#prompt 358

[animaxvi]

"I was so heavy in your arms. And yet, my dear, you held me despite it all" ☀️🐺👑

Day 2 - 'ragnarok | rebirth'

#kingdom hearts #soriku #soriku week 2023 #artists on tumblr #illustration #kh sora #kh riku #my art #this is prob going to my fav prompt piece that i've done this week and I'm really happy with how it came out #also there is a 358/2 days reference here if anyone gets it hehe 😉 #it's why I drew sora as the one to trigger ragnarok rather than riku uwu

[nicolefirekitty]

they got bored and followed him to moogle walmart

based on a prompt website

#kingdom hearts #kh #post kh3 i suppose #kingdom hearts 358/2 days #kh 358/2 days #axel #kh axel #roxas #kh roxas #xion #kh xion #moogle #moogle walmart #prompt #art prompt

[cutegirlmayra]

Disney Medley Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days

Part 1 here: (x)

Prompt:

"Come on, it wasn't even that hard of a fight. You're exaggerating~" Axel swung his sea salt ice cream over Roxas's head, slow enough for him to dodge, with a quick, reflex duck. His voice was sing-songy at the end, showing he was only goofing around. "I could have had him without your guys' help." he took a bite from the ice cream and immediately regretted it. "EmmmmMMMMM-hmm! Got my brain there!" he gripped his head as Roxas and Xion laughed at the sight.

"Serves you right, saying you don't need us." Roxas roasted right back, hitting Axel's shoulder a bit, "You need all the help you can get."

Xion leaned herself forward a bit, smiling cheekily, "Karma." Her face was bright and sweet, even in her teasing.

Roxas looked over to it, but Axel just lightly shook his head, looking away, "I should have never taught you guys that word..!" He threw up one hand in protest while they laughed behind his back, "Giving you all my knowledge,... just so you can use it against me. What kinda friends are ya?!"

"Uhh... your only kind?" Roxas teased, as Axel swung the ice cream near him again. "H-Hey! That almost got my nose!" Roxas smiled as Axel looked off into the distance with the sunset... the light not fading anytime soon.

"I have other friends, it's just... some are... lost, I guess." He took another contemplative look towards the yellow clouds and sky... His gaze moving upward, as though the heavens, "I've been thinking about them... a lot lately..." He then looked to the two again, seeing them clinging to every word, wondering about what he was saying. "But the universe decided to dump you lot onto me! What was I supposed to do? Put you boxes like small kittens and puppies? Leave ya on the side of the road! Barking and meowing for scraps?!" He kept swinging his arm as Roxas laughed and ducked, scooting over before bumping against Xion and flinching a moment, turning back to her and then moving back to his spot.

"S-Sorry..." He looked down a bit, and... Axel squinted his eyes, almost swearing that expression looked kinda like...

But love was impossible for a Nobody, they didn't have hearts to feel it.

Must have been a fluke.

Xion put the back of her hand down from her mouth, a little surprised, but shook her head with that same, calming, and soft smile decorating her gentle features. "Em-emm, it's alright." She assured him, and Roxas just grinned a bit awkwardly back at her, glad to receive that comfort.

"Aye, aye, aye... You two confuse me." He was only gone for a few days... how did they get so close?

He scratched the back of his head, but Xion got up first and he looked over in surprise, "You're leaving?" He didn't think she'd go that quickly, "What about the sunset? It's still pretty high up there on that horizon line, Xion." He waved his ice cream nonchalantly towards it being too early to go. "What about the countdown?" He joked, as they had a game where they would try and see who's countdown actually matched the descending sun. None of them really ever won, but it was fun to joke around and try it out with them anyway.

"I was given a job to do. See?" She summoned her keyblade, "It works now."

"I helped her with that!" Roxas reminded him, like they haven't shown it off every chance they got to...

"Riiiighhhtt..." Axel leaned his head forward, "Alright, take care." He lifted a hand to send her off, but was once again surprised in a bit of sad disappointment when Roxas got up as well.

"I'll go with you." He added, nodding to Xion.

She smiled, "I'd like that." Before both turned to him.

... What was he, now? A third wheel..?

"You want to come to? Axel?" Roxas tilted his head as though expecting him to jump up all excitedly and go, 'Would I!? Thank you ever so much!' but Axel's pride got a little in the way.

"Nah, you're golden." He fanned a hand back to them, looking back directly at the sunset. "I've got only these precious few hours off, why would I squander it off by going back to work, huh? Enjoy the worlds without me." He took another bite of his ice cream, again, being risky with the size and portion and once again coughed as he stuck his thumb to the top of his mouth, hitting his foot against the clocktower.

Roxas and Xion chuckled, before Xion gracefully nodded her acceptance of his refusal. "See ya,... Axel."

"We'll come straight back. Promise..!" Roxas eagerly added, and the two gazed at each other a moment before Roxas offered her his hand, wanting to help her down, "Here." He added.

She smiled just a hint wider, and Axel's brows furrowed... He didn't teach Roxas that...

'These other worlds are getting to the kid's head.' he concluded, taking a 'smaller' bite of the ice cream and looking away.

... He looked back and noticed their hands still connected, just... what, looking at each other or something? Those sweet grins liked to just be painted on their faces like conjoined oil paintings, huh?

He finished off the ice cream, seeing their hands finally part made him at last look away as they rounded the clocktower's corner, going down.

"What am I moping about?" He gobbled up the ice cream, "No point if they're not around." He twirled the stick in his hands, "No winner again, huh?" Seeing the stick be blank, he put it in his mouth and got up, dusting off his hands and then rubbing them on his cloak.

"I'wll waswh iwt lawter." He mumbled with the stick still in his mouth, before looking down from the tower and seeing them again.

... He slowly... took his stick out of his mouth.

"... It's almost like..." He narrowed his eyes again, peering down at them, his lanky form following the action.

