#though i keep having to get up to go in the bathroom to use the mirror

[ov105]

Tian

So, I just graduated. The reason for my absence was my undergrad thesis that kept me from really pursuing most hobbies. Though now I'm on my sort-of break before enrolling into another form of schooling. It feels good to be back!

5,191 words of Zhou Xinyu. Enjoy!

It was the end of summer, and the rain had begun to fall. Driving from city to city, town to town, watching each sign telling me hello and goodbye in the span of almost a blink. Perhaps the snacks we’ve eaten should’ve done the trick, but I can’t help but think that I should’ve gotten another helping of coffee. It didn’t help that I was driving a car almost just as old as we were, though maybe I should be glad it had a digital player, and not a dial one, to at least keep us company while I drove back. 

Headlights on the road, I gave a glance at the dashboard, 00:15. We need to sleep now, I thought, yet that idea clashed with the idea that no, we need to make it by sunrise. Ignoring whether or not my passenger was only asleep, she must feel so lucky. I just sighed and tried to hum the song in my head, only to realize it was a slower ballad, and now it sounded like a lullaby. 

I tried to remember what I had seen in the guidebook, remembering there was supposed to be a traveler's inn a few kilometers ahead. How much, hell if I knew.

I just sighed, maybe I could quietly pull over and sleep, though I didn’t want us to be a horror film victim, too. I was already lectured about not catching “get-there-itis” behind the wheel. I just muttered, thinking about how far I needed to drive, and went, “fuck.” 

“Don’t you want to rest a bit?” Xinyu quipped.

“Hm?!” I replied.

“Pull over and take a nap,” she ordered, repeating herself much clearer now.

“In a bit, there’s an inn up ahead.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe for us?” she asked. 

I didn’t answer, but I understood her reservations because I shared them. I am sure I saw it a few times in the yellow guidebook, as for the budget inn part, we didn’t have any more money left from our stipend. 

“Yes, it should be.” 

It better be. She sighed as she opened the dash compartment and tried to read the map in the dark. Having stuck it out in a small field down south, a few northerner university students, tending to a small control field with a mentor, sounded stupid on paper. Yet, a government stipend was all that was needed to push this little journey to the south. Now, at the end of those 90, now 92, days, it was only me and Xinyu left to drive the rental back. 

A relieved sigh and restrained elation overcame us when a weak neon sign appeared ahead. It clearly said “roadside inn.” 

Everything else was procedural after that, I reversed the car in. Before Xinyu and I made our way in, we both agreed it looked pretty rundown, but then again the choice was: a creaky, dusty bed, or ending up in a ditch. Settling down wasn’t an issue at all, save for the madamé at the front desk staring at us for a second or two, backpacks and duffle bags in hand, before telling us water only comes by 7, and handing us a key whose tag we could barely read. 

Opening the door, I just looked at Xinyu, a bit dejected. It was exactly what we paid for; a cheap, little room a few meters in size, slightly peeled walls, tall but with a weak fluorescent light, a stove and old cabinet, a bathroom with only a sink, a fan, and a hard bed only big enough for both of us. 

“Well, we can’t complain now,” she shrugged.

“Just think about going to sleep,” I replied, dropping my things inside the cabinet. Xinyu followed. It was procedural, a haze, and took us only a few minutes to change, letting her wash up before we decided on our side of the bed. I decided to shower, but it took me a while to get the water going. 

I did, however, feel a silent tension, a slight rocking of the boat, and uneasy eyes that quickly tried to rationalize and compose themselves. Maybe it was just the light novels or rumors getting to me, chuckling on the sink before I just washed my face and all that before I carefully got onto the bed. Xinyu had already turned off the lights, and I had stoked the small stove in the corner to keep us warm, using it as some crude nightlight. Hopefully, at least. A fair glow came from the fire that colored the room orange. It was better than pitch darkness in our last change of clothes. 

“You’re not gonna tell them about this right?” I asked as I tried to read the map. She was blocking most of the light as we both sat up against the outer wall. It was just a bit colder than the fan. 

“Huh, why would I?” Xinyu wondered, or maybe it was just me.

“Never mind, I mean, we’re classmates, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I deflected, trying to get myself out of the situation. Focus on the mag.

“Well, don’t make it awkward!” Xinyu snapped back, almost laughing at me. 

“I’m not, it’s just you know, not a setup that usually happens. Not in our group at least.”

She slammed the hardcover and looked at me, puzzled. Fuck. “What?!”

“What?” I asked, folding my magazine, she had put her book down on the floor by now.

“I mean, let’s not lie,” Xinyu started, her eyes looking around for a bit, “You heard some of our classmates right?” before letting out a small giggle.

She leaned closer, and knowing I was one of the late sleepers, I knew what she meant. 

“Yeah, they were doing it in the outhouse,” I flatly replied. I mean, I already had an inkling of the couple she was talking about. Though knowing the girl was one of Xinyu’s friends, she may have told her more intimate details. I could tell my passenger was one part curious and excited.

“I…I don’t know,” she began to stutter, then asked, “Isn’t it kind of thrilling?”

“I don’t know about him, they seemed shy the next morning. We all knew. I’m just glad our professor never noticed,” I replied, trying my best to hide my feelings. It sounded exciting because it sounded straight out of a rumor. 

“Have you ever asked him about it?” Xinyu pressed on. I could notice she was inching closer.

“Yeah,” I broke and cackled a smile, “It was simple, sure, but you’re right to say it was thrilling.”

“Well? Tell me,” Xinyu prodded, noticeably growing more playful. I could just about scratch my head and not mix up the details of it. So I began, at least from what I remembered.

Xinyu and I weren’t that close, blockmates sure, but not at that deep end of what I consider friendship. Of course, no adversaries either, maybe a few group projects here and there, where her goofiness can shine through. I always thought that the campus, as privileged as we were to go inside every time, was not exactly a place to find love from your classmates. Yet here we were talking about somebody else's sex lives.

Xinyu could only be so shocked once I ended my retelling of it. Her mouth was just slightly open, though she had let out a few giggles and gasps, but she did let me finish talking. She was much closer now—and beside me.

“They did a lot more than I thought,” she remarked.

“Yeah, talk about doing more than..,”  I replied, thinking quickly, “you know, a porno,” I was just guessing her friend's bluff. Given that the boys and girls had separate quarters, it seemed bound to happen. Giggling about it a bit, I could just about hear Xinyu turn to me, while her gaze scrambled across the room, and then she began leaning closer. I was backing by the bit, sensing her apprehension, I shut my eyes the same and leaned, closing the distance, and our lips met.

It was a simple kiss, yes, not more than a few seconds, nothing too dramatic or malicious—yet her gaze stayed fixed—Xinyu wanted more. 

Talking was awkward. I leaned towards her for another kiss, half-expecting her to stop me. Instead, she put her left hand on my neck, sliding and slightly pulling me towards her again. It was more intimate, longer this time, a smack rang out once, twice, before Xinyu slowly pushed me away. 

“Wait, you’re okay, right?” she asked.

“Okay, with what?” I asked Xinyu, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?” and well, yes. I was okay with it.

“This,” she replied, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?” 

I think, I just think, that Xinyu knew it would spread like a grass fire if I told this out. She probably knew I was thinking the same. We both had scrambled minds. Certainly uncertain. 

I just nodded, “I won’t.”

She pressed herself forward, another smooch quickly followed by another, before I could feel her shifting to get herself right on my lap. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, perhaps it was her pheromones talking to me. To be fair, she always smelled good, and I thought I smelled like a bath, so it couldn’t be me. A kiss was all it took for more to follow, and so it did. It was not too fast, smooching, yes, but I can’t tell if we were both good kissers or just lucky to be average. Hands on her waist, there was no rushing, frizzled touches, hasty undressing, yet perhaps it was more so our sense of prudence taking over for that last one, being our last change of clothes. Yet I just knew with how Xinyu had her hands around me, on my shoulder and my neck, that she didn’t want a change of pace just yet. I knew that this torrid kissing, warming herself up, just had to lead somewhere, and with her right on top of me, she was beginning to grind ever so slowly. 

Sliding my hand to her legs, I slowly slid them inward, and bit by bit, forward. Xinyu stopped, she was staring at me. I asked her.

“You want to go through with this?”

She just nodded, “Isn’t it a little late to ask that?” and giggled, another peck, “Keep going.”

Following her, we kept at it. Xinyu’s grind started to move a little faster, urging me on with how hot her breathing was becoming. Taking my left hand around her waist, sliding it toward her ass, fingers slowly dug in on her flesh. Slowly tilting her head and kissing me deeper, she was tight, and I responded in kind and gave her my tongue. Yet a faux tongue was ready between her legs, fingers cupping her pussy, warmth, teasing her. Hearing her hitch at the sudden contact, but not stop as I continued, slowly using two fingers to feel her, up and down, up and down.

The entire time, she never moved her hands downward, perhaps she liked making out more than doing the same to me. Xinyu’s kisses, from simple, playful pecks, to making out, a messy affair where both of our tongues fight to keep in control of ourselves. Short of undressing ourselves, I decided to push my chances further, and sliding my hands in to grope her ass. Just a little more, a little warmer, a little wetter, I thought, before I would do the same to the front. It took a while, but her voice shook a bit when she asked.

“Why won’t you just finger me?” 

I didn’t respond, perhaps thinking of some one-liner that just wouldn’t come out. I had a slender woman sitting on my lap, waiting for me to do something beyond second base. 

“How about this then?” Xinyu followed. Her left hand moved downward while she pressed her lips to mine. Mirroring my hand, her fingers wrapped around my crotch, quickly getting the shape of my shaft through my pajamas. Breaking off a little, I could just a little “oh,” leave her.

That was the permission I needed. Our lips came together again, I took my hand out from behind her and switched, yet somehow fumbled to find the hem of her panties. Slowly beckoning me on with the way her fingers slid and stroked my cock even under the layers, trying to make it a solid shape for herself. Trying to find a moment where she stopped moving, I slid my hand in, but not under her panties where it would be hard to do anything. I had more in mind.

Xinyu was warm. A wet spot had formed over her panties from the circles I was drawing on her. A layer past that, there was a moistness that had formed over her panties, just a little more, I thought. Pressing my fingers down, I traced her folds where they would be, her responding as I struck her clit more times than she’d like, slightly moving backward. Hearing her let out a quiet moan as I kept rubbing further through the fabric. 

Sensing some boldness in the air, Xinyu tried to put her left hand in my boxer, though I grabbed her by the wrist with my right hand. I was fine, she was a bit shocked, did I suddenly get cold feet? I don’t know what came over me, but I was more than fine getting hard from hearing her alone. Not yet, Xinyu, not yet.

“I-I’m okay,” I blurted out, trying to string something while I had my hands between her legs, using my fingers to send my message. It was her moment, not mine, “Just let me.” 

Xinyu just smiled, withdrawing her hand, but not before grabbing my cock through the cloth this time, sighing before saying, “You know, I started wondering about this when..,” squeezing my shaft and turning into a whisper, “I saw you doing it one night.”

I was in shock, turning red, and Xinyu knew it, but by now she knew how to shut me up. If that was the case, we continued making out, slowly I tried to move her panties to the side just to gain an entry, but almost always missed. She was a little more frisky now, I was at a position of disadvantage, yet I could pin her down, but she had me pinned down with her lips. She was moaning as we made out, tongues together, while the other pair of lips was just waiting for my fingers to push through. She then stopped for a second to plunge her hand right between her legs too, sliding her panties to the side for me, telling me as she pulled her lips away, “Put it in.”

Xinyu was wet enough, and I wasn’t just going with one, so two fingers went in. My fingers weren’t as long as hers, but her sudden moan and pull meant I must’ve hit something good. Not stopping, I prodded further to my amusement, and she shuddered a bit. I awkwardly tried to get a grip as her fingers scrambled while beginning to move inside. Though trying to finger her with her panties was quite limiting. I tried what I could, and well, it just seemed to work. Not long after, our lips were back together while she began to move to my fingers, timing playing my fingers jammed between her lips as the others also slammed with hers.

Xinyu was whispering when she pulled her lips away, but not to me, to herself. I was unable to make it out, but I couldn’t even think as her breath would hitch and latch onto my lips again. 

By now, we had melted out of our tenseness. Yet when Xinyu kissed me first, it was different from the same woman whose tongue I was against now. She quickly did away with formalities, and now, my fingers are wet. 

“Go deeper.” 

Eh? It wasn’t even that long after I started, nor was there much for me to give with my fingers. Yet she wanted deeper? Fine. Perhaps she was trusting me too much.

I stuck them as deep as I could, hooking my fingers inside forward as my pinky began to strain. Keeping our lips together, I could hear Xinyu hitch her breath and pull me closer, hearing a squeal as she seemed to melt right onto my fingers. She was holding on much closer now, with her lips picking up the pace as she kept moving her hips. Listening to her and waiting for the occasional command. Through the muted moaning, shuddering, squealing, and squelching, we both knew we could hear, I was leading her.

I pulled my fingers out for a second. They were wet. I jammed them back in and her breath hitched, catching onto my lips again as I continued rolling my fingers in a hook, feeling the warmth of her slowly flowing down, then dripping between my fingers. I tried to think of anything to say but just nothing, only the warmth of Xinyu’s guts right at my fingertips filled me. Her moans kept my warmth going, yet I wanted her, but I needed to wait.

“You okay?” I asked as I felt Xinyu shaking ever so often. I couldn’t lie to myself. I was mirroring her too. With bated breaths and shaking fingertips, we both knew what would come next and at the same time, didn’t. I don’t know what she wanted to do next, but the pace we were in wasn’t so bad, moving a little fast, but otherwise just evidence of our youth. Impatient yes, with her tongue pushing at my lips, my hands occupied with her neck and her pussy, fingering away until she just broke. 

“I want to ride you already.”

I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn’t know if I nodded or not, but I did meet Xinyu with a peck on the lips, and like ink on a signature, it was automatic.

She got off, fingers on both my underwear and pajamas as she pulled it off. My cock sprang out followed a weak giggle from Xinyu as she pulled my clothes off my foot, throwing them over her pile. I wasn’t paying enough attention, absent-minded from the ruffling of the sheets, and never noticed hers join them too. 

Hands on my shoulders, Xinyu—more like Chang’e—hovered over me, fully naked.

I swallowed, I could hear her huff and ask, “Been a while?” 

“A while.” I nodded slightly.

It was both running in our heads. We were printing the same telex message among ourselves in our twenty-three year old heads. Reading along the lines of relax, relax, relax—you’re young, it’s just casual—was it? 

Placing her hands on my shoulder, Xinyu met me with a kiss, only noticing her warmth around my shaft as she began to stroke it. Pushing her tongue onto my lips as her long fingers tugged at my twitching cock, was she going to push herself down this soon? I had my answer as she gestured at me to open my legs, I complied with what she wanted. Holding out breaths as she stared me down, giving me a peck on my lips as if to distract me from her descent. It was hot. Both of us flinched as I penetrated her, a drawn-out exhale coming from her that slowly pitched up into a moan when it got past the tip. Our heads filled with warm, unadulterated sexual embrace as our hands searched for something to hold on to.

I had to control myself. It’s been far too long, and this wasn’t me doing it solo anymore. This was Xinyu on top of me. I don’t know for sure, but with how her face was contorted in a manner no pocketbook smut or porno magazine could capture. A slight tremor in her grip, on my thigh and then on my shoulder, and for the first time, she opened her eyes to look at me. She didn’t need to talk.

Having set herself down, she slowly began to move. Closing her eyes again and letting her carnal instinct take over for her as her hips began to roll. Up and down, up and down, she went. I was twitching because she was just that tight. Now, what the hell was I supposed to do to not finish early? Recite the hóng bǎoshū? Perhaps. I began to lay kisses on her collarbone, slowly tracing down to the top of her tits, she moaned and clutched at my nape, feeling her gaze down at me as she finally broke the silence.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Perhaps it was the other way around—she felt better. It was a boyhood dream come true. Zhou Xinyu, for all her height, had her legs open and sitting on my cock, her pinkish folds enveloping it with her top half in my embrace for my lips to kiss. I could feel the goddess that she was beginning to turn hot as moans began in crescendo, although to my dismay, sitting straight meant her red lips were quite far yet I could sense she looked on approvingly.

Taking my lips off her chest for a second, I met her gaze. Xinyu was drunk with how good it felt, her hands having not changed places since she had sat down, clearly enjoying herself for only I to witness. Stopping just for a bit to kiss me deeply before she continued riding. In just a while, she had a constant, labored breath between moans, both of us sometimes sharing a smile, then a kiss, amidst the pleasure as we tried to keep ourselves quiet. Though keeping hush was difficult when it struck her spot just right, her eyebrows furrowed as an instinctive moan left her. She stopped for a bit.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten this close this quick before,” Xinyu sighed, then chuckled as she blurted, “Your size does help.” 

I just rolled my eyes. Here comes the ego fuel, I thought. Though she caught on quickly to my disbelief, “A lot more than I expected.” 

She must’ve thought feigning underestimation might do the trick. I would’ve said the same thing about her, yet found my stream of consciousness slipping as she proved me right anyway. I needed a second to appreciate the sight; her pretty face contorted in pleasure, small tits, flat tummy, hips moving, rolling. Pacing herself almost at a shallow hop, riding halfway up, followed by the faint sound of a squelching beginning every time she put her weight down.

Though, by this point, my legs were just about to betray me, having folded slightly upward for a while to cradle a tall woman slamming down on them was taking its toll. I wasn’t going to interrupt Xinyu now, not so close, but I was inviting a broken arrow and a cramped leg if I didn’t. So I moved us to the edge of the bed, with my feet flat on the floor—and a sigh of relief from me—with our top halves pretty much in the same manner. Though now there was the bonus of being able to lean forward so I can finally suck on her nipples, it did take some adjusting, and even more when I noticed I was already straining.

Xinyu groaned with how deep I was. Essentially cradled in my grip, hand on her hip and arm up her back as she inched herself closer to an orgasm. It was just a slight lean but it took every ounce of effort for me to not cum then and there. The whole image of us fucking and the feel of her on me. When she would stop to catch her breath and kiss, she was messy but beautiful, even more so now. I was minding her wetness as it trickled down my balls. Suddenly, her grip tightened as she switched her pace up, biting her lip as she squealed, looking up to see her head thrown back while she shook some. Grabbing her ass while her legs squeezed at my sides, with her squeal rolling into a moan, then tired huffs. I thought she’d take longer. Did she just cum? 

“You came?” I asked. Xinyu nodded

“You’re not tired yet?” 

She couldn’t lie with her huffing and nodded. 

We switched. For the first time since we started, I could see the slight sheen of sweat all over Xinyu in the few seconds she stood and threw herself to the bed. I suppose this was a better method of keeping ourselves warm. Now it was my turn to stand up and kneel on the bed, greeted with a sight as she lay down with her legs open for me. I was a curious kid, touching her with my fingers again like earlier. She was warm, very warm, one finger in, hypnotized until I thought, “I should put my cock in.”

Placing my hands on her hips, I slightly lifted her. It caught her somewhat off guard, eyes locked as her expression shifted, mouth hung open, annoyed, then pleasured. I slid back, her eyes looking upward, then rolling them back as I arched her back. She shut her eyes and craned her neck as I thrust a second time, deeper, trying and failing to catch her moaning. Repeatedly, I gave it to her that way, appreciating how easy it was for me to slide so deep in such a tight hole. Her hands moved quite a bit, though she settled on tradition, hands low on my waist while I kept a grip on her. Though for a few times, she had an arm holding onto the covers behind her, or looking at how I was fucking her, moaning at almost every thrust. Xinyu was a singer, yes, a trained one at that, and she sang the loudest when my entire length was in. I tried to keep a neutral expression, thinking “Don’t finish early”—it was all about Xinyu—and she wasn’t even asking me to go any faster. 

She did, however, always requested “harder” right before letting out a hushed long moan and rattling under me. Meanwhile, I was mentally reciting Party passages to distract myself a bit from hearing her slosh and contract under me, her medium-length hair already a mess from moving around quite a bit. I was getting close right then, yet talk about living out fantasies. 

Yet, by that point, I could feel my knees beginning to get sore from kneeling for, how long has it been, two, three minutes? It felt like forever. Xinyu then pressed her hand on my stomach. All stop, aye, ma’am.

“Have you cum already?” she asked. I shook my head, tired, to which she ordered, “Sit down.”

I thanked my lucky stars that I felt like masturbating before I showered, so, how’s that for a foresight? I thought, but I smirked, and so did she as we switched, though now I leaned a bit so her face was closer, and kissed me just before sliding me back inside. That was more like it.

