavily, and Tyler could feel his chest rise and fall with great succession. Both of Trent's hands were over the other guy's shoulders, pinned to the mat. Trent had won the period!
Heck, yeah! At least it's paying off and he's winning! Tyler thought.
The two behemoths reset, and the next period started shortly after. The same cacophony of pleasure induced disorientation and litany of fabric euphoria shook through Tyler's form. Until again, the bell rang, ending in the same way with Trent over the other man, declaring him the winner and sending him to finals!
--
The joy both Tyler and Trent felt as Trent walked back to the locker room was palpable. Every stretch, every bounce, ever disorienting grab, or musky bead of sweat that Tyler endured was fully worth it now that Trent was going to regionals!
"Dude! That was awesome!" Trent said with a skip in his step, "That was supposed to be my hardest match yet and I beat him faster than I've ever beaten another opponent! Wearing you must be lucky or something!"
Tyler couldn't help but feel the sense of pride he played in helping his friend's dream come true. He was so happy for Trent and in his mind, he was celebrating along with him.
"Did you see that one really quick turn I made the first round that got him onto his back, or that…"
Trent kept talking to Tyler about the match and all the different moves that he made. He opened his locker and started throwing things in his duffle bag and… he put on a hoodie over Tyler?
No no no! Dude! Take the hoodie off, you got to change me back! Tyler screamed in his thoughts as a pair of grey sweatpants followed, blinding Tyler into a muted darkness of warm fabric.
Trent kept on talking, but Tyler couldn't hear anything. He had suddenly become overwhelmed with an unrelenting panic. The fabric against his fabric body felt tingly, almost as if he were being tickled, but he was too concerned to focus on that feeling for more than an observation.
The silent screams of protest were not getting through to Trent as he continued to move and even started to walk. Tyler tried to move, to signal somehow that Trent was forgetting the main thing that Tyler explained to him, but he couldn't do anything, he was just a singlet.
Trent's thunderous steps boomed down the hall and onward. Trent opened what sounded like a car door, sat down, and started the ignition. Tyler's thoughts were flooded with profanities and worry. Anxiety, panic, doom, anger, frustration, every negative emotion was passing through Tyler as Trent put his foot on the gas and drove away, leaving the remedy in a duffle bag that will probably end up getting thrown away by the janitor.
#inanimate tf#gay#hot male#muscle men#clothing tf#inanimate transformation#singlet tf#inanimate object#inanimate#singlet#wrestling
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okay not sure if you’re taking reqs but i have to get this out to someone and u were like the top person i saw in norton smut💔
Norton summer skin, beach sex, semi public, in the shade
Crashing Waves
Modern AU | Norton Campbell x F!Reader NSFW
Content Warnings: 755 words, semi public, beach sex, MDNI
(A/n: more writing style conversions because someone favored this way of writing more ( you know who you are ) )
smut under the cut!
Norton was the type of man who craved a little bit of risk and excitement in his life. Whether by design or chance, he always found a way to savor every moment. As the sun began to shine brighter and the days grew longer, What other perfect thing to do other than going to the beach?
The beach was typical, as windy as usual, the sun's golden rays warming the grains of sand beneath. An excellent vacation indeed, the kind of day you'd wish when you're all spent. Lying there with your lover, hidden away under the shade, far from everyone else, just the way you liked it.
Norton have always loved watching you from the shore as you played with the waters, eyes locked by the sight of you. The way your two-piece clung to your curves made the day feel even hotter for him, a sublime match for his own attire. The pale shade of brown with golden trimmings that highlighted your appearance enough to make heads turn.
You had both chosen a secluded spot, a hidden nook beneath a cliff, away from the crowds but still discernable if someone looked hard enough. It was the perfect blend of privacy and of course— thrill, and with that thought in mind, Norton just had to suggest something precarious.
That's how you find yourself getting fucked up from behind, Norton gripping your hips tightly as he thrusts in and out, slowly at first, gripping on your mounds while savoring every moment of friction he can receive. The crashing waves mask the sounds of your pleasure, adding to the excitement.
