#preferably without either of them getting the giggles

[what-bot]

Love the idea of season 2 Uprising Tron occasionally making an appearance in his black Tron outfit as The Renegade’s ‘sidekick’ now that he’s healed.

He uses a different fake name every time so that the Occupation thinks Beck has rotating lackeys. The public mostly calls them the White Renegade and Black Renegade. Or sometimes Renegade 1 and Renegade 2.

A couple programs correctly guess that this actually is the real Tron in disguise and the white Renegade is someone else, but they get shot down because this guy acts like too much of a weirdo to be Tron (weird in a different way to how Tron normally is, I mean.)

They rarely switch costumes except if there’s a specific reason to throw someone off. Their personas are different and it’d be obvious, mainly because Tron doesn’t quip in a fight. He’s either completely silent or goes for the jugular to emotionally destroy them.

Pavel: How’s it feel to be a lesser copy of a lesser copy?

Tron: You’ll never amount to anything. Your superiors don’t trust you, and one day they’ll realise you’re too unstable and selfish to keep around. And they will discard you like the trash you are.

Pavel: YOU TAKE THAT BACK! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!

(The seed of doubt is planted and he can’t get it out of his mind. He spends the next couple months paranoid Tesler’s going to fire/execute him and ends up annoying him further in his attempts to prevent this)

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>>

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn���t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[s1lly-c0r3]

Mouthwashing Headcanons !!

Cuddling - Curly, Jimmy, Daisuke, Anya, and Swansea (No assigned Gender for reader!!) `` This is for entertainment purposes only, reminder to be kind and feel free to request !! ``

CURLY ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Big on being big spoon, likes the feel of your head on his chest. Most likely wouldn't mind trying little spoon, but he's always gotta have his arms wrapped around you somehow.

Doesn't like any sound playing in the background, prefers to listen to you yap or the sound of you breathing. It comforts him to know you're safe.

Loves your hands in his hair.

Pampers you, but not in an obsession kind of way. He'll coat your face in kisses then chuckle at your reaction

Usually likes to cuddle in bed, PDA is not for him. He won't mind the couch, but he likes a lot of room.

Purrs, isn't aware of it and completely denies when you mention it at all.

Prefers to not touch you much when he's stressed, he's a sweet guy but he's scared he'll hurt you or vent to much. A kiss here and there won't hurt, but the second he calms down he's all over you again.

Titties

Cuddles a pillow when you're not around, not in a weird, gross kind of way, he just likes having his arms wrapped around something (and that something is you)

JIMMY ┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Isn't aware when he's little or big spoon but prefers to have his face shoved into your neck and his arms wrapped around you. Weather that's a big or little spoon; it's up to you.

His hands are always cold, they're usually up your shirt tracing your back or stomach. If not, then he's running them through your hair.

Boney as hell, not the most comfortable to lay on and he knows it.

Usually just falls asleep without changing, shoes and everything. But he sometimes tries to take at least one clothing item off.

Likes his scars or bones being traced but doesn't admit it.

He smiles a LOT while cuddling, usually he's already hiding his face in your neck and pampering you to hide the fact, but you've clearly noticed.

Goes for the bed, always. If you two manage to fall asleep on the couch, you'll wake up in the bed anyways

Wandering hands

A lot of teasing knows exactly how to make you react in the way he wants, and he'll use it to the best he can.

Falls asleep first.

DAISUKE · · ──꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ── · ·

Little AND big spoon likes having you comfortable either that be your head on his chest or his head on yours.

Can't handle too much teasing, but does like to blabber compliments while grinning stupidly

LOVES when you play with his hair, it keeps him calm.

Sleeper build Daisuke !!

Likes laying on your stomach, he always claims it's just too comfortable for him to resist but it's actually just because he likes waking up and seeing your face.

Will probably lick you, just for the bit

Loves cuddling ANYWHERE, cuddle on the couch, bed, bath, the car. Anywhere he can have skin on skin contact he's running towards it.

Always finds a way to hold your hand

Hates waking up every morning and having to leave you, complains the whole time. If he has to be up at 6 in the morning, you have to be up at 6 in the morning.

Comments on little things you do he finds cute to tease, but always ends up feeling bad or getting too flustered.

ANYA •☽──✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧──☾•

Preferably little spoon wouldn't mind letting you be it for the night but really prefers to just let you hold her.

Giggles a little too much, sometimes has to turn her head away if you compliment her to often or if she's being pampered.

Loves pampering you back though, your face is like a canvas for her lips.

Has a whole routine she does before cuddling, forces you to do it with her.

Loves the bed, hates the couch and refuses to ever sleep there.

Plays some sort of soft music in the background, she's mainly listening to your heartbeat, especially if you talk, the music is just there as a background noise.

Always falls asleep

Huge stress reliver for her, if she's got herself worked up over something she'll just toss herself into your arms and complain about it till she falls asleep for the night.

She'll most likely kick your ass if your hands start to wander, but she allows it most the time. Just be a bit careful.

Loves your chest, doesn't matter if your boney or not. Her face is always smashed into it.

SWANSEA ⊹˚₊‧──────‧₊˚⊹

Always big spoon: likes you laying on him or having his chest pressed against your back.

Holds your hand most the time, presses little kisses on your knuckles as well.

Huge gentlemen, if he sees any sign of discomfort, he's not going to do it anymore.

Probably dances with you, I just feel like he's the kind of guy to do that.

Do NOT tease this man, he gets really flustered about it. Sure, he'll drop his voice low and tease the hell out of you but if you match the energy, he's covering your mouth and turning his head away.

His hands are EVERYWHERE.

Likes the smell of you, always commenting on a perfume or your natural scent.

(cmon, its swansea, its like cuddling a huge bear)

AAAAGUHHHHHH I finished it !!! Please enjoy <33 If you have any requests for me feel free to ask and don't be shy!! I do NOT shame anyone at all!! We listen, we don't judge. Have a wonderful day/night loves!!

[lemonlover1110]

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Sukuna would never admit that he loves his nephew.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna doesn’t understand why you love the stinking brat so much. Every time Jin asks you to babysit, you say yes without hesitation. Jin doesn’t even bother to ask Sukuna either, he goes straight to you because he knows you won’t say no. Jin knows his twin brother a little too well because Sukuna would reject the idea quickly.

You, on the other hand…

“Do you want more mango, Yuji?” You put on a baby voice for Yuji, who stares at you with wide eyes. Sukuna watches from the couch, rolling his eyes. The little fatass can’t even say dada but he sure can say yes to more mango. You better not get the stupid idea of having one of your own anytime soon. “Sukuna, can you hold on to him while I get him more mango.”

He doesn’t know how you got in front of him so fast but within a blink you’re shoving the drooling baby in his face. Yuji smiles, showing off his tiny teeth to his uncle. It makes Sukuna roll his eyes as he takes the baby from your hands. Yuji’s cute sometimes… He guesses. 

Yuji’s sticky hands go straight to Sukuna’s face, and he groans. He yells, “Ew! Why didn’t you wipe his hands? They’re so gross.” 

Sukuna stands up and goes to the kitchen to wash Yuji’s hands. Yuji giggles as Sukuna puts his tiny hands under the water, and it’s cute. Sukuna doesn’t like the baby at all but he’s cute sometimes. Not like he’ll ever let it be known. That’s where you’re different because you don’t miss a breath before commenting, “He’s the cutest.”

“He’s drying his hands by shoving them in his mouth.” Sukuna says, taking Yuji’s hands out of his mouth. It earns a cry from the baby, and this is what drives Sukuna mad. You tell a baby not to do something that’ll probably kill them, and they’ll cry.

“What do you have against him? He’s so cute.” You say, and he grimaces as he stares at Yuji. There’s no point in arguing with you because you won’t listen. He sees that you’re done cutting up the mango, so he shoves the baby back into your arms.

“Have him back.” Sukuna will hide his adoration for the baby as hard as he can, even when there’s a spark in Yuji’s eyes when looking at Sukuna. Maybe he puts on a baby voice when you’re not around, and he starts to play peek-a-boo with the baby. He’s the tough uncle now that you’re around though.

“He loves you so much, Suku. Look at him, reaching out to you.” You point out, and Sukuna looks away as baby Yuji opens and closes his little fists. Tears are welling up in the baby’s eyes, because while he loves his aunt, he much prefers his uncle to hold him.

“Keep him. Sticky fingers.” Sukuna scoffs, and he begins to walk away but he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks.

“Su–” The baby is trying to say his name, and even though it’s just the first syllable, Sukuna takes it as his whole name. Fine, he fucking loves the stupid brat. 

“Fine, since you want me to hold the baby so badly, I’ll take him.” Sukuna snatches Yuji out of your hands. He’s suppressing a smile as he looks at his nephew. Yuji’s tears dry up and his pout is replaced with a smile. Crocodile tears, Sukuna can’t help but feel proud.

“I see it– You love him so much.” You point out, and Sukuna rolls his eyes as he walks away with the baby. 

“Don’t even get an idea of having your own, because I’m not giving you one.” Sukuna warns you, and you smirk before saying,

“I’ll just find someone who’ll give me one… Your twin is single, wonder if he’ll help me.” Which makes Sukuna nearly drop the baby. Sukuna puts Yuji down in the high chair before taking off his shirt.

“Give him the mango and meet me in the bedroom, I’ve changed my mind.” He says, and you chuckle. 

“Put it back on, idiot. You’re feeding him.” You tell him, walking over to him to hand him the bowl with the cut up fruit. Sukuna glares at the baby, but his eyes soften the longer he stares at Yuji's wide eyes and smile.

He loves the little cockblocker. 

[monolotus]

⸺ not so common partner privileges

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒

maknae line

Scoups: you get to listen to the demos

– Normally, is to get a no-professional opinion, wanting to hear about what he could change or improve on his sound or flow.

– But sometimes, when he is really proud of a demo, he just has to tell you about it

– And, knowing him, you know is to receive praise, being the leo he is.

– Oh well, the songs are actually good. so how can you not praise him for it?

Jeonghan: teaming together

– You gained your place as his second player.

– Yes, you may have bribed him with kisses and praises, but you are also really good at looking innocent and lying to his teammates.

– So, how can he say no to team up with you when you look at him across the room, ready to take out Mingyu on the first round?

– He is a weak man, after all.

Joshua: takes the lead

– As a person that prefers to follow rather than to lead, is not so common for him to decide for you.

– For example, you ask him to get take out for dinner? He will ask you what you’re craving, or what kind or food, or how greasy you want the meal

– But, whenever he sees you too stressed from constantly having to take decisions, he is ready to help you with it.

– Will decide for you what you’re eating, what you’re watching- even the time you’re going to sleep that night.

– Not because he likes to control you like this, not at all. But because he knows it helps you relax that brain of yours.

Jun: expresses his emotions

– When Minghao listens to Jun say a quick “love you” to you through the phone, he doesn’t really believe it.

– Jun? just expressing himself? just like that? without blushing or shutting himself after?

– But, it is common to you to experience a raw Junhui. A Junhui that will look deeply into your eyes, before smiling and saying how much you mean to him

– A Junhui that, between giggles, will explain to you how he fell in love with you. But also a Junhui that will hide himself on the crook of your shoulder when his members start begging for a little of the love he shows to you, mumbling a quick “love y’all” before blushing.

Hoshi: Supports your silence time

– He is not quite sure why you love meditating so much, or why he is asking Myungho for tips on how to help you.

– Well, he does know. Because he loves you.

– So, when Minghao gives him a couple of candles and some youtube channels to help you meditate, he is quick to thank the youngest.

– He even tries to sit down with you to meditate, he bought you matching pads to meditate and do yoga with.

– He is too hyper tho, but he tries his best, always. For you.

Wonwoo: calling dibs on a camera roll

– He doesn’t really care anymore.

– Nowadays, he even takes pictures of specific scenarios because he just knows you will like them.

– When he gets the roll back, he can already see how many pictures you’re giving to take away from him.

– It’s okay tho, your instagram and journal will look cute with those pictures.

Woozi: sleeping privileges

– He hates how you can just command him to go sleep.

– Is like if you’ve got superpowers. It creeps him out.

– He had been going strong on the (he wants to believe) last hour of the studio session. Sleep? He doesn’t need it. Energy? Is at its fullest. Did he write much in the last two hours? No. Did he make much progress? Not either.

– So, when he peeks your name on his lock screen, he’s quick to text you back. And, just like that, the energized Woozi is feeling his eyes heavy, and his hands need to hold you.

– He can see he had one too many missed calls from Hoshi and Vernon, and he was quick to tell the eldest about his where about.

– And, he was just as quick to get to you, and to bed.

– Is not the first time you’ve done this. It surprises him how easily you can put him to sleep, as if you were a deity of sleep.

[m0chis-cafe]

Can I request twisted wonderland first years or dorm leaders react to mc who have a small exhibitionist habit (but not in an extreme way).

Like the characters are going to a beach and mc just wears a unbutton white blouse that exposed their cleavage and without wearing a bra.

I'm sorry if this request is uncomfortable for you

your so good, i may have strayed a little from the original request, but i actually love this😚

housewardens reactions to more skin showin.. ⋆⑅˚₊

'i cant stop lookin at her t-t-t-t-face!'

word count: 3k

warnings: more so leaning towards feminine reader, more so just saying that your chest is more exposed but that can be seen either way (all of them think your the hottest thing in the world, cause yk, u are duh) suggestive (no nsfw), sitting in lap, swearing, leona being suggestive and the little freak he is, all of them are a bit handsy, cuddling

characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, and malleus

riddle rosehearts🌹

-tries to be so calm, but his face is bright red

-this is gonan be a real difficult unhappy birthday for him with you wearing a low cut and open formal wear (a dress or button up, whatever you guys prefer<3)

-ace and catter get on his ass about how flustered he gets (usually when his face is this red hes about collar someone..)

-yells at ace when he inevitably tries to make flirty remarks, even though its just to rile him up

-tries to play resonsible and collected housewarden in front of the others.. but he loves it

-physically cannot make a move or comment because hes too nervous, would keep his hand in yours or on you in some way just cause hes glad your his (ur so nice lookin)

when ace had suggested that you and the main group from heartsyble took a trip to the beach, it was a excuse to finally go swimming. finals had been stressing you all out and with a little persuasion from you, riddle was ok with a beach day reset.

that's how you got here, laying on a towel under a beach umbrella talking to cater about your guys magicam feeds as riddle and trey horribly beat ace and deuce at a game of beach volleyball.

after a while riddle called cater over to take his place, he walked over and sat next to you. as you glanced over you saw he was more rigid than normal, "you ok riddle.." you set a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. "y-yes! im completely fine" you spoke quickly and turned his face away from you.

your eyebrows scrunched as you sat up, placing a hand on his jaw and turning his face towards you, you almost laughed once your realized how red his face was, "oh my.. did they first years make you upset?" you noticed his eyes widen before flicking to your chest and back up to your eyes quickly, realization dawned on your face as you smiled at him, "seriously?"

he groaned and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your bare shoulder, "its not my fault, you look really good, my rose" he mumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. you giggled, running a hand through his bright rose colored locks, placing a kiss on his head, "thank you, love".

leona kingscholar🦁

-could not care less

-i mean he does, but hes so nonchalant about it

-hes not nervous or anxious, he openly makes sly comments the whole time about how good you look (little shit thinks its just for him)

-constantly keeps a hand on your thigh, around your waist, resting on your hip, this man doesnt care he will show to everyone your his if yall are in public

-so grabby..

-will make you lay with him/on him while he takes a nap

you sat in savanaclaw, as usual most days where you ended up after classes. typically leona would already be with you, dragging you to his room right after classes so he could nap in his own room with his partner. but today he got dragged to a housewarden meeting by ruggie, so that left you waiting in his room for him to come back.

what youd never understand was why it was always so hot here.. you get its a dessert but the heat is ridiculous considering they have magic. the heat caused you to wear less than normal, shorts and a lose top that was leonas that slid down and showed collarbone and parts of your chest.

you layed sprawled across his bed, trying to beat the heat by scrolling on magicam, stalking caters perfect page. your scrolling was interrupted by his door opening, looking up to see leona striding his way in and slamming the door behind him. he crawled onto his bed and leaned over you, "been waiting long herbavore?"

you shook your head, smiling as you leaned up to peck his lips "not at all.. just hot as fuck" he smirked, letting out a low chuckle as he flopped down next to you, "yeayea, i know, you sensitive humans"

you slapped his chest, flipping over to set your chin on his chest to glare at him, "its not my fault, its always so-" you were cut off as leona captured your lips with his, holding your hips. you groaned and rolled your eyes while kissing him back, annoyed at being cut off.. this little shit.. when you pulled back he was smirking, "whats that for? miss me or something?".

he let out a small 'tsk', pulling your hips to straddle his waist. you smiled and leaned down, crossing your arms on his chest and resting your chin on your arms, "you know i did, you also happen to be wearing my shirt, and showing a little more than usual herbivore.. was it just for me?" he smirked at his own words, laughing as your face flushed and you hit his bicep, "leona-!"

azul ashengrotto🫧

-he knew something was up when the twins were acting shady all day (more so than normal)

-the monstro lounge had an event that night and the twins had gotten you a uniform with more skin showing, saying it was for the theme

-doesnt know what to do with himself, locks himself in the VIP lounge for a majority of the time cause hes just sat there with his head on his desk, completely red faced

-this poor man is rocked to his core when he does come out, and floyd wont let up on fucking with him

-"dont you think shrimpy looks good boss?" than suddenly the twins turned to an only child (JOKING)

"floyd, can you lay off his for like two seconds" you scolded, arms crossed over your chest as you watched azul walked away from floyd and back towards the VIP lounge. ever since they put you in this stupid revealing uniform for tonights event floyds been tugging on azul, constantly. "c'mon shrimpy.. its funnyy~" he teased as he leaned onto your shoulder.

you rolled your eyes at him, shoving his elbow off your shoulder, "jade, watch him" you spoke behind you as you made your way back to the VIP lounge, back to his office to check on him.. these idiots are trying to kill him

you knocked on the door before hearing a small 'come in', cracking open the door to his office you saw azul sat at his desk. hand tangled in his hair as his elbow leaned on his desk, the other hand holding a pen that was frantically scrawling across an agreement paper he was working on,, guaranteed trying to rope another first year into a deal.

your lips quirked into a small smile as you shut the door and locked it, no way in hell were you letting the twins fuck with him more tonight. you walked to his desk, sitting in the chair opposite of him, "you seem stressed az..". you almost laughed at how hard his head snapped up when he realized it was you.

"ah- hello angelfish.. h-how are you?" you quirked an eyebrow at his words, leaning back in your chair as you watched his eyes flash between your chest and eyes, "your playing this real calm". he groaned and buried his face in his hands. you rolled your eyes before walking to his side of the desk standing between his legs, pushing aside the documents on his desk before sitting on the desk in front of him.

he kept quietly groaned as he rested his head in your lap, arms wrapped around your hips, "those stupid shady twins, im gonna kill them.. theyre on busser for a month.. they did this.." he mumbled almost incoherently into your uniform. you just sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "ah yes.. cause your absolutely hating this.." you remarked to his complaints. "maybe i wouldnt mind it if it was just for me.. you look good angelfish..", you giggled at his response "just for you next time, promise"

kalim al asim💧

-hes so energetic about it

-our favorite golden retriver

-will hype you up the whole time yall are at the dorm, the second you walked out in slightly more revealing clothes.. he was all over you

-hugging you, kissing your cheek, he doesnt care, he just thinks you look so good

-jamil is so over hearing him talk about you (he secretly grateful you take some things off his plate.. hed never say that though)

-would proably be at a dorm party that he was throwing

you were in the kitchen talking to jamil about your classes, asking him about his family- this was a normal occurrence between you two. both of you tended to stay in the shadows while kalim stayed in the light before everyone.

as you sat on the counter, trying samples of the food he was making for the dorm party, you heard the door to the kitchen slam open, "where have you guys been?" he ran over to you, standing between your legs, "i missed you so much.. and you look so good!", a big smile covered his face as his hands slipped around your hips, his lips placing quick kisses on your cheeks.

you giggled, playing with the hair at the base of his neck, "i was just keeping jamil company.. do you want me to come out with you?". he just shook his head, leaning forward to lean on your chest as he spoke, "nah, i know you guys like the quiet.. id like to see you afterwards though.. you look very nice". you knew he was being a little extra clingy cause you were showing more skin today.. it was nice though.

you smiled at his compliment, noticing a small blush on his cheeks as he pulled away from your chest. you opened your mouth to speak before you saw a wooden spoon hit kalims head, he winced and held the back of his head, "jamil~". you looked past kalim and saw the vice with his arms crossed on his chest, "stop being freaky with the prefect in my kitchen". you giggled as he turned away from you, suddenly whining to jamil about how pretty you were while he just stood there looking unimpressed.. these boys

vil schoenheit🧺

-he couldnt care less (like hes not possessive about it like leona would be, he absolutely does care tho)

-will show skin with you lowkey

-helps you pick out the outfit that shows skin

-he loves it when others think his partners attractive (power couple who?)

-would break his own rules just to stay with you longer

-yall would be getting ready for an event together thats for vils modeling jobs

-(almost dont make it to the event)

you sat at his vanity, touching up your makeup (still gender-nuteral kids, whatever you prefer) as he got changed. whipping a hand to the corner of your lips as you saw his reflection come to vision in the mirror behind you. his outfit had his collarbone and a bit of his chest out, similar to yours..

you smiled, moving a piece of your hair out of your face and pinning it back "vil.. my love, are you trying to match with me?" he feigned shook, a hand on his almost bare chest, "i would never poison, who do you take me for?"

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics as you stood, standing before him as you looked up. wrapping your arms around his shoulders, "ok maybe i was trying to match. can you blame me? you look divine.." you rolled your eyes at his flattery, brushing a stray hair from in front of his eyes. as your hand was coming down he caught it in his, pulling your knuckles to his lips.

he placed a kiss to your knuckles, keeping eye contact with you as he left a small red mark behind on your hand, "would it be that much of a shame to miss this event..". you looked at him unimpressed, leaning up to peck his cheek, "yes, yes it will.. and your manager will kill me" you attempted to reason with him as you turned away.

before you could get far you felt his grab your wrist, puling you back into his chest. his fingers brushed under your chin, making your eyes meet his, "we can be a little late though" you rolled your eyes while smiling, giving into him, "fine.. a little late." you mumbled before pushing your lips to his.. (yall got yelled at so bad for being 30min late)

idia shround🎧

-are you trying to set the ignyhide dorms on fire?

-are you trying to set yourself on fire?