Now, everything about Xinyu was long, her arms embraced me as she began to ride. Though in honesty, it felt more like a pummeling. She knew I was close, so she kissed harder, tongues out in a frenzy. Yet when she wasn’t, she whispered all sorts of good things between her noise. Less than a minute now, we guessed as I began to twitch, no amount of recitation of everything I remembered was going to save me now, nor was my earlier delay, that trick was about to run its course. 

Hearing her goad me with my eyes as she stared into me, together with the warmth of her lips, and of course the intimacy of us. This was her consummation, and the only thing left was carnality. 

“You’re close?” Xinyu asked. I couldn’t say anything. I was just nodding now. 

“Me too,” she huffed. Giving me that non-verbal look, a slightly raised eyebrow. It was a question, I let out a sly smile, and so did she. I would let her overrun me. We kissed, deeply, not nervously like a while ago. It was a consenting kiss—we were gonna cum together.

Hand up her back, I slid it down her hip as her movements became more controlled now, if not a bit faster, but still amateur. She was much closer than I thought, her moans were beginning to betray her as well. Our expressions were shared now, as we had let go of pretense, I had given her part of the fun but knew that this was the orgasm we were waiting for. 

Xinyu’s arms held me closer, I saw her move her mouth just before putting her lips on mine, I couldn’t tell what she was trying to say. The moment I pulled back, she had her eyes closed, only opening for a second before continuing, moaning even when our lips and tongues were together. She was louder now, her arm and pussy's embrace on my shaft grew tighter, shuddering as I tried to hold on to something. Then, her right arm flew to my thigh, breaking away as she let out a long, low moan as her orgasm came onto her. She shook—and I blew—with my lips barely able to get on her neck as I felt the first twitches unload. It was intense, hot, painting her walls with my cum. I shut my eyes and felt my strength drain into her, our fingers clawing, my legs pushing her to me as I came down from myself. 

We held each other as we caught our breath, now we were tired. A long kiss goodnight followed, and she assured me she was going to be okay. 

Once again, it was a blur after that. We cleaned up after ourselves, repeating our procedures, and not feeling like changing the sheets, just decided to crash on the bed again. Though now the same bed was stained with a young couple’s juices, much to the truth of the madamé at the front desk. I thought about grabbing some food from whatever we had left in a futile bid to get our energy back. It wasn't until Xinyu, leaning on my shoulder, dropped her book in my lap that we decided it was lights out. I shut the stove door to at least plunge the room into some semblance of darkness and came beside Xinyu.

She, after confusing me for a bit, grabbed my right arm and pulled me into a cuddle. I was quite shocked, but a kiss on the back of her head was all I could do. I was sleepy, too lazy to talk by then. 

Xinyu then asked. 

“Want to go eat together next week? Oh, and,” she pulled my arm just a bit closer, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”

“You know,” another kiss on her hair, pulling her closer, “They’ll know, sooner or later,” I replied.

“Good. Better you than somebody new.”

[sevsevteen]

first i just want you to know your works give me comfort 🥹 can i please ask a request a fic abt the boys being worried and basically just taking care of reader bc they sprained their ankle… i sprained my ankle 3 days ago and it still hurts so bad 😭

hello sweets~ i'm so sorry to hear that 💔 please get well soon !! REST UP & DRINK LOTS OF WATER !!! thank you for the compliment teehee this one is for you anon 😚

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

You never thought a sprained ankle could earn you royal treatment.

Two days ago - a bad landing during choreography run-through had landed you to where you were now. One second, you were spinning through the eight count, and the next, the world tilted as a sharp pain shot through your ankle, sending you straight to the floor with a cry.

Since then, you were banished from practice for the rest of the week, doctor’s (more like seungcheol's) orders. A sprain. Nothing serious, they said. Just rest, ice, and no unnecessary movement.

But apparently, to the members, that translated to: You are not allowed to lift a single finger.

The moment you woke up the next morning, Dino was already crouched by your bedside with a tray. “Rise and shine, it's time for breakfast.”

“Chan-ie, I can get up, you don’t have to—”

“Nope.” He waved a spoon in your face. “The hyungs specifically said you are not allowed to get out of bed.”

Seungkwan, from the doorway, chuckled at your confused expression.

Later in the afternoon, Joshua brought you coffee, Jeonghan fluffed your pillows every other hour, and Jun kept popping into your room every hour with a “need anything?” expression like he was your butler in training.

The only time you tried to stand and hobble to the bathroom, Seungcheol caught you mid-hop and lifted you to the bathroom like you weighed nothing.

“You guys know I’m not dying, right?” You muttered, cheeks red.

“That’s what you think,” Vernon said in passing, heading for the kitchen. “You almost gave us a heart attack in practice.”

Woozi appeared briefly to drop off your ice pack when you were back in bed - grumbling that if you kept dancing like you had a death wish, he was going to write you out of the next song entirely.

Minghao, too, spent the evening sitting beside you on the floor with a coloring book he claimed was for “mental rest,” though he kept handing you pages and not letting you use the black marker because he “wasn’t finished with it yet.”

It was chaotic, smothering, and oddly touching.

You lay back on the couch as Seokmin carefully adjusted your blanket, while Seungkwan passed you the TV remote - one the both of them used to fight over all the time.

"You’re all too much," you mumbled, heart full despite the ache in your ankle.

“Too much?” Jeonghan gasped. “We cancelled our date with Hyungwon for you.”

“It was Hoshi’s idea,” Seokmin whispered behind his hand.

“Okay, who’s on lunch duty?” Seungcheol clapped his hands. “She needs protein.”

“Why don’t we just keep her injured forever?” Mingyu grinned. “I haven’t seen everyone this helpful in months.”

“Eh?—”

.

It was 2:36 am, the dorm was quiet - a rare, sacred kind of quiet that you'd enjoyed after everyone spent a whole day fussing over your injury. Every member was out cold, sprawled across the couch, beds, mouths open and breathing soft.

You blinked up at the ceiling from your bed, the ache had simmered, dull, but still persistent. It wasn’t the pain keeping you up, though.

It was the hunger.

You’d skipped dinner, too tired to eat earlier, and now your stomach growled loud enough to make you flinch. You checked the clock again and sighed.

Too late to call anyone, too early to wait for breakfast.

The snacks on your shelf had long disappeared - thanks to Dino and Seokmin’s late-night cravings the day before.

You sat up slowly, biting your lip. Your ankle twinged, still tender under the wrap. They’d kill you if they knew you had gotten up. But were you supposed to just starve?

Your stomach answered with another growl.

“…Sorry, guys,” you muttered under your breath.

With the stealth of tip-toes and socks, you slipped on a hoodie, stuffing your wallet into its pocket. Masked up, you slowly limped to the front door, holding your breath with each step.

You avoided the creaky floorboard outside Hoshi’s room, opened the door quietly with a prayer, and finally slipped out into the night.

The cool air hit your face instantly.

You tugged your hood low and made your way down the street toward the nearest CU convenience store.

The moment you stepped inside, the fluorescent lights greeted you like a long-lost friend. You sighed in relief, heading straight to the ramen aisle.

“Come to me,” you whispered, cradling the cup noodles like it was sacred.

Ten minutes later, you sat outside the store on the bench, steaming ramen on the table, an apple juice beside you, and a triangle kimbap for dessert. You reckon you’d regret it in the morning when your face puffs up, but your soul was at peace.

That is…until a low voice broke the silence.

“You really thought we wouldn’t find out?”

You froze mid-slurp, looking up.

Standing in front of you under the lights were four very familiar silhouettes. Seungcheol. Wonwoo. Mingyu. And Dino, still in pajama pants and slippers, arms crossed with a pillow mark on his cheek.

“…Oh, hi.”

“No,” Seungcheol said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t ‘hi’ us.”

“I was hungry,” you argued. “I didn’t want to wake anyone!”

“And we said you’re not supposed to be walking without help,” Mingyu said, already crouching to check your ankle.

“She limped out the front door like no one would notice,” Dino mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I heard her. Thought it was a ghost.”

You sulked, blowing on your noodles. “…You’re all so dramatic.”

But even as they nagged - taking turns throwing away the trash, and insisting on piggybacking you home - you couldn’t help but grin.

They were dramatic.

And you were so glad they were.

--

[sadboyeddie]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐨𝐛: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Summary: Things escalate and reader faces moral dilemmas.

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Fem!Reader, No Use Of Y/N, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, CNC, Non-Con Maybe

A/N: Wheeeeew between my Lee fic and this one I’ve written 13k words. It’s also 7am and I have yet to sleep, but I suffer for my craft. Please forgive any mistakes I am le tired. Thank you to @dandydilfdiddler for some inspo 🩵

WC: 8.9k

After cleaning yourself up you stared at your reflection in the mirror for a good 10 minutes, contemplating how this could all possibly end.

Would Bob find out? How will he react if/when he does?

He’s been a lot better in the months that followed the Voidout but he can still be fragile, vulnerable.

You love and care for him too much to destroy your friendship but every time you even think about stopping this or coming clean there’s a dark part inside of you that stops you.

Like a tight hand wrapped around your throat, sending a shock wave of heat straight to your core. Something deep within you wants this. Craves this.

You had let out a sigh and switched the bathroom light off as you came back in the room, steps quiet as to not wake Bob but a voice from the darkness startles you in your place.

“Are you okay?” his voice is sleepy and full of concern and once again a wave of guilt crashes against your resolve.

“Yeah,” you correct your breathing, still a little surprised at him being awake; praying he didn’t hear you earlier, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“The bed was empty,” his unsure reply sends a pang of an unspoken emotion through your heart as you slide into bed next to him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you lay back against the pillows and open your arms, Bob already eagerly settling his head against your chest before you have the chance to get comfortable yourself.

“S’nice,” his voice is muffled against your chest, “play with my hair.”

You can hear the pout in his voice; making you huff a laugh as you bring one hand to run through his unruly curls, the other you use to rub soothing circles on his back.

Maybe tomorrow you can worry about the consequences but for now you’re gonna be selfish and enjoy having Bob in your arms.

—

Once again the blinding light from the morning sun wakes you up, though this time it’s entirely your fault as you didn’t close the shutters last night.

The empty space next to you; the bed now cold causes a small sense of disappointment to fill your chest.

Bob never really wakes up first and if he does he never leaves the bed until you do.

Before you can overthink the meaning behind it you hear a muffled cough coming from your bathroom.

You sit up on the side of the bed and listen to the stream of the shower and the soft hum of a deep voice as you allow yourself to calm down.

He’s in your shower.

Wait, why is he in your shower?

He usually likes his own shower.

Stop saying shower. 

You continue to listen to the spray of the water as your mind fills with reason he’s in your bathroom.

In all fairness you don’t even know it’s Bob, it could be Bucky. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Bucky’s things constantly break, some of the team thinks it because Bucky keeps forgetting his arm strength, but he believes Val is sabotaging his stuff as a sort of ‘fuck you’ for him trying to get her arrested.

Either way your room was close enough to his he often pops in to use your bathroom.

Apparently your room is very communal.

Even Yelena and Ava like to have the bi-weekly sleepover in your room.

A loud clang of a bottle falling and hitting the tiles draws your attention back to the closed bathroom door, slightly curious as to what Bob is doing in there.

If he’s in there.

Doesn’t matter because you’re not gonna check.

You’re gonna give Bob, or whomever, their privacy.

You’re gonna get dressed and go make breakfast.

You’re gonna stand up and get dressed.  

You stand from your spot and go to walk around your bed to the dresser, coming close to the bathroom door.

Good, now get dressed.

Your voice is loud in your head but you can’t take your eyes off of the door.

Your mind filling with images and sounds of Bob fucking your mouth a few days ago, the wet squelching of him coming down your throat.

It couldn’t hurt just to take a peak, right?

You’ve done worse.

You step towards the door but a voice of reason holds you back.

No, no, no! Stop taking advantage!

Another bottle hits the ground once again grabbing your attention.

What is he doing in there?

He could be dying and you’re just standing here, or maybe he’s being attacked? Maybe it’s not Bob but a creepy intruder.

It is your job as a Thunderbolt to investigate and make sure everyone in the team is safe.

Yeah. Safe.

It’s okay to take a peek for safety reasons. That’s all.

You roll your eyes at your own reasoning but don’t stop yourself this time as you make your way to the door.

You place your palm against the cold brass of the handle before taking a deep breath and slowly opening the door; just a crack.

The image before you makes you bite back a groan as you clench your thighs together, opening the door a little wider.

Bobs left side is facing you but from what you can make out his eyes are shut tight, his head rests against the cool tile, one hand flat beside his head and the other tightly wrapped around his cock.

Now with no door to obstruct the sound you can clearly hear the small groans falling from Bobs soft lips, his hair is plastered to his face as water cascades down his body.

You can’t really tell if he’s dribbling pre cum or if the slick glide of his hand is all from the spray of the shower, but you remember how much he leaks.

His hand is going a mile a minute, desperation clear in his movements as he thrusts his hips to meet his hand.

You can’t make out the word he’s saying but every now and again you can faintly hear a curse slip through.

It takes you less than 10 seconds to argue with yourself about what you’re going to do, you’ll feel ashamed later.

You slip your hands into your underwear and gather some of the slick from where it’s started to drip down your legs before rubbing your fingers over your throbbing clit.

You shove your hand in your mouth and bite down hard to stop the whimper clawing from the back of your throat, praying that the stream of water muffles anything that slips out.

Bob, to your relief, seems to be so caught up in his own pleasure that he has no idea you’re even there.

His cursing gets louder as he fucks his fist, his face scrunching up the same way it does when he groans out ‘cucumber cucumber cucumber’ when he’s trying to hold back a sneeze.

Maybe that’s what he’s mumbling to himself.

With how wet you are, and with your pussy still aching from last night, you have no issue slipping two fingers inside your slick heat, biting your cheek as the hand that was in your mouth replaces the one that was playing with your clit.

You have to be quick, Bob could open his eyes any moment and see you and this whole thing could come crashing down.

A blessing and a curse.

But you don’t want that. Right now you just want to come.

You vigorously plunge your fingers inside while pressing down on your clit, the pressure causing you to briefly see stars behind your vision — or maybe that’s just the vanity lights?

You’re close, and you hope Bob is too. You know it’s risky but you’re desperate to come at the same time as Bob.

His whimpers and moans get louder as he speeds up his thrusts, you take a moment to appreciate the round globes of his ass, the muscle clenching every time he ruts forward.

“Fuck!” his voice rings out around the room followed but by a straining cry of your name as he comes, his seed painting ropes across the shower tile.

You bite back a whine as you clench hard around your fingers and pinch your clit between your thumb and forefinger, your orgasm hitting you like a truck.

You fall slightly into the door frame, your legs almost buckling at the force behind it. You close your eyes and grind against your fingers, taking a few risky seconds to come down from your high.

Bob eyes slip open with a knowing smile as he watches your face contort in pleasure, he could feel your inner struggle while waiting for you to come in.

He was running out of items to drop on the floor to get your attention.

When your breathing has slowed your eyes snap open in panic, gaze immediately darting to Bob.

Your relief floods through you; his eyes are still closed as he pants hard against the tiles. If you weren’t so dizzy and blissed out you might have noticed the parallels.

You were standing in the exact same spot, exact same position, doing the exact same thing yesterday morning.

You allow yourself to watch Bob for just a moment longer, which does nothing to quell your arousal because before you even have a chance to turn away Bob swipes up some of his seed that’s slowly dripping down the wall and brings it to his mouth, he lets out a debauched groan at the taste.

You feel the heat return as you see his tongue poke out from between his lips, doing a thorough job of cleaning his fingers.

You force yourself to close the door and step into your room. Your heart rate is going so fast your smartwatch sends you notification asking if you’re okay.

No, no you’re not. Thank you for asking.

You rush around the room grabbing some clothes, you’ll shower in the gym, not trusting yourself. Christ, with how hot and desperate you are you just might get on your knees and lick the tile completely clean of Bobs come.

What is wrong with you.

No time for that. You hear the shower shut off so you just start grabbing random items, hoping it's an appropriate outfit.

That is until your eyes fall onto a pair of your panties lying on the ground close to your bed. The ones you were wearing last night.

Though this time you notice they’re a little stiff?

You kick them with your toe before the realisation hits you.

Bob came in your underwear??

Before you have time to freak out and overthink you hear movement behind the bathroom door. You slip on your shoes and haul ass out of the room towards the gym, clothes bunched up in your arms.

You’re so unfocused that you don’t notice the person standing in the walk way.

You collide with a thud, becoming slightly unsteady on your feet as you drop your clothes to the ground.

A hand reaches out and grabs you before you stumble back but you swat it away.

“Move out of the way, you big tree,” you know you have no right to snap at John but it comes naturally.

“You ran into me, dumbass,” he chuckles.

“I know you are but what am I?” you childishly mumble as you lean down and gather your belongings.

“Wow, good one,” Walker watches as you pick up your things, not offering to help.

“Shut up,” you groan.

“Laundry day?” his question is harmless but you’re in no mood to stand around.

“I can’t talk, Walker,” you push past him, which is quite difficult with this extra serum strength. Plus you swear he’s deliberately fucking with you.

“Oh no, does that mean our chat is over?” he feigns sadness.

You throw the finger at him over your shoulder as you make your way to the elevator. The sound of his smooth laugh filling the hallway.

—

You don’t see Bob until lunch time; against your will, you know it’s childish but you can’t focus around him at the moment.

After your morning workout you snuck back to your room, hiding in the shadows like an assassin in case Bob was in the halls, to your relief your room and ensuite were empty.

You ditched your clothes and made your way to the kitchen but the sight of Bob in his usual spot eating a bowl of cereal was too much, the little friendly wave he sent your way almost made you vomit so you spin on your heels wordlessly and went to a separate area of the Tower.

Bobs suspicious gaze never leaving your back as you walked out of sight.

There were a few more run ins throughout the day, Bob in the bar area, Bob in Ava’s lab, Bob was even down in the gym.

It’s like he knew where you were gonna be before you did and got there before you.

Each time instead of saying anything you just acted like you forgot something and fucked off.

Once again unaware of the look Bob and Yelena shared.

You normally eat lunch at 12:30, you and Bob have a routine; you have a stack of takeout menus: you randomly chose one and then you each chose one dish you’ve never had before. You also usually pick a dish you both enjoyed just in case the meals you ordered weren’t nice.

Before Bob came to the Tower he used to survive on cheap gas station food and literal garbage, his palate very basic.

So you decided a few months ago that you both would broaden your culinary horizons so to speak.

You were a picky eater so this benefited you also.

You entered the kitchen at 1:30, an hour late so you hoped Bob would be gone back to his nook to read.

No such luck.

There Bob sat at the kitchen island, three meals placed in front of him.

When he saw you his small smile turned into a large grin which once again caused conflicting emotions.

“I know you wanted to try that Thai place,” he smiles as he pats your seat, “you had mentioned the meal you wanted to try so I went ahead and ordered it for you.”

You look at the window, wondering if you could make it through before Bob grabs you but the insistent look on the man’s face made you second guess your suicide plans.

Maybe you should speak to a therapist about why you want to jump out a window so bad.

“Thanks, Bob,” your smile is forced making Bob tip his head to the side, studying your face.

You sit beside him and you’re immediately hit with a familiar smell, your body wash, and you bet if you shoved your nose into his hair you’d smell your conditioner too. The thought makes you press your thighs together and pray Bob is more focused on the food.

“You okay,” the timber of his voice is soothing in a way you never truly realised before.

“F’course,” you nod and turn to the food, already set out and ready to eat, “are you okay?”

“I missed you,” his admission caught you slightly off guard as you turn your head to look at him.

“I’m right here, Bob,” you reassure, “I haven’t left the Tower all day.”

He grabs your hand earnestly and holds it tight like he’s afraid you’re gonna run away.

Maybe you were.

“Seems like you’ve been avoiding me,” he doesn’t make eye contact and the sadness in his voice kills you.

You can never resist Bob when he gets like this. It awakens your protective, possessive, side and you would do anything to make Bob feel better.

If you were a better spy you might have realised that Bob sometimes uses this as manipulation tactic.

But as pre established you’re not a good spy.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” you brush his hair out of his face and he practically preens at the treatment, “I’ll do better.”

“Good,” he squeezes your hand and turns his attention to the food, “let’s eat.”

Not once through the entire meal does Bob let go of your hand, you can’t say you blame him and the warmth he radiates does feel nice, even though it makes eating difficult.

You engage in small talk between bites, it starts off a smidge awkward but like always you slip into your usual banter.