He was reminded of Castle Oblivion, Sora's reactions to Namine... thinking she was this 'Kairi' he seemed to have a close connection with... It couldn't be... could it?

If Roxas was his Nobody... would those feelings... persist?

'Even without a heart?' This grew his curiosity even more, somewhat exciting him as he wanted to watch them interact more.

In a bit of a spritzy side-jump, he watched them closely, moving his head about as though trying to get a better view of them down below him. "~I can't see what's happening... and they certainly have no clue.~" he began to sing, "~Their acting all wrong, and here's the bottom line...~" He swung himself back to the front with a full hop, "Our trio's already on the rocks!"

He raced down, "~Is it this sweet caress of Twilight?~" He skidded down some railings, "~What's this magic everywhere?~" He jumped to the stairs.

"~Is my vacant chest remembering this atmosphere..?~" He stopped halfway down the tower to lean over and peer again from the side of a window, looking to see Saix... Eh, he was probably being mean, and Roxas defending Xion, swinging an arm in front of her and rushing to the front...

Intrigued, his eyebrows rising at the tension and drama forming below that he couldn't make out, Axel kept moving his arms down the windows, "~Disaster's in the airrr~" He then bolted to catch up with them.

"She's not just a puppet!" Roxas spat out, summoning his own Keyblade, "Don't you have anything better to do than to pester us!?"

Saix's eyes narrowed, his jealousy overwhelming, then looking up to see Axel racing past the clocktower's windows to make it down to them.

"... Our Master has asked that you both be assigned separately.. Sorry, no tag-teaming today." He threw out his arm, separating Roxas from Xion.

"Ah! Xion!" Roxas reached out a hand but Saix was now perfectly between them, and glaring down at Xion.

"Rox-.. Ah." She also reached out, but the condescending look from Saix made her stutter, catching her breath as she stepped back and away from him.

"Get to your duties... Roxas." Saix moved his head forward, not looking at either one of them. "Now... before you keep proving yourself useless to us..."

"Oh..." Roxas also stepped back, something hurting from those words, but what? He turned to look away and shake a fist in the air, before dropping it, but keeping it tightened by his side, "Okay..." He reluctantly stated and turned around... walking away before rushing off.

When he was significantly gone, and Xion was about to turn to do her own tasked duties elsewhere, Saix immediately swung around to face her, "~Remember, little puppet... The world is cruel...~" he walked by her, "~This world is wicked~" Xion found herself looking to him, her mouth somewhat agape. "~There's not a soul that you can trust in this whole city~" He swung back around, "~You have no friends...~"

"That's not true!" she countered, but he glared deeper.

"~The organization keeps you, dresses you.~" He lowered his chin, "~We who took upon you our own dreams...~" Not fully the truth, but he gestured a hand to her as though showing some merciful gentleness, even if it was only for an instant. "~How can you disappoint us, girl, unless you stay in line... always in line...~" He charged towards her before stopping to delicately lower a finger to her, a tough reprimand.

"~You are a puppet~" He reniforced.

"~I am a puppet...~" She responded her uniqueness given to her from Roxas's memories of Sora's Kairi reverting her back into the stale personality she once was before.

"~Why invite needless scrutiny?~" He reached behind her for her hoodie.

"~Only a puppet...~" She ducked her head... as though accepting it.

He hesitated to put it back over her head when his eyes darted to where Axel was rushing to meet her, "~Do as we say... Obey... and remain... in lineeee~" He tucked his hands back behind him, deciding he was out of time. He walked off, ignoring Axel's calls to him, and smirked subtly on his exit... knowing what he had done.

'You can never be one of us.' He thought to himself, 'Axel is only setting himself up for disappointment... It's all a waste of time. If he won't help me find her... I'll find her myself.'

Xion... just kept her head down as Axel rushed to her side, "Xion! What'd he say to you? That little..!" He shook his fist in the air and then threw it down, unable to help his memories resurfacing of Isa, once his closest friend... Is kinda was, in his-... uhh, well, he just still is. "Xion? You okay?" He put his hands gently to her shoulders and had to part his legs a bit to lean down to her level.

Gosh, all his friends were shorties.

"Xion?" He noticed she didn't look back up at him.

She moved one of his hands off her shoulder in a sliding gesture with her own hand, "Axel... I have to get to work now." She stood silently, waiting for him to let her go.

"Ah... oh... Okay... Take... care?" He moved slowly out of her way, removing his other hand as she walked along her way. "... Huh, what got into her?" He looked to Saix, gritting his teeth and tightening his fists, "Saix..!" He growled out and took off after him, 'What'd you say, you little... gah, smartmouth!', He charged forward, unable to say anything too horrible... they were supposed to be on the same team, after all... "I'll get you back this time!"

Xion walked before her energy to keep her steps up grew faint, and she felt for the first time tears starting to form on her cheeks. Surprised, she touched her cheeks, then went to pull her hoodie up as though to reset herself... but just... couldn't.

She let the fabric drop to her shoulders, "~Look at me... I will never pass... for a perfect replica... or a perfect puppet...~" She swayed to keep herself moving, her sorrows adding up, trying to press on... but stumbling as she walked, looking almost rag-doll-like in her movements to try and not completely crumble to the ground. "~Can it be..? I'm not meant to play... this parrrrt~" She spun herself around as the scene changed and she was Sora, looking over Destiny Island's seashore. "Now I see~ If I were truly to beeee myself~" Sora's image sang with passion, but placed his fists on her chest, closing his eyes. "~I would break and my best friends would part...~" She reverted back to herself, feeling a coma sinking in...