-are you trying.. alright ill stop

-nah seriously though, it was a thoughtless decision

-it was just hanging around his dorm with him playing video games in pjs and you didnt even think about it

-man is gonna pass out with like an anime nosebleed type shit

-does it matter that you guys have been together for so long and hes actually normal and comfortable around you? nope. hes fine until he realizes how much skin is out

-would never admit it out loud.. but he loves it

you walked into his dorm room, pj pants and hid hoodie on top, "idiaa.. what we playing tonight?" you questioned as you flopped onto his bed getting out your switch. you looked up to see him locked into the game he was already playing before you got there, rolling your eyes you starting playing your own game. a comfortable silence covered you two as it did most nights.

after a while it started to get hot in his room.. i swear its his hair.. you set down your switch and slipped his hoodie over your head, a tank top on underneath. you rolled your head, yawning as you glanced at his clock, 1:27 it read, shit it was late already.

you knew it was smart to go back to rhamshackle soon, but you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend before that. you stood from his bed, walking to be behind his chair, your body sluming forward. your arms fell around his shoulders, laying on his chest as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, "idia.." you mumbled, placing small kisses on his pale neck, "i gotta go soon.. cmere"

he jumped slightly at your kisses, his hand coming up to rest on yours, "i-i didnt relize it was so late.." he finished up his raid with you wrapped around the top half of his body. when he was done he got up to switch off his light, following you to his bed so you guys could lay down together for a bit before you left.

he got under his covers, opening his arm for you to lay on his chest. you quickly look his offer, laying your head on his chest, your arm laying across his waist, and your leg hooking onto his. you hummed at his warmth as his arm wrapped around your waist.. only than did he realize that he could feel your.. bare skin? once the realization set in that you were wearing a tank top he froze, blushing profusely, "you- you didnt say you were- i- this is boss level actions-" his hair flared slightly at his words as he buried his face in your hair, he cant handle all that without warning (your too fine)

Malleus draconia🐉

-is so excited

-smiles so brightly as you stand by his side

-lilia happily watches as he spins you around and shows you off to him, silver and sebek

-happens during a little picnic he planned for you

-he got distracted staring at your chest a couple times.. not in like a creepy way though, in a, he doesnt realize its bad and thinks hes just admiring his partner way

you giggled as you stumbled a little, malleus hands covering your eyes as he guided you to a 'surprise', "are we almost there mal..". he didnt say a word as you guys stopped walking and he let his hands drop from your eyes, resting on your hips as he stood behind you.

your eyes widened as you took in the scene, a picnic blanket and foot set out under a tree in the gardens of diasmonia dorm. fairy lights hung from the surrounding trees. you turned to face him and were faced with a small wrapped bouquet of your favorite flowers, you took them slowly as you looked up at him, "mal.. this-this is perfect" you reached up, cupping his jaw and pecking his cheek.

he smiled softly, his hands resting on your waist, "only the best for you beloved.. you look perfect". you smiled up at him, resting your head on his chest as you hugged him.

after your thanks were over he moved you guys to the blanket, sitting across from each other. you went back and forth trying the different foods he brought and talking about your guys weeks. as you were talking about your potions class with silver you noticed his eyes continue to wander between your eyes and chest.. you leaned forward and waved a hand in front of his eyes lightly, "you ok? you seem.. out of it", you let your hand fall to hold his in his lap.

as you looked up you were shocked, you never thought youd see a day where you made him flush, but here it was. you locked eyes with him as it registered that he was blushing. your malleus was blushing. his eyes widened at you calling him to attention, his hand squeezing yours as he avoided your gaze quickly, "y-yes. im quite alright beloved.. i didnt think id be so affected by you this evening is all."

you let out a laugh at his words, "im yours mal, your aloud to look when i dress up for you." he nodded at your words, "i see.." you rolled your eyes, smiling as he brought your hand up to his lips to brush a kiss to the top of your hand. he kept your hand up as he looked at you, "does this mean i am aloud to request that you wear that top more often..". you flushed at his words (back to normal), "of course mal.."

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

YUCK!- D. GRAYSON

pairing: richboy! dick grayson x girly! innocent!fem! reader

word count: 3.8k

part two here! part three here!

summary: dick grayson was not a relationship man. he was brooding, cold and much prefered a one night stand- but when you caught his eye at a club, everything changes. so long mr. brooding, and hello head over heels dick!

warnings: sexual thoughts/ implications but nothing happens this chapter, pet names, size kink implied, drinking mentioned, swearing, dick really just turns into a lover boy who is obsessed and possesive with reader hehe

"yuck, now you got me blushin'/ cheeks so red when the blood starts rushing/ yuck, that boy's so mushy, sending me flowers, i'm just tryna get lucky/ yuck, lookin' at me all sucky/ yuck, quit acting like a puppy/ fuck, going all lovey-dovey on me"- yuck, charli xcx

Dick Grayson had his eyes on you.

He watched for hours, simply waiting. He had always been quiet, elegant and sly.

Like a black cat in the night, he slithered his way across a room- seeming to work it without saying a word.

Where the others wore bright reds and soft hues of blue, he wore black. A stark contrast from anyone in the room- he was expected to stick out like a sore thumb. But somehow, he fit right in.

Mingling with others around him, his friends and the bartender when he needed another beer- reading lips over the loud thud of the heavy bass in the club. The bright lights flashed across the room, illuminating pockets and spreads of people from all over Gotham, coated in their daddy’s money- the pink and blue hues catching the glimmer of their diamonds.

But none of them shined as bright as you.

There you were- the spotlight of his eye from where you danced in front of him. You were oblivious, of course- a drink in your hand as you closed your eyes and leaned your head against what he presumed was one of your friends as you swayed your hips to the music.

He couldn't look away.

The way you moved was entrancing.

Not a diamond or emerald on your body, and yet- you seemed to be worth more than anyone at this posh, frat-boys, daddy’s money club.

Was it because you seemed different? Maybe.

Dick Grayson had his fair share of flings and one night stands in his time- but you made him want to try a new approach. Something more than just buying you a drink and taking you home.

And he wasn't sure if that pleased something in him- or terrified him.

There you were, in your sexy little skirt, something resembling go-go boots giving you spunk in your step, with each twirl and spin you did. He bit his lip, body becoming tense all over as he allowed the dirty, sinful thoughts of what he wanted to do to cloud his mind, like the haze that hung over the crowd.

That skirt alone had sent him reeling, clinging onto his self control he had suddenly seemed to lose as he thought of how sweet you’d taste under it.

How soft your thighs would be when he placed sloppy kisses across them,tugging your panties to the side before diving in fully- how sweet you’d taste.

And the little noises you’d make as he savoured you- an extra little whine and squeal as he’d tug on your precious little clit… Fuck.

He closed his eyes, fully tuned out of the conversation Tim was currently trying to have with him and the rest of the group, gripping his beer tight enough the glass started to crack.

He wondered if you’d be shy in bed, or a challenge. Either way- he was eager to find out.

He could always coax the shy ones, or tame the feisty ones. None of them would compare to you, though. He could feel it.

“... Dude. Dick. Are you with us?” a voice called, Tims eyebrows raised in concern, zoning in on his face that seemed tense. “Yeah, yeah man fuck sorry. Just got distracted.”

His eyes followed Dicks gaze- where you stood, mouthing the words to some Charli XCX song with your friends, giggling like schoolgirls.

A little whistle left his lips as he found Dicks line of attack, a smirk on his face. “You did good man. All is forgiven.”

Dick snarled as he patted his back, making the rest of the guys chuckle. “Don’t test me Drake. Seriously.”

Tim threw up his hands in mock defense, that same smirk plastered across his face. He always tried to get under Dicks skin. And Dick hated when it worked.

He was a possessive man- not so materialistic wise (though he did have a pretty penny), but when it came to you? It was as if the world had suddenly stopped spinning on its axis. He didn't even know your name.

He was fucking whipped.

“You gonna go talk to her with your rich boy charm, or are you gonna keep staring like some fuckin creep?”

“I’m trying to engage in a conversation, so I’d rather observe. Thanks though.” Dick mumbled, nursing his drink.

He hadn't studied you enough yet from the sidelines. He didn't need any surprises.

“If by conversation you mean staying silent like always while you act all vigilant like- you’re doing great.” one of the guys joked, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

“Seriously man, if you don't go for her- I might.”

The stare he sent Tims way was enough to silence him mid sentence, pursing his lips before taking a swig of his own drink. ���Jesus man I’m kidding. But go get your girl. She's getting away.”

His eyes snapped back to where you stood, but all there was was a flurry of motion. You slipped through the crowd, smiling softly to everyone you passed by, so innocent and sweet it made him dizzy with want.

Without a word, he chugged the rest of his drink, slinking after you like a minx. “And don't just follow her like some stalker dude!” a voice behind him called, that he so conveniently ignored.

Cracking his knuckles, he glared at a frat boy who eyed you up and down after you passed him, fighting back an audible growl at the man. He had to calm himself the fuck down. It's not like you were his, not yet anyways- and he truly had no business being all up in your business.

But those nagging thoughts were dialed down in his brain as he watched you slip out of the club's doors, past the bouncers and line up outside- as if he turned down a volume knob.

He had to follow you. It wasn't safe alone at night, not for you, anyways.

When he had you under his wing, he’d never let this happen again.

Why the fuck werent your friends leaving with you? Were they really your friends?

He had to have this talk with you later on. It wasn't cool they were just letting you leave at- he checked his watch, just after midnight on a Friday night.

Baring the constant Gotham chill, he kept his distance (and failed), blending in with the night. He wanted to scream at you, look! See how easy this is for me? Just to sneak up on you like this, practically breathing in the smell of your perfume?

But he kept his mouth shut, frightening anyone who looked in your direction.

To everyone else, he appeared like some deranged bodyguard. To you- well you were truly oblivious. Humming a tune he had heard early at the club, you skipped along the sidewalk, creating a vomit trail of rainbows, sparkles and kitties wherever your boots touched.

It was like the clouds had parted just for you, moonlight shining down on your hair. It made something flutter in his stomach.

Butterflies? No, it couldn't be. Butterflies had never taken flight in his stomach, only bats. Cold, dark bats that churned with anxiety.

But a weight seemed to be lifted as he watched over you, protecting you from perceived threats. This just made sense to him. To be watching over you like this.

It felt right.

He stopped, watching as you opened the door that housed a cozy, dimmed cocktail bar. The smell of vanilla and soft cashmere enveloped his senses, disappearing as fast as it came when the glass door fell shut.

He stood, waiting.

After a minute, he decided. He needed another drink, it seemed.

--------------------------------------------------- 

You had walked to the first place you could think of. Tommy’s, on 56th and 8th. It was perfect, a five minute walk from the club you were desperately trying to escape.

The thudding music and sardine of bodies was fun- until it wasn't. You had quickly grown tired of the buzz, your head pumping as hard as the base from the drinks and people.

You much preferred the quiet hum of people that chatted at their tables in the bar, soft jazz music playing from the speakers.

You were out of place in your outfit- but you couldn't care less. You needed quiet, and alone time.

You waved cheerfully at the bartender on shift- Carter. You knew him from the few times you had stopped by, and he was always so sweet.

Your friends all told you he was flirting and you were just oblivious to it- but you disagreed. He was just being sweet, probably because you tipped him well- with what little money you had. Tonight was no different than any other, he dropped everything he was doing to come over to you with a smile plastered on his face as you slid up on the barstool, letting your feet dangle.

“Hi Carter.”

“Hi, you. Regular?” You nodded, watching as he got to work, grabbing the vodka and orange triple sec. You let your gaze wander over to the mirror behind him, resting your head in your hand as you noted your smeared lipgloss and the raindrops that had soaked through your white sleeves.

You were distracted though from nitpicking your appearance too much- as you eyes darted over to the hunk of a man who lingered in the shadows behind you.

The bar was dimmed already, candlelights flickering on each table illuminating an eerie glow- and the soft spotlights under the bar didn’t add much. But he stood out, somehow to you.

His hard, dark eyes were staring at you, as if he were trying to figure you out.

Your gaze met his in the reflection, and his instantly softened, a playful little smile just barely hinting on his face. You felt your cheeks heat and you quickly averted your gaze, before meeting his again.

Now he wore a full smirk. As if you fell right into his trap. Yet, he just watched as you got your cosmo, sipping on it slowly.

The drink was sweet, just as you liked it, and you savoured the taste of citrus on your tongue as you watched Carter tend to the bar, watching his hands quickly fly around all over the place, a hand on a bottle before it was wrapped around a glass, passing it over the counter to anyone who’d come over with a card to swipe.

It was mesmerising, really. But not as mesmerizing as the mystery man's cold, hard demeanour that seemed to linger throughout the room- his attentions directed at you.

It made you squirm, and left a weird, tingly feeling in the pit of your core. You shifted, thighs rubbing together as you finished the last sip of your drink, a soft clink sounding as you slammed it down on the bartop.

Just as you were about to pull out your card from your purse, a low, gruff voice emerged from beside you, a large arm extended with a shiny black amex card glittering in his hand.

The mystery man.

“Just add it under my card. Thanks.” He told Carter, barely sparing him a glance before all his attention was focused on you again.

Carter could hardly sputter a word out before he was shooed- the man fully turned to face you, his large, broad shoulders practically shielding you from anything else but him.

“Wouldn't want a pretty lil thing like you paying, now would we?”

You just stared at him with wide eyes, mouth practically gaping open.

He was beautiful. Even more so up close. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. You wanted to bury your face into his cashmere sweater and bite his biceps like some teething child.

Woah, okay. Drunk you talking. Pump the breaks.

“Well thank you sir, but I promise you don’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

He just laughed.

“Sir? Dont treat me like I’m some old man, bunny. I’m only a few years older than you- if that.”

You looked away, tongue tied and flustered with the way he was staring at you. “I’m so sorry, I was just trying to be polite and jus-”

“Hey, hey I’m just teasing. It’s really cute.”

You giggled as he sat down in the stool beside you, making it look play sized. “So you decided to come over cause we were playing eye tag?”

“Something like that.”

You snorted, toying with the rim of your empty glass. “And here I thought you were coming over to compliment my hair.”

His eyes glimmered with amusement, clearly enjoying your drunken jests.

“I think your hair is lovely.”

“Do you think I’m lovely?”

His eyes darkened with lust, and you watched as he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the skin.

“I think you are divine.”

You giggled. “Are you going to try and kiss me sometime tonight?”

“If you’ll let me.” You pursed your lips together swinging your feet as you thought. You did really wanna kiss him. But you didnt even know his name.

“I’m Dick. Dick Grayson.”

Nevermind, that clears that up.

“Y/N.” You darted your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. Hot. Did you want this man to come back with you to your apartment? Yeah, actually- you did.

He seemed nice. You didnt realize you had blurted that outloud until he broke the silence with a loud laugh, practically shaking in his seat.

“You dont just invite a man back to your place because he seems nice, bunny. What if I was dangerous?”

Your eyes widdened. “Are you dangerous?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You don't seem dangerous. You seem nice. And you smell good. And you paid for my drink, which you did not have to do. So I like you.”

You brought your hands together, jumping up from the stool with a start, wobbling slightly. “Well! I suppose we ought to go explore.” Carter raised his eyebrow, slowly and silently sliding Dicks card back over the counter.

“Carter, it was lovely to see you- as always. My concondalences.” you blew him a kiss, swinging your purse over your shoulder. He contored his face in confusion.

“Condolences? For what?”

“No idea. I guess for being you, and having your life. Goodnight!”

And with that, you left the door swinging on your way out, an extremely stunned looking Carter staring at you from behind the glass pane.

------------------------------------------------

“So, you just get ice cream? No matter the weather?” Dick asked you, taking a lick of his mint chip ice cream you had nagged him to buy, as the two of you made your way back to your apartment.

You looked like a married couple.

It was cold, dark and late, and he had slipped his jacket over your shoulders. It felt like a dress.

But no matter the weather, you got ice cream. There was no need for an occasion. Ice cream should be an everyday occasion, actually.

“The weather doesn't control anything, silly. Same with holidays. Why can’t we celebrate Halloween on a random Tuesday? Makes no sense to me.” You shrugged, licking your cone, ice cream dripping down on your fingers.

You felt Dicks eyes on you as you laughed, smearing soft serve on the tip of your nose. You were nearing your place, and you insisted you wanted Dick to come up with you.

Though you were extremely drunk, you knew he would take care of you. You just had a feeling you couldn't quite shake.

“Have I told you how handsome you are?” you asked, steadying yourself as you clung to his arm, as he guided you up the steps to your building.

You had given him your address, per his request- so he could actually get you home safely instead of just wandering around random streets trying to remember.

“You’ve told me many times tonight. It’s very sweet of you to say, bunny.”

“Kay. Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

He couldn't help but laugh, watching as you tried to search for your keys with one hand. He reached in his pocket, the jangling of your pink keychains capturing your attention immediately.

“How did you get those?”

“You gave them to me, remember?”

You shook your head.

“Oh bunny. What are we gonna do with you?” he tsked, clucking his lips as he took the last bite of his ice cream before unlocking the door, following you up the stairs to your place.

Honestly, he was beyond blessed you had captured his eye tonight- because he didn't even want to think about how you'd get home. You were too trustworthy, too sweet and kind to anyone who “seemed nice”.

He was pretty sure if he told Tim you said he “seemed nice” he would have a laughing fit so hard he’d die from asphyxiation. But here was now, to protect you, and to keep you safe from your own nativity.

He’d teach you how you should behave. With him, only trusting him. Other people would just take advantage of you.

“We’re here!” you smiled, taking the last bite of your ice cream cone, chewing happily as the waffle cone seemed to melt in your mouth.

“You should be a doorman, handling my keys and stuff. Do they do that?”

“No idea. But I don't think you should be giving anyone your keys but me. Got it?”

You nodded, leaning against the doorframe as he (once again) unlocked your door, leading you inside your own apartment.

“Thanks for taking care of me Dickie. I really, really appreciate it.” you slurred, stumbling in as he found the lightswitch, flickering the lights on.

He smiled to himself as he looked around, your apartment being so very you- and so against him. It was soft and light, gentle shades of pink and white, with bows and frills galore. Little trinkets were scattered around, with magnets on the fridge.

It looked- lived in.

He felt like he was home, and he had been in here for less than five minutes. Or maybe that was just you- amplified times a million. Everything smelt like you, reminded him of your bubbly personality- it was impossible not to marvel.

You plopped yourself on the couch, somehow toppling over the back so your legs were sprawled like a newborn fawns in the air.

He tried so hard not to look as your skirt rose up, giving him the perfect view of your dainty little panties that made him hard as a fucking rock.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before approaching you, towering over the side of the couch as his fingers found the zippers to your boots.

”Let's get these off now, okay pretty girl?”

“Mhgm” was all you could mutter out as he began to slowly work them off your feet, setting them down on the floor neatly, so they wouldn't be a tripping hazard in the morning.

“You wanna get to bed silly?”

“Mghm. I’m sleeping here- can’t move. Too weak.” you murmured, hand flung over your eyes, hiding from the light. He chuckled.

“Too weak eh? Such a lil thing, aren't cha?” he taunted, wasting no time to get you into his arms, carrying you like a princess to the room he presumed was your bedroom.

You barely let out a protest, quickly nuzzling into his chest as he took careful steps, trying not to rock you.

“Can just pick you up so easily. You’re such a pretty girl.” he smiled, planting a kiss to your head, before setting you down on the bed.

“Can you stay?” you asked, reaching out to grasp his hand, curling it around his finger. He nodded.

“Of course, bunny. Let me just get you some water, okay?”

You nodded, mumbling incoherent phrases as he made his way over the scattered clothes (and thongs) on your bedroom floor, back out to the kitchen.

What would Tim make of all of this shit? He thought to himself as he grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge.

He wouldn't believe him, if Dick told him. Here he was, caring for you like you were his girlfriend, and to be honest, in Dicks mind- you already were his.

You were so different, he just couldnt explain it. So no, he didnt want just a quick drunk fuck to get off- he wanted to care for you, to make sure you were tucked in bed safely.

His heart had gone soft, it seemed- he chuckled to himself as he made a quick trip to the bathroom, opening cupboards above the sink to fish for some advil.

You’d definitely need this.

“I’m back, bunny. See? I'm not leaving.” he smiled softly as you stirred, rubbing your eyes. He set the glass and meds down on your nightstand, brushing your exposed shoulder softly.

“I brought some meds okay? Let's take them now, so it's not as bad in the morning.”

You nodded, but made no movement to get up and take them yourself. Your brain was fuzzy and the room seemed to spin.

Sensing this, he slowly guided you to sit up, hand cradling your back as he placed the pills in your mouth, tilting your head back slowly to get you to swallow with water.

“Atta girl, there we go. Did you swallow?” he asked, and you stuck out your tongue, showing the pills were gone.

The action alone sent his thoughts completely in the other direction, and he cursed himself for it. He’d have to relieve himself before bed tonight, in your bathroom.

Oh well.

“Good girl. Let's get some sleep now, okay?”

“Okay. Gnight Dickie.” you smiled softly to yourself as you slumped back onto the bed, passed out in seconds. He sighed as he stood back up to his full height, watching your hands grip the sheets as you dozed.

Sleeping in those clothes couldn't be comfortable, but he didn't want to remove anything without you being conscious, or giving full consent. So for now, he’d leave them.

He was sure he’d hear all about it the next morning, how you couldn't sleep in outdoor clothes on the bed- or whatever shit girls always said- but it was worth keeping his distance, and hearing the bickering.

His phone buzzed- Tims contact flashing across his screen.

Tim: Well? You get lucky?

He smirked to himself.

Dick: Something like that. I’m taking the couch tonight.

He threw his phone somewhere in the cushions as he grabbed a blanket, stripping down to his boxers.

He had one last trip before bed, and his cock seemed to be reminding him like a snoozed alarm every two minutes. When he finally managed to slip to the bathroom and seek his much needed relief- all he could do was stare at himself in the mirror, his hands gripping the sink.

Dick Grayson had gone soft.

And the worst part? He fucking loved it.

[luvyeni]

free the boob ! ๑. ( 스트레이키즈 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── skz reaction to not wearing a top to bed ..