You swap food and share utensils, face heating up when the fork that was just in Bobs mouth is now in yours, or when Bobs tongue darts out to clean your fork of all the food.

You blame the spice in the food for why your hands suddenly go clammy or why your face heats up, Bob seems to buy it, thankfully.

When lunch is over Bob finally releases your hand as he goes to tidy up the mess of takeout containers. You stand and help him, tensions are rising and you desperately need to leave.

But before you can make an excuse to dip out Bob grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

“I got you something,” his voice is warm and filled with excitement and you can’t help but smile at his boyish grin.

“Yeah?” you let Bob lead you out of the kitchen, growing slightly nervous as he makes his way to his room.

When you enter you’re surprised with how dark it is, his shutters closed and only one lamp on by his bed.

He has piles of books lined up neatly on his shelves, clothes an organised chaos on his desk chair and bed neatly made.

It doesn’t even look like he’s spent any time in it. Probably cause he spends all his time in yours.

He reluctantly lets go of your hand to rummage around in some shopping bags he has by the foot of his bed. You try to peak around his broad back to see what he has but no luck.

He turns suddenly and proudly holds up the dark crimson red fabric, your eyes taking a second to adjust and take in the item of clothing.

You reach out and let the lace material run through your fingers, noting how small the flowy skirt seems to be.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” you praise, smiling softly at the red that starts to fill Bobs cheeks.

“You like it?” he asks, nervous and hopeful.

“Of course,” you promise, skirts weren’t exactly your favourite item of clothing but you didn’t hate to wear them.

“When did you get this?” you look between Bob and the skirt.

“Yesterday,” he shrugs. “Wanted to get you something nice.”

“Bob,” you playfully scold, “you know you don’t have to do that!”

“I wanted to,” he reassures.

A few seconds of silence pass between you as you continue to observe the piece of clothing. You didn’t even know he went out yesterday.

“Try it on for me,” Bob all but pleads, breaking the silence, “wanna see how you look.”

“N-Now?” you can’t help the small stutter, he’s usually not so insistent to have you wear the clothes straight away.

“Yeah,” he nods earnestly, “please, honey.”

You take the item gently from his hands like it’s a fragile treasure and head towards his bathroom.

“You can change in here,” his voice comes out rushed, rooting you in place, “I’ll turn around.”

Before you have time to protest he spins in place giving you a false sense of privacy.

You let out a small breath as you unbutton your pants; quickly sliding them down your legs, you kick your shoes off as you start to pull the fabric from your body. If you were smarter you would have put the skirt on first.

But no one has ever accused you of being smart.

While you’re preoccupied with pulling your legs through the pants you miss Bob peaking back and watching you with a heated stare.

Once you finally get the offending material off your legs you step into the skirt; pleased to find it’s a perfect fit. You had never told Bob your clothing sizes but he always knows. He must have looked at your clothes tags.

You’re happy to see the skirt is high waisted, preferring that over the low cut.

You go to tell Bob he could turn around but are shocked to noticed he’s already turned fully towards you and is staring intensely at the skirt.

“Bo-“ you start to scold but he cuts you off.

“You look good,” his eyes trail up to your face as he moves closer to you, “do you like it? Did I do good?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stutter out, not entirely used to this side of Bob. The openly desperate.

He pushes another boundary as he runs his hand over the material on your hip.

“It’s soft,” he smiles, “so soft.” He mumbles the last part mainly to himself.

“It is,” you speak slowly, voice coming out quiet.

You swear you can hear both your hearts beating. Bob continues to play with the material of your skirt and you can feel your fingers twitching at your sides, desperately wanting to grab him.

But before you can there’s a knock at his door, you step back as Yelena enters without waiting for permission.

“C’mon, Bob,” she ushers him out of the room, “you have your therapist appointment in 20 minutes.”

“Oh! Yeah,” he springs into action, changing his sweater into something more appropriate for leaving the Tower.

You take in a sharp breath when his shirt catches on his sweater; riding up and exposing his taught stomach.

The sound of Yelena clearing her throat beside you makes you snap out of your trance and you glance at her, her eyes filled with a knowing look.

Your face heats up in embarrassment and you lean down to grab your pants and slip on your shoes, desperate to leave.

“Thanks for the skirt, Bob,” you all but shout as you make your way out the door, “good luck with therapy!”

As you power walk to your room you miss the small conversation between Bob and Yelena.

“You’re going to kill her, Bob,” Yelena’s laugh is soft as she teases her friend.

He gives Yelena a cheeky smile as he makes his way towards the door.

“Not before I’ve had my fun.”

—

It’s a few hours until Bob returns and you’re thankful for the peace.

You had to go back to your room after he left and switch out new underwear, yet again.

At this rate it might be laundry day.

You had heard that sitting on top of a washing machine can feel very pleasurable.

You’re hanging out in the common room, a shitty reality tv show playing in the background as you dissociate.

Ava is lying on her couch tinkering with something and Alexei is on the recliner, thoroughly enjoying trash tv.

You don’t know when it happened but sometime in the span of the months you’ve shared this Tower with the Thunderbolts you’ve become sort of reliant on Bob.

Thinking back a lot of the time you were bored and not on missions, in briefing and meetings or training you were with him.

You’ve become codependent.

Oh lord.

Although that thought doesn't scare you as much as it probably should.

A person falling unceremoniously onto the cushion beside you brings you back to the present, you send a soft glare over to Walker but he smirks it away.

“Are you right?” you huff.

“Yep,” he reaches forward and grabs a handful of m&ms out of the bowl on the coffee table.

He pops some in his mouth before offering some to you. You look at his slightly sweaty hand in disgust, the colour from the chocolate already starting to stain his fingers.

“Ew,” you emphasise the word, although that doesn’t stop you from grabbing a few off the top.

You sit in relative silence, Alexei’s booming laughter filling the space before Walker brings his now empty hand down to the material on your legs.

“New skirt?” he asks as he runs the fabric through his fingers.

“Yeah,” you nod, only half paying attention to him.

“It’s short,” he comments, when you look over there’s a slight crease in his eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you turn your attention to him fully, “and?”

“And nothing,” he laughs holding up his hands in defeat, “just an observation.”

Throughout the conversation with John you failed to see Bob standing a few feet near the door, a dark look on his face as he watches Walker touch your skirt, touch you.

Before Bob can come in and drag Walker away from you the man jumps up on his own, Bob feels lighter as a sudden relief fills his chest.

“Where’re you going,” you halfheartedly asks, eyes still on the tv.

“Training with Bucky,” he grabs a handful of chocolate to take with him.

“Tell Bucky I hope he wins,” you smirk.

“Fuck off,” he tosses a m&m at you a leaves before you can retaliate, “hey Bobby, good session today?”

Walker slaps Bob on the shoulder and just like that all the previous anguish he was feeling falls away. He doesn’t have to worry about you and John.

“Yeah,” his smile is easy, “it was pretty good.”

“That's good to hear,” John taps him one last time on the back as he makes his way to the gym.

Your posture is relaxed with your eyes are trained on the tv, you’re currently eating m&ms out of your hand.

No one has noticed his return and he’s grateful, he slips into the room with practiced silence and sits down gently beside you, the complete opposite of Walker.

“Hey, Bob,” you greet him with a light tone of voice but you can't stop your shoulders from tensing slightly.

“Hey, honey,” he leans back into the couch, his side pressed up against yours.

“Feeling good,” you ask, trying not to pry.

“Feeling great,” he reaches over and snags a few chocolates out of your hands and pops them into his mouth.

“That’s great,” your smile is genuine now as you gently nudge his shoulder.

As nervous as he’s currently making you, you’re glad he’s back.

You fall into a comfortable silence for about an hour, forcing yourself not to tense every time Bob reaches down and plays with the hem of your skirt.

At one point he just decides to leave his hand there. On your thigh. Material pinched between his fingers.

Thankfully it’s not long before the grumbling of his stomach draws the attention of everyone in the room.

“Oh no! Raccoon is back!” Alexei suddenly stands and pulls out a gun.

“Hey, woah!” Ava shouts as she sits up.

“Raccoon?” You ask the wild man as he looks around the room.

“He stole my bagel!” Alexei grumbles as he looks behind the tv, “Bucky don’t believe me but I seen him come inside!”

“It was Bobs stomach,” Ava lets out an exasperated sigh and points at the aforementioned man sitting beside you, hiding a sheepish grin behind his hand.

“Oh, Bob!” Alexei smiles, previous grumbling forgotten, “when did you get here!”

You roll your eyes playfully as a conversation starts around you and pull out your phone before bringing up the pizza app.

It’s close enough to dinner that you can get away with ordering food now and you already have everyone’s preferred toppings saved in your phone.

25 minutes later everyone is sitting around the kitchen island pulling slices of pizza onto their plates, Walker playfully grumbling when Yelena and Ava both snatch a piece of his out of the box.

You take in the conversations around you, allowing yourself to feel serenity for a while.

Alexei is explaining in great detail the raccoon thing, Bucky has a mischievous look on his face. Maybe he’s the raccoon?

Yelena and Ava are talking about a new fight tactic they saw online and would like to try, John interjecting and sayings it was probably more theatrical than practical.

Meanwhile Bob was sitting next to you, his feet tangled with yours under the counter as he pleasantly hums around a bite of pizza, smiling happily at the conversations happening all around him.

Bob truly seems at peace.

—

After dinner you tidy the garbage off the counter while Bob washes the plates, the whole thing seeming far too domestic.

You slip into a comfortable silence once again as you spray the kitchen island with a disinfectant and scrub it down.

You don’t trust any of the germs that these people track in.

Cough, Alexei. 

You bite back small gasps every time Bob walks past, fingers grazing against the skin just below the hem of the skirt, offering a polite, “excuse me,” as he makes a show of moving past you.

You’re starting to get used to his little touches but that doesn’t do much for the heat that grows with each graze of his fingers.

You’re pulled out of your pleasant trance by the alarm of a phone ringing through the kitchen, and a part of you is shocked to find it coming from Bob.

“Bedtime?” you joke as you throw the now soggy paper towel in the bin.

He lets out a little laugh before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“No, uh, I’m going out tonight,” he pulls out the plug and waits for the sink to empty before rinsing out the last of the soap suds.

Your eyes glance to the clock on the microwave and it all clicks.

It’s 7:30. It’s Thursday.

Bob goes to the club on Thursdays.

You try to mask your hurt, you’re glad Bob is turned away from you because you’re failing miserably.

You know you shouldn’t be upset. You’re not dating and whatever this is between you is creepy and unnatural for two friends, but part of you was hoping Bob would rather spend the night slowly encroaching into your personal space then go out to a club and have sex with a woman who looks just like you.

You let out a small sigh at how ridiculous you’re being. You don’t control Bob and until you strap on a pair and tell him how you feel you have no right to demand his time.

Even though he does it to you.

“Oh, okay,” you cringe at how hopeless your voice has become, “have fun.”

“Yeah, I will,” there’s a perk in his voice and a pep in his step and you swear he might be doing this on purpose.

But that’s not how your Bob acts.

“Don’t wait up,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the elevator.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you make the decision to follow him again. You weren’t going to, you were just gonna spend time in your room wallowing in self pity but he just had to throw that remark back. Like he was goading you.

Since you already knew the location of the club you don’t have to follow Bob through the streets like an unhinged stalker. You can just wait 20 minutes and head down.

But as it turns out those 20 minutes are the longest of your life. You swear all the clocks have stopped in some weird global phenomenon. It’s probably the sun… or magnets.

You hold out for as long as you can, which turns out to be 12 minutes; good enough, as you make your way to the elevator.

When you’re on the street you take care to look around and make sure you don’t see any familiar faces, you remember how popular this club seemed to be with other members of your team.

When you make it to the alleyway you’re filled to the brim with nerves, what if this goes worse than last time?

You have no idea what he’s going to do tonight so what if you walk in and he’s out on the main floor in a sandwich between a big hunky guy and the Replicant.

Actually that might not be so bad. 

But only if you were in place instead of the Replicant.

You bang the secret knock on the door and it opens with a small creak. The same man from two nights ago ushers you in.

You walk through the semi familiar hallway and see a different attendant at the curtain, they smile lightly as they pull the curtain to the side and wait for you to walk in.

You side step away from the door and behind some tables as you take in the room, searching for the floppy head of curls. You let out a relieved breath as you see him at the bar, only feeling slightly jealous when you see who he’s with.

Other you.

You follow the 5 D’s of Dodgeball as you make your way covertly to the bar, through the see of naked bodies: dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge.

You’re pleasantly surprised when you were only groped twice, and that was probably people trying to help you, cause you no doubt looked like you were having a stroke with all the dipping and dodging you were doing.

You slide up the end of the bar a little breathless, a few seats away from Bob, who thankfully has his back turned to you.

What you fail to realise though is that there is a mirror behind the bar, a mirror that has given him a perfect view of your ridiculous covert antics.

Bob smiles into his drink as he half listens to what his companion is saying.

Thankfully you’re not too far away from them that you can’t pick up the conversations, you can’t hear it entirely though as it seems when one person in the orgy has an orgasm it creates some sort of domino effect and all of a sudden everyone is having an orgasm.

It’s very distracting.

“Are we playing tonight, Robert,” the overly fake sultry voice the Replicant uses makes you want to gag.

“Not tonight,” his voice comes out easy. You let out a pleased sound at his admission.

“Oh, what a shame,” she pouts and places her hand on his thigh, far too close to his crotch.

Your skin starts to prickle with heat and jealousy and you swear you can hear the wood of the counter starting to split under your hardened grip.

“I might go in the glory holes again,” he pays no mind to her hand; not reacting but not removing it either.

“What side,” your eye twitches as her hand drags up and down his thigh.

“The left,” he takes a sip of his drink, “I was on the right side last time.”

You think back to the signs above the doors, the left was the one with the bigger hole and the legs and the oh.

“What booth, I might see you there,” she winks.

Like hell you will.

“Five,” he finishes his drink and orders another one.

You slip from the chair and make a quick decision to throw all caution to the wind.

You are wearing a skirt after all.

Easier to navigate.

Before you can step away into the second hallway you’re stopped by someone standing in your path.

“Hi again,” you step back and look up at the handsome stranger from last time.

He’s naked again but this time you’re more prepared. And perhaps a little desensitised to the constant nudity.

“Oh, hi,” you smile, not wanting to be rude, “you live here?” you joke.

He lets out a smooth chuckle, a very pleasant sound before answering, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Just visiting,” you nod, anxiously moving from side to side slightly.

“Ready to take me up on my offer?” he asks, a little hopeful.

“Not this time,” you give a small apologetic smile, but he takes it in stride like he the did last time.

While you’re talking to the Handsome Stranger you can’t help but feel a heat in the back of your neck, like someone is staring daggers into you, you look around slightly panicked that Bob found you out but he’s smiling along to whatever the Replicant is saying.

On closer look only the Handsome Stranger is paying attention to you. Must be nerves.

You continue to idly chit chat, eyes falling to Bob every few seconds in case he gets up and you have to dive over a couch.

The Handsome Stranger cracks a joke and you can’t help the laugh that slips out, unfortunately you’re not able to enjoy it much longer as a shattering sound comes from over near the bar.

Your eyes snap over and you notice the bartender looking around the floor in total confusion, you faintly hear them say something along the lines of “it just exploded”.

There’s no time to pay it any mind as you notice Bob put some money on the counter and go to stand. You rush out a goodbye to the Stranger who offers you a smile before retreating.

You run into the hallway, in a totally normal and subtle way, and quickly make your way to the last door on the left.

You thank your lucky stars that the rooms were vacant before stepping in. You allow yourself to breathe a sigh of relief as you lock the door and hop up onto the black bench, which is covered in a plush leather top layer.

You’re not given much chance to breathe as you hear the door open on the other side before a lock clicks into place and the small light above the door changes colour.

You take a breath and muster up all the courage you can as you find a comfortable position, you notice there's a very detailed diagram on the wall of how to use the booth.

The hole is just large enough where you can either put the lower half of your body out and dangle your legs over the side, lie on your stomach with your legs out like your bent over the bench, or you can rest your legs against the wall near the hole, two comfy looking leather straps are there to help tie you in.

You decide on the third option for now, you don’t think you have any recognising marks on your lower half… like a frog perhaps, but you’d rather not risk it at this point.

You hear shuffling coming from the other side and quickly get into position, you lie back and rest your legs against the wall and strap them in, pleasantly surprised with how comfortable this is.

You bunch your skirt up around your waist so Bob, oh god you hope it’s Bob, doesn’t recognise it.

You decided to leave your underwear on, a little too nervous to bare it all. You're sure Bob can’t recognise you from just your underwear.

Bob, or whomever, is taking a little long and you start to once again second guess yourself, but like the many other times in the past before you can run away; the little door the that covers the hole and keeps the two rooms separate suddenly opens.

You let out a small sigh of relief when you hear the familiar groan falling from Bobs lips.

When were you able to recognise that?

“Fuck, honey,” Bobs deep whine sends a thrill to your core, “this all for me?”

You try to disguise your voice like you did last time, making sure to keep it a low mumble to a whisper.

“Yes, sweetheart,” you writhe a bit as you feel the heat of his stare.

“It’s you,” his voice perks up, “I was hoping I’d get to have you again.”

You let out a soft moan at his words, “I’m all yours.”

Bob lets out a string of curses as places his hands on the meat of your thighs.

“You’ve soaked through your panties,” he moans, “so wet for me.”

You let out a debauched whimper as Bob blows over the wet patch, making you twitch.

“Gonna eat her, honey,” he promises, “gonna show her how good I can be.”

You hear a soft creaking coming from the other side and assume he’s kneeling on some sort of stool, that thought leaves your head as quickly as it comes though.

You jolt in place and let out a small cry as Bob starts to lick over your covered clit, sucking the material of your panties into his mouth, trying desperately to get all of you into his mouth.

While he pays attention to your clit his fingers slip under the damp fabric and rub slowly against your glistening folds. You arch your back and pull up your shirt, tearing your bra out of the way, hastily pinching at your hardening nipples as Bob continues to mouth at your pussy like you’re his last meal.

“You taste so fucking good,” his voice is muffled against you, “wanna spend my whole day between these legs.”

He slides a finger between your folds, not slipping inside just putting it there as he plays with your slick, the action has you grinding down, unsuccessfully, to try and get more.

“Patience, honey,” he playfully scolds, “you’ll get it.”

“Wanna come,” your voice is breathless and you’re shocked at how close you are already.

Although to be fair Bob has been teasing you all day.

“You can come as many times as you want,” he promises.

He leans back down and groans against your swollen bud, the action driving you wild and closer to the edge. He continues to trace his fingers through your slick and just as he teases your hole with the tip you throw your head back and let out a pleasured cry as you hit your peak.

You feel Bobs moan more than you hear it as it vibrates against your sensitive nub.

“Oh fuck, honey,” his voice slightly breaks as he calls you your pet name, “you’ve soaked right through.”

Your whole body is shaking against the bench as you come down from your high.

Bob eases you through it as he pushes the damp material to the side and starts lapping up your slick.

The moment his tongue hits your folds you grab the bunched up fabric of your skirt, needing something in your hands as you try to buck against his warm mouth.

His tongue swipes through your warm center, collecting copious amounts of your come, groaning every few seconds like he’s drinking his favourite beverage.

“P-Please,” you whine, voice slightly high, “hurts.”

“M’sorry, honey,” he apologises against your folds, “I-I can’t stop, not now that I finally get to taste you from the source.”

You gasp as he picks up the pace, his tongue dipping deeper inside you with each swipe. With an action that has you mewling against your fist, Bob tears away your ruined underwear before diving back in with a renowned vigour.

“Need you to come again,” he pleads, voice muffled and filled with desperation, “I promise I’ll be good, just want your come.”

You grab the side of the bench for dear life as you slightly gyrate your hips against his face, you choke out a sob when he thrusts his tongue inside your wet heat.

His nose bumps against your clit with enough pressure to have you keening on the other side of the booth.

Within minutes of his treatment you’re now desperate to come a second time.

You clench around his tongue and the action causes him to grip your thighs in a bruising hold, the pain adds to the pleasure as you scratch at the leather.

“Please,” you beg, “please I wanna come.”

Your voice is slowly starting to lose the disguise but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Too focused on the pleasure between your legs.

Bob brings a hand down and pinches your clit between his fingers as his thrusts his tongue in and out, fucking your pussy with his face.

With one last slap of the leather you’re once again careening over the edge, electricity pulsing through your veins as Bob continues to lavish your pussy with attention.

“Please,” your voice is weak, “hurts.”