She wandered through Twilight Town, singing, "~Whooooo is that boy I see? Staring straight, back at me...~" She looked into a shop's window, seeing Sora yet again, and having both the reflection and herself touch their respective cheeks. "~Is he staring... back at me?~" She shook her head, rushing off from the image and to the side, conflicted. "~Is this--reflection?--someone I'mmmm supposed to knowww?!~" She looked confused, was it really her? That boy... the fake organization member... wearing the cloak... blindfolded with white, silvery hair... His words continued to plague at her being. "Some~ One~ Explain to me~ Who I am... Because I try, desperately my reflection shows... Another me inside...~" She cupped her fingers over each other, all her memories confusing her now, flooding into her almost... but from what source?

"~When will my...~" She had to turn her head to riff a quick high note before continuing, "~Reflection... show?~" She summoned her keyblade, skimming a hand over it as she knew it was Sora's... but also... came with Roxas's support and aid in being able to summon it. "~Who I want to be...~" She closed her eyes, looking up and hugging the Keyblade, remembering the day he saw a face to her... and gave her something she longed for.

Identity, "~Who he sees... insideeeee~" She let the Keyblade down and, although woozy from the memories rushing in, stumbled and wobbled into a darkness portal to try and complete her mission.

It wasn't until later that she would wake up... with shells by her bedside...

Fin~

#roxas x xion #rokushi #days trio #kingdom hearts 358/2 days #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts prompt #Cutegirlmayra #kh #kh days #organization 13 #disney medley #disney songs

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal fics #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction

[in-another-april]

summary/prompt + genre - There’s something so endearing about how captivated Spencer gets when he reads. | fluff

warnings - none

wc - 358

notes - i'm back!! i'm trying to get into writing regularly again, feel free to send a number from the prompt list (or any request/idea) for me to write!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Spencer’s curled up on the couch next to you, having just started reading the new book he picked up on your library date yesterday. Though, you were too busy admiring how adorably thrilled he was when he found it to fully take in exactly what it was about. The book in his hands is almost comically thick, but he’s flipping through it like it’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar, something that never fails to both shock and impress you no matter how many times you see it.

You’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone, casting a glance up at him every-so often. He normally teasingly calls you out on it as soon as he feels your eyes on him (to which you remind him he’s being hypocritical since you catch him staring at you just as often.) But you’re not surprised you’ve gotten away with the staring this long; he always becomes too enthralled in his books to notice anything else. He shifts positions, tilting both the book and his head down, causing a portion of hair to fall in front of his face, and now you’re surprised.

Spencer can’t stand the feeling of his hair brushing against his face, typically stopping everything to pull it away while grumbling empty threats of shaving it all off. Seeing him not make a single move to put the strands back in their place is almost as jarring as seeing him wearing matching socks would be, and you can’t help but intervene.

You drop your phone on the cushion next to you, scooting towards him. You gently tuck the hair behind his ear, looking at him with what you’re sure are the most lovesick heart-eyes the world has ever seen until he looks up at you in response, his gaze undoubtedly stealing that title. He presses a kiss to your wrist as your hand retracts from his face and you smile giddily before letting him go back to his book, resting your head against his shoulder and picking up your phone again, enjoying the comfortable silence and each other’s presence.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #x reader #reid x reader

[foone]

I'm surprised there's not more supernatural spaceship media. Like, your average little cargo ship is jumping around the outer rim trying to cut some time off their delivery route and they pick up a distress call, so they have to answer it.

(under a readmore cause this got a little longer than I expected)

They warp in to the approximate coordinates and there's a colony ship orbiting a gas giant, stuck in the shadow of it, basically frozen over. It's centuries old, but these sleeper ships from the pre-ftl era were built to last, so it's still broadcasting the SOS. It's not responding to radio, so they need to board it.

Normally this'd just involve turning off the SOS. The ship is clearly dead and not responding to any hails, the crew must be long gone and the reactor is just keeping the SOS going. But this is a sleeper ship, so it's possible there's just no one awake. Stuck in longsleep for god knows how many decades, waiting for someone to stumble on their signal...

So they board it, activate the computer, and it tells them that everyone is dead. The ship launched, and over the 358 years it's been traveling for, every single cryo chamber has been either opened or never had any lifesigns in it in the first place. The last event logged on the computer is 136 years ago, when the acting captain set the ship to orbit this gas giant, and turn on the distress signal. Since then, nothing.

But there's still power on the bridge. There may be something there. So they climb up the decks, passing the grim sight of endless rows of cryochambers lined up like tombstones, all showing red lights of lifesign failure. As they get closer to the bridge, the time of deaths get later. The ones on the first deck were close to the launch date, and the ones near the bridge are nearer to that 136 year ago deadline.

This wasn't a hardware failure. Something killed all these people, one by one, over 220 years.

They get to the bridge. The computers are all powered down, but the power management system is still active. Two of the decks still have their cryochambers powered, but it's the ones that were supposed to be empty. There's no lifesigns in them, so the little computer in the power diagnostic system has been recommending they be turned off to save on energy. Naturally it's been recommending that for three and a half centuries. One of the crew members almost absent-mindedly agrees to the prompt, and those cryochambers deactivate. They were empty anyway, right? The sound of humming from the bridge mostly fades away, as a few hundred cryopods on the deck below power down.

The boarding crew powers off the SOS beacon. They'll alert the authorities to the ship's location when they get to a port, surely someone wants to investigate what went wrong here, or at least do an archeological study. This place is beyond an antique at this point... Wait. What's that?

The power computer says there's still one active power draw, about 1.2 kilowatts, in the captain's quarters. That's too much for a personal computer, but just about right for a single cryo pod. Maybe the captain or someone is still alive? That pod isn't on the network, so they can't see the lifesigns from here.

They head over, and the bulkhead door is still cracked open, with a thick cable running in through the gap in the door. Whoever wired this up clearly didn't have time to correctly reroute the power systems, they just lugged a cryo pod in here and basically ran an extension cord to a nearby terminal.

They pry open the door, and there's a softly glowing cryo pod in the middle of the surprisingly spacious room. It makes some amount of sense, generally on these ships the captain would be the one who has to wake up and deal with any situations that arise, while the rest of the colonists are content to sleep until they reach their new home.