( 対 ) ot8!skz + fem. reader wc. 1k genre smut · contains! a bunch of boob and nipple play , that’s pretty much it . mature content. / back to library

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 방찬 : bang chan﹚ .ᐟ

oh you wanna sleep shirtless? fine by him , his shirt is coming off too. he doesn’t care , if he can go to sleep without a shirt , who is he to stop you? “if you’re comfortable like that then it’s fine with me.” he actually loves the skin to skin contact … almost a little too much , sometimes his hands creep up , first he starts about rubbing your tummy , soothing you. then his hands slowly move upwards , to your boobs , giving them a light squeeze, kissing your neck. “you feel so nice.” whispering in your ear. “fu-fuck i need to feel you baby , ne-need to fuck you.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 리노 : lee know﹚ .ᐟ

thinks you’re trying to tease him. “are you being a brat?” he’s skeptical. “i’m serious , but i can put a shirt on if you want.” well he didn’t say all that. “no keep it off , just get in bed.” he doesn’t actually care if you sleep with a shirt on or off , just let him cuddle you , this is his wind down time. “never wear a shirt to bed again.” he said his chin resting on your shoulder blade. “you seem to like it a bit too much.” feeling his hard cock against you , pushing your ass against him , he groaned. “fuck this.” flipping you over , feeling you up. “i can cuddle you after im done fucking you.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 창빈 : changbin﹚ .ᐟ

such a giddy mfer , just a giggly playful mess as he climbs into bed with you. “look at what he have here.” he said with a smirk. “you forgetting something?” he says with a smile. “hmm idk am i?” you tease , making him bit his lip. “it’s more comfortable like this.” he nods. “i bet it is , but you’re so beautiful baby and this is turning me on.” he groans , gently rubbing your waist . “well binnie i never said you can’t touch me.” and that’s all he needs to have his hands on you — his mouth either. “fuck why are you so pretty hm? you don’t know what you do to me.” he groans. “gonna make you cum so hard princess just wait.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 현진 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

the boob man himself , he’s in heaven when he walks into the bedroom and sees you just laying there with your shorts on watching your phone. “baby.” his little giggling. “yes?” you don’t look up as he gets into bed. “what’s going on here?” he says wrapping his arms around your waist , his head resting on your bare chest. “it’s more comfortable like this.” you sighed as his hands come up to your boobs , slowly rubbing them , pinching your nipples. “is it?” he said , kissing them both , giving them equal attention. “hyun-hyune.” you moaned. “just lay back baby.” he kissed your cheek softly. “let me make you feel good.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 한 : hanji﹚ .ᐟ

would literally prefer it if you do that honestly — in fact he would want you to walk around like that. to be able to stare at your boobs all the time? hell yeah , he loves coming home from a long day of work , just to see you watching a anime without a shirt on. “hello pretty boy.” his little cheeky smile as he climbs into bed with you , pulling you close to him. “i love this so much.” he said , kissing your chest , not even in a sexual way sometimes — most time it is — sometimes he just wants to hold them , or rests his head on them while watching the show … most times though , they’ll end up in his mouth , sucking on your nipples while watching the show.

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 필릭스 : felix﹚ .ᐟ

as long as you're comfortable , that’s what makes him happy. “you aren’t gonna be too cold right?” poor baby he’s just worried for you. “well then you can just hug me right?” of course he wouldn’t give you the chance to hug his precious baby. “is this comfortable?” you nodded , hes just giving you a bunch of loving kisses and cuddles , making you laugh. he genuinely won’t make it sexual unless you want him to. “you want me to touch you?” and he had no problem of giving you what you wanted. “of course princess.” his mouth is on your nipples as soon as you give him the confirmation , he’s ready to make you feel good.

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 승민 : seungmin﹚ .ᐟ

“why just the shirt , just take everything off.” if you want to sleep naked fine by him. “because i just want to sleep topless , it’s comfortable , you got a problem?” can you blame him for staring though? “you wanted to be shirtless , of course i’m gonna stare.” he scoffs when you call him a pervert. “did i say not to stare , but if you’re gonna stare, at least touch me.” now he feels like you did it on purpose. “is that the cause of all this.” he says pinning you down to the bed. “fucking brat if you want me to make you cum you could’ve said that instead of teasing me with your tits out.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 아이엔 : i.n﹚ .ᐟ

not gonna lie , he’s a little confused. “you want to sleep without a shirt?” when you nod , lifting your shirt over your head undoing your bra. “is that a problem.” well of course not , why the hell would he have a problem with his girl laying in bed without a shirt. “go a head.” he doesn’t know if he should look or not. he doesn’t want you to think he’s just looking at you like a object but like , you’re boobs are so full and he just wants to touch them , your nipples hard make his mouth water , desperate to get his mouth on them. he’s fighting demons. “jeongin you don’t have to do that, you can touch them. once he hears that , he’s pouncing on you. “fuck i’m so hard , you’ve been laying around here like this for hours.”

©️LUVYENI

[gf2bellamy]

Hi,

I came across your account not to long ago and I've been binge reading almost all of your fics, (specifically the spencer reid ones). I've giggled and kicked my feet with the biggest smile to so many of them, they're amazing.

I had an idea of someone on the team getting reader a gift either as like a congratulations or a birthday present. Doesn't really matter. Then spencer sees and is like you should have gotten her *what you decide* instead, she loves it. Then proceeds to talk about a date they went on were she was talking his head off about it. Expect the team doesn't know they are dating and he's just outing them in front of everyone without even realizing it. Then reader walks in and greets everyone and they all just stare, then proceeds to ask questions and tease.

Again love your fics, they make my day. If you do this thank you! :)))))

bracelet — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: secret relationship a/n: hiii !! thank you so so much <3 i'm so so glad you like them <3 also i love your idea and i hope you like it :)

“What is that?” Garcia’s eyes zeroed in on the expensive-looking bag in Rossi’s hand as he walked in. The bag had a logo that screamed luxury, and Garcia was already halfway out of her chair to inspect it.

Rossi held the bag up with a proud smile playing on his lips. “Late birthday gift,” he explained, setting it down on his desk . “I couldn’t make it to the dinner over the weekend, so I thought I’d make it up to her.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow as he sipped from his coffee mug, leaning casually against his desk. “Looks expensive,” he remarked. “What’d you get her? A diamond-encrusted tiara?” 

“It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment,” Emily muttered under her breath, glancing up from her paperwork.  

Rossi ignored the jabs, his pride in the gift undiminished. “It’s a bracelet,” he said, opening the bag and carefully pulling out a velvet box.

He flipped it open to reveal a delicate silver bracelet adorned with white charms. “Silver, with these beautiful charms. Elegant, timeless, and perfect.” 

Spencer, who had been quietly writing away at his desk, glanced up at the mention of the bracelet.

His brow furrowed slightly as he listened to Rossi describe the gift, his pen pausing over the report. He tilted his head, as if considering something, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. 

 “She actually prefers the pink one,” Spencer said, as though he were stating a well-known fact.

“The one with the flower charms. Last week, when we were on our date, she wouldn’t stop talking about this little boutique we passed. They had this pink bracelet in the window, and she went on and on about how much she loved it. She even made me go inside with her to look at it.” 

The room fell silent.

Garcia’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in shock. Derek choked on his coffee, coughing loudly as he tried to recover. Emily froze, her smirk fading into a look of pure disbelief. Even Rossi blinked at Spencer, momentarily speechless. 

Spencer, oblivious to the reaction he’d just caused, continued writing, his focus seemingly back on his report.

“It’s not that the silver one isn’t nice,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “But the pink one would’ve made her happier. She’s really into those kinds of details.” 

Spencer wanted to buy it for you. Not even a day later, he had gone back to the boutique, determined to surprise you with the pink bracelet you’d admired so much. But when he arrived, the store clerk had given him an apologetic smile and told him it was already sold out.

Garcia was the first to break the silence. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” she said, holding up a hand as if to physically stop the conversation. “Did you just say date? As in, you and her? On a date?” 

That’s when Spencer realized his mistake. His pen halted in his hand, mid-sentence, and he froze. His brain suddenly went completely blank.

His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “No, I meant—uhm—I—” 

But it was too late. The damage was done. The entire team was staring at him now, their expressions ranging from shocked to downright gleeful.

Garcia’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement, Derek was grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and even Rossi looked amused, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. 

Emily raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning full force. “Oh, this is rich,” she said, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort. “Reid, are you telling us you’ve been dating this whole time and didn’t think to mention it?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

 “I—uh—it’s not—” Spencer stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He adjusted his tie nervously, his fingers fumbling with the knot. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Oh, you so meant to,” Derek interrupted, his grin widening. “Come on, pretty boy, spill. How long has this been going on? And why are you keeping it a secret? You know we’re all about love here.” 

 Garcia clapped her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week! Spencer Reid, secretly dating our girl? I need details! How did it happen? ” 

Before Spencer could respond, the elevator dinged, and you walked into the bullpen, holding a coffee cup and looking completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded.

“Morning, everyone!” you called out, your cheerful tone cutting through the tension in the room. 

The team turned to you in unison.

You paused, glancing around at their faces. “Uh… what’s going on?” you asked, your smile faltering slightly. 

Garcia was the first to pounce. “Oh, nothing,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Just that Spencer here was very casually telling us about your date last week. You know, the one where you talked his ear off about a pink bracelet?” 

Your eyes widened, and you shot a panicked look at Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk, looking like he wanted to disappear. “You told them?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief. 

Spencer blinked up at you, his face still flushed. “I didn’t mean to,” he said weakly. “It just… slipped out.” 

You stared at him for a moment, your lips twitching as you tried to suppress a smile. Of all the ways for your relationship to come to light, this was definitely not what you’d expected.

“Of course it did,” you said, your tone fond rather than annoyed. You weren’t mad—how could you be?

Spencer’s accidental confession was just so him, and honestly, you’d been wondering how long the two of you could keep your relationship under wraps anyway.

The team was bound to find out eventually.

Rossi, who had been quietly observing the chaos , decided it was time to intervene. He picked up the fancy bag from his desk and walked over to you, holding it out with a flourish.

“Here,” he said. “This is for you. A late birthday gift. I was going for subtle elegance, but apparently, I should’ve gone for pink and floral.” 

 You took the bag, grinning at him. “Thank you, Rossi. You really didn’t have to,” you said, genuinely touched by the gesture. 

 Rossi shrugged, his smirk widening as he glanced over at Spencer, who was still looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. “Well, I figured it was the least I could do after missing your birthday dinner. But clearly, I’ve been outdone by Dr. Reid here. Who knew he had such a knack for romance?” 

Spencer sighed. “I didn’t mean to ruin your gift,” he muttered under his breath.

 “Oh, you didn’t ruin it,” Rossi said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You just completely stole the spotlight. No big deal.” 

The team burst into laughter again, and even you couldn’t suppress a grin. “Don’t worry, Rossi,” you said, opening the bag and pulling out the velvet box. “I love it. Really. It’s beautiful.” 

Rossi gave you a satisfied nod, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good. At least someone appreciates my taste.” 

Garcia, who had been practically vibrating with excitement, couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Okay, but can we please get back to the important part here?” she said, clapping her hands together. “You two are dating! Why were you keeping it a secret? ” 

As the team continued to tease and prod, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, your secret was out, but in a way, it was a relief.

And as you glanced at Spencer, who was finally starting to relax, you realized that maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. 

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part ix)

STITCH THEORY—Connection returns, not as it was, but stronger.

summary: Winter rolls into Jackson once more, but things are heating up in the big, white house across the street.

a/n: 18+ MDNI smut, but are you ready for the most wholesome smut you've ever read in your life? also update -> so, heh, I'm not really great at smut per se, this one, I've really tried to capture the luuurv, the physicality of it, and I really hope I've done it justice. also, happy earth day people!

There came a time in Joel’s life when he grew so used to boring bullshit that he actually preferred it. He didn’t know if that was old age creeping up on him, dragging him toward the inevitability of doing absolutely nothing, or if he was just plain tired of a life spent running from one disaster to the next. Either way, he found himself appreciating the small mercies. His own simple pleasures.

Going to bed without whiskey clawing its way down his throat. Waking up without his head feeling like a busted canteen. Fresh, warm socks straight from the laundry. Knuckling down and figuring out how to cook something that wasn’t just oatmeal or meat cooked to leather, not because he had to, but because he wanted to get it right.

At some point, he realized he didn’t care much to keep busy anymore—except for when it came to Leela and Maya. But it was strange how a simple life could still surprise him, could still land a punch straight to the ribs with five little words:

“Why don’t you stay here?”

It had caught him mid-sip, a few days after Leela’s little weed trip, while they were eating dinner. He’d had to set his cup down and stare at her. Make sense of it for three seconds. Even though the answer had already been waiting in his gut, inevitable as sunrise, he had smiled:

“Why not, darlin’?”

And yeah, he loved the big, white house. It was Jackson's history, with old black-and-white pictures lining the walls—Leela’s parents, grandparents, ghosts of people who had walked these halls before him. And maybe, in some small way, he was stitching himself into its bones with his work, care, and name. All the little fond memories in every nook of the home. His hands had worn themselves raw winterizing the garden, keeping the fences up, and scraping, painting, hammering, and patching up Maya’s nursery when she got naughty enough to climb right out of the crib. Light fixtures, floorboards, leaky pipes—he’d wrenched his calf muscle twice trying to fix that goddamn water heater.

Now, as Joel sat at Tommy’s dining table, peeling peas like a goddamn housewife, shoulders hunched, fingers working on autopilot, he continued sneaking glances at them—stuck on them. On all the ways it wasn’t working—on all the ways it was. Why not him?

Maya was perched on Tommy’s arm, fiddling with the salt shaker like it was some great mystery waiting to be solved. Tommy, for all his grumbling about how much of a menace she was, held her tight. That kid had him wrapped around her tiny little finger, and everyone knew it. He’d drive her nuts—hide her favourite toy just to get a rise out of her, tease her until she was practically throwing hands at him—but she’d always come racing back, tossing her arms around his neck, giggling as he swung her up high.

Joel’s hands stilled into peeling the peapod.

It was impossible not to notice how Maria and Tommy moved like two parts of a well-oiled machine. He watched them in the kitchen, just weaving in and out of each other’s space without thinking. Like those buzz magnets Sarah used to stick on the fridge from the capsule toys, repelling, colliding, but always snapping back into place. A hand passed a spoon without looking, a playful bump of the hip, a shared smile that needed no words. Tommy smoothed a hand over Maria’s forehead as she ducked too close to a sharp corner, and she didn’t flinch—just trusted.

Maria smirked at him. “Baby, you hover worse than Joel.”

“Please,” Tommy scoffed, stroking up her back. “Joel’s got me beat by a mile. He’s like a damn watchdog with our kid.” He bounced Maya on his arm, glancing at Joel. “Ain’t that right, big brother?”

Joel rolled his eyes, focusing back on the peas. “She’s one. Anybody with a brain watches a toddler.”

Tommy tsked. “You hear that, Maya? Your mean ol' daddy just called me stupid.”

“I mean, if the shoe fits,” Maria teased, setting a pot on the stove.

Maya giggled, still turning the salt shaker in her hands, getting salt everywhere. “Stew-pid.”

Tommy let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like he’d been wounded. “Et tu, Brute?” He kissed her cheek anyway, undeterred.

Joel shook his head, hiding a smirk. He didn’t say it, but Tommy wasn’t wrong. He was like a watchdog when it came to Maya. Couldn’t help it. That little girl had carved out a place in him that he didn’t even know was still open. His little girl. Maybe not by blood. Maybe not by title. But she was his. Just like Sarah had been. Just like Ellie was.

But maybe that’s why watching Tommy and Maria hurt in a way he wasn’t ready to admit. Because what they had—this effortless, built-in kind of love—wasn’t something he’d dreamt of. Now he wanted it.

It wasn’t even physical, not really. It was just… love. Uncomplicated. Reciprocated. A year ago, he would’ve grunted something about getting a room. Tommy would’ve shot back about owning the whole damn house. But now—

He swallowed, shifting in his chair, wondering. Did he and Leela look like that in their home?

No, hell no. No, he wasn’t the type to put effort into how they were perceived. He barely liked acknowledging it himself, how he softened around her, how he let himself be someone else—someone better—when she was near. But it happened anyway, didn’t it? Without him meaning to. Made him want things.

And ever since he wholly made his home at their big, white house, he was sinking into it.

His love for her wasn’t flashy. He didn’t know how far to go beyond small things. He wasn’t the romantic kind of man, the kind to pick flowers or whisper pretty words. He wasn’t great at it, and wasn’t sure how far to go beyond having her coffee ready by her bedside in the morning. Beyond making sure that when he washed the dishes, hers were the first ones he cleaned, every time. Beyond leaving all the hot water for her and Maya, even if it meant stepping into a freezing shower himself when the temperatures were dropping fast.

She never noticed.

Or maybe she did. Because she had her own ways.

He wasn’t proud of how stupidly fond he got over the little things. The times he’d find his old boots, the ones he refused to part with, sitting by his bed freshly polished, patched up with rubber cement like new. Or how the busted projector in the dusty TV room—the one he’d given up on fixing—suddenly worked one night, humming quietly, waiting for him to indulge in some shitty action flick. She never made a big deal out of it and never expected anything in return. She just did things, because that’s how she loved.

God, the damn dopey grin he let out every time he caught on.

But they didn’t move in sync the way Tommy and Maria did around their home. here were rituals and rhythms, but they were dominoes—Joel would pick up where she left off.

Hell, they didn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was always a line. Physical. Emotional. Always a line, a place where he had to stop, where he had to get off.

He hated that fucking line.

He thought they’d been getting somewhere. That all the careful comforts, the small reassurances, the time—that it had chipped away at whatever was keeping her so guarded. Then there was that night.

That late night played back in his mind like a bad dream.

Leela, pacing back and forth, frustrated noises slipping past her throat, her blackboards covered in endless scribbles, eyes darting too fast, too desperate. Her hands shook as she wrote, erased, and rewrote. Then, suddenly, she just… crumpled. Joel found her there like that at two in the morning. Collapsed to her knees. Silent sobs racked her whole body, hands gripping at her hair, shoulders curling inward like she was trying to disappear into herself. The kind of cry that tore her apart, that was meant to be hidden.

It was like a jagged blade to the ribs, seeing her that way, and trying to ignore it. His Leela. His tireless, self-sufficient, do-everything-alone Leela, folded in on herself like a wounded animal.

He’d been on his knees before he even thought about it, hands reaching for hers.

“Hey, baby—” He cupped her palms, kissed them, trying to soothe her out. “It’s okay, darlin’. It’ll come to you.”

And then—she shoved him away. Like he burned her. Like she couldn’t stand him being there. “You don't know anything.”

“No,” he murmured, setting his palms on his knees, “but, talk me through it. I'm right here.”

And he tried to stroke the back of her head now, just to ground her to him, but before he could touch her, she'd jostled his hand off her.

“Please just leave me alone, please,” she’d choked out, voice small, broken. Final.

She might as well have reached into his chest and crushed his heart with her bare hands. He swallowed everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to do, and stood up, silent. Left her there like he was the one who had misstepped.

And ever since that fucking breakthrough—the discovery she had been chasing for years on end—it had been like this. Slipping. Slipping deeper into whatever obsession had taken hold of her, staring past her own life's work like there was another world hidden behind it. Like she’d solved the last goddamn piece of the puzzle but couldn’t stop staring past it, searching for something else. A prisoner to her mind, a slave to her intellect—and he had no clue how to save her from herself.

He thought a discovery meant solace. That she’d finally rest. Kick back and focus on raising her perfect kid. Instead, she was spiralling. Faster. Harder. And he was left standing there, watching her slip through his fingers.

And maybe he should just let it happen. Let her go. Let her chase whatever was in her head, let it take her, let it swallow her whole. Ignore it, let it blow up in his face, pick up the pieces, and move on. It seemed like the easier option.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t dragging her on some death trip to L.A. to get a bunch of scholars’ rubber stamp of approval. And for what? To hear a bunch of stuck-up assholes tell her what she already knew? To chase after something that might not even be there anymore, past the patrol trails that promised nothing but death?

It wasn’t happening. Not on his watch.

“Joel, can you take this out to the kids, please?” Maria’s voice cut clean through his thoughts. He blinked, glancing up just as she pushed a bowl of garlic knots toward him. “Don’t want them starving before dinner’s done.”

Kids. How the hell Leela had ended up in that category was beyond him. But she’d started hanging around Ellie and her friends more, all of them messing around with her, out of good heart or the fuck of it, he did not know. They’d even managed to rope her into their little hijinks late into the night, like right now.

He’d seen Ellie dragging her outside earlier, that same oversized stack of star charts that Leela had gifted her tucked under her arm, Dina and Jesse trailing right after her with waves, and practically buzzing with excitement. He’d heard snippets of the invitation—something about mapping the constellations, something about seeing the stars “like they used to be.” And, to his surprise, Leela had actually gone along with them.

From inside, he’d catch the sound of laughter floating through the backyard. It wasn’t much, but hell, it was a little relief, knowing she was out there, around some good spirits, instead of pacing around those goddamn blackboards like she was trying to solve the meaning of life.

He stood to take the bowl out, but before he could even make it past the table—

“Da-da.”

Joel stopped in his tracks. Maya had her hands stretched toward him, little fingers grabbing at the air, grinning mouth already open in expectation.

“Pease gimme,” she demanded.

He snorted, reaching over to pop his finger between her lips instead. “Nice try, baby girl. Dinner first.”

“Pease, pease! Aw, da-da!” she whined, brown eyes big and pleading, nearly changing his heart, wriggling against Tommy’s chest in an attempt to get to him.

He just shook his head, slipping away toward the hallway. “Gotta do better than that.”

Tommy was already distracting her with a spoonful of tomato soup that was bubbling away by the time he stepped out the back door.

Outside, the kids were alright. Dina and Jesse were off to one side by the fences, heads bent together in their own little world. Joel should’ve broken them up, should’ve told them to leave some damn space between them, but—

His eyes flicked to Ellie instead.

She was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, staring at the happy couple long and hard. And the second she felt Joel watching her, she snapped her gaze away, clearing her throat and focusing on Leela instead. He tried not to dwell on it, though his brows shot right up in question.

Leela, on the other hand—she wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

She had her head tilted up, her gaze tracking the sky, that damn star map spread open in her hands. She was muttering under her breath, tracing something invisible in the air, her brows drawn together in deep concentration. That look she got—the one where her whole world shrank down to whatever puzzle was in front of her—alive, glowing.

It was the same look she had when she worked through some problem scrawled across her blackboards. The same look she had when she was fixing something—quiet, focused, all sharp edges and restless movement, pulling things apart just to put them back together again. It was amazing how much Maya looked like her mama, she had that exact same look when she tried to decipher the chords as he played guitar.

And god help him, he loved Leela like this. Loved the way she got lost in things, the way her mind worked like a racecar engine. Loved the way she’d get so caught up in the details that she’d forget the rest of the world existed, forget to eat, forget to sleep—loved it, even when it pissed him off.

Loved her. Jesus, it was amazing how his old ass could still get hooked on a girl like this.

Ellie barely had a second to react before he shoved the bowl into her chest. “Haven’t missed the boat just yet, kiddo,” he teased.

Ellie shot him a glare. “Oh, fuck you, Joel.” She shoved a garlic knot into her mouth. “I know Leela’s only tolerating your ass.”

Joel chuckled, stepping forward.

Leela was still lost in the map, tapping a finger against her temple, muttering under her breath as her eyes darted between the lines and symbols. Joel quietly came up behind her, lowering just enough to brush his lips against her ear.

“Lookin' up at your own kind?” he murmured.

Ellie, mid-chew, made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Joel, grumbling, kicked a lazy leg in her direction. “Get outta here. Go on, git.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, snatching another garlic knot from the bowl before slinking off into the house.