That's how you find yourself being taken from behind, Norton gripping your hips tightly as he thrusts in and out, slowly at first, savoring every moment of friction. The crashing waves mask the sounds of your pleasure, adding to the thrill of your secret rendezvous.
Norton played with you, teasing you with a slow build ups, only to quicken his thrusts whenever chatter comes near. He loved the thrill of making love to you in your cute swimsuit, adored the way your folds tightened with every approaching sound, the way you wondered if someone might hear. All of the way you clenched yourself, all of them that drove him wild, and he relished every second of it.
You braced yourself against the cool stone under the cliff, your breath catching in your throat with each deep thrust from Norton. His hands roaming all over your body, memorizing every curve and dip. The salt-kissed air mixes with the scent of your sweat, blending with your sweet lips.
Norton's rhythm suddenly shifts, his pace quickening as the muffled sounds of nearby beachgoers grew louder, more people approaching, all the thrill of being so exposed, so vulnerable, only provoked you even more. Norton once again caught onto this, his breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, "Do you like this? Knowing they could hear us?"
You nod, biting your lip to stifle a moan. His words sending shivers down your spine. Norton was satisfied with your honesty as his movements become more urgent deeper, and faster. Each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your bodies moving in perfect sync with the collisions of the waves.
The babbles you heard before didn't die down, only unfortunately inching closer than before, probably starting to favor your shaded spot too. Your heart races as Norton’s hand slides up your body, fingers wrapping around your mouth to muffle your cries. His other hand slips between your legs, circular motions on your wet folds.
"Stay quiet," he murmurs, his voice hoarse from groans. "We don’t want them to find us."
The touch of his fingers sent more shivers down your spine as you feel juices trickling down your thighs making a pool under where you both are connected. Each thrusts brought the both of you closer to climax, Norton grunting small curses under his breath, his hands still covering your cries, it was all overstimulating for you to handle.
As the chatters become more and more distant, Norton released his hands away from your mouth, making you release sweet moans. With a final, penetrative thrust, you shattered under him. Your climax washes over you, as he follows moments later, his body shuddering with his own release, his grip tightened on you as he rides out his high before pulling out.
And despite all that, after showering and cleaning up, this cheeky bastard still initiated for more, what a joke.
#identity v#identity v fool's gold#idv prospector#identity v norton#idv#idv norton#idv smut#norton x reader#norton campbell#identity v x reader#idv x you#idv x reader
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youtube
#Robert frost#the road not taken#I realize this is not how people Do Poetry#but I think it actually works as a poem that's just about the delicious pleasure and agony#of deciding which literal road to walk down in a pretty forest on a nice day#when the air is all crisp#and you're all by yourself#and the leaves are yellow and the grass is green#and maybe some day in the future#you'll be sitting by a fire and there will be people who actually want to hear about the nice walk you had#I think the lecturer is wrong about the word took#I think in context it must mean took in#observed#not that the narrator started walking#anyways I would be very happy to hear other interpretations in the tags#maybe should have put in fourth option#that obviously it's not JUST about a walk in the woods#but that if you're not feeling the cool air on your skin#and the delight of getting to choose which way to go#between two excellent choices#you cannot possibly be understanding#the figurative meaning#Youtube
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☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU
summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.
wc: 3k
cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI
an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.
as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.
and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.
he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.
"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.
"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."
geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."
your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"
he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."
with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.
"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.
his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.
you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.
geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."
“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”
"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."
you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.
with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."
he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."
you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.
with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.
"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop.
geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours.
his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.
"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.
“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.
“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”
“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you’d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.
he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised. ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.
as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer.
“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.
“what type of pain?” you retort.
“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.
“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”
geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.
a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."
with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.
he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.
as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.
"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.
you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."
geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."
“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”
“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”
you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art.
“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”
“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”
“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.
“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”
“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.
“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.
“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”
“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know.
he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.
geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you.
he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.
“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”
“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”
“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.
“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”
before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force.
“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”
you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere.
“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.