They look in the pod, and there's a man lying there. He's not the captain, though. They saw his photo on the bridge. This is someone else. Some one quite pale and gaunt. Maybe they were suffering malnutrition before they put themselves in the pod?

The pod is softly beeping. It's reactivating, apparently triggered when they opened the door. The pod shows no lifesigns, so it's not worth worrying about, the panel sliding over to reveal merely a well preserved corpse.

And then he smiles. "I'm so glad to see you! When we ran out of food we we're afraid we'd never see another human again. And even through those environment suits, I can tell you're so deliciously human." he licks his lips, and the boarding crew spots his prominent canines.

There's a noise halfway between a howl and a shriek from the floor below. The man in the cryopod leans up his head. "ahh, I see you've woken up my children as well. Marvelous. I hope you brought plenty of friends for us to snack on."

The head of the boarding party lifts her arm to call their ship, tell them to get out of there or drop a torpedo into the colony ship's reactor. Before she can bring it to her face to call, there's a flash of motion. Before she can even realize what's happening, the man(?) in the cryopod is up and holding her wrist away from her face.

As she cries out at the sudden pain, the other members of the boarding party spot movement down the hall. A lot of movement. A wall of thin pale people are running towards the captain's quarters, climbing over each other and pushing each other aside, like a pack of wild wolves who just smelled prey.

The boarding party steps back into the room and slams the emergency close. At least in here they only have to deal with one of those things.

The door hits the cable and bounces off with a loud alarm. It fully opens again, ready to let the hungry mass in.

So... Have you ever noticed how much a cryopod looks like a coffin?

#my writing

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

can i request a kinda smutty prompt? basically reader laying down on their stomach on the couch, nothing but t-shirt and panties on. and then marc spector or jake lockley show up from behind and lift the readers hips up and 🤭

~Dessert First~

Pairing: Moonknight trio (Marc really) x Reader

Word Count: 358

Warnings: Just Marc being insatiable, fingering, the rest is implied since it's a drabble

Genre: fluff & smut

Summary: Marc really can't keep his hands to himself

A/N: Thank you for requesting, sorry if it's a bit shorter than you hoped, this is what felt right <3

***

You hardly catch the door opening, but it's not like your boyfriend bothers to enter quietly even if you missed the lock turn.

"Alright! Dinner acquired! Although- I'm thinking now I should start with dessert." Marc hums and you glance over your shoulder from where you're lying on the couch scrolling through social media before he waked in.

"What are you talking about? We didn't order dessert- did we?" You frown at him.

"We didn't order any, my dessert is sitting on my couch in my t-shirt and it would be a shame to waste the opportunity." He smirks kissing your shoulder while you roll your eyes.

"You are absolutely ridiculous." You chuckle. You try to shift and sit up but Marc settles a hand on your waist before you can move.

"And you are absolutely irresistible." He hums, trailing kisses along your neck, his hand on your hip sliding up under your shirt.

"What are you doing?" 

"I told you I'm starting with dessert."

"Marc come on, be serious, the food's gonna get cold." You say but your voice holds none of the reprimand you intend it to Marc's light touches making you giggly.

"We've got a microwave." He says.

"Are you always this insatiable?"

"How can I not be with you?" He winks, his hand trailing over your ass and between your exposed legs. He squeezes your thigh so enticingly that you let your legs drop open for his wandering fingers. Marc tugs your panties aside and slips 2 fingers between your folds. "Well- what do we have here? Playing coy when you're already so wet for me." He hums as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

"Fuck off." You breathe out, dropping your head forward and Marc laughs.

"Be nice princess, I'm good to you aren't I?" Marc taunts smiling when he pulls a particularly delicious moan from your lips with a curl of his digits.

"Don't be an ass." You retort with a huff that makes him laugh.

"Sassy." He quips pulling his fingers from between your legs. You almost sass him again for it but he shifts behind you and you know for a fact it'll be a while before you get to dinner.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #moonknight smut #moonknight x reader #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector #moonknight fanfiction #requests

[kiwi2229]

Before he wakes up

(James Potter / Regulus Black | 358 words)

For @jegulus-microfic prompt: Early

James blinks the sleep away as he tries to read the time from the alarm clock. Why do they have to make it so small? He gives up and blindly reaches out to the nightstand so he can put his glasses on. It’s only seven in the morning. Though he is not surprised. James was always an early bird. It comes from the habit of years and years of morning practises.

Regulus, on the other hand, is definitely not. The boy is fast asleep next to him. He is lying on his side facing James, with hands folded in front of his face. He looks absolutely adorable like this. Innocent and soft. James can’t hold himself and he reaches out intertwining their fingers. To his absolute delight, Regulus tightens his grip on James in reflex and he pulls their linked hands to his cheek snuggling close.

James likes the fact he always wakes up early when it gives him the chance to watch his boyfriend sleep. Regulus is beautiful. James can see his bare shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes. A blanket hugging the curves of his body. The soft smile on his lips and calm expression, like nothing bad ever happened. It’s just two of them tucked in the calm bubble before real life can get in the way.

James spends an hour just watching him grateful he is lucky enough to witness Regulus like this, before the boy starts stirring in his sleep.

“You are staring at me, James,” Regulus whispers without opening his eyes. James wonders how he knows.

“Well, you can’t blame me. You are beautiful.” James admits. He can see the blush creep to Regulus’ cheeks. He tries to hide his face in the pillow, but James is faster. He presses himself against the boy, feeling his hot skin on his. He grabs Regulus’ chin with his free hand urging him to look up.

The grey eyes are soft when they land on James. Everything about Regulus is soft in the morning. James kisses him slowly and without purpose stealing the breath from Regulus. “Absolutely stunning.” He whispers between them.