Joel, though—he stayed.

Leela finally glanced up from her map, blinking at him like she’d just realized he was there. The slight furrow of her brow softened, the haze of focus giving way to a quiet, warm smile. “Hi, Joel.”

That smile. His name shaped like a hymn on her lips. Subtle. A thing most people wouldn’t catch if they weren’t looking for it. But Joel was always looking, listening. And God, he loved catching her like this. Unaware, until she wasn’t.

He smiled back, slow and knowing, waiting for her to say something else, maybe acknowledge the way he’d lowered his voice just for her, the way he’d leaned in close enough for his breath to stir a few strands of her hair—

But she didn’t. She just turned back to her damn star chart, completely disregarded his sorry attempt at flirting, as if he was nothing more than a passing shadow.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. The only thing worse than flirting with Leela was getting ignored by her.

The air had shifted before he had even noticed. Not by much—just enough that he could feel it. The barely-there stiffness in her shoulders, all the implicit everything sinking in the inches between them.

Because this was the first time he’d properly approached her in two days. He hadn't crossed past the courtesies or bare necessities, this time, he felt like it had soothed over.

The last time being her breakdown. And she was here now—outside, breathing, looking up at the sky like she hadn’t spent days holed up in that house, tangled in her own mind. Like she was okay.

But Joel knew better.

Leela clucked her tongue, rolling up the chart in frustration. “It’s like I’m wasting my potential.” A sigh, thin and frayed at the edges. “I can’t think straight. I can’t find the stupid… star. Something’s wrong with me.”

Joel nudged his shoulder into hers, trying to shake something loose. “There ain't nothin’ wrong with you. You just need to get out of the house a little more.”

She shook her head, already brushing him off. “I’m not teaching at the school, Joel. I told you, it's not for me.”

There was something automatic about the way she said it—premeditated. A flicker of irritation behind her eyes, like she’d already decided where this conversation was going before he even had the chance to take it there.

Joel just lifted a brow. “Not askin' you to.”

Leela blinked, lips parting slightly. Like maybe she’d expected an argument. But he wasn’t Tommy or Maria. He wasn’t anyone else. He wasn’t trying to fix her.

Leela ran a hand down her face, rubbing at her eyes. “I just… it’s so incomplete.” Her voice wavered slightly, barely above a whisper. “I know I’m done, I ran the numbers a hundred times, but I—” She bit her lip, frustration flickering across her face. "I can’t stand the fact that I don’t have anything else to work toward.”

Joel studied her for a long moment.

This wasn’t just about the damn star chart. She needed something. A goal, a project—something to occupy her hands, her mind, something to pour herself into. Because without it, she was stuck in her own head. Stuck waiting.

He reached out, sliding a hand to the back of her head. His fingers traced slow, absentminded strokes before his arm draped heavy around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“You need a break, darlin’.”

Leela let herself sink against him, nestling her nose against the worn fabric of his shirt. Her hands slipped against his sides, resting at his ribs, tentative, like she hadn’t touched him in a while and wasn’t sure if she still could.

“And do what?”

“Help me fix up that swing for Maya’s birthday.”

Joel felt the small hitch in her breath before she even lifted her head.

“Maya’s—” She gasped, cupping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, her birthday. I completely—” Her voice broke slightly. “How did you know?”

Joel shrugged. “Did some mental math. She was barely a month old when we first met. Figure it’s comin’ up soon.”

Leela closed her eyes. “Yes. Christmas.”

“Holly jolly Christmas baby,” he said, snickering. He didn’t know if it was hard-luck or fortuitous that their baby girl’s birthday overlapped with a holiday.

Leela groaned softly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I’m a terrible mother.”

Joel made a derisive noise, picking her hands off her eyes before cupping her cold cheek. “Nah, just a scatterbrained one.”

And when she finally laughed—light, breathy, warm—it was as if he’d struck gold.

He let himself look at her then. Her long hair was a mess, spilling around her face from the loose braid, wild and tangled from where she’d been tugging at it in frustration. The stars flecked in her big, dark eyes, dim and soft, like the whole night sky had been stitched there just for him.

Christ, he loved her. It hit him in strange moments like this. Not in the middle of some grand declaration, not when they were on the brink of tragedy. Just here. Just in the way she folded against him, breathing slow, in the way she trusted him enough to let her guard down.

Joel brushed his thumb against her temple. “You’re alright, you know that?”

Leela blinked. “What?”

“You,” he murmured. “You’re doin' okay. I've got you now.”

A breath. Then she smiled—small, almost imperceptible, but there. And Joel, stupid, old fool that he was—he fucking melted.

Because he’d said nothing special. Just a handful of words, low and gruff and barely above a whisper. And yet—there was something in her eyes now, reassurance, like she needed to hear it, and she hadn’t let herself believe it until now. Until he said it. Until it came from him.

She tiptoed, her forehead leaning into his, her fingers curling lightly into his shirt. He could feel the warmth of her breath, feel the way she hesitated for just a second, like maybe she was unsure—

But then she kissed him.

Slow, soft, uncertain, and God help him, but he could’ve crushed her right into his bones. “Right now?”

“Just a little one,” she whispered against his lips.

“Killin' me.”

Because it had been too fucking long since he had her like this—since she let him have her like this. And for weeks now, ever since that weed trip of hers, he’d been holding himself back, watching her from a distance, all while within their house, twenty-four by seven, just waiting for the right moment.

His large hand found the curve of her throat, his thumb pressing gently beneath her jaw as he tilted her into his smiling lips, deepening the kiss. She tasted of him, of her, a blend of them both, and Joel wanted to drown in it.

She made a soft noise against his lips, barely there, but felt, and he was already stretching for her ass, already—

“Mama!”

Joel flinched, eyes still half-lidded, mind heady with her, with them, but—Leela broke away immediately, her head snapping toward the deck.

And there stood Maya. The little menace herself, gripping the railing for balance, two entire garlic knots stuffed in her tiny fist.

Joel sighed sharply, tilting his head back toward the sky. Just on time, the peanut-butt cockblocker.

Maya’s attention wasn’t on them, though. No, she was too focused on her real struggle—getting herself down the stairs while holding onto both knots, because apparently, letting go was out of the question.

Joel huffed, already moving. “Hey-ey—now, who the heck gave you those?”

Because Maya didn’t just find food. No, that kid knew exactly who to ask and how to ask. A little manipulator before she even hit two years old.

Maya just grinned at him, all teeth and mischief, one cheek puffed out with the stolen bread, and Joel didn’t even have to guess which poor soul had caved under that wide-eyed, baby-faced con job.

He reached for Maya's hand. “Gimme that. Didn’t I tell you no snacks before dinner?”

And because she was, without a doubt, his worst nightmare—she twisted away from him with a high-pitched squeal, shoving another bite into her mouth as she waddled to the other side of the deck.

Joel sighed. “Goddamn it, trouble.”

Behind him, Leela laughed with her daughter, already climbing up onto the deck. “Alright. C’mere, baby.”

Maya didn’t fight her. Just beamed up at her mama, eyes bright and full of adoration. Leela crouched before her, brushing at the curls on her forehead.

“Can you feed Mama one?”

And just like that—without hesitation—Maya held one out. Anything her mother said, she followed. Anything at all. It was Joel she was coming to rebel against with her little cheekiness. And Joel being completely susceptible to her charms, fell for it constantly.

Leela leaned in, mouth open, and Maya giggled before pushing the knot between her lips.

Joel shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, watching them. Leela, the master Maya manipulator, struck once more.

She hummed in approval, chewing theatrically. “Mmm, so good. One more, please?”

And Maya, delighted, shoved the other half-eaten, slobbery garlic knot into her mother’s mouth.

Joel made a noise. “Jesus.”

Leela, struggling through a laugh, wiped her mouth, grinning. “Thank you, baby.”

Maya clapped her hands together, voice piping up—“No-mo.”

Leela licked some garlic butter from her thumb, grunting as lifted Maya onto her hip. “Let’s get something real to eat before your poor dad pops a vein on his head.”

Joel scoffed, following them up the stairs, feeling every damn step in his knees. “Pop a vein—psh, yeah, you wish.”

Dinner with the Millers' was always a big thing nowadays. Joel, finally, had found himself growing used to the way the table felt a little more complete now, moored closer to one of his own.

Back in the old days—hell, even when it was just him and Tess in Boston—meals were quiet, nothing but the clink of cutlery, the scrape of bowls, the occasional grunt of acknowledgement if someone asked for the last bite. Food had been something to get through, not something to enjoy.

But here? This? It was a whole damn production.

It seemed like Leela, Maria, and Tommy were trying to outdo each other on every dinner occasion. Joel never saw them outright say it, but the evidence was all right here—plates filled to the brim with roasted vegetables and some sort of braised meat that smelled damn near decadent. There was even fresh bread, sliced and golden, butter melting into the soft notches. Warmth, everywhere—lamplight spilling golden across the table, the faint crackle of the fireplace, boots nudging against each other under the table.

And noise. So much noise.

Jesse had ducked out early, leaving Dina to make herself at home beside Ellie, and it didn’t take long for them to get into it.

“Okay, but that is not how you use a fuckin' knife,” Ellie was saying, waving her fork in Dina’s face.

Maria sighed. “There's a talking toddler at the table.”

As if on cue, Maya smacked her little hand onto the table. Ellie showed her teeth at her, sheepish. “My bad.”

Dina rolled her eyes, all dramatic. “Well, excuse me for not being a serial killer, Miss ‘Lemme Show You The Proper Stabbing Technique.’”

Joel smirked at that one, chewing on a piece of trout.

It was a different kind of comfort. Something he still wasn’t used to—this abundance after a long time.

And then there was Leela, stealing his heart, piece by piece. The way she’d always scooted her chair a little closer to his. The way her knee brushed his under the table. The way she let him rest a hand over her thigh, stroke it when he was tense like it was all his. The way she’d laugh when someone cracked a joke at his expense—which was often—squeezing his shoulder like he was some goddamn kicked puppy before turning back to her plate.

Didn’t even take long for that to happen. Joel knew Tommy had that look in his eye—that look, the one that meant he was about to open his dumbass mouth. And sure enough...

“So,” Tommy started, all innocent-like. “How's shackin’ up in the big house treatin’ ya, Mensch Miller?”

Joel wanted to put his fork through his brother’s skull. Right between the eyes. So, he barely spared him a glance. “Go to hell.”

Tommy snorted. “C’mon now, ain't no shame in it. We're all real proud of you for finally gettin’ over your fear of commitment. Folks?”

A round of agreements circled the table—Maria, Dina, even Ellie with a smirk and a nod, like they’d all been waiting for this exact moment. Joel sighed through his nose, already regretting every life choice that led him to this.

Dina leaned in, grinning. “Oh my God. Joel, did you finally put a ring on it?”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause there’s so many jewellery stores open these days.”

Joel shot her a flat look. “Could always carve one outta bone.”

Dina sighed with literal heart eyes. “Aww. So metal.”

Ellie recoiled instead. "Dude—what the actual fuck?"

Tommy wheezed at that one. But Leela didn’t react much at all. Just blinked at them, her expression blank, like she had no idea why the hell they were making such a big deal out of it. Then, casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—

“We’re partners,” she said simply, reaching up to his jaw, nails scraping at his scruff. “Right, Joel?”

Joel damn near choked on his own tongue.

Because—what the hell? She wasn’t one for casual touches, wasn’t one for public anything, really. Wasn't some joke, not a passing comment—she just said it, plain as anything. Like it was a truth she’d already made peace with.

Partners. Not a maybe. Not a half-measure. A fact. Halves. Two mates. And it knocked the wind right out of him.

Because Joel had spent so damn long waiting—waiting for her to say something, to define this thing between them, to give him even the smallest indication that she saw him as more than just a man passing through her life.

And here she was, not making a big deal out of it. Not afraid of it, simply stating the obvious. Because fuck, she was right. They were partners now. He had a partner now.

A slow sip of his drink was the only thing that kept him from making an absolute fool of himself.

Dina cackled, slapping the table. “Look at his face. I frickin' love you, Leela.”

Ellie groaned, shoving a bite of food into her mouth. “Jesus, you two deserve each other.”

Maria smirked. “So when’s the big day?”

Dina hummed. “Mm-mm, she'll have to wait, Joel promised to make the ring out of bone.”

Ellie gagged. “Oh my God, Dina—could you please stop with the bone talk?”

Tommy snickered, elbowing him. “Never thought I’d see the day. Big brother all wrangled up.”

Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I got a gun, right?”

Tommy waved a hand, still grinning. “Yeah, yeah. But you ain't shootin’ me ‘cause our baby girl would be real mad at you.”

And then, of course, there was his baby girl in the midst of all this. It had become second nature by now—the back-and-forth of it all, alternating between holding Maya, fending off his teasing family, and feeding her.

Not that it was much of a competition with her. Most of the time, she quietly ended up in his lap, legs dangling over his thigh, picking curiously at the old scar on his forearm as he spooned food into her mouth.

Leela swore she’d grow out of that habit, but Joel wasn’t so sure. He’d seen that girl study the mark like it held the secrets of the universe since she was a few months old. Tiny fingers tracing the jagged edges, soft and intent, like she was mapping him.

Didn’t matter what he put in front of her—if he ate it, she ate it.

Thank God she wasn’t a picky eater like her mama. He still remembered the first few months of trying to get Leela to eat like a normal person—always picking at her food, losing her appetite, always eating just enough and nothing more.

But Maya? Shit. She was his. His perfect little girl—but nothing like him. Loud, expressive, always moving, always talking. She loved to babble, loved to laugh, loved to feed him right from his own damn plate.

“Da-da, aah.”

He moved his head away. “Nuh-uh. Sit your little butt down.”

“Dinna, da-da.”

“I can eat my own dinner, thanks.”

When her adamant whine pierced through the noise on the table, he gave up. Joel barely glanced at her, already sighing as he opened his mouth.

Sure enough, Maya balanced her pudgy feet on his lap and shoved a forkful of fish into his mouth, giggling like she’d just accomplished something huge.

Joel chewed slowly, unimpressed. “Real nice.”

And then—just to add insult to injury—she reached up and patted his forehead, all delicate and reassuring, just like her mama did to her whenever she did something right.

Ellie snorted. “She's just teaching you manners, old man.”

Dina smirked. “Yeah, ever heard of ‘em?”

He shot them both a look but swallowed the bite anyway. Maya squealed like she knew she was being funny, then reached out for his plate again.

Joel sighed, nudging her grabby fingers away. “Alright, move it, baby girl. Ain’t no way you’re finishing my plate before I do.”

The conversation rolled on around him, blending into laughter and stories. Joel drifted in and out of it, shifting his focus between indulging Maya’s antics and half-listening to Tommy and Maria trade jabs about whose turn it was to cook next.

At some point, the conversation took a turn.

“So,” Tommy started, leaning back in his chair. “What’s next, Lee? The last big thing was that lightning harvester. Then you set up the new water filtration thing.” He gestured vaguely as if the list of things she’d accomplished was casual, nothing major. “You always got somethin’ cookin’. What’s next for Jackson?”

The table quieted just a fraction, all eyes shifting toward Leela with a familiar kind of expectation.

Joel felt her stiffen beside him. She didn’t answer right away, just glanced around at them—Dina, Ellie, Maria, Tommy—all waiting for some brilliant, world-changing answer.

But only Joel knew the sleepless nights, he’d seen her try to redo the math, rework the impossible, just to feel like she had something left to solve. So all he’d been able to do was let her at it, leave her to her circles and theories, and go back to bed, waiting for her to wear herself out. He knew that math of hers had wrecked her—driven her to the edge of exhaustion, of obsession.

And now, sitting here, she looked like she wanted to vanish.

So before the silence could stretch too long before they could push her for something she wasn’t ready to say—Joel spoke for her.

“She actually solved the Riemann hypothesis,” he said, casual as anything, like he was commenting on the weather. A little smug, too.

A beat.

Dina blinked. “The—what?”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “You just made that up.”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Nah. It’s a real thing.” He reached for his water and took a slow sip. “Some math theory. Big deal, apparently. Heck if I knew.”

Tommy, to his credit, pretended like he was just hearing about it for the first time, looking between Joel and Leela with exaggerated surprise.

Dina scoffed. “You don’t know?”

Joel gave her a look. “Do I look like someone who spends his time thinkin’ about math?”

Ellie snorted. “Okay, but you can’t just say it’s a big deal and not even try to explain it.”

Joel sighed again, this time more dramatically, because this truly was exhausting him. “Alright. Uh… somethin’ ‘bout numbers. Division. Shit, I don’t fuckin’ know.” He absently stroked Maya's curls. “S’got a lotta squiggles and letters. But little miss genius figured it out.”

Ellie’s face twisted to a shit-eating grin. “Squiggles?”

Joel turned to Leela, mortified at himself, seeking some reprieve. “Tell ‘em.”

Leela, looking a little like she wanted to shrink into the floor, tucked her hair behind her ear and gave a small nod. “I um, did prove the theory. Took my family a really long time to complete.”

“Wait, actually. I've read about Riemann,” Dina went on, straightening in her seat. “That’s the whole—prime numbers thing—no one’s been able to solve that, right? And if you did, you get like a million dollars or something?”

Leela barely glanced up. “Yes, actually. Millenium Prize problem.”

Joel, watching her carefully, felt the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her pants under the table.

Ellie leaned in. “Okay, but like—now what? You can’t just—sit on that, right? Don’t you have to tell someone?”

Leela exhaled, slowly. “It’s… complicated. Our world isn't the way it was.”

Joel saw it—the way her shoulders went tight, the way her face shut down.

Dina wasn’t getting it. “How? This is, like, huge. You should—”

Maria, sensing the tension, jumped in smoothly. “What about you, honey? You got any idea on this?”

Tommy, still side-eyeing Joel, shrugged. “Nah. Not a clue.” He sipped his drink. “I was more into the rabble-rousin’ with the Fireflies. And these FEDRA shits wouldn't care about all that.”

Joel let out a tense breath.

Dina groaned dramatically, throwing herself back in her chair. “Man. Would’ve been so cool to have your name in a book. Or somewhere. Professor of Mathematics, Leela.”

Leela managed a small smile, but her gaze had gone distant.

And Joel hated it. Hated that look. That quiet, almost-accepting disappointment.

He hated that she knew this world didn’t have room for her name in a book. That she’d spent years solving a problem no one would ever see, ever care about. And that should’ve been fine, right? Should’ve been something she could accept. But it wasn’t, because despite everything, despite how much she pretended not to care, she did.

And Joel, he wished like hell there was something he could do about it. That tiny drop of hope snuffed out in her eyes. Like for half a second, she thought—maybe there was a world where what she’d done actually mattered.

And it did. Just not in a way that’d ever change a damn thing.

Joel clenched his jaw, staring down at his glass like it might hold an answer.

There weren’t any. Not for this.

Because he knew how he could help her. Knew there were people—out west, in LA—who might care, who might listen, who might actually do something with what she’d done. There were still Fireflies, still remnants of old-world thinkers, people scraping together the last bits of science that hadn’t been buried under blood and ruin.

And if he told her—if he let her know they existed—she might go.

Leave him. Leave their perfect baby girl. Leave home. And that—he couldn’t let happen.

He needed her here.

Call him selfish? Monomaniacal? Maybe. But he didn’t give a fuck.

Joel had lived his life losing. Lost Sarah, lost Tess, lost whatever scraps of himself made him good once. And now—now, he had her. Had Maya. Had a reason to come home at the end of the day that wasn’t just the routine of it. He had that little vestige of trust and faith back in him, even if the ghosts lingered. He slept knowing he was going to wake up with purpose that wasn't just behind the flare of a rifle or the scent of blood. He had love, a warm home, all this food, these people.

And if Leela left—No.

He wouldn’t think about that. Not ever. He'd give up his breath before she risked it like a fucking idiot.

So he’d keep his mouth shut. Play dumb. Let the world stay small for her, even when she was meant for something bigger. Even when he saw the ache of it in her eyes. Even when he hated himself for it. But that was fine, he'd grown used to his hate.

So he did the only thing he could do—he raised his damn glass.

“To Leela,” he said, confident, eyes warm when they landed on her. “For doin’ the impossible.”

Her head snapped toward him, eyes widening just a fraction. Under the table, her fingers curled tight around his knee, firm—don’t.

She wasn’t the type to bask in praise, wasn’t one to revel in attention. But Joel wasn’t gonna let her disappear into the silence. So instead of backing down, he just smirked, pried her hand off his knee, and brought it to his lips.

His mouth was rough, the scrape of his beard even rougher, but the way he kissed her knuckles—gentle, slow, promising. A prayer he wouldn’t say out loud.

She froze up, breath catching just enough for him to notice, just enough to make his heart slam against his ribs. This was good. She was okay.

The table had gone quiet.

Then Tommy grinned, lifting his glass. “To Lee.”

Maria followed, then Ellie and Dina, voices echoing the words, raising their drinks. “To Leela.”

And then—clap, clap, clap! Maya, grinning wide, smacked her little hands together, delighted by the sudden chorus of voices, as if she had any clue what was happening.

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You like that, baby?”

Maya just kept clapping, giggling as she looked between Joel and Leela, as if she understood this was about her mama, and that meant it was something right.

And Leela—God, she was looking at him now, like he was impossible, like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him. Joel just held her hand tight, letting his thumb trace slow circles into her skin.

“You deserve it,” he murmured in her ear, meant just for her.

Leela let out a soft breath, almost like a sigh. Then, with barely a beat between them, she squeezed his hand right back.

X

Joel knew he had it good because the thought of reality was the only thing keeping him awake. After all, it felt like his dreams had come true.

But of course, nowadays, when Joel slept, he closed his eyes and he fell deeply, just as he did in love and loss, displaced of his path back. When he did ultimately open his eyes once more to the old patterned ceiling, tucked up in a disgustingly comfortable bed, within a house you could hear the wind slide under the eaves, the soft creak of the old floors settling, Maya’s soft little snores down the hall, the occasional rustle of sheets when Leela moved on her bed, he wasn’t sure when life had slowed down like this, when the days stopped being about surviving and started being about living.

Whatever it was, it was all Leela. She had insisted he take the biggest room when he moved in, and she wouldn’t hear a word otherwise. Stubborn as a damn mule, she’d just stared him down when he tried to argue, and—hell. It wasn’t like he minded. The room was ridiculous, the bathroom even more, with more closet space than he’d ever need, but the real saving grace was the football-field-sized bed.

Probably a thousand silky white pillows, freshly washed and dusted, stacked against a plush leather headboard, spilling over a white duvet. Bed to end all beds. Big enough to sink in between. Lonely enough when it got dark. Close enough to Maya’s nursery that when she woke in the middle of the night, whimpering softly in the dark, he was already moving, already lifting her up before she got too lonely.