This time Bob pulls away, though reluctantly.

“You did so well for me, honey,” he praises, making you preen slightly, “told you I’d be good to you.”

“So good,” you agree, breathlessly, “so good, sweetheart.”

Bob peppers small kisses around the backs of your thighs while he waits for you to come down, you let out a soft whine whenever he gets too close to your abused clit.

“Can I fuck her,” Bobs voice is filled with impatience and desperation and he speaks his words against the skin of your thigh, “been so good waiting, please.”

You let out a small breathless chuckle, ever the impatient menace.

“Want you to fuck me,” you moan, “please.”

Bob lets out an eager sound as he stands to his feet, the sound of something clattering against the floor brings you further out of your foggy haze.

“Sorry,” he chuckles apologetically, noticing your small twitch at the noise, “had to get the stool out of the way.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment as you wait with bated breath for him to continue.

Bobs gonna fuck you.

Robert Reynolds is going to fuck you.

You let out a trembling breath that Bob misconstrues as eagerness.

“S’okay, baby,” he playfully huffs, “gonna fuck her now.”

The new pet name distracts you for a few seconds but the light touch of Bobs fingers spreading your folds and exposing your entrance brings you back to the moment.

You clench around nothing and Bob lets out a keening groan.

You hear a wet sound coming from the other side of the booth and you jump in place as you feel something wet hit your clit and slowly dribble down towards your hole.

“So pretty,” Bob rubs his saliva more against you, dipping his fingers inside, “gotta make sure you're stretched enough to take me,” he sounds wrecked, “don’t wanna hurt you.”

You sharply inhale as he gently fucks you open, adding a second finger in and scissoring them. Your walls flutter against the intruding digits making Bob bite back a growl.

“So eager,” he compliments, “my pussy.”

The last part was meant just for him but you heard him loud and clear.

Without warning he removes his fingers and lines his cock up with your leaking entrance.

“She’s drooling for me,” Bob whines, sounding more like he’s in a trance, he’s completely drunk on your pussy.

He snaps his hips forward and you let out a pained cry, no amount of preparation could have prepared you for that.

There’s a bit of a burning as he stretches you out around him, plunging himself all the way in until he’s entirely sheathed inside you.

You feel a slight stinging behind your eyes, the pain slightly overwhelms the pleasure and as if Bob can sense it he starts babbling out apologies.

“M’so sorry, honey, you just looked so warm and inviting,” the words come out all rushed and jumbled, “couldn’t help myself, I t-tried. Y’just so warm, so so warm.”

To his credit he doesn’t move, but judging by the twitching of his cock snug against your walls he’s fighting a losing battle.

“Please d-don’t be mad, needed to be inside you for so long,” he whimpers, “needed this, so did you.”

You don’t pick up on the meaning behind his words, too focused on the slowly receding pain between your legs.

“M-Move,” you sniffle, “fuck, please move.”

Bob abides instantly, pulling his cock slowly back before grinding it forward.

You let out a chocked moan but thankfully the burn has gone from pain to pleasure.

“Harder, sweetheart,” you beg, the pleasure hitting you like a truck, “fuck me.”

Bob doesn’t need to be told twice, he pulls himself back until only his tip is nestled between your folds before driving his cock back deep inside.

You lets out desperate groans that end in a whine as he ruts against you, there must be handles on his side of the booth because as he continues his brutal pace you swear you can see the wood starting to shift from his strength.

A tremor runs through your lower half as he brings his hand down to thumb at your oversensitive clit.

His babbles out incoherent praises and curses, he words jumbling together as his pace starts to falter.

“Need to come,” he all but weeps against the wood, forehead resting against the cool wood, “please! C-Can I come?”

You nod your head a few times before realising he can’t see you, “yes, baby,” you moan, “you can come.”

“Inside,” his voice cracking as a desperate moan crawls up his throat, “I wanna come inside.”

His begging takes on an anguished whine as he repeats the plea over and over.

“Come in me, sweetheart,” you give him permission, although part of you feels like even without it he’d still come inside you.

“Thank you!” he wails against the wood, pace picking up with a renowned vigour, “thank you, t-thank you.”

As he hammers a bruising pace into you he hits something inside that has you crying out as your vision go momentarily white.

“There she is,” he’s breathless but sounds slightly proud as he continues to spear his cock into the spot repeatedly.

You’re so overwhelmed from the white hot pleasure that you start to claw at the leather, trying to get away but Bob grabs your thigh with a punishing grip and holds you in place as he grinds into you with a new velocity.

“Come with me!” he desperately begs, “please!”

With a few well placed hits from the tip of his cock against the soft spongy spot inside you, you practically shriek out in blissful agony, the pleasure completely consuming you.

You hear the blood pumping in your ears, and you’re breathing so fast you think you might pass out.

You’re so hazy and blissed out you unfortunately miss the way Bob cries out your name as he empties himself inside you.

Only whimpers are falling from your mouth as you try to regain so semblance of control, but it’s no use.

Bob hasn’t stopped grinding his hips against yours; he has slowed down significantly, but you’re so incredibly fucked out you can’t seem to care about how sensitive and abused your pussy feels.

You catch parts of his sentences, a small fire returning to the pit of your stomach.

“Gotta push it all the way in,” he sounds like you feel, “make sure you carry me around for days.”

Before you can answer he pulls out suddenly, a small yelp rips from your lips.

The sound is replaced with something pleasurable as he swipes his finger through your combined mess, bringing the mixture of you both to his lips.

“So good,” he pants desperately.

You have no idea how much time has passed, being fucked so good you’ve forgotten the concept of time entirely, but a small tap to your thighs tells you it may have been a while.

“We should do this again,” Bobs voice is rough and you have to force yourself to calm down.

“Yeah,” you agree softly, “we should.”

With that he closes the small metal door and allows you some privacy. You unstrap your legs and go to sit up, your body feels weak but you feel so good.

Hope that’s lasts.

It takes you a few minutes to find the strength to straighten yourself up, and you’re pleased to find a wooden box screwed to the wall with wet wipes inside.

How thoughtful.

It takes you a little longer to clean yourself and fix your disheveled clothing, at one point you heard Bob leave, thankfully that should give you enough time to sneak out.

You go, on instinct, to pull up your underwear but slightly panic when you can’t find them, only to realise Bob had torn them from your body.

You brush away the uncomfortable feeling as you step out of the booth, only wiping away the wetness that pooled around your thighs, Bobs come was pushed in far too deep for it to start leaking out yet.

You look around to make sure the coast is clear before looking in to Bobs booth, you take note of the loose handles on the wall and the slightly cracked wood.

When did he do that?

You open the small trash can hoping to find the remnants of your underwear but finding it, thankfully, empty.

You really didn’t want to see used tissues and whatever other horrors.

The thought of Bob walking around with a pair of your panties sends a thrill through you.

And you’re sure he has no idea they're yours.

—

Bob rubs the damp material of your panties through his fingers, the item of clothing hidden away by his pocket. But he doesn’t need to see them.

He was, after all, the one who bought them for you.

You’ve become so complacent and trusting of Bob you’ve never really caught on to how perverted he can be.

For the past few months he has been slowly adding new pairs of panties to your rotation while taking out some older ones and you have never seemed to noticed.

He lets out a pleased hum as he makes he way back to the Tower, mind already coming up with new ways he can make you completely his — mind, body, and soul.

Tag List Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list @stars4birdie @gabrielchanel5 @alltimelowsuckedmydick @msfirth @deadpoolgirl23 @horrorbloodhound @dandydilfdiddler @ryswritingrecord @my-name-is-baby @magicwithaknife @lewispullsman @silvershadow1711 @chimchoom

[simpfortheseven]

Caleb smut!! Something about them being in college together + jealousy!!

EEEEEEE CALEB IS MY FAVEEEEE (and Zayne) AND I LOOOOVE COLLEGE AUs!! Also Ive never been to college in the traditional sense (i did college and highschool at the same time/both online) sooo plesae forgive me if it seems very "mean girls" or 2000s movie party. Thats really all i got to go on. ALSO I DIDNT PROOF READ THIS AND IT TOOK ME LIKE A WEEK TO WRITE SOOOOO

sorry this is so long, Im terrible at cutting out unnecessary shit. Scroll to the "keep reading" for the actual smut. I tried to keep everything as gender neutral as i could!

AN: i had something else actually written for this but it was WAAAYYY too long and also i ended up including Zayne and Caleb like BOAF at the same time, so i saved it and decided to re-write this! I'll be posting the other one after I finish it!

Smut warning! MDNI!!!

2225k words

summary: Caleb was always surrounded by girls. He was popular, handsome, smart, and since he was a bit older he could go out to the parties and drink. But you're getting tired of not having his attention.

tag list: use of Pipsqueak (personally I love it). mentions of MC and Caleb being siblings NOT DURING THE SMUT THO! drinking alcohol, whiney pathetic Caleb, MC on top, hand job, p in p/v, chin grabbing,

As you walk up the steps to the large house, you could already hear the bass in your feet. Going to this house party had been your friends idea, and after hearing Caleb would be there, you readily agreed.

You and your childhood friend had been inseparable ever since the wanderers appeared. Being taken in by Josephine, the two of you hadn't been apart at all until Caleb had graduated high school. Then he left you for a year while he went to Linkon University. You had decided to join him to his delight.

When you started at Linkon University though, you found out that Caleb was popular across the entire campus. Somehow people he never went to class with knew about him. It made sense, he was kind, sociable, and gorgeous. But it made your stomach twist with jealousy every time you saw him talking to another girl. You never admitted it to anyone, but your feelings for Caleb were more than brotherly. And now it had been years- he's a senior, you're a junior, and he's going to be leaving again to go to aviation school.

You enter the party and are immediately met with drinks, music, dancing, the occasional odd couple making out in the corner. You search for Caleb and can't see him anywhere, so you follow your friends to get drinks and dance.

An hour passes and you still hadn't been able to talk to Caleb. You saw him once from the corner of your eye, but when you made your way over he was already gone. Asshole, he was clearly too busy with other girls..

Finally you're able to escape the crowd and go upstairs to the bathroom. As you round the stairs, you see Caleb cornered by a girl in even more revealing clothing than yourself.

Caleb glances over at you, a pleading and helpless look. The girl steps closer and he's backed against the wall. As a last ditch effort he squeezes past her and stands next to you. You grab his arm possessively.

"He's with me. Like, my boyfriend," You look the girl up and down as if threatening her to come closer. "Stop trying to get his number."

Normally you'd never be so bold as to claim Caleb and you were dating, but this time something felt different. Perhaps that was the alcohol talking. The girl scoffs and turns towards the nearby bathroom and leaves, Caleb sighs as she does. You drag him out of the party and towards his apartment building across campus.

"Thanks, Pips," He sighs as he starts walking home with you. "She was following me the entire party. Every time I tried to come find you, she drug me back to the beer pong or outside."

"I'm glad I was there. She seemed insistent." You say as you make your way to Caleb's apartment building. He was a senior with his own apartment, what girl wouldn't love that? You mentally scowl at the thought of him there with another girl.

"I'm just glad you gave me an excuse to leave" He sighs and glances down at your hands. He was still holding it tightly in his. He lets go of you, his ears turning red as he clears his throat. "You've been drinking. Why don't you crash at my place?"

You nod and hug yourself. Something about him letting go has your blood boiling in a jealous rage. Why wont he hold your hand? He goes inside the building and presses the elevator button for you, then holds the door open as you step in.

"Caleb?" You ask softly after the doors close. You aren't sure if its the alcohol making you braver but you can't help but ask, "If I wasn't at the party would you have wanted her to come home with you?"

"What? Pips- No way! I've never brought a girl here," He scoffs at the thought, which makes you frown. Didn't you count as someone coming back to his place? You try to hike up your low cut shirt to be less revealing as he opens the door to his apartment.

The smell of teakwood and spiced apple hits you- a candle you bought him for his last birthday. It was nearly pitch black outside except for the street lamps, but you don't need a light to find your way around. You go over to his couch and plop down. Your feet hurt, choosing to wear heels tonight was a bad decision.

"Here," Caleb offers you some water. You take it but chide him,

"I didn't drink enough to be drunk. I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Worry Wort."

"Uh huh, I remember last year when I had to hold someone's hair back while they-"

"Caleb!" You gently punch his shoulder. "I was young and stupid, I've never been drunk since then."

He laughs softly and rubs his arm. His laughter brings a heat to your cheeks. You notice how close the two of you are, the lighting is low, it would be pretty romantic if Caleb was interested in you. Which reminds you,

"I'm glad you didn't bring that girl here. I would have been pretty mad," You state honestly.

"Mad?" He tilts his head and gasps, flabbergasted, yet he wears that cocky smirk he dons when being sarcastic. "Well for one, like I said, I've never even had a girl here, and two, why would it make you mad?"

"So I don't count like bringing someone to your apartment?" You set your water on the coffee table and turn to face him.

"Pips, what's gotten into you?" He leans back against the opposite end of the couch. "No you don't count as bringing someone back to my place, you're my best friend,"

You lean forward, one hand on the head rest and one on the other side of his thigh, caging him in slightly. "Caleb, I don't want to be just your friend. You've been too busy talking with other girls, and school, and treating me like a childhood friend to notice me! I've always been right here, begging for you to notice me, to notice how much I've liked you, and you haven't yet!"

The silence after your statement is deafening. Shit, you messed it all up. You're quick to back away but he grabs your wrist.

"Don't," He pulls you fully on top of him. "Don't say something like that and then run away, Pipsqueak."

"Cay," You mumble. "I don't want to ruin our friendship. I'm just.. Jealous. Im jealous of all the other girls hanging onto your arm and-"

"But I always come back to you, don't I?" He murmurs as he shifts back on the couch, one hand coming to rest on your waist. "No matter how many other girls practically threw themselves onto me, I waited. I only wanted you,"

You gulp. He was so close, inches from you, you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You lean in closer until you're just shy of kissing him. "Tell me you mean it. That you only want to be mine,"

"I'm all yours," He whispers against your lips, meeting your eyes searching for permission to bridge the gap between you. You nod, and that's all he needs before his lips are on yours. His kiss is soft and sweet, but there's a hunger in you both that has you deepening the kiss, reaching up and cupping his cheek. He, in return, pulls you closer by your waist so you're fully seated in his lap.

You move the hand that's not cupping his cheek to his chest. His chest was firm, the scrawny highschooler you remember had been bulking up. It makes sense, part of his aviation school would be physical training. Still, you can't help but want to explore his body.

As if sensing your desire, he reaches between the two of you and pulls off his shirt, pausing only for a moment before his lips are back on yours, rougher than before. Your hands seem to have a mind of their own as you gently feel his chest.

You take a leap of faith and gently bite his bottom lip. He makes a sound, a small whimper, and it sends desire coursing through your body.

He whines softly. "Don't bully me, Pipsqueak,"

"Can't help it," You mumble against his lips. "I've waited too long to have you like this."

"Then have me however you want," He murmurs against your neck, kissing the skin feather light. It sends a shiver down your spine, which only encourages him to do it again. In an attempt to make him stop, you rock your hips against his. He bites his lip to hold back a gasp. You chuckle softly and continue.

"I said, don't bully me," He says breathlessly. "And don't start something you aren't 100% sure about, Pips,"

"I'm sure about everything I'm doing," You mutter, leaning down to kiss his neck. His skin is soft, warm, and you cant help but bite where his shoulder meets his neck. He moans loudly. You decide to tease him, chuckling as you whisper, "You like that?"

He sighs, the hand on your hip sneaking down to your hip. "So mean to me,"

You decide to be a bit bolder, throwing your shirt off. Caleb's eyes immediately go down, which makes you chuckle. He reaches out bit stops himself, not wanting to push you. You smirk. Torturing him was so easy, and the look on his face? Priceless.

Gently climbing off his lap, you head towards his room. He's quick to follow, and as soon as he catches up with you he pulls you into a desperate kiss. You help him discard the rest of his clothes except his boxers, and invite him to do the same to you. Both of you are left in just your undergarments.

He pushes you down against his bed, climbing on top of you. His hands all over your body, his lips pressing messy kisses anywhere he can reach. Caleb already has your head swirling and you don't know how you'll handle it if things go further.

"Pips," He whines against your skin. "Need you, please,"

"Only if you tell me who you belong to." You reach up and grab his chin. His eyes widen and he blushes profusely, but he says your name so sweetly. Over and over, until you're opening your legs and he can finally have you.

"Thank you," He moans, throwing off his boxers. Fuck, you think. He's so perfect. Already leaking, his tip swollen. Half of you wanted to keep studying his body, the other needed him badly. He helps you take off your own undergarments, his eyes lighting up. "You're so beautiful,"

"So are you," You look him up and down, unashamed. You sit up and reach out to stroke his rigid length, coating him in his arousal. He moans and gasps your name again, his body already seemed so sensitive. You start slow, up and down, up and down, watching his face closely. His face contorts and he bites his lip, trying to keep his moans quiet.

"You're mine, right Caleb?" You say, speeding your hands up. You know there's no one else in his mind right now, but you need him to say it. He nods frantically. But you don't want a nod. You want his words.

"I said, whose are you?" You say as you stop all motion. He gasps and whines your name.

"Please! I'm yours, please," He looks at you pleadingly. You smirk and push him back against the headboard. You reach over to his nightstand, luckily he had a condom. You open it and help him put it on.

"Good boy," you straddle him. He looks away at your praises, and you grab his chin to make him look back at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

He nods, his eyes glossy. He almost looks drunk on you, on the feeling you give him. You line yourself up wit his length, then slowly sink down, savoring the stretch and his gasps. To help him, you squeeze his chest, pinching his nipples.

Caleb can't help but moan your name louder than before. He grinds his hips up into yours, but you don't stop him. It feels too good, finally being full, him pressing against your most sensitive spot. His warmth, his panting, its overwhelming. You moan and grind against him, using him to reach your own climax.

Being used seems to only make Caleb louder. He tries to cover his mouth, but you pin his hand down. He gasps and shudders beneath you. "Ahh, I'm yours, I'm all yours, uhng please,"

Aw, he doesn't even know what he's begging for.

The coil in your body tightens, your own whimpers mixing with his as you grow closer. His hips snap up into yours. He's a desperate, whiney mess underneath of you.

"Ahh- babe, please, I'm so close," He groans, biting his lip again. You nod, the coil in you will snap any moment. You both go over the edge together, your shared moans combining as you grind against him to help him ride out his high.

"Pipsqueak," he looks up at you, his eyes big and his mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. "I'm yours. Only yours,"

==============================

Masterlist right here!

author note- im sorry this is so bad, its just word vomit. I gotta learn how to write smut better and shorter LMAO

[gatorbites-imagines]

About you asking if we would be interested in Date Everything work by you: YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY ENTHUSIASTIC YES. Ahem, yes please. That would be awesome. I would love to see your work and takes on some of my favorite boys. (Skips, Hector, Bodhi) I just think they're neat, ok? But ultimately, it's up to you. Please have a good day/night! Love your work! <3

Skips Shadley x Male Reader x Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado 

Rambles 

I was giggling and twirling my hair when I was romancing Hector, cuz wow,,, need someone to talk to me like that,,, Im also starting my internship tomorrow, so wish me luck.

As I've played the game, I've just assumed that everyone is just in a big ol polycule. Some art friends, some are lovers, some it changes from day to day. And,,, most of em are also into voyeurism, it comes with the territory. 

Hector and Skips have to both be really into it though, because there's a vent in most rooms of the house, and there's shadows everywhere.  

Now gamers, imagine this. 

Imagine its late at night, its dark out, theres no lights on anywhere in the house. Maybe you woke up with the munchies, maybe you just needed to use the bathroom. But imagine as you stand there, half asleep and going through the motions, the shadows seem to collect and grow into something big. 

Im a big sucker for Skips first form, so yeah, that one. 

At first you think it's just your sleepy imagination, cuz you didn't even remember falling asleep with the dateviators on, but there is Skips, or maybe its Shadowlord in this form. But he's there, hovering and scary in the hottest ways. 

Now imagine Skips leaning against you, his big clawed hands sliding up under your pajama shirt as he growls the neediest and hottest fantasies, what he wants to do, what he can do in the shadows like this. 

Imagine his long ice cold tongue sliding out of his maw and slobbering all over your neck, his big hands holding you up as your knees buckle. 

But, gamers, imagine your knees buckling and Skips has to keep you standing, and when you look up you can see Hector in the vents, his hands sticking out and clenched tightly together, his eyes staring, unblinking. If you listen closely you can audibly hear him panting. 