#I was in the mood for some fluff #jegulus fluff #james potter x regulus black #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #marauders #marauders era #kiwi2229 writes microfics

[bad268]

Chosen (C! Technoblade/SBI X Child! Reader)

Fandom: DSMP

Requested: Day 24 of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: Techno’s death and reader is Techno’s child in-game (Undisclosed age), my final goodbye to Techno, my hero. RIP Legend

Pronouns: They/them

W.C. 358

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2023 Masterlist

~~(^@/Philza's memorial to techno)

It wasn’t anything too abnormal. Wilbur had returned to Ohio, Tommy, and Tubbo seemingly fell off the face of the world, and Technoblade was off doing something in the Nether, leaving Y/n with Phil.

Techno was going to be gone a couple of days, he said. Well, it was pushing a week at this point and Y/n was aware of his disappearance. Techno sometimes lost track of time, it’s just who he is.

Phil didn’t question it; not until Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo showed up at his house. Apparently, Techno was supposed to meet up with them two days ago, and there is no way he would miss it.

“He’s just mining in the Nether,” Phil tried to tell them. “Probably ran into a problem or found something else to do.”

“But he would come home first,” Tommy pressed. “He loves Y/n. He wouldn’t just leave them without an explanation.”

“You say that like he’s abandoned them,” Phil scolded. The group looked at each other for a few seconds until they were interrupted by screams. Y/n’s screams.

The four bolted up the stairs and are immediately met with Y/n, their brother’s child, screaming, crying, and thrashing around. Y/n’s hands clawed at their ears trying to block out any noise. They cried out for someone, Phil specifically knowing that he might have a potion for whatever this was, “Phil, make it stop!”

“I need to know what’s going on to help, Y/n/n,” Phil comforted, sitting beside their bed as he tried to pry their hands off their head.

“No, Phil!” They screamed, “They’re too loud! It hurts, Phil!”

“They’re too loud?” Tommy questioned to himself before turning his attention to the child, “Who’s too loud, Little (first initial)?” Tommy asked, uncharacteristically quiet as he sat next to them on their bed.

“The voices,” they cried, finally opening their eyes to look at Tommy. Their normal (eye color) eyes were replaced with blood red. “They want blood, Uncle Tommy.”

It was then, they knew what happened.

When one Blood God dies, another must rise.

And unfortunately, Y/n was the chosen one.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#c!technoblade x reader #writing inktober 2023 #bad268 #c! technoblade #dream smp #platonic #ship268 #thing268

[firestorm09890]

“Surely you knew this would happen.”

Day 1 of bending the khtober prompts to my will and just drawing the same character every day this month - Destiny Islands

Remember when I said having an artistic muse is all fun and games until you can’t get yourself to draw anything else? Yeah. I figured I might as well lean into it. I’ve never made it longer than a week in an October drawing challenge so let’s see if I can make this work with the power of sheer brainrot

Your bonus fun fact of the day is that this is actually a screenshot redraw (with a few liberties) of Xion's weird fever dream from 358/2 Days, not of the scene as it actually happened in Chain of Memories. The Re:CoM version looks like this lol

#kingdom hearts #zexion #KHTober2023 #KHTober 2023 #his skin is a lot brighter in the actual game but I like making him look dull #even ignoring how nobodies are practically undead he spends so much of his time in the dark #i also accidentally did this entire thing with night mode on but i don’t think that did that much color-wise #this is also the only one i did in advance lmao don’t expect anything punctual after this #actually dont expect anything at all #me art #me post

[stereopticons]

2023 writing round-up

Rules: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones you're most excited about.

Thanks for the tags, @hippolotamus @rmd-writes @kiwiana-writes. This has been a rough year but hey, we've almost made it through.

January

we were loud like love [david/patrick, E, 5k]

David wears a collar. Tenderness and filth ensues.

the world would make sense again (if i held your hand) [twylexis, T, 2.7k]

Twyla finally tries to get over her fear of flying to go visit Alexis. Alexis tries to make it easier for her.

if you'll be my star, i'll be your sky [david/patrick, T, 1.2k]

A small, late-night moment of domestic bliss in the kitchen of the cottage.

puzzling it out [david/patrick, E, 1.9k, part of the wordplay series]

A wrong answer on a crossword puzzle prompts an interesting discovery for Patrick.

February

with a hand on your side of the bed [david/patrick, T, 2.3k]

Five times David falls asleep without Patrick, and one time they wake up together.

March

paint me up (you're my favorite color) for @blackandwhiteandrose [david/patrick, E, 2.5k]

David wears nail polish. Patrick has a lot of feelings about it.

let my love fix you up for @rosedavid [david/patrick, T, 1.7k]

After Patrick is injured while hiking, David takes care of him.

April

your secret's safe with me for @scrarefest [stevie/ruth, M, 3.1k]

Stevie enlists David's help to plan a surprise party for Ruth. It goes about as well as one would expect.

let our shadows fall away like dust for @hippolotamus [david/patrick, E, 3.2k]

David has a bad day. Patrick makes it better the best way he knows how.

May

tangle and stretch [david/patrick, T, 3.3k]

Patrick sees David on a magazine as a child, and David weaves his way into Patrick's life without either of them realizing it.

June

in the long tresses of your hair (i am a babbling brook) [david/patrick, T, 1.3k]

An airplane meet-cute-ish in which Patrick finds himself obsessed with David's hair.

July

(B)13 Reasons Why [david/patrick, T, 3.1k]

collab with @blackandwhiteandrose. Patrick gives David a gift for their 13th wedding monthiversary.

i'll miss you from this place that i stand [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

After the wedding, all the Roses leave Schitt's Creek within a few weeks of one another. David doesn't handle it very well.

catch my breath to breathe your name [david/patrick, E, 358]

Patrick and David have explored a lot of things together. At the heart of it all is love.