“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.
with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.
geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”
“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”
“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.”
with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.
your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.
“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”
“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.
“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.
AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS
#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto x reader#geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader
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𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧
remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).
requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”
Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”
Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.
“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.
He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.
“What time is it?” you ask.
You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”
“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.
“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.
You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.
Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.
He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.
You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.
You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.
You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.
He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”
“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.
His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.
“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.
You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.
“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”
“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”
He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.
You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”
“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”
“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”
“Can you sit up, at least?”
“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”
“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.
You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
“Was that a dracula impression?”
“I command you.”
You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.
And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”
“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.
Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”
“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”
“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”
“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”
Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.
“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”
“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”
“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”
“But for how long?” you ask.
Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.
You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.
“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?
“Do you want to start now?”
You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”
“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”
You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.
You shut your eyes.
He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.
A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”
Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.
“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.
It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.
“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.
Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”
“Do you want to?”
And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.
“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”
“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”
Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”
“Remus–”
“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”
“So you like me?”
“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”
“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.
Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.
“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.
“You first.”
Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.
“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.
“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.
Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”
“After that?”
“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.
You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.
—
Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.
Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.
He flinches.
You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.
I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you?
What are the rules here?
Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.
He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.
He should let you sleep.
“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.
“Mm?” you hum.
“I need to ask you something.”
You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.
“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”
“I just need to ask you something.”
“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.
The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”
It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.
He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.
“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.
“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”
Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.
The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”
Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.
“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.
“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”
“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.
“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”
“Please don't!” you say.
You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.
Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.
“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.
“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.
Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.
“I'm chucking them out!”
“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”
“What?!”
You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”
Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.
“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”
“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”
“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.
Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.
“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”
Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.
A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.
Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.
There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.
˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚
thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3
#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#marauders era#remus x reader#remus x you#marauders#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#marauders x reader#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#the marauders
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Every Part of You
Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader
A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.
Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series
"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."
You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.
His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."
Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.
"You're so -"
He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."
You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"
He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."
Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.
You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.
Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"
"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."
"But?"
His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."
"Oh."
He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."
It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."
He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."
"How do you know what I'm thinking?"
"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"
You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."
He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."
In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.
He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.
It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.
"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."
There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.
"I love you," you remind him.
He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.
You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.
Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.
He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.
Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"
He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.
You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"
"No," he answers reflexively.
You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."
"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."
"Does it hurt now?"
"No."
You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.
"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.
You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
AnonymityIsFun Masterlist
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Bring your tentacle to work day…
NSFW: tentacle smut, anal, vaginal, squirting, public, exhibitionism, getting caught (non-con to the viewer?) yep that's it
There's pt. 2 and pt. 3
NO MINORS 18+ ONLY
Thinking about a pet tentacle that stays in your panties all day. Nobody can see it under your skirt. The fatter end plugs your butt. Its length is textured by suckers on one side, in the same shiny blue as the skin. It runs up and down your slit, letting the slick suckers wake your pussy up, sliding through the sticky mess dripping out of you. The tip softly suctions to your sensitive clit, making your thighs squeeze shut on the bumpy bus ride to work.
Once you sit at your desk, lost on a floor of cubicles, the tentacle begins to double over itself to push into your cunt. You try to stay focused on the spreadsheet in front of you, but your slick and the lubrication oozing from the tentacle is beginning to soak through your underwear. The disgusting squish of the appendage writhing inside of you can be heard coming from between your legs.
It stretches you open so good and you hump the chair for more stimulation. You can feel the end buried in your ass begin to throb, signaling that it's close to release. Your heavy breathing starts turning into soft whines and moans that you can't seem to keep down.
The swollen tentacle fucks you harder, frantically pushing into your pussy as far as it can until you're completely full. Your muscles clench and spasm around it as the suckers brush all the best spots inside of you. In a haze, you stumble to the bathroom, rushing into the back stall before you cum all over your cubicle.
You grip the handicap bar as the head of the tentacle pops off your clit to shove inside of you too.