Imagine Skips turning you so Hector can see better as he pulls your pajamas off, Skips explaining what hes gonna do to you, or asking for Hectors input. 

The air in the room grows so hot and thick, both from your body heating up, but also from Hector panting and being so heated up from the sight. 

Chewing on the bars of my enclosure thinking about Skips, as Shadowlord, lifting you up so you are face to face with the vents. Skips growling in your ear to suck on Hectors fingers, so you do, and Hectors breath is so shaky and audible as he starts fucking your mouth with his fingers as Skips does what he does down below. 

Imagine pressing closer to the vent, so you can press your lips between the metal grates, or whatever they are called, or so you can stick your tongue through. And imagine now, that you can feel Hectors lips press back against yours in the dark. Or, Hector sucking on your tongue, getting the vent all wet but none of you guys care. 

They both get you off so hard you just keep shuddering, so Skips, being so strong in the pitch dark, carries you back to bed and tucks you in. He keeps hovering in the darkest shadow of your room. 

In the vents Hector starts blowing air of the perfect temperature to help you sleep, him also just staying awake and watching you sleep with almost heart-shaped pupils. 

[write-or-fly]

Asking the LI's to paint their nails!

Gender neutral!Reader

Rafayel:

The moment you ask him his eyes sparkle with excitement.

He agrees, obviously, but he wants to choose the colors!

Bonding time with MC? Basically having his love hold his hand while carefully focusing on making him even prettier?? He'd never say no.

You guys are sitting on his couch, first hand on your lap while a beautiful deep magenta finds its place onto his nails.

His gaze is focused on your expression. Focused, concentrated but filled with care.

A soft smile is on his face the whole time.

Once you've done your work he demands a kiss on his hand too, like a noble lady he holds his hand out to you!

“I've stayed still for so long and let you do this to my nails. I think I deserve a reward for my efforts.”

With a pout on his plumb lips he waits for you to comply and the moment you do you light up his world.

Safe to say this becomes a new quality time for both of you. Sometimes you'll even switch it up and let him paint your nails. He'll choose the color though!

Zayne:

With a defeated sigh he agrees to your request, after you've almost begged him to let you paint his nails a nice baby blue.

“You will have to remove it for me before the weekend ends. Hospital protocol does not allow any kind of nail polish or other chemicals to be worn during work.”

He complains but still ends up watching you with pure devotion as you carefully take a hold of his scarred hands.

As the TV runs in the background he tries not to just stare at you but he can't help himself from thinking just how cute you look right now.

Also how happy you are he even agreed to this.

Even though he didn't plan to stare he studies the little twitches on the corner of your mouth and the subtle movement of your eyes, how your lips move into a pout when it seems to get a bit tricky for you.

After that day you guys don't really do this again very often but sometimes he does indulge in your ideas again, even helps you paint your nails sometimes, his hands steady and precise, as expected from him.

Sylus:

With a grin that looks more like a smug smirk to the untrained eye he agrees.

He didn't even think much of the request.

Making his love happy is where his focus is.

While he sits comfortably in his favourite armchair you find yourself sitting on the armrest, one of Sylus' arms always behind you to help keep you balanced.

He doesn't even hide the way his gaze doesn't waver from your face, a self satisfied expression fixed onto his face.

“You chose the color well..Red will go with many of my outfits. Oh? No, I'll keep it on for as long as I can preserve it. It was you who made me into art after all.”

The whole process is in no minute silent as Sylus keeps finding something to tease you about or to ramble on about.

Not that you mind it but it does distract you from your current task which makes you mess up more often than not..

Once you've painted all the nails you planned to clean up the edges you messed up on, but he pulls away his hands, not wanting you to ruin what you've given him.

It becomes a routine that he lets you do whatever your heart desires with him. May it be a spa day or even make up. As long as he can tease you he doesnt mind being your plaything.

Caleb:

He basically jumped with excitement when you asked him!

He led you over to the bathroom himself to grab all the nail polish you own so you guys can get started.

Nostalgia was hitting him hard as you grabbed the bright orange color with a grin.

“You still have that one? You bought a new one? Oh, you must have waited for this opportunity to pipsqueak! Let's just hope you do a better job than you did years ago.”

Both of you exchanged memories from the past as you gently applied the nail polish, feeling like kids again when you used to try all kinds of things on Caleb first before doing them yourself.

The process is filled with soft laughter and chuckles, both of you secured in an embrace of soft warmth at the thought of the past.

He actually can't keep still at all, always moving around, a bit nervous at your touch, itching for more.

At your complaints asking him to stop being so silly he tries his best to keep his composure but isn't able to do so for very long.

Now he teases you for messing up when it's clearly his fault!

On bad days you two come back to this silly exchange. Finding much needed comfort in the closeness, the fun and the nostalgia. It sometimes feels even more intimate than a hug does.

Xavier:

At first he didn't think much of it so he simply agreed because he knew you'd enjoy this kind of quality time, but soon found himself enjoying it as well, more than expected.

You sat on his lap as you painted his nails a beautiful lavender color, his head leaning onto yours.

The whole time his hair tickles you but no matter how much you swatt him away to back off a bit he just brings you even closer.

Once you've finished the first coat he had the courage to request a, hopefully, simple design.

Two stars, white or yellow (he didn't care that much) right besides each other.

“They are like us. I'll have a symbol of our love on me for everyone to see. Maybe you should paint your nails like this too..”

Maybe it was a cute moment or just his jealous tendencies peaking through but you agreed anyway.

And so you ended up painting your own nails now as well, him telling you he'd like you to teach him this art so he can do it for you next time.

His eagerness turned this interaction into a little tradition. Now you both try out new colors and simple designs every month, together nestled on the sofa.

[untoldstar]

omg the nsfw was AMAZINGGGG maybe you can do jealous ava fic?

Thought I’d combine these two asks with this fic!

female reader, female yandere, nsfw, public sex??

You lean against the bathroom sink as you drag your nail across the line of your bottom lip, the lipstick staining your finger in the process. You turn your head side to side a few times in the mirror before leaning back satisfied “Baby come on.” Ava whines besides “Your friends are too drunk to notice us gone. Half of them are gonna go fuck in a stranger’s apartment and the other half are gonna drool in the back of an uber. Let’s just go home.” You frown and turn to face her “Are you not having fun? I thought this would be good we haven’t gone out in a while.” Her arms sneak around your waist “Everyone’s looking at you and strangers are getting too close to you and touching you for no reason. I don’t like it.” You shake your head and laugh “No one’s looking at me.” Ava levels you with a look “And the place is packed! People are gonna touch me occasionally.” Ava sighs and drops her head on your shoulder “We can have more fun on our own though.” You feel her breath against your ear “I can make you feel so good for as long as you want over and over again then we can cuddle in bed and watch a movie. Don’t you want that?” You suck in a breath “Better than staying here hm?” You bite back a groan. It’s tempting “Just a little longer?” Ava kisses up your neck and whines “Please?” The bathroom door creaks letting laughter and the booming sound of music flood the bathroom.

Ava quickly pulls the both of you into the closest stall, shutting the door behind you. You hear a group of girls come in their loud drunken voices and laughter filling the bathroom. Ava presses you against the wall and kisses you, pulling her body flush against yours. Her hands squeeze your hips before trailing up and under the thin shirt you’re wearing. You smile and whisper between kisses “Can you seriously not wait?” She shakes her head and kisses down to your chest “Keep it down baby okay?” She sinks down to her knees and looks up at you as she lifts your skirt and pushes your panties down your thighs “I don’t want them to hear you.” She whispers before her head dives between your thighs, her tongue darting out to lick up your folds, parting your pussy lips. Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth, your body immediately tensing up. She lets out a muffled groan before pushing her tongue inside your hole, cranking her neck back to get a better angle, one that makes your eyes roll back and your hips rolls against her.

You slump against the wall letting your hand drop down to your side. Ava gently grabs it and places it on top of her head instead, fluttering her eyes open and looking up at you. You hear water running just as Ava goes faster. Her tongue flicking faster making wet sounds fill the stall “You’re doing really good baby.. Are you just good at staying quiet or am I not doing a good job?” You shake your head and moan “S-So good..You’re doing so good.” She moans against you “Really? Is this better than dancing with your friends hm?” her hands slide to your inner thigh, her thumbs gently spreading your lips open letting your wetness and her spit drip down your thighs “Better than getting drunk and talking to a bunch of nobodies?” You nod and hook one of your legs around her shoulder. You hear the water turn off and bite your lip. Ava glances at you and smiles before licking up to your clit and wrapping her lips around it, sucking hard. You squeal and quickly slap a hand over your mouth,Ava chuckles. The girls murmur quietly and shuffle in their place, looking around you assume, before they continue talking. You curse and glare down at Ava “Did you- Ah..need to do that?” She smiles “I need to make you feel good and by the noise you just let out I think I did. It felt good, didn’t it?” You hear a purse clamp shut before you see their heels pass by your stall. The door creaks and shuts softly, their muffled voices drift away.

“Finally I thought they’d never leave.” You laugh and let out a moan. Your body finally relaxing “Now that we’re alone, wanna cum for me?” You feel two of her fingers probing at your hole before slowly pushing in “O-Oh shit..yesyes keep going. Please.” Your hips move against her, riding her face and she lets out a guttural moan. Her eyes fluttering and her brows pinched in pleasure “I’m close..I-I’m so close please Ava..” She laps at you faster and squeezes her thighs together. You feel yourself arch off the wall as you tighten around her “You taste so good. So good baby- Keep cumming.” Her thighs quiver as she drinks up your release, letting out choked moans. She lets you ride out your orgasm before slowing down. Moaning softly as she gently licks you clean. You whine and grip her hair “Ava..” She groans and plants a soft kiss on your clit before rising up and kissing you letting you taste yourself on her lips “Hmm I love you. I love you so so much.” You sigh into the kiss and wrap your arms around her neck “Still wanna go back out there?” You shake your head and brush her hair, flattening the strands sticking out from your hand gripping her hair like your life depended on it a minute ago. Ava sighs softly and nuzzles her head into your hand “Let’s go home.” She smiles and and and takes your hand pulling you both out of the stall “Wait!” You turn around your eyes searching frantically “My underwear. Where-“ Ava grips your hand again and pulls you away “Just leave it. You don’t want to wear it again if it touched these floors.” Your lips twist in disappointment as you hesitantly follow Ava out of the bathroom.

masterlist

[xxkajtattooxx]

The night was getting later, but it seemed like time was going slow, as if the two were in their own little world. This was something Kaj could get used to. His intention had not been to try and talk Jade up, but it had come so easily. In this small amount of time, he'd learned a lot about her, and she had learned a little bit about him. He didn't want to hold anything back, but there was apart of him that he held back, the side of him that some might call him a bad person for. No matter how long it had been, he'd always see himself as the thief, the liar, and the player. The player part might still be true, but he wasn't a thief anymore, and he tried to lie as little as he could. They were only a couple hours into getting to know each other. At some point, he'd have to come clean; for now, he'd keep the peace. "Actually, it's hidden in the bathroom closet. Gotta keep my cover on the down-low. The secret lair? That's a work in progress." He wished in this moment he wasn't having to focus on the road, because it was rather difficult to focus. "Be careful what you wish for. I could be crazy," he said, giving her a wink. "With time, you'll see it all. Don't go rushing things." Kaj listened closely as she spoke, simply giving her the space to say whatever she needed. It was good to let out feelings, and for some reason almost easier to tell a stranger. He felt good that she was feeling comfortable enough with him to reveal her feelings. "I think any of those professions would be lucky to have you. It's all up to you now, though. They can have their opinions, but at the end of the day, it's you who decides. Not them, not your friends—you." Her passion was endearing, something he had in himself. For Kaj, passion was incredibly important in all aspects of life. Passion was the thing that drove him to provide himself with a better life. "A teacher is one of the most important people in a child's life, aside from their parents. You guide them, teach them, show them how to do things, and then you send 'em off to their next chapter." At least, that's what he'd heard. He didn't have any connections with his teachers—he barely showed up to school—but he knew it was a great cause. "Honestly he sleeps most of the time. I try to tire him out before I go to work. I know he'd be happy if I was with him all the time though. It's why I want to get him a pal. I just... Need a bigger place first." He sighed. "Boy eats like he pays for the food." When she took his hand, he was taken aback, but relaxed into her grasp. "Y'know what? Just go wild! I don't even care what color you do." He laughed, wiggling his fingers. "My eyes?" he asked, looking back into hers. He couldn't help but to allow his eyes to travel down a little, but he quickly caught himself and looked forward, hoping she didn't notice. Shaking his head at her, his eyes widened. "Holy shit," he breathed. "I can't say I've ever had a woman do... Any of that for me. Sounds like the exact thing I need after a long session. Do you know how much my body kills after like, an eight hour tattoo appointment?" Nodding, he hummed and clicked his tongue. "The most complete package."

"I've heard that. It sucks. For what you guys do, you should be paid the world." Kaj felt a little bit disappointed when she confirmed it was her car. He didn't want this to end yet. If he weren't such a 'gentleman' as she'd said, he would probably convince Jade to come home with him, but he respected her more than that. Pulling over, he parked the car on the side of the road, facing the front of his car to the front of her's. Pulling his car into park, he unbuckled his seat belt and looked to her. "You pop the hood and I'll get the cables, okay?"

When Jade first flagged Kaj down only an hour or so ago, she didn’t know what to expect. She figured he would tell her to fuck off and leave him alone, since he was out for a walk with Lazarus but that wasn’t the case. Kaj was a complete gentleman. He made sure they got back safely to his place to grab the jumper cables, they were laughing, teasing, and flirting the entire time with each other, and he wasn’t even trying to cross any boundaries or make a move, even though it was written across both of their faces, of should we kiss not. She even was learning to let more people in. To see all the sides of her and to slowly put down the guard she made around her heart. Not all at once but it was happening the more she was talking with Kaj and smiling and laughing. “Do you have your cape hidden in the trunk? Maybe a secret lair back at your apartment? You also forget a complete gentlemen too. I like this handsome charming side to you. I wanna see more sides to you.”she said with a hint of a tease in the beginning but being serious in the end. Jade wanted to see all sides of Kaj. She wasn’t offended at all by his comment. She agreed. “Please say it because I said the same thing to them. My mom wanted me to get my law degree or attend medical school. Have a worthy profession and make something out of life. When I told her I was going to get my degree in early childhood education and to be a preschool teacher, she about had a heart attack. I was going against her wishes.”she huffed and rolled her eyes not at him definitely not at Kaj. She took a breath before looking over at him. “I do. I love what I do. I’m making a difference in these kids lives. You actually hit it right on the nose. That’s the kind of teacher I am. I put my foot down when I need to, but other than that I’m the type that gives out hugs and high fives.”she chuckled with a smile on her face. “Puppy cuddles are the best. Oh I have no doubt. He’s a daddy’s boy. He doesn’t want you to leave. Dont we all have to make that money. Pay for their food and toys.”she smiled. Jade understood. Tater Tot was like her kid. Gotta make sure he’s fed and even though he already has a million and one toys, picks out one more to bring home. “Mmmmm let’s see.” She grabbed his hand to check out his nails and think about the colors. Their first touch. “Alright we already said Dark purple and black. So maybe a dark blue, or even white. Blood red could do. Or just a bright red. Something to bring out your eyes.”Jade said looking at his eyes. She gasped when he scoffed again crossing her arms in a cute manor but at the same time trying not to bust out laughing. “Getting dinner cooked for you, a massage after a long day, watching your favorite tv shows or movies, dessert too.”The blush was back on her cheeks again hearing the compliments. “That’s me. The complete package?”

The smiles, laughs, and looks they were sharing with each other was an instant reaction for Jade. She didn’t have to hide how these moments together were making her feel. She wanted more moments like these. Maybe not the whole breaking down and car not starting moment, but the glances and smiles and laughs and blushes and being together moments. Jade wanted more of those. She hoped Kaj did too. “I over exaggerated that. It’s not half. It’s all my paycheck. Teachers get mini pay. For what we do and what we have to take home sometimes, we get very little pay for it.”she said. She looked out and nodded as she saw her car was the only one here. “That would be me yep.”

[emathyst9]

Ok I might have overreacted I had just woken up earlier and I usually don't feel too good right after that

But I'm feeling a lot better now

And also guess what? I'm fucking animating!!!!

[ourceliumnetwork]

y'know. i don't often hate the way my brain is and how difficult it makes certain things for me.

i do a little today though.

[tonycries]

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) - G.S.

Synopsis. Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pànty-stealer! roommate! Gojo, annoyances-to-lovers, he’s REALLY down bad, vírgin! Gojo, oraI (fem receiving), màle màsturbation, pining, face-sítting, jealousy (his side), fírst times, unprotected, creampíe, teary Gojo, pànty-gagging, HEINOUS things, pet names, aIcohol mentions, swearing.

Word count. 8.6k (whoopsies)

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week hehe <3

“Damn…” you sigh at the glaringly empty drawer, rubbing your eyes as if that would make a difference - maybe even magically materialize a fresh pair of panties in front of you. “It’s the second time this month.”

Or was it the third?

But, alas, standing around in your bedroom on a Sunday night does not give you the answers. Or any extra underwear.

Which is why you find yourself making a beeline for the bathroom - teeth gritted, stomach flipping at how very, very exposed you felt underneath the thin fabric of your shorts. Cursing everything from the building’s rundown old washing machine to Gojo’s stupid smile when he took away your laundry basket.

You could’ve sworn you saw your last pair perched right on top of your pile of old clothes, all flimsy and an obscene red that stood out amongst everything else. 

Seriously, how hard would it have been to lose that thing? Maybe you could bother him into buying a new washing machine for-

“Woah there-” Before you know it, you’re crashing face-first into a wall? Pillows? Gojo - unfairly shirtless. “Now, what’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

The lack thereof. 

Maybe because you can’t say that, maybe because of what looks - feels - like miles upon miles of milky, sculpted skin, you’re instead settling for an extremely eloquent, “Nothing I uh-” But whatever excuse catches in your chest as you raise your face - still smushed between two large pecs - up, up, up and-

Oh. 

It’s not like you’re seeing something new - far from it, actually, unfortunately for your poor heart.

And at first, you’d thought it was some strange habit - hell, maybe the guy just didn’t like t-shirts. But it was around the fourth or fifth time he’d forgone one that you realized Gojo Satoru was just a tease. A no-good, insufferably smug tease that just loved to catch you ogling him. 

But, well, at least the rent was cheap.

Though, you weren’t exactly complaining about the view either…

Because lo and behold stood the infamous campus sweetheart - you knew about fourteen people who’d kill to see this exact sight. Gojo’s cloudy hair tousled, tiny droplets of water twinkling like diamonds against the bathroom light. Bouncing off his rippling abs, his strong arms circling your waist to stop you from falling backwards. Holding you too fucking close against the white towel slung low on his hips. His skin damp, smelling so delicious-

“Gojo, did you use my body lotion?” 

“Awww–” he whines, finally releasing his grip on you. “You were supposed to admire me some more.”

You scoff, eyes darting over broad shoulders - partially to search for your laundry basket, partially because you really couldn’t handle looking right at a shirtless Gojo Satoru any longer. “As if. Get out if you’re done.”

“Damn, woman. Feisty.” Gojo lets out a deep chuckle - smooth and cocky - when you’re hastily shoving him away from the doorframe. “If you wanted to put your hands on me that bad then you jus’ hafta ask, y’know~”

It was way too late for this. 

“Hilarious.” you deadpan, though you let go of where you were gripping Gojo’s arm like it burned. Immediately stepping behind the bathroom door before he could make you lose whatever’s left of your sanity, “Next time you hog the bathroom m’gonna smash those ugly new sunglasses of yours.”

He’s pressing his foot between that gap in the door to stop you from closing it, “Oi, don’t think I don’t see that glint in your eyes, sweetheart.” Yeah, the glint in your eyes that told you if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under already. Which only makes him grin wider, “You’re telling me you really weren’t checkin’ out the most sought-after man on campus jus’ now?”

Huffing in frustration, you cross your arms, “I don’t see Geto Suguru anywhere.”

“...you take that back right now. I’m the pretty best friend.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Am not. Isn’t that why you’re still single?”

“Th-that’s not- fuckin’ Suguru? Really? Most people would kill for a look of this-” Gojo gestures at his bare torso, and once more you’re reminded that those absolutely awful protein shakes he makes every morning aren’t just for show. “-and you’re getting it daily.”

You reach out a hand, Gojo chest hot underneath your touch. He seizes up instantly, ears tinging red as you muse, “Yeah.” Only to push him fully out the doorway, “I just wish you’d shut up daily, too.”