August

never knew a home until i found your hands [alex/henry, E, 1.1k]

Henry and Alex get a little handsy (and have some feelings) at the lakehouse.

touch me [david/patrick, T, 546]

An incomplete list of the ways David and Patrick touch each other during the wedding.

September

knock on wood [david/patrick, E, 3.4k, part of the every year we get a bit closer series]

Five wood-related fifth anniversary gifts that Patrick gives to David, and one (or two) that David gives to Patrick.

you can tell everybody (that this is your song) [david/patrick, T, 1k]

A story of falling in love and David and Patrick trying to find their way to each other told through a series of drabbles inspired by song lyrics.

crossed words and open hearts for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, E, 2.6k, part of the wordplay series]

Five times David needs help with a crossword puzzle and one time he doesn't.

parallax for @sc-passions-and-pastimes [david/patrick, T, 5k]

collab with @indestructibleheart.

Patrick doesn't have an eye for art; he doesn't pay much attention to painting or sculptures. But he likes photography. Well, he likes a photographer in particular, anyway. The mysterious artist known only as D.R. — a black-and-white film photographer from New York — may have disappeared from the world years ago... but Patrick still treasures the one print he'd purchased during a business trip in the city. After all, it may have given him the courage to break his own heart, move to a city he'd never heard of, and meet the love of his life. He hasn't thought about in years. That is, until he's picking up lunch at the café and something familiar catches his eye. The tone, the light — he'd know an original D.R. photo anywhere. "Oh, this?" Twyla grinned, pointing to the frame on the restaurant wall. "David gave me that."

October

everybody's waiting for the next surprise [david/patrick, T, 1.4k]

Stevie drags David to a haunted house on Halloween. They run into a kind stranger in a blue button down in the group ahead of them. You know how this story goes.

November

my misspent youth and my slow decline [david/patrick, T, 800]

Four characters reflect on something that haunts them through four double drabbles. Or, the author projects feelings onto an unprecedented four characters at once.

December

ribbons and bows [david/patrick, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for Schitt's Creek

my only wish is one more year (and then i want them all) [alex/henry, E, 1.7k, WIP]

Daily advent calendar drabbles for RWRB

And, god willing, two Frozen Over fics and one RWRB 5+1 before the end of the year.

I haven't been tracking who's done this, so apologies for tagging you if you already have! @apothecarose @chelle-68 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @lilythesilly @nontoxic-writes @blackandwhiteandrose and anyone else who wants to share!

#sorry for the long post #2023 writing round up #schitt's creek #rwrb

[mackjlee9]

[Kinktober 2022]

Character & Prompt;

Fushiguro Toji| Frottage

•|word count; 358|•

Toji and (M/n) were silent, just chilling on the couch.

(M/n) was scrolling through his phone and Toji was laying on top of him. He had woken up from a nap just a few minutes ago, and he was contemplating whether he should do something about the erection that was growing in his pants. Of course, Toji did what he felt like doing and he was grateful that (M/n) never rejected his bold advances.

Lifting his head off the other's chest, Toji grabbed (M/n)'s phone and placed it on the coffee table, observing how the (h/c) haired male stared at him with curiosity for a couple of seconds before Toji leaned in and kissed him.

(M/n) didn't mind it much since it started as a simple kiss, but then Toji's hips began grinding on his, the kiss turning a little more rough and messy when (M/n) held Toji's thighs, moving his hips up against him to get more friction.

They were holding each other tightly, moaning and groaning as their erections rubbed together, just barely giving them the stimulation they craved.

Breaking their kiss, Toji sat on (M/n)'s lap, bringing him up with him by the collar. (M/n) placed kisses and bites on Toji's neck, grabbing his ass tightly, and making him move his hips faster and rougher. Toji's hands were pulling on (M/n)'s hair and scratching his back over his shirt, releasing loud moans, desperately whining that he wanted to cum.

With his cock twitching in his underwear, (M/n) tilted his head down, holding between his teeth Toji's perky nipple over his tight t-shirt, nibbling on them and making the black-haired male on him arch his back as he let out a moan, cumming in his clothes. Toji's pants ended up damp with his cum, soaking through and wetting (M/n)'s too, who came at the rough pull on his hair.

Both of them were out of breath, but the moment they made eye contact they stood up and headed towards the bedroom with throbbing erections once again.

#.mackjlee9's kinktober #.kinktober 2022 #jjk x reader #jjk toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #lime #kinktober 2022

[mushrubes]

The truth

Masterlist | Harry potter masterlist |

Requested : no

prompt 25. “I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me.” +   41. “I love how you look in my shirt.”

Pairing : James potter x (they/them) reader

Type : fluff

Word count : 358

you’re so loved !! <3

——————————–

“I love how you look in my shirt.” James said as he walked into the bathroom behind them, careful not to scare them. He placed an arm on the waist and rested his head on their shoulder. They smiled and carried on brushing their teeth, occasionally giggling as James did something stupid. They rinsed their mouth out, heading back into the room. James followed them five minutes later, smirking at them. “You should probably head out now, unless you want people to know.” he reminded as they hummed in agreement. He kissed their cheek as they grabbed their stuff before slipping out, going to their dorm to get changed and go for breakfast.

They waited for Lily and Marlene before going down, careful to wear a turtleneck, just in case there was a mark on their neck they didn’t see. They sat down at the table, picking out their food and eating, having a conversation every now and then. Y/n shared a look with James as the Marauders walked in, being their usual obnoxious selves. They cleared their throat as the boys came over sitting with them. “Can we not have one peaceful day without you bothering us?” Lily groaned as James sat next to Y/n, placing his hand on their thigh. “Nice to see you this morning too, Evans. At least we know someone wants us here, right Y/n?” James said smugly, earning a smirk and an eye roll from them who pretended not to care. “Absolutely not, Potter. Especially you, you’re the most annoying.” they responded, finishing their food as James finished up his. 