You hold onto the bar firmly, bent over to press your chest to the wall. One hand flips up your skirt and shoves your panties down your thighs. A shiver runs through you as the cool air hits your exposed cunt, all sloppy and wet from being stimulated all day. With more room to move, the greedy tentacle fucks you faster, sucking itself into your pussy as you could feel the entire muscle pulse.
Your middle finger gently teases your clit, circling around and around the little nub until you’re so close to cumming, practically spilling over the edge when you hear the door creak.
“Oh, no n- shit.” You never locked the stall, and you watch in horror as your co-worker slams the stall door open.
“Hey, are you feeling oka…” She trails off. Eyes widening but never leaving your cunt, all puffy and fucked out. Her jaw slackens and you give up on trying to speak as the tentacle begins to ejaculate. Milky-blue cum floods into you and overflows to trickle down your pretty thighs.
Your co-worker won't make eye-contact with you, but through her shy demeanor, you see the lust dusting her cheeks with red as she watches you. Your sensitive cunny twitches around the fat tentacle as you squirt everywhere.
You've made a mess of the bathroom, your legs are almost too weak to support you, and your co-worker still hasn't spoken.
Finally, in a shaky voice she says, “where do I get one of those?”
A/N- I kinda want a pt 2 where you use it on the co-worker, but idk if that's too over the top.
Okay I did it
#nsft tentacles#skel writes tentacles#tentacle smut#tentacles#tentacular#monster fucker#monster smut
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cum here
Warnings: spit, dub con
A Bakugou Birthday collab read the intro on the ML first!
A notification pulls your attention in your tipsy stupor as you collapse half dressed in your bed. Another successful night out with your girlfriends when your favorite pro hero posts a picture.
A thirst trap no less making you pop up in bed, the room spins delightfully as you stare down at the picture, screen shooting it without a care that he may get a notification for it but you were sure that you wouldn't be the only one.
Bakugou Katsuki, THE Dynamight with his shirt up exposing his abs, his Adonis belt and the vein that leads down to what has to be his fat cock.
You salivate over the thought of it and the several shots of tequila have you feeling bold, although your friends would argue you'd have been this bold sober simply because of how much you spoke about him even if most of the public thought he was an asshole you claimed that's what made him so fucking hot.
Pushing up your tits and angling your phone just right before you snap a photo and attach it to a very public reply before you slip into his dms to send a little something extra.
Bakugou's phone becomes nuclear to say the least, blown up from how many replies and notifications has gotten in such a short time. Each and every woman and the few male prospects are more than attractive and yet none make his cock jump to life, not fully anyway.
Until he sees you, tapping on the picture to make it full screen.
Soft fat tits pressed together, skin aglow in the ambient low light of warm string lights. Tongue lolling past pretty lips, wet muscle most likely fluttering before you took the picture. Obvious that you waited long enough for drool to drip from the tip in a silvery string as some droplets collected on those perfect tits. Pinching his screen to zoom in on your sexy mouth he imagines pressing his angry cock head against before he shoved his length until you gagged around him.
He groans at the thought, zooming out to take in all of you before he finally reads the caption..
Cum here.
“Fuck.” He growls, clicking on your profile, going to privately message you in hopes of more pictures. Palm moving to free his cock from his boxers when he sees you messaged him first.
Sharing your location with the pro hero like a fucking idiot. What if Bakugou had been hacked?
And here you were offering yourself up on a silver platter.
Cum here echoes in his head as he backs out to your selfie and before he can talk himself out of it he's jumping back into the tight black denim that never made it past his thighs.
You lock your phone falling back into your bed after you've seen that he's read your messages. Sighing as you hadn't expected much else, especially since it was his birthday and half of the feed were thirst traps of others tagging Dynamight in hopes of getting his attention. He ignored every single one of them, even from well known models and porn stars, so what chance did you really have?
Still, it was fun to be a little delusional every now and again.
Fireworks echo in the distance and you're surprised the spring festival was going this late into the night. Never one to miss a good show you rise from your bed, topless and half drunk to watch the last of the fireworks before you'd pass out, sleep well past noon before ordering a fat order or take out.