With that, you’re shutting the door with a resounding slam! Feeling only slightly guilty until you hear Gojo’s squawks of protest from outside, “I really don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist.”

Right. Panties.

Something just a tad more important than recounting exactly how many abs Gojo Satoru had.

You let out a shuddering breath, clamoring to find that spare laundry basket you’d forgotten in here earlier today. Shuffling through through the soft clothes, hoping, praying to find-

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Fuck. 

Somehow, you’re hiding away your body lotion that night.

---

“Now, listen here, sweetheart. I know you look fuckin’ gorgeous in everything but-”

“Satoru.”

“But that-” he whirls around, pointing a long finger accusingly at the boxers you’d improvised into sleep shorts. Spitting venomously, “-that I cannot allow.”

You’re rolling your eyes at your roommate’s theatrics, forking through your pancakes while he monologues to himself more than you. “Why does it even matter? It was just for yesterday.” you mutter. “I didn’t have any clean uh- panties for the night n’ this worked.”

Thankfully, since the fresh laundry this morning, you’d found two more of your panties - courtesy of a very smug Gojo handing off your clothes. Ah, it felt like the universe itself was smiling down on you.

But oh if you thought the great Gojo Satoru was having a breakdown before then you weren’t prepared for when you lifted your gaze off the kitchen table. Only to meet his - eyes wide, a pretty pink blush coloring his cheeks, lips gawking and stuttering around what looked like a silent, “P-panties-”

You raise a brow, “What’s got you this worked up, Gojo?”

“Nothing.” he clears his throat, “Absolutely nothing at all. Panties? I love- er, wait no-”

“B-besides-” you bristle at the way his heavy gaze was now turning to flit between your face and down below. Dangerously. “They’re not even yours so I don’t know why it matters.”

This seems to snap him out of his little reverie, and he’s immediately standing up straighter, brows furrowing. He continues, in a much more serious tone than before, “They’re his?” 

You stab your breakfast with a bit too much vitriol than necessary, looking at Gojo with narrowed eyes, “If you mean the one my ex left behind then yes. Who else?”

Your ex wasn’t good for much - and Gojo seemed especially hostile towards him because of his distaste for your little living situation. But, hey, at least the guy was helping you out at this time. Albeit unknowingly. 

He’s raising his hands in mock-surrender, shuffling back into the kitchen to work on the rest of those “world famous” Gojo pancakes. “Nothing nothing.” he hums, and maybe it was how sleep-deprived you were - running on a few too many assignments due today and a few too little panties - but you think Gojo’s voice has a bit more bite to it than usual. Jaw clenching as he plows on, “Of course that fucker- in my- our apartment, too. Fuck-”

A spatula is suddenly mere inches from your face, Gojo brandishing it in front of you like a weapon as he declares, “We’re going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture today.”

“Gojo, I-”

“We-” he cuts you off, delicately placing another pancake on your plate - a little truce. So close now that it reminds you of last night - you could feel his minty breath on your face, count every long, sultry eyelash of his. “-are going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture n’ I’m paying. That’s final.”

And of course, in true Gojo fashion, you can barely get a word out before he’d immediately ducking out of the kitchen. You almost let your lips curl into a smile, hit with a sudden wave of endearment as you hear Gojo’s long legs padding urgently down the hallway to God-knows-where. Maybe he did know when to be-

Smack!

You jolt as you’re hit with a pair of boxers - fresh ones, thankfully, that you recognized from all the clothes you’d rummaged through last night - plopped unceremoniously onto your lap. Jaw dropping in disbelief when you look up to meet Gojo’s devilish grin. 

“Next time-” he winks, motioning at the fabric you were poking in concern now. “-wear mine.”

The talk of Yaga’s lecture hall that morning was of a pair of burned boxers found right outside your building, everyone speculating what the poor guy had done to have his presumed girlfriend make an example of it like that. 

For you, however, the only thing running through your mind was whether or not you could count properly.

Because surely you remembered it correctly when you counted two new underwear this morning - that gauzy black one and the deep red? Two. Definitely not the singular, sad piece of red fabric laying on your bed after breakfast today? Two. The only one you could find even after scouring through your whole bedroom. 

So where the fuck had that other one gone?

---

(8+ new messages)

Do not answer (roomie)🧿🧿: Hurry up ive been lurking inside that lingerie shop ya told me you liked n’ now the old ladies here look like they wanna eat me alive ＼(º □ º l|l)/

im boooored, gonna stand still n’ start blending in with these mannequins if you dont hurry up istg

Hurry

HURRY

HURRY THEY THINK IM SUSPICIOUS

PLEASE THEYRE GONNA ESCORT ME OUT

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ i literally SEE YOU outside 

BITCH STOP LAUGHING-

No sooner are you letting out a cackle at Gojo’s rapid-fire texts, you’re looking up to see the man himself being walked outside by two security guards. Squabbling heatedly in a way that had them heaving out long sighs - which, honestly, you felt a stab of relatable empathy for.

“-I swear I’m not a creep I’m jus’-” Gojo’s bickering dies on his tongue as he catches the sight of you walking closer to the commotion. Closer. Taking your sweet sweet time, eyes just barely glazing over him before- you’re walking away. “Hey!” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “Now, don’t you dare-” Before turning back to his wary escorts, “I’m with her.”

They exchange a look between each other, and no matter how much you’d like to pretend the scene had absolutely nothing to do with you - you’d rather Gojo doesn’t get banned from the mall altogether. 

“He’s right.” you drone out, one hand grabbing Gojo’s, the other forcing his head into an apologetic bow. Hissing to the side so that only he would hear, “Unfortunately.”

The two security guards now seem more amused than anything at your strange dynamic. One of them raises a brow, muttering, “Well…this one’s certainly a handful.” Turning around to head back to their stations, “Ya better keep a tight leash on your boyfriend.”

You sputter, eyes wide, “Oh- he’s not-”

But it’s too late - they’re both swiftly out of earshot, most likely more than happy to hand over the public nuisance off to you. And Gojo’s looking to you with a smug smirk, voice dropping about an octave deeper as he breathes against your ear, “So, gonna take your boyfriend to help out with lingerie shopping, sweetheart?”

Oh. God. 

This was going to be one long day.

“I’m only here because another one of mine disappeared, y’know.” you hiss, rifling through all the options before you. “Which really has me wondering why-”

“H-hey! How about this one?” Gojo interrupts, shoving a lacy set right in front of your face, his voice just a bit louder than what was appropriate. 

You sigh, catching the eyes of a few disapproving older women around you. “No this is-” But running a thumb over the fabric makes you bite back an insult. And for all how brash Gojo was, maybe his panty selection wasn’t awful. It was a flimsy little thing, gauzy and light blue - the type you’d typically wear on a night out. You meet his boyish grin, admitting, “...not bad.”

“See?” he laughs - eyes glinting with delight as he piles on a few more in your basket. “N’ if you’re impressed with that then you’re gonna be proposing to me when you realize it’s exactly your size-”

You quirk a brow, “How do you know my size, Gojo?”

And this makes his body stiffen, large shoulders squaring up, throat bobbing as he answers,“Uh? Experience?”

Oh, right. You’re rolling your eyes, fighting off a weird little stab of irritation. This probably isn’t the first time he’s come here with a girl, anyway. 

And yet, despite however much of an alleged “catch” Gojo was, he’d - perhaps mercifully - never brought anyone over. You don’t know why, but you didn’t really want to question it.

“A-anyway.” Gojo’s airy voice cuts through your thoughts. And he’s plucking up a few more sets of lingerie for you to sort through, “Can’t let these one, two, three- six lovely lil’ things go to waste now, can we?” At your look of confusion, he chuckles, guiding the two of you to the counter now. “Suguru’s holding a party at his place tonight, how would you like to do the honors of being my cute plus one?”

“I’d rather go with Yaga.”

Though, you really can’t say no - not when Gojo’s flashing you that black card as he pays for everything in an instant. Not when all he can prattle about on the way home  is how gorgeous you’d look together at Geto’s party - how you’ll have to beat everyone off of him with a stick (to which you reply that you’d no sooner do that than beat him with a stick.)

Not when he sits outside your bedroom door as you get ready later that night. Insisting on keeping you company even as you slip out of your towel. Looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t peeking in before eagerly turning to grab at one of your new set of silky white panties- only, they weren’t there.

Strange. 

“Hey, Gojo…” you call out, looking underneath your blankets for where you might’ve thrown them about after trying them on. Under your bed, in your drawers, anywhere. “-didn’t we buy six sets?”

“Huh? Dunno, I didn’t count. Just wear the blue one.” he whines, ushering you to hurry up from outside. Face burning because shit, this was you and you were inside - still wrapped up in only that sinful little towel. Oh, would the painful death really be worth it if he happened to accidentally look around? “S’pretty and y’know what else?”

Your voice was muffled as you hastily put on your clothes, “What?”

“It matches my eyes.”

Really strange.

---

Thankfully for Gojo, you didn’t go with Yaga to the party - nor did you find your lost pair of panties, sadly, but that wasn’t too much of a concern for him. 

And here he was - one hurried Uber ride and about several billion death threats from you later. Wishing that you’d actually just acted on one of them because fuck at least then he wouldn’t have to be watching from across the room as some bastard from the university basketball team tried to chat you up.

Gojo can’t even hear the way the girls surrounding him were giggling about something or the other, alcohol making his tongue a little heavier, eyes a bit glassier. 

Nothing like the way that other man was drinking in that polite smile on your face. Tilting your head to face forwards and- God, why won’t you just look at him instead?

Would that guy still look at you that way if he knew you were wearing lingerie matching his eyes right now?

“Not gonna entertain your fans?” Geto’s voice rings through his whirlwind thoughts, eyeing down the forgotten crowd in amusement.

“When have I ever?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

He lets out a knowing laugh, “Yeah, you little vir-” Turning into a coughing fit when Gojo elbows his best friend straight in his stomach. “Anyways.” Geto gestures with his drink in your direction, as if Gojo hadn’t seen - as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind right now. “Well, your lil’ roomie there seems to be popular, too, huh? Star player of the basketball team n’ all. 

He clicks his tongue, slumping further against the thumping wall. “So? I’m taller, and more handsome.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?”

“Y-yeah?” he sputters. 

“Well then why aren’t you over there with her?” Geto hums, lips curling. “Looks t’me like even she doesn’t like him that much so why’re you being a pussy over here? Always sneaking around stealing her-” 

“Shut up-” And Gojo knows he’s riling him up, he knows that Geto wants to see a little drama - maybe finally shut up his pining over the one girl he’s wanted for the past year - and couldn’t have. It’s a trap. But Gojo can’t stop his head from snapping between you and his best friend’s sly smirk. Slurring indignantly, “Of course I’m fuckin’ handsome, n’ taller. I’d make a better boyfriend too and-” He trails off at the sight of that loser leaning in - but more importantly that tiny furrow in your brows, your hands on his chest softly keeping him at bay. “-and m’gonna go over there n’ prove it.”

“Ah, that loser’s gonna thank me later.”

And, hell, Gojo could barely even walk. Barely even think straight as he’s parting the stuffy living room, ignoring whatever whispers and titters were following him. 

“I said no-”

“Hey, sweetheart.” you jump when someone - Gojo - creeps up from behind you. Large build hanging off your own when he nuzzles his face into your neck. And you could feel his toothy grin on your skin, “Missed me?”

Your face burns, “I uh-” Angling your face as dignifiedly as possible to face your roommate, “Gojo, are you drunk?”

“Drunk on you, yes.”

“What the-”

The man in front of you pipes up - shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “Didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.” Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but under the scrutiny of Gojo Satoru. His big arms tightening around your middle - when did they even get there? “I’ll just uh- get out of your way, man.”

“Mhm, by the way,” Gojo puffs up his chest a bit, clearly towering over the other man - ha, take that Suguru. “Nice loss against Kyoto last week, real knee-jerker.” 

You smack Gojo’s chest at his rudeness, to which he only smiles wider. Watching the other man being swiftly handled away by another apologetic member of the basketball team.

“Gojo.”

And before you can react, Gojo’s dragging his pretty plump lips along where that light blue band of your bra was just peeking out, murmuring lowly, “Love it when you scold me like that.” Still refusing to let go of you despite the jealous looks thrown your way, “Let’s go home, my girl.”

Oh, the look on your face was priceless. 

He just wished he could fish out his phone and record, or maybe even tell Geto to take a picture - help him make it his wallpaper. And he did - over fifteen times, in fact, as the two of you helped drag him away from the thrumming party. Geto doesn’t listen, of course, and you neither do you - grumbling out a slew of profanities underneath your breath that makes the Uber driver look at the two of you weird.

And yet, Gojo’s biggest issue right now was trying to climb up these fucking stairs - not when they were trying to run away from him. 

“I swear to God, Gojo-” you huff, chest heaving under the weight of walking - well, more like dragging - your roommate up to your apartment. Knees wobbly - maybe at the intensity of his cologne, maybe at the way his biceps were flexing on your shoulders, probably at how fucking useless he was. Damn lightweight. “You better cover my rent for the next year for this.”

“Of course I will~” his hot breath tickles your ear, “Anything for m’girl. I’ll take care of us forever, don't you worry your pretty lil’ head.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way your heart clenches - just a little bit. And if you’re slamming open Gojo’s bedroom door with a little more force than necessary, well, at least he’s a bit too impaired to nag at you about it.

He bounces lightly when you throw him on his plush mattress, giggling softly, “You should just join me, y’know. Have a little sleepover.”

“Drop dead.” you monotone, not even daring to look back at him while you shuffle through Gojo’s shirts. Throwing one over your shoulder at him, “N’ wear this, I just know you’ll complain about messing up your favorite button-up tomorrow morning.”

“Aww, you always take care of me so well, my girl~”

That familiar little nickname makes a shiver run down your spine, and it’s all you can do to concentrate on shuffling through Gojo’s drawers in search of his shorts. Absent-mindedly reaching for the lowest drawer and-

“Wait!” 

You jump, whirling around to catch Gojo sitting up ram-rod straight on the bed, eyes wide, hand reaching out as if to stop you. Swallowing thickly, you ask. “Gojo?”

And he jolts - like the very sound of your voice is sending electricity zapping through his veins. Abruptly scrambling off the bed before resting two hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you away from the drawer. “My shorts are uh- in my wardrobe, heh. Sorry about that.”

Furrowing your brows at the sudden twist, you squirm in his grasp to look at the drawer again. Failing - when Gojo keeps his grip steadfast, “Why’re you acting so-” 

“How about we order take out? My treat?”

And that night, tucking yourself into bed, you should be falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You should be caring less about that strange little outburst of Gojo’s inside his room. You should have realized sooner - those light blue panties you’d worn tonight were gone. No longer in your hamper of old clothes.

And there was only one thing to do. 

---

Gojo thinks he shouldn’t - fuck he knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even want to- well, that last bit was a lie.

Gojo Satoru first met you about a year ago, when you’d come knocking at his door asking about his ad for a roommate. It was more because he was bored inside this big apartment by himself than anything, really, but here you were all gorgeous and sweet, flashing him a smile that was burned into his mind for the rest of the week, at the very minimum. How could he ever say no?

And when you’d taken to walking around the apartment in those slutty lil’ shorts as a way to get back at his perpetual shirtless-ness? Thin panties just peeping out of the low hem? 

God, it was everything he could do to not run to the bathroom with each little glimpse. He was fucked, so very embarrassingly fucked. 

He just never thought it would get to this point - the first time had been an accident, honestly. When your laundry had gotten mixed up with his. Surely he didn’t remember having such a cute pair of pink panties in his closet? And surely it didn’t mean anything if he just-so-happened to stash them away, right?

At least, that’s what Gojo told himself the first time. And the second. And the third. And shit, it was a bit of an addiction now, and within a year of rooming with you, he’d accumulated a drawer stuffed guiltily with exactly what he shouldn’t be having. 

Gojo Satoru - insufferable campus sweetheart, the dreamy first place on everyone’s To-Fuck list - had been hoarding away your pretty panties. Like the pathetic virgin he pretends he isn’t. 

And so here he was - that dirty little drawer flung open, pants pulled down just enough, one hand flat on the flat surface to steady himself, while the other fisted desperately around his swollen cock - and one of your panties. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” he’s hissing, body shuddering in lewd little tremors at that torturous drag of fabric down his length. Squeezing at his thick base, moving fast - filthy up, up, up to thumb along the end of his sopping slit. “Feels s’good- too fucking good hngh-”

Such a pretty, wet gasp escapes him when your soaked, absolutely ruined underwear catches on his veins, tangling around his sensitive shaft. And he’s biting his lip, trying not to make a noise when he threads through the mess down below. 

“Oh fuck, yer killin’ me even when you’re ngh- not here.” he breathes unsteadily, weaving the sticky fabric around his long fingers. Tight - just how he knew you would. “S’like you know what you do t’me with these.”

They were your blue ones, this time - the ones from just last night. The ones you were wearing not even a full day ago. And Gojo has them wrapped daintily around his rock-hard cock, stark against the blushing red at his fat head. Already so drenched in precum as he fucks his fist. 

“Y’looked so p-pretty with these, sweetheart.” he groans over the wet fwip! fwip! fwip! Eyes rolling to the back of his head with each long, feverish stroke. “So pretty being mine. Ngh- so pretty in my- fuck.” 

Slam!

He’s hitting his palm facedown on the wood, knees buckling, eyes scrunching shut with pleasure. 

And that ruined, utterly depraved part of Gojo wonders whether next time he should steal your bras too? Have the full set of you proudly wearing his color like some secret little slut for him. 

He’s letting out a ragged little laugh, oh how cute you’d look all confused. Nipples hard through your flimsy excuse of a t-shirt while you looked around for them. While you asked him for help. 

Oh, just the thought of that has Gojo’s red, furious cock beading glossy drops of precum at his tip. Leaking a sinful, slippery sheen down his wrist. “Ah.” he lets out a guttural groan when his angry dick twitches in his hand, falling onto his elbow on the drawer. Not having the strength - or the sanity - to keep himself up anymore. “Look what you’ve-” Gojo’s eyes catch sight of a flash of red inside, sounding so wrecked. “Look what you’ve done.”

And those obscene red panties are snatched up by his free hand in a second, not even a second wasted before Gojo’s bringing them up to his face. 

Fuck. 

“Look what you’ve done. Look how ngh- filthy you’ve made me.” he whines, muffled. Hips fucking up in quick, uncontrollable little thrusts into his closed fist. Voice a pitch higher as he spits out embarrassing little accusations, “How pathetic. Gettin’ fuck- gettin’ off to this? Me of all hah- people like this? Can’t imagine how f-fucking mad you’d be.”  

Would you figure out it was him? Would you look in his drawer again? Teach him a lesson or two about being such a pathetic little pervert for his roommate. 

Maybe - just maybe - if Gojo plays his cards right, gets on his knees and begs for mercy, then you’d let him keep his little treasure. 

He throws his head back in a humorless little laugh when his aching hand slows down to languid, unforgivable tugs. He had time, anyway, your classes ended late today. Torturous - exactly the way he imagines you’d drive him mad. “Heh- wish this was you.”

You’d be so much meaner, pressing down on that little divot at his tip, flicking teasingly like you were trying to fuck out something delicious. You’d be running your nails down his achy veins, running your soft palms around his painful balls. 

You’d whisper, “This all you got, Toru?”

“Oh fuck!” Gojo moans, raspy little sounds of what sounds like your name filtering through the crevices of his fingers, your panties. “Fuck fuck fuck- gonna cum.” he whines. Heavy balls smacking back into his thighs with each thrust into your imaginary hand. How he wished you were here. He’s managing to wrench his eyes open to spy down at his sloppy cock - needing to see how your cute lil’ panties would look painted all white for him. How he wished you- “Gonna-”

Oh. Fuck. 

You. 

“Aw, why stop now, Gojo?”

You’re leaning against Gojo’s open bedroom door, flashing him such a sultry little smirk. Your voice almost a purr when you echo, “I said…” Before taking two long steps to where he stood frozen, “Why stop now?”

Gojo lets the damp fabric held up to his face drop in guilt - yet the other stays firmly wrapped around that hand cock of his still in hand. 

“S-sweetheart what are you- why-” And perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has terrorized this planet, he’s speechless. Worry-bitten lips sagging open stupidly, “I- this is-”

You cut him off, “So you’re the panty thief.” So close now that Gojo’s dick was throbbing at each heave of your chest, the way you were squeezing your thighs together. Eyes sliding down his body to rest at the mangled mess of your all-new panties around his painfully hard cock. “I knew it.”