Outside, winter had crept in slowly. Mornings turned from golden to white, breaths corkscrewing in steam ribbons against the cold. The sky was that sharp, steel-grey that told you snow wasn’t far behind, and Joel had started waking up to a frost-lined world, rooftops silvered, trees edged in ice.

December now, and Jackson was easing into the Christmas season and spirit—garlands strung between shop corners, lights winking from one lamppost to the next, a huge tree going up in the square, handmade ornaments showing up on doors. He had his own big efforts for Maya's first birthday and Christmas.

And then—just like the night before—it hit him.

Maya was turning one soon. The thought still knocked something loose in him. This tiny thing, this impossibly small, impossibly bright piece of his world who barely reached his knee. Who stumbled around in her little boots like she had somewhere really important to be. Who giggled like it could undo every bad thing in the world, cutting straight through the cold, through the ache in his bones, like it was nothing.

His girl. God, that was still a hard thing to wrap his head around. That she belonged to him. That he belonged to her.

He lay back against the pillows, an arm resting behind his head, and let his fingers graze the stack of Polaroids and photographs scattered across his nightstand. He flipped through each one slowly like one of Maya's bedtime stories, but only this one was real.

One of him and Ellie, captured by Leela, sprawled out on the porch swing, their boots propped up against the rail. Ellie mid-laugh, a cup of iced lemonade dangling from her fingers, frozen in time. He could almost hear her voice, thick with dry humour, and see the way her nose scrunched when she got to the best part of whatever story she was telling.

Tommy, Maria and him, once again captured by Leela, arms slung around each other at the hoedown, cowboy hats tilted over their heads, two of them tipsy and flushed. A night of music and good beer and warmth—the kind of warmth that had been rare for too long. The kind they hadn’t thought they’d find again.

And then—his fingers slowed.

One of them. Pretty sure it was Ellie who took this one. Maya, wedged between him and Leela, four little teeth showing, curls and eyes shining, a fork clutched in her fist, attention stolen by something off-camera. Leela, so beautiful under the flash, one hand curled protectively at Maya’s back, the other resting lightly on the table. And Joel, beside them both, his smile unsure, caught between trying to look natural and trying not to think too much about how unnatural it still felt—being in a picture like this.

But when he looked at it now—it looked so real. The family aspect of it.

He held the photo at arm’s length, studying it, the three of them together.

Though he looked apart from them. Incohesive. Hell, anyone would say it. The rougher, older edges of him, the shade of his skin and theirs, the texture of his hair and their black locks, the way his eyes weren’t the same big, almond eyes. Maya had Leela’s delicate features, her wide dark gaze, and her gentle intensity. And him—well, he was just there. An outsider, a man slotted into the frame, but not quite of it.

Except… that wasn’t true, was it?

Because if he looked long enough, he could see it. The shape of familiarity, how lived-in he seemed.

The way Maya leaned toward him in the picture, just slightly, even distracted as she was. The way Leela’s fingers curled gently toward his wrist, even unconsciously. The way he fit there, in the space beside them, not because he forced it, but because—somehow, without realizing it—he belonged there.

It made sense. Anyone who looked at this—anyone who knew—they’d know exactly what they were to each other.

He swallowed thickly, staring at the picture like it might shift in his hands or it might tell him something new. He wanted to keep it that way, within this frame, the three of them, until the time was up. God, how long would that be? Another few years?

A knock at his door pulled him from it, and he blinked, turning his head.

Leela pushed the door open slightly, peering inside. “Sorry. Do you have some time?”

He had his whole life for her, even if it was overkill. Joel cleared his throat, setting the Polaroids aside. “Always.”

She stepped inside, and Christ.

She was barefoot, those thin gold-chain anklets winking at him in the low light. The soft curve of her calves disappeared beneath the loose folds of that goddamn pearl-button nightdress—the one that never failed to drive him insane. It was slipping off her shoulder just enough to make his life miserable, the bare silhouette of her body teasing at the edges of his vision, itching his palms with the worst kind of temptation.

Joel sat up, rubbing a slow hand down his face, across the scruff along his jaw, suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more awake.

She didn’t hesitate, swishing the fabric under her as she perched on the edge of his bed, legs dangling off.

“I was just on the swing set before it started to snow,” she told him, her voice all wistful. “I think I might love it more than Maya does.”

Joel chuckled, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how baby girl’s gonna feel about sharing.”

It hadn’t taken him long to put together the swing set that stood proudly in the front yard—just a hell of a lot of effort, some cursing under his breath, and more muscle than he cared to admit. Sturdy wood, painted deep green, with painted pink and yellow flowers curling along the edges. The seat hung from two thick ropes, knotted tight, built to last. All safe and ready for his little girl.

Leela had helped, like she promised—though if her irritated grumbling was anything to go by, woodworking sure as hell wasn’t her calling. She hadn’t complained once about the splinters, but he caught her wincing every time she flexed her fingers, scowling down at the stubborn bits of wood lodged in her skin.

Joel, now, watched the way her gaze flicked to the photographs near his pillow, her expression shifting—soft, thoughtful. He didn’t move, just waited, letting her take her time.

Her brows furrowed slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “How are your feet?”

Joel smirked, sinking back onto one elbow. “They're toasty, thanks.”

She pulled one knee up to her chest, resting her chin on it, fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her nightdress. “Mine too.” A grin flickered across her face. “I feel like my parents around you nowadays.”

That had him raising an eyebrow. “How's that now?”

Leela hesitated, her fingers stilling. Then, almost cautiously, she said, “You know… a couple. Partners. Married.” That last word barely even made the breath.

Joel stayed quiet, processing that for a moment. Shit, he couldn't. He almost blacked out.

“They were so crazy in love, Joel. Even at eighty.” A fond laugh slipped from her. “Dad would have her coffee ready every morning, help her tie her shoelaces, and open doors for her. Dance with her every night before bed. Never let her raise a finger around the home, even after the whole world came crumbling down around us.”

She smiled to herself, the memory a gentle thing.

“I’m gonna make you the happiest, fattest, laziest wifey in Jackson, sweetheart,” she recited, voice taking on a deep, playful lilt, like she was echoing her father's exact words.

Joel huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like a stand-up fella'.”

Leela nodded, then faltered, her lips parting like there was something else—something she wasn’t sure she should say. Joel waited, his fingers twitching against the blanket, patient.

Then softly, quietly, “He would've liked you.”

Joel looked away, to itch at his temple, hiding a grin. The thought of this man—the man who had made Leela feel safe, loved—looking at him and thinking he’s good enough for my little girl? No, he would've given him a hard time. Especially since no one stood to compare to Leela, much less a man like Joel, hitting sixty and greying. Her father would've come at him with his expensive shotgun.

Leela’s gaze lifted to his, eyes foolproof. She took a breath. “I feel like that with you.”

Joel's throat worked tough. His body had already moved before his mind caught up, his hand reaching out, fingers trailing along her temple, dipping into the thick waves of her hair.

“Like a fat, lazy wifey?” he murmured.

Leela let out a tiny, breathless laugh and immediately covered her face with both hands, her shoulders curling in. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

Joel’s grin pulled at his mouth, satisfaction sitting right on his bones. His thumb brushed over the curve of her cheek, a little more deliberate now, a little more his. “That’s the goal, sweetheart.”

Leela peeked at him through her fingers, then, as if gathering herself, slowly reached out and took his hand from her face. She held it in her lap, turning it over, tracing the rough lines of his palm. The callouses, the broken skin, the deep grooves time had worn into him.

She ran her thumb along the ridge of a scar, a flash of quiet passing through her expression. Not pity—Leela never looked at him like that. Just knowing. Understanding.

“Do you remember what you told me?” she murmured, still studying his hand, watching the way her fingers disappeared against the breadth of his palm. “That night after the bar?”

Joel exhaled, a deep thing, pulse hammering up his veins. “Do you?”

She squinted, like she was trying to piece a puzzle together, like it lived just at the edges of her memory.

“I don’t remember much. It's hazy.” Her voice dipped even quieter. “You told me you love me.”

Joel swallowed. His fingers flexed against hers before curling, his palm pressing lightly to her own like she might slip away if he didn’t hold onto her properly.

“And I’ll say it again,” he assured.

Leela finally looked up, meeting his gaze fully. Her fingers curled tighter around his hand, holding him there.

“I want to feel you now, Joel,” she said, soft but sure, like it was something she had already decided. “Loving all of me.”

A deep and molten flame uncoiled in him at her words, cracked something wide open.

Because she remembered. And he remembered the way she had trembled under him that night, high and reckless and desperate for something he wouldn’t give her. And he had whispered the only inevitable promise that he had ever felt—

“One day, when I’m deep inside you, I am all you're gonna be thinkin' of. Just me, loving all of you.”

And now—now Leela was here, in front of him, sober and clear-eyed and asking him for the very thing he had promised her.

Joel didn’t rush. He just reached for her, wanting and calm, his fingers trailing from her wrist, up the length of her arm, to her chin. He tilted her face toward him, waiting. Giving her the space to change her mind.

Leela stared at him, eyes, lips, eyes, lips, and it had him in agony. A prolonged soon enough, she simply lifted her lips to his like an offering.

And he took.

He kissed her like a man who had gone without for too long, hands crushing her closer to him, like a man afraid to break the very thing he craved. Worshipping her was softer than before because now he knew she wanted this. He knew she was choosing this. Choosing him. Out of all the sick, sorry bastards in this world, she picked him. Him.

“Gonna make you feel good,” he promised between kisses, hungering forward for more. “I'll make you feel like a queen, baby. I'll give you everything.”

Her fingers trailed up, skimming the scruff at his neck before splaying over his chest. The warmth of her touch shot straight through him, and he exhaled against her mouth, pressing closer. Mad, so mad for this.

Then, gently, he guided her hands to his shirt buttons.

He wasn’t in any hurry. This wasn’t about taking—this was about letting. Letting her have control, letting her set the pace, letting her know she could stop whenever she wanted.

Leela pulled away just enough to glance down at his shirt, her breath catching.

“Go on then, help me out,” he urged.

That’s when he saw it—the hesitation. The clear-cut hysteria that hadn’t been there last time, numbed to the effects of weed. With her clarity came everything else. Every dread, every old wound, every aching recollection, every scar she carried in places he couldn’t see.

Joel stayed still, barely breathing, watching the way her fingers hovered over the buttons, how they trembled as she carefully popped the first one open. Then the next and next.

She pushed the fabric from his shoulders, her hands mapping him quietly, tracing it all. She touched everything—the pale scars left by unseen blades, the sealed bullet wounds, the old burns, the places where life had carved him up and forced him to heal around the damage. Her dark gaze lingered on the fine scruff dusting his chest, palms gliding lower, following the path where dark hair thinned down his stomach before vanishing beneath his waistband.

She wasn’t just looking. She was memorizing. Good, let her. This was all hers anyway.

“Ruined,” he mumbled.

“Survived,” she corrected.

He slid the sleeves off his arms, balling his shirt up in his hands before tossing it aside. Joel leaned back against the headboard like a king waiting on a feast, his legs spreading slightly, the muscles in his stomach flexing as he breathed. His gaze was heavy-lidded, thick, deep and everything unspoken.

Then, slowly, he stroked a palm over his thigh. “Come sit, darlin’.”

Leela hesitated. He could see it in the way her fingers curled and uncurled on the duvet, like she was feeling her way through the moment. But she followed, just like he knew she would, crawling over until she was straddling him, the seam of her legs spread over his zipper, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.

Joel felt the warmth of her, the light press of her thighs against him, the way her breath hitched when her hands came to his shoulders, fingers curling lightly over muscle and scar.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You're just perfect, aren't you?”

She nodded. Then blinked in realization, then shook her head, sighing. “Shut up.”

“Psh. Look at you. I ain't gonna.”

His own hands found her waist, steadying her, tracing slow circles over the fabric of her nightdress. This girl was made to be loved.

Then his fingers slid up, tracing her figure, until he was right over those goddamn pearl buttons.

He wanted to take them apart with his teeth, but that wasn’t the way to do this—not tonight. So he traced the cool surface of each one before carefully slipping them free, one by one, big fingers graceless over the little buttons.

The moment the last one came undone, he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face. The anxiety, the confusion... the curiosity way beneath it. Observing him.

And then he sank his teeth into the delicate skin on her sternum.

Leela sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening on his biceps.

Joel groaned against her, dragging his lips over the mark, spreading slow, open-mouthed kisses over the same spot, soothing it, claiming it.

He let the thin sleeves slide off her shoulders, watching the way the fabric slipped down her arms, pooling at her midriff.

Joel exhaled sharply, his grip tightening just a fraction before smoothing over her skin again like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

Because Christ, how was she real? Where had that lonely, grey fart upstairs been hiding her all this time?

She was all honey-warm skin and soft, dusky curves. Her breasts rose and fell with each uneven breath, her ribs tautening, beneath the subtle dip of her waist. His gaze traced the gentle flare of her hips, the little softness at her love handles, the way her toned stomach tensed as she held herself still, waiting—watching him with those deep, knowing eyes.

“Joel?” she whispered.

“You're...” He blinked twice. “You're so beautiful.”

For a terrible lack of words, he wasn't exactly a fucking poet. He really wanted to tell her that she was the Powerball lottery in his life, that even her smartass brain was sexy, and that when she breathed, he was pretty sure a flower bloomed right under her damn feet.

But she managed a quiet laugh. “Oh-kay.”

And Joel had never believed in God much, but if there was one, he’d have to offer up a damn prayer of thanks. Only took thirty whole years.

He let his hands roam, rough fingertips skating over the curve of her waist, following the soft lines of her body. She was delicate, strong, warm, and hesitant, all at once, and beneath the tension in her shoulders, he could feel the slight tremble in her limbs.

She trusted him with this. With herself.

Joel wasn’t about to fuck that up. So he took his time.

He smoothed his palms over her ribs, feeling the way her bones flexed beneath his touch. His thumbs brushed over her perfect nipples, the peaks stiffening, drawing the softest sound from her throat—a breathy little whimper that damn near destroyed him.

His control hung by a thread as he ducked his head, finally taking her into his mouth.

His lips closed over her, hot and slow, his tongue flicking, tasting, teasing. He lavished her with attention, spreading kisses across the swell of one, then the other, loving them equally, thoroughly.

“Fuckin' don't deserve any of this,” he said through his teeth, clutched on a nipple.

“What are you...” she whispered.

He was surrounded by Leela, arching into him, encouraging his lips where she wanted him, and he didn't spare a thought to her instincts. If she wanted him, she'd have it. Her fingers trembled before they slid into his hair, sweeping back through the silver-streaked strands, holding him there like she was trying to commit the sight of him—eyes half-closed, mouth on her, glorifying her—to memory.

Then, without thinking, Joel bit down—just enough to pull a sound from her throat, her grip on his hair tightening, nails scraping against his scalp.

Didn’t think she’d like that. But she did. Nice.

“Joel,” she whispered.

His smirk was slow, lazy, drawn out against her flushed skin as he let his tongue wander over the reddening mark he’d left before sealing it with a leisurely, possessive suck.

“Shit, baby,” he muttered, voice gone husky. “If this is what you taste like here, can’t imagine what you taste like down there.”

Leela’s breath hitched hard. “Down what…?”

The way she said it—uncertain, like the thought had never fully occurred to her—lit a fire in his gut. Primal, claiming, wanting. Frantic.

She wouldn’t know. Of course, she wouldn’t.

It wasn’t like there had been time for teenage exploration when the world had gone to hell. No fumbling hands in the dark, no stolen kisses at parties, no whispered giggles between sheets. Sex was a free-for-all in QZs obviously, and he sure as hell doubted porn had been a practicality when she’d been at that wonderful age of curiosity.

Which meant this—the way she looked at him, the way her breaths stared back up when he so much as hinted at what he wanted to do—was something else entirely.

Yeah, Joel had never been more careful in his damn life.

“Christ,” he rasped, dragging his hands slowly down her back, fingers tracing the dip of her spine, the delicate lines of her body. "Well, at least a little touch. Lemme feel you.”

“Feel,” she murmured, confused.

He showed her his hand. Then two fingers. Then his thumb. Hoping that was enough for her to get the message across. “Feel.”

She hesitated for only a moment, but then—God help him—she nodded. That was all the permission he needed.

“Let's get this off you,” he muttered. “Wanna see you.”

He eased the night dress up and over her head, watching the fabric pool around her before slipping off completely. Her thick braid slapped softly against her back, and then—there she was.

All herself. Just Leela.

She sat before him in nothing but those little white linen panties, tied into thick knots at her hips—ruffled edges, sweet, soft, so goddamn cute—and his. Yeah, his. All mine.

And then his hands were on her again, slow, reverent, like he had the luxury of time. Because he did. Because this was about her, about her knowing she was safe, knowing she was loved, knowing he'd go wherever she liked him to.

His longest finger wandered closer and closer from her hips, and brushed beneath the edge of her panties, a featherlight bump against that warm, soft groove. Just to let her know.

His jaw clenched, muscles locking as he willed himself to go slow, to savour every second of this, to feel her breathe against his cheek as he did it.

Her eyes flickered up to his, eyes locking. Wide. Waiting. Knowing this wasn't over.

He held her gaze as he pushed further in between her folds, just enough to feel the heat of her, the damp silk of her against his fingertips—aching, perfect, warm.

Her lips parted. A little gasp, barely a sound.

And then her eyes fluttered shut.

He felt it the second she let go, the second she allowed herself to slip into it, to trust what he was doing to her.

His coarse fingers carefully traced, explored, and learned. A decade out of practice, but instincts were instincts. And he knew how to listen—how to really listen. The way her breaths stuttered when he circled just right with the pad of his thumb at the little bud of nerves, the way her body clenched when he curled deeper inside where he needed to. When his fingers worked her low and slow, in loving accuracy, how she completely arched into him, warm walls pressuring around his fingers.

Then, a tiny sound. Soft. Desperate. “Joel, please.”

Fuck. Every person needs to hear that once in their lifetime. Their whole other half just falling apart while clinging to your name.

His stomach tensed, heat surging through him so sudden and hard he had to close his eyes, had to bite down hard on his own restraint before he did something stupid—like buck against her like a goddamn teen and blow a load into his jeans.

Because of the way she moved into his palm, the way her hips found the rhythm like instinct, like something she’d always known but never had the chance to learn—Jesus Christ, his frail heart was going to fail him.

“I know,” he breathed, voice gruff. “I know. Goddamn it, you’re so beautiful. So perfect f'me.”

How unoriginal. Cliché as a bitch. But what the hell else was he supposed to say? Write haikus? Sing praises? He would, if he had any sanity left. She was carved from silent fire and untouchable grace, delicate and untamed, something that had no damn business ending up here, in his ruined hands.

Her fingers dug into his back, ravaged by sensation, nails sinking in, breaking the skin, drawing blood—maybe. Didn’t fucking matter. Even that was sexy. That pain was welcome, something he'd carry with him like a brand, a scar he’d look at in the mirror tomorrow with a lazy smirk and think, yeah, my girl did that.

And then—he felt it. That old familiar twitch against his fingers, the way her body tensed, breath shuddering, forehead dropping against his.

She was close.

And if she was going to come, it wasn’t going to be on his marred hands. No way in hell. He needed to feel her come on him everywhere. Needed it to hit him so deep he felt pinpricks behind his goddamn eyes.

“Baby, hang on. Fuck, honey, gimme a second,��� he rasped, voice wrecked, dragging his fingers out from her, savouring the heat, the slick. He popped them into his mouth, groaning low at the taste, the perfection of her. Wasn’t about to waste a single drop.

Leela only watched him, unusual, confused. “So strange.”

He wiped his mouth. “Unreal, baby. Taste so good.”

Then, shifting back against the headboard, he pulled her closer onto his lap. His hands slid up her thighs, thumbs stroking slow circles, coaxing, calming.

He nodded at his pants. “Wanna help me out of this?”

She nodded, still flushed, and reached down. Soft, slender, long hands worked the button loose, nudged the zipper down, knuckles grazing his stomach, fingers tracing down the happy trail, lower, lower—

She sucked in a breath when she laid eyes on the good stuff that sprang free.

He saw the flicker in her eyes, and he prayed to whatever was looking over him that he was in all right proportions, that he was to her liking, that he was good enough for her. But the way she seemed to assess, hesitating... Curiosity? Oh, good—anything other than disgust.

Then she glanced up at him, brow pinched. “You’re not wearing...”

He blinked, momentarily lost in his own haze, until he realized. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. God bless America.”

The laugh that burst out of her was sudden, real, pure, like she hadn't expected it. She did a double-take, covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

“Omigod, Joel. You’ve been walking around without underwear this whole time?”

He smirked, gathering her back into his arms, hands already working at the ties of her little knotted panties. “Alright, get your judgy ass over here.”

Two tugs, and they were gone, joining the mess of discarded clothes on the floor. He gave her tight behind a nice squeeze. “Y'know, you've got the perkiest butt I've ever seen. All that lifting and stretching—you drive me crazy with those teeny little shorts.”

She twisted his ear playfully. “So that's why you're always messing up with the tools.”

“Oh, yeah. Prettiest pussy, too,” he whispered, winking.

“Joel!” she hissed.

And then—finally—she was straddling his lap, stripped, all soft thighs and tough calves, muscles flexing as she adjusted, aligned over him, and found her balance, fingers curled into the headboard for support.

A little smile tugged at her lips. And it killed him. “Hi.”

“Hi, honey,” he murmured.

She was stunning—lean, strong, effortless. A goddamn supermodel. That hair, those muscles, those striking eyes, she had him by the balls and he wasn't complaining.

He held her hips, warm, smooth skin beneath his rough palms, a thumb tracing the soft, wet seam at her legs. He pushed a testing finger in, and she shivered.

“You ready for me?” he murmured.

She exhaled softly, before her hand came down, sliding into his hair, down his ear, his cheek—thumb brushing over his lips like she was memorizing him like he was something sacred.

And then, so quiet, so sure—“I want to feel all of you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Not fair. Not fucking fair. That should’ve given him a second, a moment to react, to curse, to do something—

But then she moved. And finally, finally, she took him inside her. Right where he’d been aching for her.

Heat. Tight. Unreal.

“Fuuuck.” A deep groan ripped out of his chest as she plunged down onto him, enveloping him in pressure so impossibly hot, impossibly incredible, that his head kicked back against the headboard.

Strain. Resistance. So much love.

Her body rebelled, not used to this stretch, this fullness, and when a sharp, quiet cry slipped from her, she buried it against his cheek. “Please.”

His breath stilled. Instinct flared hot in his veins—not desire, but protection, care, a tethered restraint that warred with the desperate need to move, to feel her completely.

His arms circled around her, strong. His lips found the edge of her eye, feeling the trail of tears, murmuring against her skin, “I'm right here, baby. You're doin’ so good. Take me so well.”

“It hurts,” she cried out sharply.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. You want to take a breath for me?”