Leaving the sliding glass door open when the cool night air makes you shiver and regret foregoing a shirt. Eyes adjusting to the dark easily but your eyebrow furrows up in confusion. You hear the fireworks but you can't see them.
At least not well, a small orange burst that makes you wonder if maybe they aren't fireworks at all, that maybe it was just a villain making their grand escape.
Scoffing you turn, closing the sliding glass door only for it to be stopped in its tracks. Looking up for see a hulking shirtless man shrouded in darkness on your balcony. Smoke, caramel and whisky envelope your senses as the man breathes evenly behind you. You blink once, twice before you register his eye color.
Toxic, crystalline bromine.
"Dynamight?”
“In the flesh, Sweetheart.” He removes his hand from the frame of the door, takes a step towards you and you step back.
Stalking forward until you're both fully in the room and he delights in the mixture of emotions in your eyes. Fear, excitement, arousal.
“Haaah, what's wrong? Little kitty is acting more like a cornered bunny. Ya scared?” He leers over you, crowding your space, “Shouldn't be. Yer the one who invited the big bad wolf.”
Grabbing onto your chin to turn your pretty face this way and that, he doesn't even need to force his eyes away from your chest, your face captivates him that much. He runs his tongue across his teeth before he smirks.
“Now where am I supposed to cum again?” His large thumb swipes over your plush lips before he shoves it between them, forcing your mouth open.
He tries to recreate the picture you sent him, watches the wet muscle flutter and it makes him salivate. Makes him gather it in his mouth before he's pushing it the tip of his tongue letting his spit hit your tongue.
“Right here wasn't it?” He mixes his spit with yours with his thumb, pressing down on your tongue harshly. He watches your eyes widen before they narrow, into that hungry cat gaze that was in your photo.
Eyes that devour him whole as you hollow your cheeks to suck on his thumb. Swirling it around the digit before you pop off of him, the lewd sound echoing around the two of you.
You're fast, faster than Bakugou, especially drunk, expects. Jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his waist, bucking your hips to make him fall onto the bed with a grunt as your tongue slides into his mouth. He paws at you heavily, grabbing at all your delicious softness as he growls into your mouth, calloused hands still warm from his journey here. Launching himself into the air that did little to sober him after he stalked your profile enough to get your apartment floor and balcony right.
Your claws dig into the nape of his neck as you bring him into a sitting position parting the kiss slowly, letting the silvery string that connects the two of you snap on its own.
“Gonna let me take care of the birthday boy and his special request?” You practically purr, crawling down his body as your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and jeans. All but ripping them from his body even when he lifts his hips to help you free his cock while he grunts out a “‘Course.”
It stands at attention, jumping as your eyes fixate on the one thing you've fucked yourself to the thought of hundreds of times. Drunk all over again, eyes falling to half mast as your hand grips him firmly, listening to him hiss over the contact before you give him a few languid pumps.
Hovering over him for a moment before you look up, watching his pupils blown wide, wider than what they were at the door. Soft almost unnoticeable red tint to his cheeks as he tries to control his breath.
“Try not to fall in love.” You giggle, lolling your tongue out to swipe over the leaking slit in a quick stripe.
“Ya wish, Sweetheart.” But already his head is falling back, hands reaching to grab at your hair before you swipe him away.
Slowly taking him into your mouth, hand gripping what you can't fit into your mouth, letting his fat cock head gag so that your throat contacts the same way your cunt would. Saliva pooling past your lips to coat his shaft, gagging again when you hear him groan before you start a steady pace.
Bobbing your head, alternating hollowing your cheeks and letting him ram into the back of your throat. Giggling when you push his head into the pocket of your cheek, holding eye contact and he reaches down to pull his balls harshly.
He's never been this close to cumming with such little effort.
You let your molars graze him lightly before straightening him in your mouth again. Sure to hit your gag reflex purposefully so that his pre and your spit soak his neatly trimmed pubic hair that's starting to slick to his skin.
If you're lucky he'll stay long enough for your pussy to do that to him too. Cunt neglected as it soaks your underwear as you adjust your weight on your knees for some sort of friction.