“I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me.” he whispered into their ear, Y/n standing up and grabbing his hand, dragging him out of the hall. The rest of the marauders cheered while the girls looked a mix of shocked and disappointment. Once they were out of sight, they smashed their lips against his, James’s smirking into the kiss. They pulled apart, panting and trying to catch their breath. Y/n smirked, combing their hands through his hair, smoothing it out. 

“Did that answer your question?”

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter oneshot #james potter oneshots #james potter x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

my spreadsheet (public version)

so i have this spreadsheet that i use for prompts for this fandom, comprised of several prompt lists and the exact order of which is not easily publicly available. if you want to send me a prompt, send me a ship and a number between 1-725 (subject to change) and receive a sort of mystery box surprise of a fic. through the use of this list, you can see what prompts have already been done. if it’s for another ship, you can certainly send me the same prompt that was already used in another fic. if a prompt has been used three times, that prompt will be closed. thank you for your cooperation <3 listing under the cut!

possible progress statuses: prompted, in progress, editing, posted. if a prompt does not have one of these statuses, it has not been sent in thus far.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

in progress || shaymien

14.

15.

16.

17.

prompted || amangela

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

prompted || nintendogs

37.

38.

39.

40.

41.

42.

43.

44.

45.

46.

47.

48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

54.

55.

in progress || spommy

56.

57.

58.

59.

60.

61.

62.

63.

64.

65.

66. drawing circles and patterns on their chest

posted || shaymien || 6.3k, rated E

67.

68.

69.

70.

71.

72.

73.

74.

75.

76.

77.

78.

79.

80.

81.

82.

83.

84.

85.

86.

87.

88.

89.

90.

91.

92.

93.

94.

95.

96.

97.

98.

99.

100.

101.

102.

103.

104.

105.

106.

107.

108.

109.

110.

111.

112.

113.

114.

115.

116.

117. they have never raised their voice around you, always talks softly

posted || nintendogs || 28k, rated T

118.

119.

120.

121.

122.

123.

124.

125.

126.

127.

128.

129.

130.

131.

132.

133.

134.

135.

136.

137.

138.

139.

140.

141.

142.

143.

144.

145.

146.

147.

148.

149.

150.

151.

152.

153.

154.

155.

156.

157.

158.

159.

160.

prompted || nintendogs

161.

162.

163.

164.

165.

166.

167.

168.

169.

170.

171.

172.

173.

174.

175.

176.

177.

178.

in progress || shaymien

179.

180.

181.

182.

183.

184.

185.

186.

187.

188.

189.

190.

191.

192.

193.

194.

195.

196.

197.

198.

199.

200.

201.

202.

203.

204.

205.

206.

207.

208.

209.

210.

211.

212.

213.

214.

215.

216.

217.

218.

219.

220.

221.

222.

223.

224.

225.

226.

227.

228.

229.

230.

231.

232.

233.

234.

235.

236.

237.

238.

239.

240.

241.

242.

243.

244.

245.

246.

247.

248.

249.

250.

251. kisses to calm the other down

posted || tommien || 3.6k, rated T

252.

253.

254.

255.

256.

257.

258.

259.

260.

261.

262.

263.

264.

265.

266.

267.

268.

269.

270.

271.

272.

273.

274. "you're my everything."

posted || shayncer || 10.6k, rated E

275.

276.

277.

278.

279.

280.

281.

282.

283.

284.

285.

286.

287.

288.

289.

290.

291.

292.

293.

294.

295.

296.

297.

298.

299.

300.

301.

302.

303.

304.

305.

306.

307.

308.

309.

310.

311.

312.

313.

314.

315.

316.

317.

318.

319.

320.

321.

322.

323.

324.

325.

326.

327.

prompted || shaymien

328.

329.

330.

331.

332.

333.

334.

335.

336.

337.

338.

339.

340.

341.

342.

343.

344.

345.

346.

347.

348.

349.

350.

351.

352.

353.

354.

355.

356.

357.

358.

359.

360.

361.

362. hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters

posted || spommy || 4.4k, rated T

363.

364.

365.

366.

367. wearing the others’ clothes so that it can at least feel like they’re hugging them, even for just a moment

posted || jackmien || 1.8k, rated G

368.

369.

370.

371.

372.

373.

374.

375.

376.

377.

378.

379.

380.

381.

382.

383.

384.

385.

386.

387.

388.

389.

390.

391.

prompted || spommy

392.

393.

394.

395.

396.

397.

398.

399.

400.

401. “Stop saying sorry! It’s always ‘I’m sorry’. When you really aren’t”

posted || nintendogs || 12.3k, rated E

402.

403.

404.

405.

406.

407.

408.

409.

410.

411.

412.

413.

414.

415.

416.

417.

418.

419.

420.

prompted || nintendogs

421.

422.

423.

424.

425.

426.

427.

428.

429.

430.

431.

432.

433.

434.

435.

436.

437.

438.

439.

440.

441.

442.

443.

444.

445.

446.

447.

448.

449.

450.

451.

452.

453.

454.

455.

456.

457.

458.

459.

460.

461.

462.

463.

464.

465.

466.

467.

468.

469.

470.

471.

472.

473.

474.

475.

476.

477.

478.

479.

480.

481.

482.

483.

484.

485.

486.

487.

488.

489.

490.

491.

492.

493.

494.

495.

496.

497.

498.

499.

500.

501.

502.

503.

504.

505.

506.

507.

508.

509.

510.

511.

512.

513.

514.

515.

516.

517.

518.

519.

520.

521.

522.

523.

524.

525.

prompted || shaymien

526.

527.

528.

529.

530.

531.

532.

533.

534.

535.

536.

537.

538.

539.

540.

541.

542.

543.

544.

545.

546.

547.

548.

549.

550.

551.

prompted || nintendogs

552.

553.

554.

555.

556.

557.

558.