And she did. A nice, long, deep one into his neck. The hot air ghosted around his nape. Then two more, until it felt like her breaths were finally stuttering back into her.

He kissed her eye. “That's a good girl. You got this. Eyes on me.”

She nodded shakily, holding his gaze.

“Only me, alright?”

He tightened his hold on her hips, not to force, not to move—just to be there, to keep her close as he raised up, his back protesting with a pricking ache, meeting her halfway, easing her down inch by inch, a motion as old as time, gentle, ready, his.

“Feel like a dream, darlin’,” he whispered against her skin, voice barely holding together.

A shiver. A squeeze around him, tight and sweet, like a pulse, a welcome. This was his home.

And he felt it—this wasn’t just physical, wasn’t just something done to her, wasn’t something she was just letting happen.

She wanted every inch of him. And Joel was going to move fucking mountains to give it to her.

Joel moved with her, for her, matching the slow, hesitant rhythm she set. Each slide into her was deep, measured—he wasn’t chasing anything except her, wasn’t losing himself in the feeling of her wrapped around him, not yet. No, this was about letting her take what she needed. About making sure she knew, in her bones, that this was hers. He was hers.

“Joel, is this okay?” she panted.

He looked up at her and sighed from numb lips, “Baby, how the hell are you real?”

Because Jesus, if she wasn’t the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever seen—the way her brows pinched, the way her pretty mouth parted, the way her breath hitched when he hit that spot.

The way her body crashed above him, her hands clung to the headboard, his shoulders, nails gripping, grounding—she was giving him everything without even realizing it. A little gasp left her lips each time he lifted his hips, rocking against hers, pushing her just a little bit further, testing the limits of what she could take.

His fingers smoothed down her spine, following the curve of her back, his lips finding her throat, the little hollow just beneath her ear.

“That's my good girl,” he encouraged, voice rough, rasping into her ear. “Feels nice, don’t it? Feels real nice.”

She shuddered, a little whimper catching at the back of her throat. Her thighs tensed around him, gripping tight around his neck, but her movements faltered. A stutter. A hesitation.

Joel slowed. Just enough to feel her, to see her, to be sure.

And that’s when he knew. That she wasn’t quite there. No matter how wet she was, how ready and tight she was around him, something in her body held back.

But it wasn’t fear or pain or shyness or any of that bullshit. It was just unfamiliar. A wariness just under her skin, something holding her back, keeping her from letting go.

And Joel understood.

His gut tightened, hurt pulling at his chest, but this—this wasn’t just about fucking. It wasn’t just about getting her to some peak, some finish line, some goal he had to chase.

It was about unlearning. It was being with her. It was about replacing whatever fucked-up pain in her, whatever taking had come before, with something soft, small and theirs.

And if she didn’t come or if she didn’t even know what that felt like—hell, that didn’t change a goddamn thing. Didn’t change the way he was making love to her, how much he loved her, loved feeling her move on top of him, for him.

It also didn’t change the fact that he was already hanging by a thread, already wound too tight, already gritting his teeth to keep himself from losing it, because she felt too good, too right, like she was made to be wrapped around him, to take him this deep.

He wasn't going to last very long, he was pushing his limit here, his prime of life was to blame for that. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold onto the moment, hold onto her—but it was too much, too perfect, too fucking good.

His hands flexed at her hips, gripping, steadying her, his own control unravelling fast.

“Jesus—Leela, I'm—!”

“Joel?” she called, concerned almost.

He wanted to wait as long as he could. Wanted to hold off, wanted to take her there with him, to let her feel all of it, but this old fucking desperate body—

But then she moved, sinking down, rolling her hips against him in just the right way, and he broke.

“Oh, shit!”

A deep, guttural sound tore from his throat, his arms snapping tight around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he spilled deep inside her, every muscle in his body seizing up. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, breath ragged, fingers flexing against her slick skin.

He stayed like that for a moment, ears ringing, buried in her, completely wrung out, slumping into her, breathing her in, feeling her heartbeat pound against his own. Oh, but he was currently in orbit, in fucking space.

And then—when his thoughts returned back to planet Earth, back to Jackson, back to this home, when the haze started to clear—he pulled back, just enough to see her.

She looked… confused. Like she'd gone wrong somewhere. Lips parted, eyes hazy, looking between them, like she was waiting for something, like she wasn’t sure if this was it.

She blinked. “I...”

Joel watched her, studied the soft rise and fall of her chest, the way her body still trembled around him, the way her fingers curled gently against his throat.

She didn’t know, of course. Didn’t realize. That she hadn’t come.

And he didn’t feel bad about it—not in the way a man might, not in the way that turned it into some failure, something to gnaw on, to carry like a weight. Shit, she'd gone as far as to relive this for him.

But still—he wanted to give that to her. Wanted her to feel it, to know what it meant to be shattered and held together all at once.

“One more try, okay?” he rasped, barely breathing it into her skin. He kissed her shoulder, collar and throat. “Gimme one more. You can do it. Just hold onto me.”

A small smile came alive on her lips. “Okay.”

Joel bore down again, gripping her hips tighter, pulling her closer, pushing deeper—trying this time, rather than feeling.

His breath came wild, strained, body shaking with the force of it, sweat splashing lazily onto her breasts, in the effort of making her feel it. His heart was hammering, his arms flexing, his thighs burning as he surged up into her, chasing that high for her, something he needed to give her.

And still—still—Leela just watched him. Soft, quiet, moving with him, letting him take her, feeling his strength beneath her, stroking his cheek, his hair, her fingertips whisper-light against his damp skin.

No gasping desperation, no frantic, uncontrolled unravelling. Just… this.

And Joel—fuck—he didn’t know what to do with that. She wasn’t pretending. Would be nice if she did. She wouldn’t know how to fake it, would she? Wouldn’t know the right way to move, the right way to sound, the right way to let a man know he was making her come undone and get this over with.

And the realization punched him in the gut. Blindsided him completely.

It wasn't about to happen. He'd just have to let go.

But Joel couldn’t stop. Not now, not when he was this close. When he was teetering on the fucking edge. When his body was demanding release with an intensity he hadn’t felt in years.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Sorry, I can't. I can't.”

“Joel, it's okay, it's okay,” she coaxed.

So he held her down, his grip firm, desperate. Feeling so fucking selfish as he pushed and pushed harder. Broke a sweat. Gave it everything he had left in him, one last time—until his muscles locked, until heat ripped through him once more, until he spilled deep inside her again with another ragged, shuddering groan.

And Leela—sweet, accepting Leela—just cradled him through it. Breathed against his cheek, kissed his ear, smoothed her hands over his hair, and ran her fingers along the tense lines of his back, comforting him.

Because Joel had never felt more fucking helpless in his life. He buried his face in her neck, his arms locking tight around her, his body wracked with aftershocks, his chest rising and falling hard against hers.

“Joel,” she said, a softness behind his name.

His throat was tight. He swallowed. “You have to—you haven't—”

“I feel really good,” she whispered. “Really good.”

Joel breathed in deep, exhaled slow. She meant it. She felt good. It wasn’t some half-truth, some lie to spare his feelings. Leela didn’t lie to him—she didn’t know how to, not in a way that mattered.

So he let it go. Let himself believe her. However difficult and excruciating it was.

“Do you wanna lie down?” he murmured, brushing the backs of his fingers over her jaw. “Lemme clean up and hurry back to you, alright?”

“Okay.”

She nodded, watching as he rolled out of bed, buckled up his pants, and stretched his sore back with a quiet grunt. That pleasant ache in his muscles, he could get used to this. He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, then disappeared into the bathroom.

The second he flicked on the light, he set both hands over the sink, bracing himself. His reflection stared back at him, every line on his face a little deeper, slick with sweat, his greying scruff a little rougher, hair a Leela-made mess. His body was still running hot, his ears still rung, still a little shaky in the aftermath.

But under all that? Confusion. Loathing. Every i had been dotted, every t crossed. So what the hell went wrong?

His fingers turned the tap on, ran cool water over his palms. He splashed some onto his face and neck and chest, let it dribble down to his throat, rinsed his mouth and took another breath.

“You goddamn dud,” he muttered to himself.

Maybe it was him. All those years of nothing. Years of his body belonging to no one but himself. Years of only touching for a release. A ferocious protector, sure, but it made him an incapable lover. He never knew a damn thing about the female body, how to work it, how to please her. Should've let her come on his hand when he had the chance. Stupid, greedy asshole.

With a final splash of water to his face, he scrubbed a wet hand through his hair and stepped back into the bedroom. Time to face the music.

Leela had already slipped her nightdress back on, the straps falling just slightly off her shoulder, her hair combed back a little neater. She was curled up against the pillows, drowsy, waiting for him.

Joel didn’t hesitate to slide into bed beside her, sinking into the warmth of her body like he belonged there. Like they’d been doing this forever.

She nestled in closer automatically, her breath soft against his cheek. His fingers trailed down her face with a slow, lazy kind of affection, committing the shape of her in this light to memory..

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

She smiled sleepily, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “You said that a lot.”

“Mean it every time,” he said, voice rough. “You’re my dreamgirl.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, low and teasing, but her fingers curled into his chest, holding onto him like she didn’t quite believe it.

“So I’m supposed to come, is that it?” she mused, drawing out the words.

Joel had spent most of his life keeping things simple. Straightforward. No fuss, no questions, no goddamn talking about it.

He let out a long, suffering sigh, pressing his forehead to hers. Jesus, he could just roll over and fix this. He would—happily. But for once, he didn’t want to rush, didn’t want to miss the quiet, golden stretch of time between basking in the afterglow and sleep.

“It amazes me that you don’t know that,” he muttered.

She shrugged, unbothered. “I did feel nice.”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry, I couldn't give it to you.”

Her eyes softened. She turned her face into his hand, pressing a deep, lingering kiss into his palm. He swallowed around it, around the way it made him feel—too big, too much, too good.

“Don't be. I had a lot of fun,” she admitted.

Fun. Sex had never been fun. Not for him, Not in his whole goddamn lifetime. It had been a release, a need, a way to forget or feel an ounce of freedom. But fun? Especially from someone who'd been through hell on this?

He looked at her like she’d just rewritten the entire world in front of him.

“I could get used to this with you. Just... slowly.”

His brain short-circuited. “Used to this with me?”

She nodded, pushing half her face shyly into the pillow, a single, shining brown eye peering up at him.

Jesus Christ. He really was about a pop a vein in his forehead. “Right back at you,” he managed.

Then she lifted onto her elbow, hovering over him, her fingers trailing slow, aimless patterns over the fuzz on his chest. Her touch wasn’t meant to start something—to tease or demand. It was just her, touching him because she wanted to. Because she could.

“Don’t look at me like that, darlin’,” he grumbled, already feeling the heat creep back into his body. “I can barely see straight anymore. There’s three of you in front of me.”

She grinned, leaning in so close her lips almost brushed his. “It’s usually the one in the middle.”

He let out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head. “I ain’t one of your damn machines either. If I am, well—I need big repairs. Gotta oil my gears, tighten some screws.”

She kissed his cheek with a soft giggle, once, twice—then a third time to his lips, slow and sweet. A silent promise. A quiet goodnight.

“I’ll take twenty years off you in no time,” she murmured, nuzzling her nose against his. “You’ll be living till you’re a hundred. Goodnight, Joel.”

She nestled back into the cold pillows, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, guiding him close until his face was tucked between her neck and the soft swell of her chest.

Joel breathed out, letting himself sink into her. His arms slung over her waist, pulling her close until there was nothing between them, his leg tangling with hers.

“Till I’m a hundred, my ass,” he muttered, already halfway asleep. “You keep ridin’ me like that, I’m kickin’ rocks at sixty.”

She gasped, appalled. “Joel!”

He grinned against her skin, pressing a kiss to her throat. “G'night.”

X

Joel felt that night in his bones for three days straight.

The delicious ache, the lingering burn, the way his body still hummed like it was catching up to itself—he felt every damn bit of it. Like walking about with a brand on his chest, her name in big, fat capitals, burned into his skin that wasn't ever going to fade. If he let his mind wander, he swore he could still feel the imprint of her nails on his shoulders, the scratch of her breathy moans against his throat.

It had been a long, long time since he'd felt this kind of soreness, since he'd let himself have anything that good. And now that he had—Christ, it was all he could think about.

Sure, his stamina wasn’t what it used to be. He wasn’t some young buck anymore, wasn’t out here trying to prove anything. That kind of energy belonged to a different lifetime. A life where survival meant running, fighting, bleeding, and losing.

But now?

Now, his life was slow. Lazy. Boring. And fuck, if it wasn’t the best goddamn thing in the world.

Every morning, he woke up in what he could only rightfully call the bed to end all beds—wrapped up in a too-soft duvet, which made it near impossible to leave. Sheets tangled around his legs, pillows propped just right. But the best part?

Leela. His girl. Partner. Whatever the fuck. Just call her his.

Sleeping right beside him, fingers still loosely twisted around his from sometime in the night.

He wasn’t a man prone to sentiment. But every single morning, without fail, he’d lie there for a minute, blinking slowly at the ceiling, feeling her warmth beside him, and he’d think: what the hell evil did I destroy to deserve this?

Because he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to wake up slow, wrapped in her warmth. Didn’t deserve the way she just let him have this—her body, her trust, her time. But she gave it anyway.

And if he was weak, if he was pathetic, well—he wasn’t strong enough to just lie there and not touch her.

So he’d roll onto his side, push his face into her shoulder, into her hair, breathe her in, feel the strength of her long legs beneath his palms. Because, deep down, some stupid, aching part of him needed to make sure she was still real. That she hadn’t just vanished into steam.

“Mornin’,” he’d murmur, voice gravelly with sleep, lips brushing over the soft skin of her neck.

And she’d hum, still mostly asleep, shifting closer without thinking, tucking herself against him like she knew. Like she knew she was his, and he was hers, and they had time—all the time in the world to wake up slow and warm in each other’s arms.

Joel didn’t know how to handle that. Didn’t know what the hell to do with the way it made him feel, all thick and too much in his chest.

So he did what he did know how to do. He kissed her. Once. Twice. Again. And again.

Unhurried and soft, against her shoulder, her arm, her cheek, wherever he could. Until she grumbled, barely audible, something along the lines of Joel, let me sleep, swatting at him half-heartedly.

He never listened. Not when he had her like this. Not when she was somewhat awake, turning over onto her back, peeking up at him with those bleary, half-lidded eyes.

“Last one before I get your coffee,” he’d lie, pressing a slow, lingering kiss behind her ear.

And it was never just one. Soon enough, Joel would drag himself up, forcing himself to leave the warmth of their bed, of her, if only for one thing.

His next favourite part of the morning.

His little girl. Maya.

The second Joel stepped into the nursery, flicking on the dim light, the world felt right. Scented in warm linens and baby powder, as the soft morning glow bled through the curtains, it painted everything in muted greens and pink.

And there she was. His baby girl curled in her little nest of blankets, fists rubbing at her groggy eyes, her dark curls sticking out every which way like she’d been fighting sleep all night.

Then she saw him. And the second she did—

“Da-da-da-da-da!”

Joel barely had time to brace before she shot straight up, balancing on the tips of her toes against the crib bars, hands clapping, a little bouncing bean of excitement.

And that damn sweetheart grin. All toothy and wide, like she’d been waiting her whole life to see him again. It got him every time, that overwhelming sense of sweet defeat. He'd take a knife in the heart for her.

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head at her, at the way her tiny face was all lit up with him simply showing up.

“There’s my baby girl,” he rumbled, stepping forward, and scooping her up into his arms in one smooth motion, raining kisses on her cheeks.

Maya let out a squealing little giggle, tiny hands immediately going for his face, his beard, her favourite thing to grab early in the morning. She clutched two greedy handfuls, tugging at the scruff like it was hers.

He brushed a hand down her curls. “Did you sleep well?”

“Sleeeepy,” she said around her fist.

She babbled against his shoulder—nonsense, tiny sounds he swore had some kind of meaning only she knew—her chubby little arms tightening around his neck in a hug that damn near melted him.

Then—of course—she went right back to attacking his beard, tugging with all her tiny might.

Joel winced, letting out a mock grumble, “Yeah, alright. You just want Daddy for the whiskers, huh?”

Maya let out a high-pitched giggle, and he felt her breath, warm against his neck, little fingers wandering up to pat his cheeks.

Joel, of course, pretended to eat her fingers instead, lips smacking, making exaggerated chomping sounds. Maya screeched, all wiggly and squirming, kicking in his arms with laughter so wild and free, it made his whole day before it even started.

He sighed, pressing his nose against her cheek, breathing her in. Baby powder. Warmth. His baby girl.

“Alright, trouble. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carried her over to the little bathroom by the nursery, got her washed up, and changed into one of the tiny little sweaters that had once belonged to her mama. Maya, of course, made it an ordeal—wiggling, talking to him, playing with her own toes.

Joel took his time. Didn’t rush a damn thing.

A normal, mundane morning—waking up next to the woman he loved, starting the day with his baby girl. That was his whole rhythm now.

Some days their mornings went quick—too quick for his liking. Early in the morning, shovelling down his breakfast alone, yelling goodbye to his girls, and heading out for patrol, only to spend every second waiting until he could get back to them. Waiting for that first breath of home, that happy squeal he would hear from Maya ten yards out, that first kiss again.

The house was still half-asleep when Joel clattered his plate into the sink. Maya let out a soft whimper from her mother's arms, travelling across the kitchen, getting his attention first, and Leela—half-awake, hair mussed, sweater slipping off one shoulder—murmured, “You’re being loud.”

Joel grabbed his jacket off the chair, shoving an arm through one sleeve. “Ain’t got time to be quiet. Tommy's gonna blow a fuse.”

Leela huffed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You ever think about waking up ten minutes earlier?”

Joel snorted, already at the door. “You ever think about wakin’ up with me?”

That earned him a half-hearted glare over her shoulder. “I'm a night owl. I need the dark to think.”

Maya stirred, a tiny, bleary-eyed thing, her hands stretching toward him. Joel hesitated, foot already over the threshold.

Leela, catching the way his shoulders pulled tight, sighed. “Go, Joel.”

“Don't work yourself too hard while I'm gone,” he warned.

Leela just hummed in accord, adjusting Maya against her shoulder.

Joel hesitated. Then, before he could think twice, he ducked back in, pressing a long, deep kiss to her lips, holding her chin tight between his palm, just until he fought for breath.

She startled when he pulled away, blinking up at him. Then playfully shoved at his chest to get him out the door. “Go already.”

But some days—the best days—mornings were slow. Breakfast on the island or out on the porch, the intense scent of coffee thick in the cold air, his hand curled around the mug that curled out steaming ribbons into his face, while Leela sat beside him, legs tucked up under herself, grinning at him over the rim of her cup.

Joel tipped his mug toward his lips, letting the heat of the coffee melt into him. Watching her.

She tilted her head, nudging his thigh with her knee. “Are you always this quiet in the mornings? I never noticed.”

Joel glanced at her. “Ain’t got much to say with you around.”

She raised a brow, taking a small sip of her own coffee. “That so?”

Joel smirked, sipping slowly. “Just like listenin’ to you talk.”

Leela scoffed. “That’s funny. ‘Cause last time I checked, you like cutting me off halfway.”

Joel pursed his lips, considering. “Only when you’re talkin’ nonsense. Y'know, your little nerdspeak thing you do.”

Her mouth parted in excessive offence. “Oh, so my technicalities are nonsense?”

Joel blew into his coffee cup. “Mm.”

She gave him a slow, evaluating look, then nudged him hard enough that coffee nearly sloshed over the rim of his cup.

“Goddammit, girl.” He shot her a glare, but it was ruined by the way his lips were twitching.

The mornings when snow blanketed the whole town, and he’d bundle Maya up like a little marshmallow, watching her waddle out into the white, her excitement vibrating through every inch of her tiny body. He’d stand there on the porch, arms crossed, watching her vigilantly as she threw herself into the snow, chubby hands slapping the ground, kicking her little legs while Leela laughed beside him.

Sometimes, mornings like this used to feel like a chore. Errands. Town. A list scrawled on his palm, running through daily tasks that he used to do alone—back when it had just been him and Sarah, back when Saturday mornings meant grocery runs, when her tiny hands would have been in his, tugging him toward whatever caught her eye.

Now, it was Maya, and she was a whole different kind of trouble.

Leela had gone off to meet Maria at the dam—something about some loose wiring, an issue that she was insisting she could fix, even though Joel had very strong feelings about her doing anything that required standing near running water with electrical tools. But that left him here, alone with Maya, tackling grocery shopping.

Joel let her wander, let her explore at her own level, tiny squeaky boots padding against the wooden floorboards of the trading post, soft little oohs and ahs slipping from her lips whenever she spotted something that intrigued her. He kept one eye on the list, the other on her, reaching out every so often to keep her from knocking into someone’s knees or tugging on a coat that didn’t belong to her.

But the second she drifted too far—too quick, too small, lost too easy in the crowd—he was on her.

A sigh deep in his chest, scooping her up, tucking her under his arm while she squealed and huffed, little hands batting at him in protest. Little gremlin.

“Don't gimme that, baby girl,” he muttered, setting her down just long enough to grab the last thing on his list.

Potatoes. Should’ve been easy. Joel let go of her hand for two damn seconds to grab the bag from the shelf—and when he turned back, she was gone.

His stomach dropped.

“Christ, not again,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his basket to his hip. “Maya?”

No answer. Just the quiet squeak of her boots, quick little steps padding away.

“Maya!”

Joel pushed past people, scanning, breath already working too hard through his nose. It wasn’t panic—not exactly—but it was something close. He had to remind himself that she wasn't made of glass and this was Jackson, yet that was still his baby.

His eyes locked on her in an instant. “Fast fuckin' menace,” he muttered.

She was standing a few feet away, tiny and oblivious, playing with the tab of a can of beans, flicking it up and down with rapt fascination. Didn't even bother looking at him.

Someone was crouched in front of her, blocking her from view. “Where’s your mother, sweetheart?”

Joel already knew who it was before he even reached them.

“Eugene,” he called.

The man glanced up at him, eyes narrowing for a beat before recognition settled in, mouth stretching into a knowing grin. “Miller.” He stood with a grunt, rolling out his shoulders. “Hey, help me out here. This kid’s parent—”

“Is me,” Joel muttered, already reaching for Maya, plucking her up onto his hip like she belonged nowhere else. “C'mere, trouble,” and a firm kiss to the top of her head, his fingers pressing into her tiny back.

“You?” Eugene questioned, thrown off balance.

What, had he been living under a rock? Maya had been the talk of the town since she'd been born. Who speaking off, squealed, giggling, smacking a hand against his cheek—some little game she’d apparently decided was hilarious.

“Me,” Joel confirmed, levelling Eugene with a look. “We got a problem?”