Moaning around him when he groans loudly, at his hisses and growls of sugared curses that do nothing but encourage your sinful movements.
Katsuki is panting, the man with all the endurance in the world is fighting the building coil in his lower abdomen and losing.
Bakugou Katsuki never loses but tonight he just might.
Letting his fingers card through your hair before he's pulling harshly, still you don't budge. Lost in your mission to make this last as long as possible by changing from a speed that's bound to make his cum flood your mouth to a slow bob that has you gagging around his sensitive head every time.
Letting your eyes flicker to look up at him and his debauched face, throughly fucked out as his chest heaves eyes fixated on you even as he struggles to hold his head up as if he couldn't bare to look away from.the things you do to him.
The sight is enough to make your eyes flutter, to make you moan around him and the vibrations make his sac tighten, moving your hand so you can shove all of him deep into your tight throat, tears in your eyes that stick in long lashes and fall in fat droplets as you bob on his entire length, once, twice.
And he can't take it, the sight, your eyes all but begging him to cum as you choke yourself on him, as if his pleasure was more important than air.
“Oh fuck princess, just like that.” He groans, cupping the back of your skull as he presses enough to make you gag one last time before he bucks his hips up into you. Starving you of air as your nose is pressed to his pelvic bone while he paints your pretty throat in sticky white cum, your claws digging into the thick meat of his thighs deliciously.
Finally he lets you up and you gasp desperately for air even if you found his aggression as he chased his high undeniably hot. You expect him to smirk, expect him to laugh or to leave pulling up his pants in a hurry but he doesn't.
Instead his large hand grips your chin, pulling you to him as his free hand comes to wrap around your sensitive ribs. Closing the space so that he can kiss you, swiping his tongue over yours shamefully groaning into your mouth as he tastes himself mixed with your spit.
“Fuck.” He pulls you onto the bed, flipping the two of you so he can pin you to the mattress chasing your lips desperately. His other hand has a mind of its own as it rips your panties from your hot core, fingers quick to press and spread your glistening folds. Cruelly avoiding your clit before he shoves two thick digits knuckle deep into your drooling cunt.
Forcing you to arch off the bed, pumping into you with a harsh pace, fingers perfectly positioned to bully that spongy spot that has you seeing stars before he times it perfectly.
Pulling away enough to look you in your eyes before he slowly, roughly, swipes his thumb over your clit and makes you cum in a matter of seconds, faster than any toy. You arch off the bed with a moan so loud you're sure the neighbors know his name now, little do you know what else he has in store.
Removing his middle and ring finger from your fluttering cunt reluctantly, quick to press the digits to his tongue harshly. Smoky caramel fills your senses as his palm heats against the fabric by your head. Leaning over you again to swipe his tongue against yours to taste the two of you melded together in your hot, hungry mouth. He pulls away, hand gently cupping your throat as he holds your gaze, cock heavy and hard again as he aligns it with your still convulsing entrance.
“Sorry Sweetheart, guess I fell in love.” He bullies himself into you in one harsh thrust and you're seeing stars again.
“Now I gotta return the favor.”
#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#Katsuki x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou thirst#bakugou birthday bash#bakugou smut#tw dub con
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Cool girl
ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two
Two (three) can play at that game.
"When you're done being a brat, call us."
You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.
And you're very much done with them.
Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.
The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.
Fuck them.
You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.
And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.
Of course, he's happy to teach you.
You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.
He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.
But not tonight.
"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.
You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."
"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.
"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.
"Sure thing."
You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.
The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.
You don't need to look, to know.
You can feel them.
Apparently, so can your date.
"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.
"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.
After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.
"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.
With blood. Broken bones. And tears.
"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.
After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...
they deserve it. They deserve worse.
"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.
The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.
"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.
"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.
"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"
"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.
"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."
"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."
"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."
"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.
"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"
"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.
"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.
Fear strikes, and turns you cold.
"D-don't." You try to implore.
"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.
"Leave him alone." You plead.