559.

560.

561.

562.

563.

564.

565.

566.

567.

568.

569.

570.

571.

572.

573.

574.

575.

576.

577.

578.

579.

580.

581.

582.

583.

584.

585.

586.

587.

588.

589.

590.

591.

592.

593.

594.

595.

596.

597.

598.

599.

600.

601.

602.

603.

604.

605.

606.

607.

608.

609.

610.

611.

612.

613.

614.

615.

616.

617.

618.

619.

620.

621.

622.

623.

624.

625.

626.

627.

628.

629.

630.

631.

632.

633.

634.

635.

636.

637.

638.

639.

640.

641.

642.

643.

644.

645.

646.

647.

648.

649.

650.

651.

652.

653.

654.

655.

656.

657.

658.

659.

660.

661.

662.

663.

664.

665.

666.

prompted || spommy

667.

668.

669.

670.

671.

672.

673.

674.

675.

676.

677.

678.

679.

680.

681.

682.

683.

684.

685.

686.

687.

688.

689.

690.

691.

692.

693.

694.

695.

696.

697.

698.

699.

700.

prompted || shaymien

701.

702.

703.

704. washing the other’s body

posted || tommien || 3.1k, rated T

705.

706.

707.

708.

709.

710.

711.

712.

713.

714.

715.

716.

717.

718.

719.

720.

721.

722.

723.

724.

725.

prompt sources: one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen

#yeah i decided to make this post anyway sorry if it's pretentious but i'm pretentious so who is surprised #spreadsheet posting #mer rambles #also i guess? fine to reblog? i don't know why you would but it's cool

[daddyhausen]

Hiiii could you do a smut headcannon about Daniel Garcia and face riding and 38 and 39 from the nsfw prompt list??? Ps I really enjoy your work and your kink tober headcannons aswell 🫶🏼🫶🏼

• headcannon — daniel garcia •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { daniel garcia masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, face sitting, oral sex { female receiving }, female orgasm, squirting

{ word count } — 358

{ pairing } — fem!reader x daniel garcia

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @damnnhausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @nicoleveno14 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ 38 } – i’ve never done this before

{ 39 } – don’t be afraid, it’s just me

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

“baby, what’s the matter?”

daniel’s voice rang through your ears, full of concern

he sat up, quickly taking his place by your side on the bed

his eyebrows knitted with worry, confusion amongst many other things

“its justs uhh��”

you stammered over your words, avoiding his gaze

opting to stare down and and fiddle with the satin sheets below

the material soft and cool against your fingertips

“i’ve never done this before”

embarrassed was not the word

ashamed felt more correct in this situation

you’re a grown woman, given society’s standards its almost mandatory to have done this at least once

and even now it was awkward even bringing up your lack of experience to daniel

he sat silently for a second before reacting.

he wouldn’t say he was surprised at your statement

more concerned of how worried you seemed to be about it

“i ain’t gonna judge you for that, it’s perfectly normal”

he cupped your cheeks in his palms, gently smoothing over the skin with in thumbs

“i know…but like what if i’m not good at it or what if i suffocate you or something”

he gave a small chuckle in response

“you won’t, baby. you’ll be fine” he reassured, placing a small kiss to you forehead

he laid back into the mattress, a shaky breath escaped your lips

“don’t be afraid, it’s just me”

you gulped thickly, crawling up his frame until your core was parallel with his lips

you hovered there for a moment, contemplating your next move.

“no, not hover…”

his fingers curled tightly around your waist

“sit.”

he pulled you down onto his tongue, instantly moaning into your core

you whined at the sensation, gripping the headboard

your hips slowly began to swirl, bucking against the rhythm of his tongue

“danny…fuck”

in the absence of words he moaned into your cunt

drinking in your sweetness as it gushed into his tongue

a cacophony of pleas and cries spilled from your lips as you came down from your high

he parted hips lips from your cunt with a breathless sigh

“goddamn… sit down, i gotta taste you again baby”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

#{ my fics : 🤍 } #daniel garcia smut #daniel garcia imagine #daniel garcia x reader #daniel garcia fanfic #aew #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #aew wrestling #aew fanfiction #aew imagine #aew smut

[luv4matt]

CAROUSEL 🎠 - MATT STURNIOLO

Matt x fem¡reader

Word Count: 358 (it’s very short)

Synopsis: you and matt’s cute moments on the carousel

✧༺🎠༻✧

The town was alive with the enchantment of the carnival, and as Matt and you strolled hand in hand, you couldn't help but be swept away by the colorful lights and sounds around you. The stalls flaunted cotton candy clouds and giant teddy bears, but your attention was fixated on Matt.

His eyes twinkled with admiration as you approached the carousel, and a mischievous grin played on his lips. "How about a ride on the carousel, y/n?" he suggested.

"Absolutely!" you exclaimed, and together you chose two horses on the merry-go-round. The music surrounded you as the carousel spun, and you couldn't help but notice Matt stealing glances, his gaze reflecting the same joy you felt.

Amidst laughter, Matt pointed towards the Ferris wheel in the distance. "What do you say we take a ride and get a view of the whole carnival?" he proposed.

Your enthusiasm matched his, and soon you were in a colorful Ferris wheel gondola, rising into the night sky. The town sparkled below like a sea of lights, and Matt couldn't resist a quick peck on your cheek, prompting a delighted giggle.

At the pinnacle, Matt turned to you with a playful grin. "You know, the view up here is stunning, but nothing compares to the sight of your smile."

You blushed, playfully nudging him, "Smooth talker, aren't you?"

As the Ferris wheel descended, your connection soared. Laughter intertwined with stolen kisses, creating a charming chapter in your story amid the carnival lights.

The night unfolded in a kaleidoscope of colors and sweet moments, etching a memory that would forever be cherished.

©️STURNBOO 🍧

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt x fem reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #oneshot #sturnboo