Eugene made a low sound in his throat, eyes flicking between them, like he was sizing up a damn prize mule. Then his mouth curled up once more.

“Oh yeah, I see it,” he said, nodding. “She’s got your big-ass nose.”

“Fuck off.”

“Calmeth thy tits,” Eugene grinned, “I’m tryna be polite.”

“Don’t need it.”

Eugene raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “So this is why you’ve been copping out of patrol a lot lately. Got Tommy's panties in a twist.”

He nodded toward Maya, who had now taken to tugging on Joel’s beard, testing its durability like she had every right in the world to grab at her old man’s face.

Joel sighed, prying her fingers free one by one. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Guess it is.”

“Yeah, by the looks of it, she's a handful. Cute as shit, though.”

And Eugene—he just stood there a second. Looking at Joel, smelling strongly of weed, basket in his grip, a box of food from the canteen and a bottle of whiskey sitting inside.

Joel saw it then. The difference between them. An old ghost of himself.

Eugene—the kind of man he might’ve been had it not been his instinct to quiet a baby's cries from next door. A year ago, maybe even less, he would’ve been the one with the bottle of whiskey in his cart, the one picking up meals from the canteen instead of making them. The one going home alone.

Eugene exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Huh,” he muttered. Then, a nod, a flash of grudging pride behind his eyes. “You came through. Good for you, Miller.”

Joel didn’t have the words for it. Didn’t know how to put into words what this was, what it felt like to have this, to have them—after years of nothing.

So he just cleared his throat and adjusted Maya in his arms. Eugene just chuckled, slapping a hand on his shoulder before stepping past him, humming under his breath.

Eugene didn’t walk off right away.

Joel could feel him there—still standing at his side, still weighing the words on his tongue. It set his teeth on edge, the way Eugene hesitated. Like he was debating whether to say what was already burning behind his lips.

Then, finally—

“You wanna tell me why Ellie and Dina are so interested in the Fireflies all of a sudden?”

Joel went winded. The Maya's little weight in his arms was suddenly the only thing keeping him upright, keeping him tethered. He barely blinked. Barely breathed.

His voice bit out dangerously low. “The hell are you talkin’ about?”

Eugene tightened the basket in his grip. Shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. But his eyes were sharp when they cut to Joel, measuring.

“She’s been askin’ these ex-Firefly folks like me and Tommy,” he told him. “Came to me couple nights back—askin’ if I knew anything. If I’d heard anything about ‘em regrouping.”

Joel swallowed, throat dry as dust.

His grip on Maya didn’t tighten—he made sure of that. Kept his hands gentle, careful, even as the rest of him braced. But inside—inside, he clenched up like a fist.

Ellie. Asking about the Fireflies.

It wasn’t panic curling up his spine. Worse.

Because she’d known. She’d gone back to that hospital. She’d walked through the bloodstains, the echoes of gunfire, the remnants of what he’d done. She’d seen the truth laid bare, stripped of all the justifications he’d tried to wrap around it. And she’d spent months—years—dragging herself through the wreckage, trying to make sense of it.

Trying to make peace with him.

He’d watched her try. Seen it in the way she forced herself to stay, even when the silence stretched too long between them. In the way she looked at him sometimes, like she was still searching for something, still waiting for an answer he could never give. He thought—he hoped—that with time, she’d let it rest. That the scars would settle, and they could leave that part of their lives buried where it belonged.

But now—now they were here again.

And Joel didn’t know if they could come back from it this time.

The walls of the room felt like they were creeping in closer, like if he stood still too long, he’d get swallowed whole, but Joel forced his breath steady. In. Out. In. Out. Kept his shoulders loose even as something behind his ribs coiled tight, wound like a spring.

“And?” He made his voice even, ironing out the edges. “You tell her anythin’?”

Eugene huffed, shaking his head. “Nothin’ worth tellin’. Just old stories, y’know? Old bases, old rumours, old movement. And about that research base over at Caltech. I don’t know what she’s lookin’ for, but maybe keep an eye out for your other little girl, too, yeah?”

Joel stared at nothing. His heart pounded heavy, like a fist banging against a locked door. Ellie had stopped asking a long time ago. Or at least, he’d thought she had. Maybe she’d just stopped asking him.

But why now? After all this time?

Not unless—

His mind snagged on the past few weeks. The time Ellie had been spending across the way. The quiet conversations, the way she lingered at their porch, shifting her weight like she was waiting on something. He hadn’t thought much of it at first. Leela kept to herself, and Ellie wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Two closed-off people drifting toward each other, not expecting much in return.

But that wasn’t it.

Ellie was digging.

And Leela had handed her the shovel.

Of course she had.

Joel’s stomach twisted, that sourness settling deep. He should’ve seen it sooner. Should’ve recognized the signs.

Leela—the girl with something ripped from her before she ever had the chance to claim it. A name that couldn’t be rooted in history. A life that had been rewritten for her before she could write it herself.

Ellie had always been drawn to ghosts. The lost, the forgotten, the ones who didn’t get a choice. She saw herself in them. Clung to them. And Leela—she was another reflection in the glass.

Another kid who could’ve been something more.

Another wasted potential.

Another shot at redemption.

Joel clenched his teeth. He should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve stopped it before it got this far. Because this wasn’t just curiosity—not for Ellie. It never was. She was always looking for meaning in the wreckage. Always chasing the answers that would rip her open in the end.

And now she was looking again.

For the Fireflies. For Leela. For something she thought she’d lost. For something Joel had taken from her. Taken from them.

His chest tightened, breath coming sharp through his nose. He hadn’t just lied to Ellie all those years ago. He’d tried to close the door. To bury it, deep enough that she’d never claw it back to the surface. But maybe that was never the way it was going to go. Maybe it had just been a matter of time.

Eugene must’ve caught something in his expression, because he turned fully then, brows knitting together.

“You alright, Miller?”

Joel blinked. Swallowed. Got a hold of himself

“Yeah.” His voice was rough, scraped raw. “M’fine.”

Eugene didn’t look convinced. “You take care now.”

And maybe—for the first time in a long time—Joel wasn’t either.

But Eugene didn’t push. Just cleared his throat, nodded once, winked at Maya, and finally stepped away, boots heavy against the floorboards.

Joel stood there a second longer, the world shifting around him. It was a feeling he despised. The sensation of something slipping just beyond his grasp.

Then he looked down at Maya, small and soft in his arms, her tiny hand curled into the fabric of his coat, trusting. “Da-da, go. Go.”

The only part of his world that still made sense. He focused on that. On her warmth.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing her in. “Yeah, baby. Let's go.”

Then turned, stepping toward the door, already knowing—

He needed to find Ellie. Now.

X

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[bad268]

Hi i was wondering if you would be open to write something for Ollie or Kimi x sugarmommy!reader. But without the sugar? Just the reader spoiling him but the public thinks she’s a golddigger

Favorite Sugar Mommy (Ollie Bearman X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Clearly (I kinda took it in a weird way, but I had an idea and went with it) (Also, guess who's going to see bbno$)

Warnings: 

POV: Second Person (You/your/use of sugar mommy)

W.C. 2116

Summary: Ollie's "Sugar Mommy" buys him the car of his dreams.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You came from money, that much was obvious. It was mainly just your family name that held so much power. Your parents had built their own company from the ground up, and it made them very powerful people. Your parents had instilled in you at a very young age that money would not come easy to you, so they taught you how to work for it. They taught you everything about the family business, and you were well on your way to helping your parents retire.

You loved what you did, so it never felt like you were working. You worked hard for your position, regardless of your namesake, and you showed that you showed that you had what it took to lead the business.

One habit that you needed to nail down was your love of gift giving. Anything that reminded you of someone, you had to get it for them, regardless of the price. Granted, you could always afford it, but when you are given control of the business, you will need to cut back on spending substantially.

When you started dating Ollie, you told him that you loved buying things. He thought it meant you just liked shopping, and he was more than willing to fund your hobbies. Imagine his surprise when you slide his card back to him across the table every time.

“I thought you said you wanted to go shopping tomorrow?” Ollie asked as you sat across from him at a fancy restaurant in Monaco before the race weekend started. Ollie invited you to come with him, and this was your first Formula 1 weekend in his garage. You guys got there a couple of days earlier so you could sightsee and enjoy the calm before the storm. He had found this little place (more like Charles told him about this place), and he knew it would be the perfect place to take you. “Stuff in Monaco is so much more expensive than in Italy. Let me spoil you.”

“First of all, I said I wanted to go exploring,” You pointed out with a slight chuckle. “Second of all, you wanna spoil me, come with me. You spoil me enough as it is, and I’d love to walk around Monaco with you.”

“I would if I could, but I need to do media tomorrow,” Ollie sighed as a small smile grew on his lips at your confession. “If you wouldn’t mind tomorrow, could you pick me up more chapstick though? I ran out and I’m not ready to go through the next leg with capped lips.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you jokingly groaned as you rolled your eyes before smiling and meeting his eyes. “Do you have a preference?”

“Whatever catches your eye,” he teased as he looked at you with a dopey smile. 

This was how your relationship went. You would buy whatever caught your eye and buy it, most of the time without thinking twice. They were mostly little things like chapstick, better-looking shirts (not Ferrari or Haas branded!), some sweaters, and other small things he mentioned that he needed. 

You got him a couple of pieces of jewelry one time for your anniversary, but the fans immediately clapped back. They would say you either used his own money to buy him stuff by calling you a gold digger, or say you are his sugar mommy. There was no in-between, and it really pissed you off some days. How else could you show your love? You decided that– for shits and giggles –you would show them how far you were willing to go for love.  You would feed the sugar mommy allegations because honestly, those ones you found funny. Like, yes! You, the business owner, are the one providing all of the money to this Formula 1 driver. Made total sense to you. It just became a running joke and an easy teasing point between the two of you.

Thus, you set your plan in motion.

You pulled out of going to preseason testing with Ollie, and you told him you would not be able to make it to the first few races. You said you had to pick up more responsibilities at work, and in part, you were not lying. You just talked to your parents about picking up more responsibilities and learning more, so you could save extra money for a special gift for Ollie. They were more than willing to help because they also wanted you to take over sooner. When you told Ollie, he was, understandably, upset but knew this was your job, and sometimes, your job would need to come first. 

Phase one was complete. 

Then, you just stocked. You lived below your means, cooked meals at home almost every night, used up all of your leftovers, let nothing go to waste, drove less, and most importantly, you didn’t buy any gifts. Not for yourself, not for Ollie, not for anyone. It was hard, but you knew it would stack up in the long run. 

You started working overtime. Your usual 30-35 hour work week was now 55-60 hours easily. All of your pay that didn’t go to living went straight into a high-yield savings account. You had been building it for years, but now, you actually had your eye on something for it. You were racking it up quickly, you got the total needed in no time.

Phase two was complete.

Now, you had to get the purchase done. It was nearing Ollie’s birthday at this point, so it would be the perfect birthday gift for him. There was one thing Ollie talked about always wanting, but he could never justify it.

A 1987 Ferrari F40.

Thankfully, your parents knew some people, who also knew some people, and one of them knew of a guy, Mr. Morelli, who was selling one in Italy for €2.5 Million. You immediately got in contact with him, gave him a deposit, and now you were ready to send him the rest of the money and pick it up.

“Ollie,” You shouted through your apartment the Tuesday before you two would head down to Imola for the race. You wanted to give Ollie his present on his birthday, but the guy selling it wasn’t home. You had to settle for the next available day, and it happened to fall just before the race weekend. “Can you come with me to pick something up? I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Yeah, we’re already packed and we can go out to dinner or something after. How does that sound?” Ollie offered as he grabbed his car keys before wrapping an arm around your wait to pull you in.

“Sounds good to me, but those won’t be necessary,” You said, pointing to the keys, “the Uber is already here.” You patted his chest as you pushed away and started walking toward the door.

“I’m a driver, and you’re not letting me drive?” Ollie questioned as he followed behind you quickly as you both made your way to the Uber, “Are you insane?” 

“Are you just going to complain?” You retorted, sending him a quick look as you reached for the door handle. He kept quiet, but pushed in front of you to open the door for you, “That’s what I thought. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ollie replied as he slid in beside you, “Do I get to know where we’re going?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” You said with a smile as you moved his hand into your lap. “Just trust me, you’ll love it.”

The ride was pretty quiet, but it wasn’t long either. The driver pulled into a long driveway, and Ollie was just more confused but still didn’t comment until you bid your goodbyes to the Uber driver. You held Ollie’s hand as you pulled him toward the door, him aimlessly following behind you as you reached the door.

“Hello,” The man greeted as he opened the door and stepped outside. He briefly turned to Ollie as he led you over to the side of the house, “I hope you’re ready for it. She’s all yours.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morelli,” you said as he passed you the keys and led you over to the garage, “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. He’s going to love her, hopefully not more than me.” You joked, looking over at Ollie before standing Ollie at the front of the garage. “Wait here.”

You followed Mr. Morelli through the door of the garage to see the Ferrari F40 in all her glory. Knowing you would be picking up that day, Mr. Morelli had taken her to get a full detailing and clean. You had told him about your plan to give it to Ollie, and he was more than willing to help you achieve it. 

Ollie just stood in silence in front of the garage as he watched the door slowly open. He didn’t get to see much before he heard you shout, “No peeking!” He snapped his eyes shut quickly as he heard the door open and you moved to stand in front of him. 

“Don’t open your eyes yet, but I want you to know, I love you,” You started, and his heart dropped, thinking the worst. “This is just my way of showing you how much I love you, so I hope you like it.” You stepped aside and pulled out your phone quickly to start recording as you told Ollie to open his eyes. As quickly as he registered what was in front of him, he turned to look at you, holding out the keys. You could barely keep a straight face as you said, “Happy birthday from your favorite sugar mommy, Ollie.”

“You. Are. KIDDING!” Ollie shouted, looking between you and the car multiple times before running and lifting you into his arms. He held you tightly as he spun the two of you around before setting you down and running to get a closer look at the car. “There’s no way you actually go me a car, let alone a Ferrari F40. There’s no way!”

“There is a way. I saw something for you, and I knew you wanted it, so I got it,” You chuckled, stopping the recording as you walked up behind him and dangled the keys in front of him as he peered through one of the windows. “Wanna take her for a drive? I believe someone promised me dinner.”

“You not kidding? This is seriously yours?” Ollie responded fast as he looked back at you, not believing it. “Please, tell me this isn’t a joke.”

“It’s not mine,” You said immediately, and you saw his face drop instantly. That’s when you decided you had tortured him enough, “It’s yours.”

“It’s mine?!” He shouted as his jaw dropped. “That’s too much! I can’t accept this!”

“I knew you would never buy it for yourself, and it’s something you have always wanted,” You reasoned with him as you unlocked the door and let him sit in the driver’s seat. “For as long as I’ve known you, you dreamed of owning this car. I couldn’t think of a better birthday present.”

“You’re crazy,” He whispered as he felt around the wheel and dashboard in awe, “You are actually crazy.”

“Crazy in love, but yes,” You chuckled as you pushed the keys into his hands, “Now start her up! I wanna hear what this V8 sounds like!” You walked around the car, nodding to Mr. Morelli with a smile as Ollie started it up. You could see his eyes light up as he ran his hands around the wheel again while you sat in the passenger seat.

“Have I told you that you’re my favorite sugar mommy?” Ollie teased as he looked over at you with a wide smile.

“A couple of times, but don’t get used to it,” You chuckled nervously, “Let’s go back to chapsticks and sweaters for a bit. This took a lot out of me.”

“I can cover expenses for a while,” He said as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to place a kiss on your knuckles. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” You whispered back. You both got lost in each other’s eyes for a second before Ollie suddenly remembered that he was in a Ferrari F40, and started freaking out again. “Okay, Ollie. Let’s take her for a spin. We can find a place for dinner when you wanna stop driving.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever wanna stop driving this,” Ollie admitted as he put the car into first gear and started down the drive.

“Oh, what have I done?”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[luckystay]

hyunjin nsfw alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hyunjin is incredibly soft and sweet after sex. He’ll cuddle you close, whispering sweet nothings about how good you were for him. He’s a big fan of giving forehead kisses and running his fingers through your hair, finding it soothing for both of you. He’s always checking on you, asking if you’re okay and if there’s anything you need, like water or a snack.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hyunjin’s favorite part of you is your thighs. He loves squeezing them, leaving soft kisses or bites along the inner parts, and he especially enjoys feeling them tremble around his head when you’re close to cumming.

For himself, Hyunjin’s favorite body part is his lips. He knows how much you adore the way they feel against yours, on your neck, or between your legs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves finishing on your stomach or thighs—it’s a mix of possessiveness and admiration for how good you look covered in him. On more intimate nights, he prefers to cum inside you, whispering how perfect you are for him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hyunjin secretly loves it when you tell him what to do. Even though he’s confident and loves taking charge, there’s something about hearing you command him—whether it’s pulling his hair or telling him exactly how to please you—that drives him wild.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hyunjin is experienced enough to know what works and what doesn’t. He’s observant and a quick learner, picking up on your cues to make sure he’s always giving you the best experience. He’s naturally passionate and puts his full focus into making you feel good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Hyunjin loves face-to-face positions like missionary because he’s obsessed with seeing your reactions—every gasp, moan, and roll of your eyes. He also has a soft spot for riding because the view of you on top, completely in control, is something he’ll never get tired of.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Hyunjin can’t help but smile or giggle when things get a little awkward—like when you accidentally bump heads. He finds humor in the intimacy, and it helps make the experience more natural and comfortable. However, when the mood gets intense, his playful side fades, replaced by his deeply focused, almost overwhelming passion.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he's the leader of waxing racha. need i say more?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Hyunjin is incredibly romantic during sex, especially when it’s slow and intentional. He’ll hold your face, lock eyes with you, and whisper how much he loves you between kisses. Even the more heated moments carry a tenderness that shows how deeply connected he feels to you.

J = Jack off (handjob headcanon)

Hyunjin definitely gets himself off when he’s alone, especially after seeing you in something that turns him on—whether it’s one of his oversized shirts or something more revealing. He doesn’t hide it, either; he’ll sometimes tell you he thought about you while touching himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hyunjin has a praise kink—he loves being told how good he feels or how well he’s doing. Hearing “you’re so good to me” or “no one else could make me feel like this” will instantly get him harder. He’s also into light restraints, like holding your wrists above your head or tying you up with silk scarves.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While Hyunjin loves the comfort of your bed, he finds it thrilling to experiment in other places, like on the couch or in front of a mirror. He’s particularly fond of mirrors because he loves watching your bodies move together and seeing your expressions (he will try to draw it later).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you wear his clothes—especially oversized hoodies or shirts—does something to him. He’s also weak for any innocent touches that linger a bit too long, like when you play with his hair or rest your hand on his thigh.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Hyunjin isn’t into degradation. He thrives on soft, loving moments and wouldn’t feel comfortable being overly harsh or mean. He always wants you to feel cherished and adored.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Hyunjin loves giving. He’s skilled with his mouth and fingers, determined to make you cum at least once before anything else happens. The way you tug on his hair and moan his name fuels his ego like nothing else. He enjoys receiving as well but finds more pleasure in seeing you fall apart under him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Hyunjin usually leans toward slow and sensual. He loves taking his time, savoring every moment and making sure you’re feeling every inch of him. That said, when he’s feeling particularly desperate, he can switch to a faster, rougher pace, leaving you breathless.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hyunjin enjoys quickies when the moment calls for it, like when you’re both short on time but can’t resist each other. He’s not overly reliant on them, though—he prefers to take his time when he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Hyunjin is open to trying new things, as long as you’re both comfortable. He’s not super adventurous, but he loves exploring boundaries gradually, especially if it brings you both closer.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hyunjin’s stamina is impressive. He can last long and go for multiple rounds if you’re up for it, though he may need a short breather in between.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them?)

He doesn’t own many toys, but he’s definitely open to using them, especially vibrators or anything that enhances your pleasure. He’s curious about experimenting together and loves seeing how much pleasure he can bring you.

U = Unfair (how much does he like to tease?)

Hyunjin is a shameless tease. He’ll take his time, leaving kisses and bites in all the right places but avoiding where you want him most. His favorite is whispering dirty things in your ear while keeping you on edge.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hyunjin isn’t quiet—he lets out soft groans, heavy breaths, and the occasional whimper when you’re in control. He’s also big on dirty talk, constantly telling you how good you feel and how much he loves watching you fall apart for him.

W = Wild card (random headcanon)

Hyunjin loves taking Polaroids of the two of you together—some innocent and others… not so much. He keeps them tucked away somewhere safe, looking at them when he’s away and missing you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hyunjin is long and slightly above average in size, with a pretty pink tip. He’s not shy about knowing how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Hyunjin’s sex drive is high, especially when he’s around you. He’s not shy about initiating intimacy and will make it clear when he wants you.

Z = Zzz (how fast they fall asleep afterward)

Hyunjin doesn’t fall asleep immediately. He loves to hold you, whispering sweet words and stroking your back until you drift off first. He finds the intimacy after sex just as important as the act itself.

[creative-crybaby]

Trifle

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

GENRE: crack? crack. | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, oral (m receiving), praise kink, dacryphilia (?), cum eating, squirting

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: Two things can be true at the same time. Does Gojo make you want to hit him upside the head with a frying pan, should his Infinity allow it? Yes. Does he also know how to make your ovaries explode with his fingers alone? Also yes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heeeeyyyy~ yes it's been several months without a fic and this comes out under 2k words buuuuuutttt~ u get bitchass!Gojo (we love him)

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

You’re going to kill him. 

He’s a walking, talking headache. Questioning your teaching methods for your students, eating your sweets even though you’ve labelled them (it’s right there!), swooping into your missions like he’s saving the day. Those are just a few of the many examples, but he does it all on purpose, you’re sure of it. 

So to be sitting between his long legs with his slender fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping cunt feels like a blow to your integrity and pride. 

Especially since he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“So,” Gojo drawls, pausing his ministrations between your trembling thighs, “how many orgasms was that?”

Your face is boiling. From rage or embarrassment, you can’t decide. “Fuck you.”

The sorcerer hums at your crude remark before slipping his digits out of your pussy, holding his hand a foot away from your face to catch your essence blanketing his skin. 

“Patience, patience.” His easy-going tone makes you want to jab your elbow into his stomach. “Jeez, someone’s eager. You finally warming up to me, Princess?”

And that damn nickname. Either Gojo genuinely doesn’t know how much you hate it, or he’s just trying to push your buttons some more. With the clueless grins he’d offer as he’d call you that, you’d assume the former. But with his explanation for calling you that being that you always stick your nose up at him, you don’t think he deserves any benefit of the doubt. 

You hate that nickname, yet you find yourself clenching around nothing just from hearing those familiar syllables. 

His first question came out like he was asking for the time, yet with the number of times he’s made you see galaxies, you ought to be grateful that his tone holds no cockiness. No, actually, you might prefer that instead—how dare he handle this victory with grace and nonchalance?