"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."
"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.
"Simon, please. He's not-"
"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."
"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.
He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."
When they both turn back...
you burst into tears.
#lmaoooo#peaches writes#ghoap x reader#its a milkmaid dress for sure#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#unedited
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toji's not used to this.
the sweet nothings whispered into his cheek, the feeling of the newly risen sun soaking into his skin. his body is telling him to move, to get up, to just grab the money you left him on the desk and leave. but your arms tighten around his torso, and he takes a deep breath in, slightly relaxing into your hold. he reminds himself that there is no money and that there is no reason for him to leave. he's safe in your arms.
he hasn't had to leave before the sun's up in a while now. he's almost forgotten how it feels to be ashamed since he met you. you saw him like he was an actual person. really looked at him, past the hard exterior, and saw more than just a man to take advantage of.
it's taking time for him to get used to being cared for, to being loved. in the year (almost two) that he's known you, it has gotten infinitely better. he's got a roof permanently over his head, is in contact with megumi (the boy's set to move back in with his father just before his birthday) and has gotten a stable job with a decent income. you've helped him with budgeting and saving money (upon his request), and he's even started a small 'megumi college fund'.
he finds himself opening up to both you and his son more, sharing little snippets of the thoughts on his mind and his feelings. with the child growing faster and faster as the days go by, he realises just how alike him and megumi are. emotionally stunted, but both loving fiercely. he has his mother's smile though.
his wife's smile.
his late wife. she would've hated what he became after her death. would've scolded him for leaving his son with a random teenager. would’ve despised the countless murders, her heart breaking at what he’s had to do for money and a roof. maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t alive to see it.
he wonders if she'd be okay with him moving on.
in another life, you both would've been the bestest of friends. you're so alike but so different at the same time. you're both his respite too. she might've left him for you if he was being honest, the thought making him laugh dryly every single time it enters his mind.
toji feels like he can conquer the world with you cheering him on and his son right beside you, in his corner. he's getting better. he really is. but progress isn't linear.
there are still nights where he breaks down, sobbing into your arms.
he tries to be quiet, but his throat clogs up, and he can't breathe. he's gasping for air, trying to focus on the way one of your hands is sifting through his hair and the other rubbing his back. but he slips, and a new wave of tears run down his face. he's spluttering, and there's snot all over your shoulder. but you patiently hold him through it all, press kisses to his hair, gently telling him to let it all out.
"i've got you toji," you whisper. "you'll always be safe with me."
when he's finally settled, you're holding a water bottle to his lips, letting him drink as much as he wants, gently dragging a cool, damp washcloth over his face when he's had his fill. your gentleness and unfiltered love make him want to sob all over again. he's undeserving, he thinks, but he'll never be ungrateful for your love or take advantage of it. he'd do anything in power to become deserving of you and cherish you for as long as he lives.
he'll never be the man he once was. his wife's death had affected him deeply in ways he'll never recover (and part of him doesn't want to fully); she was the love of his life. but he's working on reconciling with what he's becoming and the way you've impacted his life, too.
he feels guilty for loving you sometimes, the way he loved his late wife. you've experienced things with megumi his wife could only dream of. megumi loves you like a mother figure, and sometimes he finds himself loathing the fact. it's not your fault, though, and his therapist's words constantly play on his mind, forcing the negative thoughts out. it's getting better.
slowly but surely, toji is healing. his life wasn't always easy, full of hatred and anger. he's made so many mistakes, he has so many regrets (you'd never be one of them) and he's atoning for his sins. like sand during a storm in the desert, grain by golden grain, his life has been displaced with love. with his late wife's, with his little blessing's, and with yours.
he's loved and lost, and then lost a whole lot more. but now, he's been given the privilege of loving once more.
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
#🌻.sunspell#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#toji fushiguro#megumi fushiguro#toji x reader#megumi x reader#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x you#megumi fushiguro x reader#jjk fluff#jjk writing#jjk fanfic#jjk toji#jjk megumi#toji x self insert#megumi x you#toji fushiguro x you
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