“I can explain-”

“All those times pretending to help me?” you bat your lashes in a way that makes him gulp. Words dripping with the same tease he’d imagined in daydreams just like this. “When you were the pervert stealing my panties? Are you even ashamed?”

Gojo flushes an innocent pink, excuses tumbling out of those pretty lips immediately. But they sound like lies even to him.

“This- ngh-” he’s rolling his hips forward when you slide a smaller finger down his arm, between his pecs, almost the way down to those tufts of white. “Fuuuck- y-you’re not mad? Are ya the devil herself cuz you’re gonna- ngh- kill me this way.”

Humming, “Class was canceled, but of course - don’t hah- stop on my account, Gojo.”

“Toru.” he’s gasping out, a low moan wrenching out of him when he’s bowing his body into his fist again. Squeezing - almost warningly - at his hilt. “C-call me Toru. Please.”

And fuck he could’ve cum right then and there at that devilish little smile you give him, biting down on your lower lip - inches from his that it felt like you were biting down on his. Maybe you were, shit Gojo didn’t even know right now. 

“Toru.”

That’s all it takes for Gojo’s lips to be crashing onto yours. Biting back a little whimper at the messy clash of teeth, of spit, because one taste of your candied lips and he was already so addicted. 

“Mmpf-” Gojo gasps, chasing hotly after your lips. Eyes half-lidded to watch the snapping of those delicate strings of saliva, “You’re- you’re so-” And he’s way too impatient to get out his words, licking heatedly at the slit of your mouth. Over and over and over-  “As bad as me- ngh-”

“Are ya sure about that?” you grin, cunt clenching at your roommate’s pained grunt when you pull away. “Because look-”

And the both of you are stuck on the way Gojo’s moving again, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like he didn’t even feel the way his leaky tip was smearing along the front of your sinfully short skirt. 

“Can’t help it.” he whines, kissing down your neck. Hips urging forwards to slip up the thigh-length fabric, and when you don’t pull away, Gojo drags your skirt up, up, up with his pulsing length, “You don’t know what you do to me- fuck.”

His jaw falls slack, ogling at the sight of your pretty pussy on full display for him. Already so glossy with your sweet sweet juices, needy between your restless thighs. Bare. 

And this might be the first time he’s seen a cunt in real life but Gojo already knows - he already feels - that she’s gonna be the death of him. 

Sharp teeth nip at your bottom lip, tugging. “What the fuck-” Gojo breathes - more to himself than anything. “What the fuck what the-” Bringing down his free hand to run the pads of his long fingers along your puffy folds, as if to confirm whether this was real. “-fuck! Going out like this? You’re even dirtier than me, huh?.” 

“What can I do?” Sliding your arms around his broad shoulders, palms running along the heated skin. Back arching to grind down on his hand, “Someone stole all my panties.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, because Gojo doesn’t hesitate for even a second before he’s bringing his dripping wet fingers up to his lips. Smoldering eyes looking right into yours when he pops them in his mouth. Sucking them dry. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.”

In a split second, you’re being splayed out on Gojo’s king-sized bed like such a slut. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw. And it happens so fast that you almost think you’re seeing things - but, no, the way you’re bouncing against the silky sheets was real. Your skirt bunching up at your waist was real. 

Gojo’s hazy gaze getting stuck right at the spot between your legs was real. 

“Shiiiit.” he murmurs, low and gravelly, like he’s moving through molasses. Stalking towards your trembling figure as if hypnotized, “Oh, she looks even prettier this way.”

You shuffle in embarrassment, pressing your thighs together, “Toru-”

But he doesn’t hear you, instantly scrambling onto the bed. “No- no no no no no-” Just wrenching your legs apart with his hands. “No, you don’t get to hide th-this from me, you don’ know how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve imagined-”

You’re gasping when he runs the tip of his index between your sopping wet slit, coating his fingers in your juices once more. Teasing. “N’ so wet. This all f’me? God, can’t even- ngh-”

“So eager.” you mumble, fingers threading through Gojo’s soft locks to pull him in so close. To drag him towards where you needed him the most. “Why don’t you jus’ shut up- N’ put that big mouth of yours into use somewhere else?”

His eyes widen, words a whisper, “C-can I?” He doesn’t wait for your response before flipping the two of you so easily. Having you toppling precariously on his lap now, “Can I really? Never done this before.”

Never?

It’s not before he lets out a shy huff, that you realize that you said that out loud. “So what? S’that bad?” Two large hands groping and kneading your ass to keep you in place, “Ya didn’t actually ngh- believe all those stories on campus, did ya?”

Squirming at the feeling of his massive girth rubbing up against your swollen folds, “D-doesn’t matter.” You grit out, “You can…”

And no sooner are you seeing Gojo’s megawatt smile, you’re already feeling it between your thighs. Being wrestled up like some glorified ragdoll, dragging your sloppy cunt all the way up to straddle Gojo’s pretty face. 

“So, this is what she ngh- looks like.” he whines, hot breath lapping at your quivering pussy. “Shit, she’s so wet I could almost-” You’re gasping when the man below you simply sticks his awaiting tongue out, admiring your pussy while letting your syrupy sweet slick drip! drip! drip! down his throat. “This all f’me?” 

The only thing you can give him right now is a needy little whine - which makes Gojo kiss the fat of your ass with a sharp smack! Biting his lip at the way it jiggles against his hand, “Tell me, where did my feisty girl go?”

That lewd little nickname has you scoffing in pathetic frustration, your grip searing on his scalp when you force his obscene mouth closer. “Y-you seriously need to-” Pulling, “-shut up, Toru.”

And oh, you’d played right into Gojo’s devilish hands. This was exactly what he wanted - to have his face stuffed between your limp legs, ready mouth meshing messily with the folds of your dripping cunt. “There she is.” he moans, the tip of his tongue slurping up the sloppy dredges of your slick. Carding between your pussy lips, “Oh- fuck there she is. Yeah use me like that- use me.”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute and you wonder how. Because Gojo was lapping at your cunt so feverishly, everywhere - from your inner thighs, to your folds, to just around the circles of your sloppy entrance like he wanted to taste it all. And couldn’t decide where to go first. 

“T-Toru.” you let out a honey sweet mewl of his name when the tip of his nose is rubbing against your clit. “There. Right there-”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head when he easily locates your sensitive nub. Wrapping those ruby lips around your clit to give an experimental suck. 

Shit, he could almost pass out from how heavenly you look on top guiding him. Your entire body jolting with each roll of his hot tongue, giving him such a pretty view of your tits up your silky shirt. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all into his mouth when he toys with your pulsing clit. 

“Oh fuck!” your hips are darting away with each zap of electricity sent down your spine. 

Which, for Gojo - who’s only ever dared to dream up this moment on those lonely nights - isn’t enough. 

“Know m’new to this, sweetheart, but stop bein’ nice n’ fuckin-” He’s pulling on the crease of your waist, dragging you to rest your entire weight on his face - his mouth. “-sit.” You’re keening when Gojo forces you to collapse on his soft tongue, bullying past your puffy folds and into that sloppy ring of muscle. Jus’ barely dipping past the resistance, “I said use me so fuckin’ use me. Don’ care if I can’t breathe - if I fucking suffocate- ngh- m’gonna die if you don’t just sit.”

“Fine.” You cry out when the curve of his tongue is molding into your gummy walls, pushing recklessly past. Not even fucking easing you into it before he’s fucking you on his tongue. Calculated, mean little thrusts in search of all your sweet spots. “No half-assing then, m’kay?”

Though, you had the feeling that he would do anything but. 

“Good, now keep still.” he’s scolding, one hand starting up again in those slow, satisfied tugs on his length. “Please keep still.” And the other dancing between your legs to push a finger inside your snug cunt. “Mmm it’s a tight fit, can feel ya clenching around me. Ngh- always wondered how it’d feel- where that would be.”

Blinking away the haze in your eyes, you look down at where Gojo was already locked on you, “Th-that?”

“That.” he breathes into your cunt, voice reverent as he speeds up. “S’your pussy gonna tell me where your good spot is? Gonna help me ngh- learn?”

And to your embarrassment - and Gojo’s smug satisfaction, it only takes a few more hurried strokes of his tongue before he’s nudging against your g-spot. Both the texture of his tongue and his long, cold fingers curling to assault the poor bundle of nerves. 

Your body bows deeper as if on auto-pilot, “Oh- fuck! You fucking- hngh”

He’s snickering at the way you’re so responsive, cock hard - and only swelling girthier in his fist with each adorable moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh yeah? There? Ya like this?” he moans, “Ya like shutting up the ngh- p-pervert that steals your panties with your cunt?” 

Getting faster. More attuned to his feral need. 

Lips smacking in tempo with those obscene squelches, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his cheeks hollow. Fingers still so rapid, moving to make out and toy so messily with you clit - untimed, sloppy but fuck did you love it. 

“Y-yes.” you’re shoving his mouth guiltlessly deeper. Letting his long tongue explore every crevice and inch of you. Sloppier. So, so filthy. “Love it- fuck- you’re such a fast fucking learner.”

“I know.”

There was that cocky Gojo Satoru you were used to, lips curling into a strawberry pink smile around your clit - all glossy and sweet with a sheen of your slick. Making such a mess of the lower half of his face, his chin, shit, all the way down to his jaw. 

“M’close-” you choke out at the sight, “M’so fuckin’ close- gonna- gonna cum on your tongue, Toru.”

“Look at you ruining me.” his words hit you hard on your sensitive cunt, sending shockwaves up your arched spine. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid mewls.“Absolutely defiling me. Are ya proud of nghhh fuck- yourself?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a strained, “Yes! Yes yes yes yes- God, m’so close, Toru/ Gonna cum m’gonna-”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming at first, just that you’re riding Gojo’s unfairly pretty face in harsh grinds - just the way he liked it. Jaw grinding against your cunt, chin hitting you with each slutty jerk of your hips, letting you use him all you want to ride through your high. 

And his fingers are digging into your hips, stopping you from pulling away even when you were snow. Even when you’re sobbing in oversensitivity. So painfully good. 

“Ngh- T-Toru–” you’re slurring out, his name thick on your tongue. “M’not gonna cum on your dick if you k-keep hah- acting this way.”

Only then does a pussydrunk Gojo Satoru raise his bleary eyes back up at you. Giving you a strained little grunt of acceptance, before parting ways with your pussy with a lingering, wet kiss on your clit. Barely-audible as he whispers, “Gonna see ya soon.”

You don’t have the time to think about his newfound addiction. Because in all of three seconds, he’s plopping you back down so prettily on his lap. Purposefully feeding your sopping wet slit his weeping red tip. 

“Please.” Gojo’s usually-arrogant grin has fallen into such a pretty pout with one graze of his length sandwiched between your folds. “I did good, right? Please ngh- so I th-think if I made you cum then I get to hah- fuck you how I want.”

And it’s not that you didn’t appreciate it before - but looking at his thick tip pushing up against your cunt right now has you recognizing that shit, Gojo is massive. 

Fat head blushing a pretty reddish, leaking so messily down, down, down those glistening veins at his side and to the creamy ring at his base - from when he’d cum, just from eating you out, you realize with a jolt. His girth so intimidatingly thick, long enough that you know you won’t be walking for a week straight, at least. All throbbing and angry with every second he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your cunt. 

Gojo Satoru is massive. 

“Like what ya see?” he echoes your thoughts, a soaked thumb coming down to pry apart your glossy folds. Grinning at the way your hole was already so needy and clenching around nothing. “Think m’the ngh- perfect size for this pretty pussy?”

Through it all, you find it in yourself to muse, “Only one way to find out. Gonna let me be your first, Toru?”

And then he’s pushing in, shallow, high little gasps bursting from his lips with each inch being bullied into your plush cunt. 

“O-oh fuck-” Gojo can’t stop himself from taking a good look at the way your pussy lips are bulging around him. Jaw dropping at the way your greedy entrance is only sucking him up more and more - trying to bite off more than you can chew with the way he was in so deep but barely even halfway in yet. “S’too good- oh my god- fuck I think m’gonna die. Is it s’pposed to feel th-this good?”

You’re running a hand gingerly through Gojo’s mussed-up hair, smoothing down the sides sticking up where you’d been pulling on it. “S’alright, Toru.” you soothe, letting him grind up into you. Trying to fit more - all of it. “You’ve got it- you’ve hah-”

You let out a pathetic little whine when his tip kisses your cervix, legs flexing around his toned waist. 

“Oh- ohhh fuck-” he’s barely able to string together coherent sentences now. Eyes falling till their half-lidded, body moving before his mind when he pulls yours stuck to his. “S-soo good n’ I haven’t even- oh!” His voice goes a few octaves higher when Gojo finally starts moving. “How can- it feel this good, hng-”

And shit for being inexperienced, he was fucking up into you so mean. Just in short little thrusts up like he was trying to fuck you even deeper - trying to squeeze inside more of himself impossibly. 

“Some- ah- some more, Toru-” 

He listens, and the stretch - fuck. Gojo wasn’t even trying yet, but his girth was already massaging your gummy walls so dizzyingly good. 

“Y-you’re so- ngh-” you graze your lips across his in what can barely be called a kiss. Too messy. Too depraved. “-so deep.” Sliding a hand about midway down your stomach to press down, “Can feel you all the way in here.”

Your words are sticking to Gojo like a second skin, driving him so fucking mad. Hips smacking up into you deep until his heavy balls were slapping your ass, sculpted pelvis crashing into yours.

“Stop talking.“ he spits, “Stop talking stop talking stop- talking.” Each word is punctuated by a desperate, messy stroke. Pushing you further and further up Gojo’s body from the obscene impact. “Stop hah- talking or m’gonna cum.”

He wasn’t lying - you could already feel the twitch of Gojo’ length rubbing up against your hidden sweet spots. The furious throbbing of his veins stretching out your elastic walls. 

And yet you’re still wailing stubbornly, “B-but Toru it feels so good.” Partially truth, partially because when the fuck do you get to see him so utterly wrecked like this. Sanity dancing away from him with each syrupy moan leaving your mouth, “Your cock is too good- ngh- feels-”

“Shut up.”

Gojo can only take that much of your nonsense before he’s stuffing your mean mouth full with a flimsy piece of fabric from somewhere on the bed- no. A strangely familiar pair of panties. 

“Heh, s’much ohhh fuck- better.” he beams with pride when you’re gagging and tearing up so adorably around the light blue fabric. Ramming his cock up harder - stronger, as if daring you to make a little comment about it. “Should’ve ah fuck- known you wouldn’t make it easy f’me.”

As if to prove his point, he gives your ravaged clit a little smack! before teasing and rolling his thumb exactly the way you’d taught him to with his tongue.

And he’s scrambling to sit up, carrying your boneless body with him. 

The new angle has Gojo seeing stars, penetrating your gummy walls deeper, hitting that familiar g-spot he’s mapped out by now. “Here?” he manages to cackle, a big arm wrapping around your waist. “Right here? S’my cock hitting th-that ngh- good spot? Yer pussy is fuuuck so much easier to u-understand than I ah- thought.”

Reeling back to bounce you on his thick cock. Crashing into it again. And again and again and-

Since you can’t snap back - or even beg for more - you only let out muffled little moans through the gag in your mouth. Thighs burning as you push back in pathetic little thrusts to somehow meet Gojo’s mindless cadence.

“Oh yeah?” he drags, leaning back to help you ride him properly. “Yeah yeah do i-it hah- like that. Do it juuuust like that.” A harsh thumb rolls into your clit, making you stutter and grind yourself down messily. “Fuck- Yeah ruin me- ngh- just like that.”

His words were jagged - uneven. Spitting out of his plump lips like he didn’t even know they were every time Gojo’s fat, leaky tip was gliding across your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving possessive little bruises to claim you from the inside out. 

“C-close.” you slur out, not even sure if he could hear over the dull slap of his balls on your ass, and the greedy squelches of your cunt. “More, Toru.”

Yet your sinful, sickly sweet noises have him freezing - if only for a split-second. Pussydrunk eyes going wide, jaw falling slack in such awe. 

But before you can fully appreciate this sight, he’s starting back his depraved thrusts again. Bouncing you harder - faster. Just dragging you along every ridge and bump of his swollen cock. Fingers just a needy blur toying with your poor clit. 

“M-more?” he whines into the crook of your neck, voice breaking at the end. “More. More?” He speaks up, like a mantra. Each word sending you spiraling down Gojo’s merciless cock, Panting, “Ever since you fuck- started rooming w’me, wanted this- wanted you to hah- be my first.” Holding you in such a vice-like grip as he splits you apart on his aching cock. Harder. “You’ve ruined me-” he spits against your lips, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’ know how many times I’ve cum to your pretty panties. Ruined me- ruined me- fuck m’so close- ruined me.” Violent, even. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

And it’s only taking a few more unsteady jabs into your g-spot before a wave of euphoria is crashing over you. “Hngh-” you spasm in Gojo’s arms, his eyes going wide in wonder when your cunt squeezes him so fucking tight- only to-

“F-fuck!” he whines, connecting your lips to his. Kissing you even with your panties still stuffed into your mouth. And Gojo’s cumming and cumming so hard he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Intertwining his tongue with yours to muffle his overstimulated moans, wrapping around your sweet slick-soaked panties in the middle. The contrast of his soft tongue with the lazy fabric of your panties only making you milk his poor cock harder. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck- Take it. Take it, my girl.”

You moan incoherently, going insane at the way he was filling you up with long, thick ropes of cum. Fucking deeper and deeper up into you to paint your plushy walls from the inside. 

“S’all I’ve- ngh wanted.” he murmurs throatily, such a fucking mess now. Face flushed, eyes glassy with tears, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth with the way he was sucking lewdly on your tongue. “You’re all I-I’ve ever wanted.”

Shit, he hasn’t cum this hard in his life.

Finally having had enough of shutting up your smart mouth, Gojo slows down to deep little grinds - still moving. Still trying to hold back his moans at that creamy ring around his hilt, at the globs of seed trickling out of your poor overfilled pussy. 

“Hah- Toru-” you whine when he pries away the fabric in your mouth. Shuddering with the swipe of his finger along your clit, “C-could almost ngh- forgive you…”

“The blue one.”

“What?” you’re staring at him in confusion, and Gojo’s fucked-out grin only spreads wider. 

“That was for the b-blue one.” you gasp when his balls suddenly squeeze so painfully underneath you. Cock jerking in interest, “Y’gonna have me make up for that whole drawer full of panties, sweetheart?”

A/N. VIRGIN GOJO BRAIN ROT GOES BRRRRRRRR

Plagiarism not authorized.

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reade

Word Count: 6k

Summary: Joel has had a ‘crush’ on you for a long time now and will make sure no man gets in the way of that.

Warnings: PORN-WITH-PLOT. Kinda. Reader is not legal to drink but still legal. Polite reader just trying to not be a bitch while dealing with a pervy old man! Joel has a crush on you, a BIG one. Bro gets so mad he gets a boner. Mutual touching he drives, daddy stuff, a teeny bit of spanking & nipple play, unprotected P-In-V, tummy bulge, aftercare for once wow!! No beta.

A/N: ANON REQ!! (you know who u are and here’s my take on a bit of a jealous Joel) I would've done way more smut if I didn’t have a high fever rn + writers block 😵‍💫! so VERY rushed.

No man should covet a woman he doesn’t own. 

And you weren’t his. 

Your daddy would make sure you would never be. 

Joel tells himself that. Over and over again, the only prayer in his head, the hymn he lives by ever since you’ve been staying with him per your father’s request. You yourself slowly recognizing Joel’s patterns of life. As he wakes up he takes pills for his headaches, swallowing them dry without a blink. His body is accustomed to the feeling. Every Saturday he’d take a weekly drive to the liquor store to stock up on the much needed provisions to his day-to-day routines. Booze, in much less dramatic terms. 

Your father was out of state for work forcing you to settle up with Joel for a couple of months, the only man your father would allow you to actually be around. In fear of you doing something bad. Bad as in… Sex? You could only assume that’s what your darling daddy meant. 

A rocky relationship in the cruel reality. 

Joel’s home. It was livable, there isn’t much to say when it’s the house of a man who’s been living alone twenty years. Indications of life scattered upon furniture the only real telltale signs that someone actually lives there. Coffee table littered with rings from mugs he’d simply leave for too long, the way the worn, vomit-colored green couch sags in the middle. Any prints that were on the buttons of the TV remote had been rubbed off by pressing around them, the last time he had gotten a new television was probably going on fifteen years now. Sad. Truly and utterly sad. 

Then you came along. 