“This doesn’t even make us friends,” you manage to stammer through gritted teeth. Your glare remains on his hand, still drenched before you, though your frustration lies more down south than anywhere else. 

You can hear the taunting frown in the sorcerer’s voice. “Guess you won’t care for this anymore, then.”

His arm, responsible for putting you in your puddle-like state, slowly retracts, and you can feel the sorcerer take his time raising from his seated position. 

Now he’s finally giving you the space you always wanted from him, yet you surprise yourself by grabbing him by the wrist. You let go as soon as you recognize your action, but the deed has already been done. 

An overly enthusiastic gasp. “You do like me!”

“Oh, my God—If I say yes, will you just finish the job already?” you groan. 

Gojo plops back to his seating position behind you, nestling his chin onto your shoulder as he teases his hand to return between your thighs. His warm breath fans your cheek while his lips graze your earlobe. Miniscule actions that have your body heating up. Intentional on his part, most likely, though you refuse to give him any more ammo against you. 

A heavy sigh. The feigned disappointment in his tone has your brows furrowing so intensely that you worry you might pop a vein. 

“No gratitude for the hand that feeds you, huh?” The special-grade sorcerer nuzzles into your neck, his woe-is-me attitude soon replaced with a blinding grin and boyish giggle. “Oh, but you know I can’t be mad at you for long!”

Long and slender fingers bury themselves in your weeping cunt before you process his mood swings. A trembling moan slips from your mouth as his skilled ministrations resume, your sweet spot welcoming the familiar touch. His speed and rhythm return as if he never paused, further turning your brain to mush as your thighs tremble. Gojo chuckles childishly once more, the charming melody syncing with the embarrassingly loud squelching of your soaking pussy. 

Multiple orgasms later, and you ask for more. The heat from the situation must be melting your sense of reason because you can’t tell if you’re greedy or just plain stupid. 

“You crying?” Gojo’s voice carries its usual teasing lilt, the one he has specifically for you. You don’t even realize how the fresh tears glaze your vision—as if he didn’t already have enough fuel for the fire.

But you bite your tongue. You bite your tongue because there’s no convincing anyone that he’s crazy and seeing things and the last thing you need is for him to stall some more when you’re already sososo close to the edge.

A slight change in angle. It does the trick, his fingers still bullying that one spot while his palm brushes against your throbbing clit with just as much vigour. Your body tenses, a choked sob escaping your glossy lips as your orgasm hits you like a tsunami. Warm liquid follows soon after, the blue-eyed sorcerer’s movements refusing to halt and making lewd splashing sounds in the process. 

Even once everything simmers down, the impact decides to remain a bit longer. With a heaving chest and stuttering hips, the room stops spinning, slowly but surely.

A low whistle. “If you had to pee, you could have just said so.”

“Why are you like this?”

Gojo hums before slipping his fingers out of your pussy, earning him a slightly pained whimper from you. He stands back up as you wipe away the evidence of your crying, peering up at him when his shadow blankets you. His towering frame never fails to catch you off-guard, but what currently has your attention is the Special Grade sorcerer sucking his digits clean of your juices, a satisfied mewl coming straight from his throat.

“Welp,” he stretches his arms above his head, “we still have a bit of time left before we have that meeting with good ol’ Principal Yaga, so,” the sound of a zipper reaches your ears, and it's only a few seconds later that he pulls out his cock—long, stiff and painfully ready, “why not return the favour?” 

You’re too fucked out to argue against him. That’s the reasoning you’d think of using should he confront you about your willingness to comply. You can’t help it if you’re losing the staring contest against his cock, saliva pooling on your tongue as he taps his vermillion tip against your cheek.

Your lips part as your eyes flutter closed, unable to bear to look at the Special Grade sorcerer as you take him down your throat, inch by inch. The gagging sound that erupts from your throat halfway through makes your brows furrow, and you can only hope the man above you doesn’t comment. With clenched fists sitting on your lap, you further shield your sight with screwed-shut lids as you push yourself to take more, using your tongue for good measure.

A shuddered sigh leaves Gojo’s soft lips when you tease one of his veins. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

You moan in response, feeling bold enough to create a steady pace to bob your head. Whatever you couldn’t reach, your hand took care of, a part of your brain urging you to squeeze him just a bit harder. His responses only grow louder, his groaning and panting setting your face on fire.

“You’re so good at this,” he rasps, his large hand finding the top of your head. Despite his gentle touch, you furrow your brows at the contact. “Too good…” You don’t expect him to slip himself out of your mouth, holding his base away from your mouth and making you finally look up at him. Gojo tilts his head to the side. “You’ve done this before?”

You'd have thought he was teasing if it weren’t for the pout on his lips. You look at him for a moment with an incredulous expression.

“What are you talking about?” You swat his hand out of your hair. “You seriously think being with anyone outside our line of work would be easy?” The male sorcerer’s gaze carries hope at your words, a noticeable shine in those cerulean blues that make your heart stutter. Unsure of what to do next, you continue the lost momentum by pumping his pulsing cock in your hand. “I’m stuck with you, Gojo.”

You figure his shuddered gasp is from your returning touch, especially with the combination of pinched brows, quivering lips and heavy blush on his cheeks and ears. But his large hand on top of yours–the one doing all the work–tells another story.

“You really do like me, Princess!” The sorcerer exclaims, his voice wavering halfway. 

At this point, you don’t care to dissect whether or not he’s pushing your buttons. Even at a time like this….

“I meant I’m settling for you,” you grumble, ignoring how his hand practically devours yours. You manage to retract your hold from his. “Don’t make me bite you.”

Gojo giggles at your threat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth when you plop his dick back in your mouth. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Without warning, you graze his shaft with your teeth the more you take him in your mouth. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send a message, if your irritated expression wasn’t already doing the job. 

Although, you suppose it is your fault for not taking him seriously either. Your actions earn you a whimper from the Special Grade sorcerer. Not a second later, he has his head thrown back as he pours his load down your throat. Your eyes widen at the overpowering taste, doing what you can to swallow every drop without choking. Even through his orgasm, you find yourself thinking about how he ought to cut down on the sweets. 

You’re quick to pull back for air once Gojo comes down from his high, sputtering in your hand as he sighs happily. 

“Told ya,” he muses, tucking himself back in. You wipe your mouth, glaring at him from your spot on the floor. 

“Whatever,” you grunt, putting your clothes back on before attempting to stand. If he notices your legs still wobbling, he thankfully doesn’t comment. “Let’s just hurry and get to that meeting before Yaga gets mad.”

Gojo hums with a tilt of his head as he watches you dusting off your pants.

“Oh, yeah!” He drops his fist into his palm. You throw a wary look his way when he grins. “We’ve been late this whole time, actually.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[luvvyouforever]

harvey (sdv) - nsfw alphabet <3

-> there is not nearly enough harvey content on tumblr for my liking. SO two harvey posts in a row, yes i do believe. and i do love reading an sfw/nsfw alphabet so of course i have to provide for our favorite nerdy doctor <3 i also want you to know that as i write this, i imagine harvey as a taller, bigger man. so like he's got some chub on him and he's got broad shoulders. idk idk it's my headcanon.

-> this is nsfw and dirty! like i really tried to get over my reservations about using descriptive language. with that being said, NSFW 18+ MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

harvey is the sweetest, most gentlemanly partner after sex. he makes sure that you get cleaned up, that you protect yourself against any UTIs or other gross things, makes you some coffee or tea, and cuddles with you endlessly. harvey would need some extra reassurance that what he did was good, that you enjoyed it, or that you didn't get hurt. he'd get anxious and worry about it for the rest of the night if you didn't offer him some kind of honest discussion.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i think he appreciates his arms and hands! he knows that he has some strength and likes when you can grip on to his biceps in the heat of the moment. knows how to work his hands i mean, come on. he can do minor surgical interventions. if you hold onto his arm while you're walking in town, he'd get all blushy.

as for you, he truthfully loves every part of you. if you ever asked him "what part of me is your favorite?" he would actually stress over it and couldn't answer. however, if you really really wanted him to say, he would choose your eyes. there's nothing better to him than looking at them when he's giving you pleasure. sends him reeling, actually.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i don't think harvey is particularly keen on making a mess, especially of the bed or another surface. he'd try to keep his cum inside of you, or at least contained to an easily wipeable surface (like your face). on the down low though, i truthfully think he'd surprisingly enjoy cumming on your face, mainly around your lips. messy oral? he's done for.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

meeting dr. harvey in his office for a confidential check-up? hmm. definitely not when you first start dating, but give him some time and you may just find yourself on his desk (never in the actual, sterile field) receiving a little extra attention wink wink nudge nudge

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he has plenty of knowledge about anatomy, trust me. he never struggles with finding your best spots. however, he struggles with foreplay and building intimacy and dirty talk, etc. he's a nerd! what can i say? tell him what you like, guide him, and help him and he'd be confident in no time. he's a quick learner.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

so, i think there are two sides to harvey. he is either incredible slow, passionate, and earnest. this lends itself to something simple like missionary where he can stare into your eyes, kiss you, tell you sweet things, etc. his other side comes out later, when he's gotten more comfortable with you and with himself, and he can get a little rougher or faster or intense. he likes to be able to grip on to you so something like doggy, maybe riding?

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

harvey can't help but be clumsy sometimes. he learns to be able to giggle at himself when his hand misses the bed and he falls. he also can't help but giggle when hair gets caught in your mouth or some other silly thing. however, he likes to keep things intimate and prefers to have a serious moment with you in bed.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i don't think he fully shaves, he just doesn't strike me as that kinda guy with his mustache. but i do think he trims it, kinda manscapes it a little bit to tame everything down but he likes to have a little hair down there.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

loves making sex romantic. he doesn't do it often, but on special days like your anniversary or birthday, he will harvest some flowers from the farm and throw the petals around the room, open up some freshly made wine, and showers you in affection. as for every day sex, he still likes to make it special for you and never backs down on his pure, teeth-hurting sweetness.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think that he is the kinda guy that starts feeling guilty for masturbating after he gets into a relationship. prefers to just wait for you. however, before your relationship, he would masturbate every once in a while when he was stressed or horny. if he ever watched porn, which i feel like would be very rare for him, he wouldn't watch highly produced, fake porn. it would have to be something amateur. (harvey has a secret twitter account)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

okay so...i think harvey starts out vanilla. when you're getting to know him and for the first few times you have sex, he keeps it simple. mainly out of nervousness. however, i think he's kinkier than we might assume. i think he really enjoys being praised and praising you. i think, too, he likes feeling big and strong in that he gives in to his possessiveness sometimes, and he likes being able to manhandle you a little bit. also, i propose this everyone....bondage? nothing super strong! just with his tie or belt. and your hands. to the headboard.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

your bedroom, mostly! he has a reputation that he needs to uphold so anything in public is nerve wracking. but with some convincing, like i said, his fancy office is not totally off limits.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

seeing you do anything! especially if you're really determined to get something done and you're working hard at it! like, you've been working so damn hard on renovating and cleaning the farm and you come back proud of everything you've done, he will look at you with a glow in his face. kisses on the neck, too!

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i don't think he'd ever hurt you. it's just not something he could ever see himself doing. he doesn't mind seeing like fingertip marks on you the day after but anything like choking, spanking, etc is out of the question. he also would find rudeness a turn off in a person. like he would hate to see anyone be rude to another person and it would take away from someone's attractiveness immediately! (that's not to say that he doesn't enjoy some town gossip here and there)

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

my first headcanon here is that harvey LOVES giving oral and on the days when he hasn't cleanly shaved his face, his stubble leaves marks around your thighs. okay, now that that's out of the way: harvey is such a pleaser and he'd do anything to make sure you feel good. he likes when you guide his head, mouth, or hands and he likes being told if you want more, or faster, or less. as for him receiving, i think he enjoys it but he gets so in his head that he can't really cum from it. it takes some extra praise and reassurance to get him to fully open up.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

like every other answer here, it depends on his mood! he can get really fast when he's feeling extra needy or kinky. however, when he's trying to be romantic, he will take his sweet time and go nice and slow with his thrusts, movements, touches. however, i think he could also use slowness to his advantage and tease you.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

prefers to take his time but sometimes he likes to catch you before you wake up and start working on the farm and before he has to go to work. he enjoys these more than he will admit to himself though and he thinks it can be fun!!

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's down to try new things, don't get me wrong! if you wanna try something new, he'll let you to an extent but he won't do anything that comes with a dangerous outcome or health risk! like, sure, he might be down to try some new rope positions but he won't dare put chocolate sauce around his genitals. do you know the bacteria risks that can come with that??

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i don't think he has very high stamina. it's not that he gets really sleepy after, but he can't go for multiple rounds. maybe two if it's been a long time since he's seen you. he can last a while though, i think. he won't cum the minute he engages in anything and with his anxiety, it may even take him a while to get to that point.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn't mind bringing out a vibrator because he knows how good it could make you feel. he doesn't like them on himself though! he doesn't mind taking a trip out to zuzu and hitting up a sex shop to buy some new bondage-y toys. they will be thoroughly cleaned though. why would nipple clamps be any less clean than forceps?

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn't do it with malice in his heart, trust me. he just likes seeing you on edge, waiting for him of all people, begging for more pleasure. he experiments to see how long you can go for, or how far he can drag out oral. he definitely enjoys it more than he'd let on. oh, and, i leave you with this, imagine harvey offering fake pity and cooing at you:

"my poor flower...you must want it so bad!"

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

keeps quiet, mostly. some interjections of grunts and groans, especially when he cums. he uses his voice more for sweet talk! he loves hearing your noises, though, and it gives him more encouragement than anything.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

the first time you called him dr. harvey in a joking, yet somewhat flirtatious manner, he blushed and got incredibly flustered. then, you did it again, and it had the same effect. and then...oh lord. your hands were roaming his body and you, just testing the waters, called him dr. harvey and he could have finished right there.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's big guys, i'm sorry. nerdy white men are always packing. i headcanon him as a big boy and it's only fitting that he's proportionate. more thickness than length. he was a little ashamed the first time you had sex but he realized just how good it feels and it makes him proud. big dick energy if you will.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i think he has a fluctuating sex drive. during flu and cold season, he is so stressed and likes to come back and make dinner, cuddle, and go to bed. however, during the summer, when everyone is healthy and only needs some aloe vera gel for sunburns, he could go day after day with you. it just all depends on his mood and the time of the year.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he enjoys cuddling and talking after sex but give him an hour and the man is CONKED. he's the older bachelor so of course he's a sleepy man. cuddle up to his chest, open up the window to let fresh air or the sounds of rain float in, and he'll be like a baby.

[johnnycadesmuse]

⋆ ｡˚ ༘ not a lot, just forever

— dating johnny cade hc's

warnings: language, smoking, sfw + nsfw

sfw:

-you and johnny most likely met through friends. when he first saw you, he immediately thought that you were the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

-it took him a little while to ask you out on a date, and by a little while i mean months.

-you two started off as really close friends. you two were each others number one. you would always tell one another anything and everything, tmi didn't exist in your friendship either.

-you were johnny's first ever girlfriend/relationship. sure he had had crushes prior, but they never went anywhere and didn't mean a lot to him— until he met you. you were more than a crush, and he knew that instantly.

-after you two began dating, he was more bold around you. before, he was a listener and you were a yapper, but then it became the other way around.

-people see johnny as a helpless shy guy, but he isn't afraid to fight for his girl. if a guy is harassing you or flirting with you, he will throw hands. (he killed someone guys, get real)

-after a rumble, he goes over to yours to get patched up. he prefers the peace and quiet of your bedroom at night, just the two of you alone, not surrounded by a bunch of loud teenagers. he likes watching your dimly lit face as you clean the blood off of his knuckles, your beauty basically blocking out any pain he's feeling.

-this man is the best cuddler in the world. he loves cuddling and he especially loves cuddling you. he'd be the big spoon majority of the time, not because he would feel less manly as a little spoon (he doesn't gaf) but because he loves holding you close and protecting you. he also thinks you're like his personal heater as he's always cold and you are always warm. on the off chance that he is the little spoon, he tucks his face into your chest as you play with his hair gently.

-the two of you are always sharing a cigarette— both to save money and because it became a little ritual for you two. he also keeps the buds in a jar as they have your lipstick stains on them and they remind him of you.

-despite being really close friends for a long time, he never really cried in front of you. sure, he got emotional and was very open and vulnerable, but he never cried. that was until you two started dating and he instantly felt a wall break down, allowing him to cry in front of you without feeling shame. you never blamed/shamed him for it either, you always held and consoled him without a second thought.

-he tries to take you out on a date at least once a week, even if he doesn't have any money to take you out to eat or something, he'll find some sort of activity that doesn't involve payment.

-if he sees something at the store that reminds him of you, he'll quickly stuff it in his pocket to give to you later or to add to his trinket collection.

-his love language is physical touch + words of affirmation. the only touch he's ever felt is pain, aside from the side hugs the gang occasionally give him, but that's the extent of positive physical touch. whether you two are out and about or home alone, he always makes sure he's touching you in some way, whether it be holding your hand or holding you close.

-he's always kissing you whenever he gets the chance. he'll give you a peck on the cheek or forehead when you are out on the town, maybe even one on the lips if he's in a good mood/feeling confident. when you two are alone, his peppering kisses all over your face and neck, making you giggle.

-speaking of giggles, he adores your laugh. he's always cracking jokes or trying to be funny to make you laugh just so he can listen to it. your laugh is like music to his ears— sometimes when he's having a bad day, just the thought of your voice/laugh instantly lifts his spirits.

nsfw:

-this man is a giver. in literally every way. he will always be down to give you head, finger you, or pleasure you in any way.

-this man is literally a god with his tongue. you aren't sure where he learned it from (dallas probs) but you aren't complaining. literally not even a minute into him giving you head, you're already clenching the sheets. when he hits you with the tongue and fingers combo, you're done. it's over.

-sex is always so intimate between you two, whether it's slow and sensual or rough and fast, you two always feel so close emotionally.

-johnny actually enjoys rough sex and prefers it over soft and slow, but if you ask for something lighter he of course won't say no. he just prefers pounding into you over lightly thrusting, but again, he won't complain if you ask for something less intense.

-he's willing to experiment with anything. the only thing he refuses to do is anything that has to do with anal.

-his main kinks are praise, dacryphilia, and messy sex (spit, sweat, etc.)

-his favourite thing is late night sex. he loves putting your legs over his shoulders or around his waist so he can pound deeply into you as he watches you sob, overwhelmed from pleasure as he whispers praises into your ear.

-his favourite positions are missionary, lotus, and cowgirl. sometimes he enjoys doggy, but only if you're down to do it. he also loves the bear hug as it makes him feel close with you intimacy wise, but he also finds he can fuck you deeper than any other position.

-johnnys a soft dom, despite many people's belief that he's a sub. I believe that he's tried to be a sub before but he just wasn't into it. he doesn't mind being on the bottom (as said before, cowgirl + bearhug are some of his fav positions)

-he is literally obsessed with your tits. anytime he can, he touches them, squeezes them, massages them, and sucks on them. he likes your ass as well, massaging it when your riding him, but he prefers your breasts.

-when you two first had sex, it was somewhat awkward as he was worried that he'd hurt you. he knew what to do somewhat as Dally would tell him many stories (against his will) but he still wanted to be careful with you. despite him starting off awkward, overtime as you two began to explore one another's bodies and know and understand them better, sex became a more regular and amazing experience.

[dmitriene]

happy late valentine's day !

valentine's day is not simon's ghost riley best holiday, at all, not only that celebrating something is overall not the most preferable thing to him, there's also an issue on thinking, or even making a gift, afraid of making the person upset with what his mind comes up, or even dislike, he does his ever best to avoid even getting in a monologues of upcoming holidays and any possible plans for them.

in relationship with you, he get's stressed to the bone, no, you don't purse him with a long list of the things you want him to get you, nor you demand them either, after all, his bank card is always in your pretty purse and between your fingers, getting swiped here and there if you want to buy yourself some little treat, clothes, lingerie, change of furniture, cosmetics, anything you want, you get, and simon doesn't even blinks twice when he gets a message that you spent another hundred, in less than five minutes.

but even then, simon longed to be the one to make you a gift, to make this day really, really special to you, to see your eyes round wide and twinkling with giddy happiness, to feel the endless press of your glossy lips pecking all over his patchy stubble cheeks and jaw, over his wrinkling, crooked nose, rapidly fluttering, crinkled eyes, stopping with deepening, languid caress against the grin splitted, chapped surface of his own lips.

he get's you a jewelry, perhaps not a very creative choice, but you still jump on your feet and wind your hands around his neck, hanging off his body with high pitched giggles right beneath his ear, making him fumble with the square, bow decorated box with just one hand, the other cupped right beneath your plump ass, holding you securely, and when he finally reveals what waits for you inside, your heart leaps and flutters anew.

you know, it's just a bracelet, some might say at seeing your eyes start to glisten so silly, but it's not only gets in your taste with the color and design, you catch it gleaming right beneath the rooms light, the embroidery of your shared initials, right on the inside, where it would be pressed against your fluttering pulse and hidden from curious eyes of people around, just your size, fitting your wrist without slipping away, only comfortably loose, and it's a gift for a price of the whole world.

it's adorable, how simon looks at you as you babble out excitedly, reaching out to take the bracelet and get it around your wrist almost too hurriedly, he's smitten, so hard, calloused fingers scrubbing at his stubbled jaw to try and hide the wide toothed grin he wears, mixed with a light sheepishness he almost manages to hide, eyes such a lovely hazel, entranced, squinted in a smile and accented with deepening crows feet, and oh, you want him to know just how much you appreciate the gesture.

the valentine's day ends with your brains pounded out, even though your first plan was to get down on your knees and take simon's cock deep in your throat, make him feel just how much you appreciate every inch of him, engulfed tight in the wet tightness of your soft, eager mouth, letting your tongue do the worship, but he got you swept off your feet and carried straight to the bedroom, spread out over the tangled linens and wearing nothing but the bracelet, all responsive, arching, reaching, keening his name again and again.

simon had come a long way, and your sharp nails tangle in the cropped hairs at the back of his head, anchoring, petting, moaning out in agreement when he grunts that you're his, a declaration, how much he adores you, a strained, guttural whisper, body strained, hard as a steel, overwhelmed, shaking at each trust, as he pounds into your squelching cunt rapid and unhinged, ravenous, completely, holding your frame flush against his, panting in your ear, kissing over each feature of yours sloppily.

the next morning glows up your tangled limbs and silly, absolutely lovestruck giggles and chuckles, faces still hadn't lost their luminous smiles, even with his back stinging from the nail scraped scarlet scratches, and a pulse between your still weak, quivering thighs, hands wrapped around each other, unable to pull away for even imaginable second, and even the sun gets blinded by the dazzle of your love.

main masterlist. quidelines.