Remnants of your liveliness woven into the once so dreary place. Something as so simple as a hair tie left on the counter, the very vague scent of perfume you left lingering in the small space of the bathroom every time you’d leave it. Now at night he’d walk past the second bedroom of his home that had been left unused, once depressed and dark, had the warm glow of your lamp being left on, leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The littlest things.

Joel pretends not to notice. 

Though, he does. 

He notices the way you hum so very quietly the times you’re obligated to cook your own breakfast. How you pull your knees up onto the couch when you sit. Rolling your eyes at him every time he’d vexingly tell you to make sure to lock the front door when you came in. You listened. 

You’re too comfortable here. Too at ease. 

And what’s worse is he was getting used to it.

He’s not your fuckin’ father. He’s not your keeper. He’s just the man your daddy trusted well enough to take care of you when he was gone. Sorry excuse for a babysitter all the while you weren’t a baby. An adult who can well take care of herself. Only agreed because he wouldn’t want you to discover how he’s been living for practically twenty years by being alone for two months. The dark quietness of a home when it was just you there. 

He told himself it would be easy. Two months. He’d keep his distance. 

It’s almost impossible. The way you made him feel was sickening. You’re always around. Sinking deep into the couch, marveling in whatever boring sitcom would play on the box of blue light that flickered throughout the room. How you’d take sips from his beer just to tease, wrinkle your nose at the taste deep down you liked. Making your tongue buzz. You were making yourself at home in a place that was never meant to be yours. 

The only thing that worsened it for Joel is that you were so blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. 

He thought the hardest part of this arrangement would be keeping you out of trouble. Your father acting like if he was gone you’d fall apart as a person. Be out partying or fuckin’ every night. Far from the truth. Laying so contently home every night.

Coming back to reality, the hardest part was keeping himself out of it. 

It’s the way you’d walk around his house in whatever you had slept in that night, no matter it be a tank-top and those tiny, plaid shorts that went up your ass. Appreciating the comfortability, though, he fucking hated it. You acted like you belonged there. 

Often he’s finding himself watching you too long, staring at the curve of your mouth while you speak, the plump of your lips as you stay entertained by the television with your face at a gentle rest. He was always seemingly gawked. 

Fifty-seven wasn’t the age to have crushes. 

And on Sunday’s, the day of the lord, of course. Joel Miller goes to the local bar.

Nighttime was surprisingly when the crowd died down. You were surprised to see that as you walked through the doors that sheltered the poorly kept saloon style establishment. Tables seated with older men closer to Joel’s age, some luckier than others to be accompanied by a woman. Smelled like stale beer and sweat which in reality was more disgusting than appealing. Loud breaks in the casual conversions of the crowd as pool balls clacked together. Rejoicing coming soon after. 

Usually you had something better to do on these nights. Going out with your friend’s always suffices though of course they canceled out today. Great, stuck with Mister Miller for a night of drinking all the while you weren’t allowed to let alcohol in your body at your age.He wouldn’t lie for you either, he was supposed to take care of you. Not turn you into the starts of an alcoholic. 

Torturous. Did the man want you to shoot yourself?

He led you through the slim pickings of a crowd there really was, hand grazing the small of your back to keep you close. Nothing more. Both sliding your bodies onto the leather tops of the barstools. Uncomfortability was the price to pay for the first hand of drinks. A squeak in your stool that no one had the patience to fix. 

“Whiskey.” The request sounded more like a plea from his lips. “Two.”

You knew the second one didn’t mean for you. 

Rubbing his temple as he flagged down the waitress. She was all too polite for what seemed to be the shittiest bar on earth. As if a small town in Texas would give you any better. Nodding her head in your direction. Your lips pursed as if ‘Beer” was gonna be the next thing to move past them. Though, you digressed. 

“Soda. I guess.” Joel gave a nod to you. Of course he approved of that action. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he sighed. Forgetting to take his pills this morning. Fuck, the throb behind his eye was something only the alcohol could numb by now. 

“You could’a stayed home.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You shrugged, admittedly so you rather be home- no. You rather be out with your friends as you were supposed to be tonight but in an act of such kindness, you came here with Joel. “Maybe I wanted to see why you liked this place so much.” It was a simple muse to him, though it did strike your curiosity. 

“Quickest bar from home. Quickest way to get drunk.” Curiosity met with an undeniably depressing answer. You were used to it by now. His lips pressed into a thin line. Once the barkeep came back she handed Joel his drinks, plural. As she also came with yours. Soda rimmed with ice. He picked up the first drink given, perspiration coating the glass. His thumb pressed against the cold lowball as he took the first sip. Heavy hot liquid sliding down his throat. Numbing him, his mind. Felt refreshed. 

You hum, stirring the ice in your soda in circles with your straw. He hears the clinking over the din of the bar. Louder than his own thoughts. 

You crossed your legs. Your thighs squishing together through the denim of your jeans, the material a bit loose on your body, a choice out of comfortability to buy baggier bell bottoms instead of the ones that hugged your ass tight. Drawing Joel’s eyes unintentionally.

Fuck this. 

He drags his palm down his face, trying to wipe away whatever the fuck he was feeling. It’s sickening for him. It’s so easy to not feel like this when it’s something so simple, so selfish as a one night stand, a whore he had paid to suck his cock. Different. Far different, especially since the last month he’s spent his time admiring the woman before him. You. The innocence in your eyes that served your beauty. It was this crawling under his skin he wanted to rip away from. 

So fucking vigilant on the scent of you, the sound of your voice, the way you shift ever so slightly closer to him as another group of men pass.

Joel breathes out slowly, averting his eyes to the sweet sight of you. 

The night goes on, the whiskey dulling the edges of restraint with every slow, steady sip. Slowly the place was growing on you, the night seemed to cool it down, less noise less chatter. Seems everyone needed to knock out a couple drinks before settling. You would’ve been happy to say the same if you were allowed to order that beer. You propped your chin in your palm, your elbow flat against the bartop avoiding any of the sticky substances that would coat some unfortunate patches of it. Your eyes scan throughout the place. Not much to take in, not much to see.

Though the slow deliberate movements draw the tiniest bit of attention from a table your eyes accidentally glance at for too long. Subtle but inevitable. 

Joel catches the way the men sitting at that table glance your way. The way you adjusted your body to once again sit straight up. Clearing your throat. 

And that’s when it starts. 

The first one wasn’t particularly bold about it. Just a flick of his gaze in your direction before returning to his minutes-til’-flat beer. The second man, greying, looks a little longer. Too closely. He nudges his friend, mutters something incoherent- something probably offensive to earn a laugh from him. Now he looked again.

Joel knows that look.

The kind that lingers for too long. That waits for an opening.

The kind that makes Miller’s teeth grind, his shoulders go rigid. His fingers slowly begin tightening around the glass of gold as he keeps his eyes forward. His eyes flutter just a bit to the left, seeing your smile. Trying to hide it by gently pressing your lips to the rim of your glass. Pretty pink lips. Before time heat is bubbling in his belly. Praying to god that was the fuckin’ whiskey. 

Those men are still watching. 

The next sip of booze doesn’t quite help as much as he’d want. It doesn’t smooth out the sharp edges of this feeling, the low simmering deep inside his pelvis. It keeps getting worse. 

He’s coming over. Walking with heavy legs. 

Joel sees it from the corner of his eyes, the way the man pushed back the chair, unhurriedly, sloppily walking straight towards you. From what Miller could gauge from the corner of his eye and what the wiry grey hairs covering the man’s beard told him is that he was older. Older as in his own age. Fifties either early or late. Joel wanted to die. Exhaling sharply, slamming down his glass a bit too hard. 

Muddled, you’d lift your head from your glass to look at Miller with an eyebrow cocked. And before you could even speak-

“Evenin’.” The man spoke.

You’d blindly blink at the man now standing beside your barstool. Startled for only a second before schooling your expression into something- polite. Something surely this man was undeserving of yet you really couldn’t help it. Instincts. 

“Hi.” Joel wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge him. Not yet.  

“Can I help you?” You smiled, sweetly.

The man would lean in as expected. The strong smell of beer radiating off his breath. Open-mouthed ogling like a fucking dog. He was clearly absolutely wasted. Just those words were an absolute understatement. 

“Is this your daddy?” Of course he’d say that. Gesturing to Joel who was looking straight on before he turned a glance to the man, his eyes slits as he glared. Understandable. If you weren’t trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt you’d be glaring too. This guy was undeniably a fucking dick.  

“No- no,” You’d giggle. “My babysitter.”

You didn’t like how your mind and soul was making you act, unfortunate your internal instincts were to be tooth-achingly sweet in public.

You wanted to die. 

“S’my lucky day, huh?” You’d blink again. Silence as if the man had stole all the thoughts from your head- not in the good way. 

“No. Not- not quite.” 

You’d laugh, trying your best to brush it off. The man should go away soon. Probably just mistaking you for something you’re not while you’re here trying your best to avoid something awkward. Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Well,” He hushed. A finger twirled into one of your soft locks. Your body tensing as you kept up another nervous giggle– you were only egging him on more. “I just wanted to see you up close.”

“She ain’t interested.” Miller told the truth with that. You weren’t and you were further from interested. Though the nervous, dumb smile on your lips told the fuckin’ pervert otherwise. 

“She didn’t tell me that.” He pushed. “I’d much rather hear that from your mouth, sweetie.”

You hesitated, your lips parted though words weren’t falling. Refusing. Alas, Joel Miller reached his breaking point. 

He popped up from his stool as he moved over to the guy. The greying man hesitated at the sight, of course. He wasn’t gonna be the kinda man to get his ass beat over something fucking stupid. Though, Joel was willing to beat his ass for your sake. 

A long beat of silence through the access chatter swimming around the bar enters the space between you, Joel and this sad fuckin’ man. 

Joel doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t breathe. 

He just stares. 

The man exhales a chuckle, deep down he didn’t want to walk out of here with a broken nose for flirting with a girl he wanted to fuck. A girl he thought was alone, dumb enough to possibly join him and his sad excuses for friends sitting around his table.

“Didn’t mean any trouble, pal.” He threw his palms up in a mock surrender though, he didn’t mean it. That’s what that beer was for afterall. Stepping back only an inch, letting the hair that was between his fingers fall back to your shoulder. 

“Just bein’ friendly.” 

Joel didn’t answer, why should he? The man let out a scoff as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. That was good. All Miller could do was sigh. His shoulders still at unease as he sat back down on the bar stool. Your heart at a slow thump against your ribs. 

You knew deep down that really, you were fine with that. Sure that man was a cuck, sure, you were uncomfortable, but you also knew yourself and you knew if that man would have touched anything else other than the tip of your hair. Oh fuck. He would’ve been gone.

Or– would he? 

It doesn’t shake the feeling that Joel was annoyingly protective if that was the right word for it. That man wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to stick up for you.

He never did. 

He ran a palm down his face –again– he couldn't take the way he was around you. 

“Ohh, what the fuck.”

He was tired of this.

Goddamn if that happened a month ago chances are he wouldn’t have done anything other than roll his eyes and tell the fucker to go jerk off somewhere else but– oh my god did Joel wish he was the one that close to you. Breathing you in. 

Of course, you weren’t a random woman at a bar.

If only he had enough balls to speak to you. 

Pent up hormones ready to blow out of him every moment he was around you. He was too fucking old for this. 

Too fucking old.

If he felt the rush of blood to his cock one more time this night he was gonna–

Joel was already moving by now. Already shoving back from the bar, the scream of the stool leg against the glazed wooden floor of this god forbidden place made you inherently flinch. His jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he reaches for his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the counter without counting. He didn’t fucking care about the act of either over-paying or under-paying right now. He had one, sinfully unfortunate thing on his mind. 

He knew he’d never do it. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it.

Then his hand was on your wrist.

Grasping.

Firm. Unyielding. 

“C’mon.” He gritted. “Time to go, baby.” 

That was a new one. The name melting of his tongue like an instinct.

His grip was tight. Breathing hitched at the feeling of the grip. He was lucky it didn’t hurt. It was enough to make it clear he needed to get out of there. The reason wasn’t clear. It could be innocent on his part: he didn’t want you in a space where old men are looking at you. Ogling you like a slab of fuckin’ meat. 

His real reason was sickening. 

“Joel– c’mon!”

You’d whine, maybe you had a good reason to stay. Maybe you were just being defiant. 

Typical, like a child.

He didn’t give you time to finish.

The bar stool nearly topples as he pulls you up. Stumbling in the boots you were wearing. Tugging you in tightly to stand beside him. He was tensed, heat radiating off his body like a goddamn furnace. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak as if there was a point to. Nothing he said got through to you anyways. He just moves.

People are watching. Who wouldn’t? 

Your pulse spikes as you catch the amused glances throughout the pub. Folks who weren’t looking before now blinking. Causing a scene. Again, 

You. Wanted. To. Die. 

And to make it all better Joel’s eyes rip to the table those men from earlier were sitting at. The ones who eyed you. That same man who had harassed you muttering something to his friend beside him. Fuck. 

He thought he couldn’t get any more pissed. 

His palm covered his lips with no way to read. The music playing throughout the room covered any sounds of a hushed whisper into another man’s ear.

Though, Joel is pivoting. 

His grip on you released as he took a heavy-footed stomp over to that table. He frowned. He wanted to kill them. He would if he could. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jesus Christ, man.” One of the men mused. Of course, Joel Miller was just another sorry excuse of a man to them. “You don’t give it up do you.” Your babysitter wasn’t intimidating in a setting like this. To a man drunk as a fuckin’ skunk sitting with a bunch of men who reeked of the same stench. 

Joel doesn’t move.

He goes to walk away. No. There was absolutely no point in doing anything.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“All I said is that if I were you I would’ve fucked her by now.” No. Nope that was it.

A quick turn back around and Joel had slammed his fist into the man’s face. Heavy handed. Joel’s knuckles cracking with the impact in the same note as the man’s nose. 

“Fuck!!!” The man cried. It was well deserved. Why would Joel let a man talk to his–

You weren’t his.

Miller couldn’t breathe in the moment. His breathing ragged, watching the blood quickly drip out the man’s nostrils. God was it satisfying.

Your stomach plummets. You can confidently say you’ve never heard a man yell like that. Before the next tick of epinephrine hits Joel his hand now runs to your waist instead. Pushing you out the doors before running into the parking lot.

Holy fucking shit.

The air of the night hit you like a bucket of ice quickly. Suddenly you were regretting only wearing a thin hoodie with a tank top underneath. Joel was dragging you to his truck, practically throwing you into shotgun. 

Slamming the door to your side.

He rounds the front quickly. Pulling open the driver’s side as he slid into the seat. You swore you could hear the way his breath shudders in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his seatbelt over his body– safety first, right? 

The truck was suffocating. Too small. Too fucking warm. 

You lick your lips, tasting salt. Your nerves were shot to hell. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

He frowned. Fist on the shifter before pulling it into drive. He was speeding away, far away from that bar. Yeah, that one punch may had ruined his personal ‘holy day’ for a good while. If him and that man are ever in the same room again most likely one of them is getting there shit rocked and Joel worries that next time it may be him. 

He doesn’t necessarily wanna take that chance. All because of something so FUCKING stupid.

He doesn’t speak. Nothing to say on his part as for you– too stunned to say anything. You had no understanding of why Joel Miller of all people, of all the men you know was acting like this. His fists balled against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning pale. Ghostly. 

“Fuck.” 

He broke the silence with a curse. He was mad. At least, he sounded so. The growl in his voice masked the need. He could feel every twist, every coil in his gut. All because of you.

He can’t keep hiding it. 

“You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

The smell of hard booze on his breath impregnated your nose. Slowly beginning to understand the acts in the bar. “That wasn’t me trying to flirt.” You quickly retorted. That was the honest truth that you’d be abiding by. You were too nervous to do anything except giggle like a dumbass so that’s what you did.

“I can’t help the fact I try to be polite. Even if they’re verging sexual harassment.” 

You’d try to keep it light hearted with a quip. Joel didn’t laugh. Pursing his lips into a line before speaking. It only pissed him off more.

“Not what I’m sayin’.”

You breathe. What the hell did this man want from you if it wasn’t some reasoning from your lips? The road was wet, asphalt glistening with a sheen of rain making light reflect easily off like a mirror. As Joel turned his brights on to properly see through the dark road that light reflected into the truck. The formally dark truck.

Your gaze was pulled to his lap. An accident at first but–

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His cock would writhe against the tightening denim of his jeans. If that didn’t tell you enough you didn’t know what would. 

Joel’s hands flex against the wheel, the veins in his hands popping.

“Whatever you say, M’not fuckin, jealous.”

No no, he was.

And the tension rolling off of him is suffocating, filling the small front space of the truck like a thick fog. Choking you. You could almost still feel the touch he left on you. The phantom of his fingertips that had branded your skin only a few minutes ago now.

He wanted you to touch him and it wasn’t a secret anymore. 

You reached your hand out to place on his thigh. The way his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. Yeah, he fucking needed this. You felt your own stomach bloom with heat as your fingertips just barely scathed the denim of his jeans. You were just so close. Closer than you’ve ever been. And if this is something to forever be forbidden,

For all you know this could be as close as you’ll ever be. 

He adjusted his hips. Spreading his legs as if to coax you, as if to tell you this is the right thing. Maybe it was too vague. He took a hand off the wheel as he began soothing more into things. His shoulders finally relaxed as he took a long. Deep breath in. Then out. His fingertips danced along the crotch of your own jeans. Pressing the pad of his middle against your extremely clothed clit, muscle memory of where he knew it was.

He knew.

It was that touch that made your legs wanna buckle. Your cunt clench. 

Your palm soothed up his thigh as he focused on the road. Eyes adjusting, focusing. While his cock focused all by himself. Finally your smaller hand went to the tent in his jeans. Taking your pointer and tracing a line up the curve of the bulge. Wooing a twitch from him. His finger pushed harder into your clothed heat. Rewarding him in your first gasp of the night. 

“Jesus, baby. Soon enough I’ll be the one with the broken nose.”

A jest like that was hard to process currently. 

“What do you mean-?” 

Joel takes his hand away from between your legs just for a second to turn the radio on. Very very low, some old 80’s rock song came on. The background noise almost calming.

“Your daddy.” He’d grunt. “If he ever knew I was touchin’ you–”

“I know. My mouth is shut.”

It was a promise. A promise as your palm slipped beneath his belt.

Home sweet home.

Once the front door was closed the exchanges between your mouths were all teeth and tongue. Messy, sloppy. No shortage of drool dribbling down either of your chins. His fingers latching around the hem of your tank top as he pulled it over your head. No bra. Less work for him. 

It was like clockwork how his big, rough hands scooped under your thighs to grab you, pick you up with a strained grunt ripping from his chest. He couldn’t remember a time where his cocks been this hard. He could almost completely promise that it’s never been. It was heavy and once his jeans were pulled down it was hanging heavy, loose in his boxers. Though his flannel stayed on. Unbuttoned, fabric framing his tummy and bare, soft chest. 

You laid on his bed, splayed upon his blankets like a goddess as you awaited for him to finishing taking his clothes off. But he just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. The sight of you laying there, helpless. Those pretty, lace panties he wanted to rip off with his teeth made his brain turn to mush. He crawled on top of you, leaning down to place a hot kiss on your throat as his hands moved down to your ass. 

“Don’t got time to take you over the knee, baby.”

This sentence came with a squeeze to the soft flesh of your ass. Flipping you over belly-down with his fingers tangled in your hair. Face stuffed into the pillow.

His hand came down firm on your lace clad ass. Watching the thickness of the skin ripple. 

Again. Harder.

You let out a sharp whine at the feeling. Each left with a stinging buzz that lingered within the plush skin. You were addicted. Though, what was fun for a moment was soon boring for Mister Miller, his cock in a painful state in the confines of his boxers. Feeling like he was gonna burst any good moment now. 

But were you ready?

He flipped you back on your back in a sinfully quick motion. One of his practiced, old hands laid flat against your stomach before slipping down beneath the lace of your panties, hooking a finger to the side before pulling them down. They were damp. That just wouldn’t suffice for him. His finger tested the waters, how gluey, slick your folds were. Taking what was currently dripping out of your hole and spreading it around like a glaze. 

He dipped his head down into your sternum, his lips pressing firmly against the skin there before he deliberately moved to one of your tits. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the already hard nipple before taking it between his teeth. 

“Fuck-! Joel-”

Funny, when you touched yourself you weren’t nearly this loud. 

This sensitive. 

The tip of his tongue swirled around the bud, it was smooth against his tongue. Warmer than your skin. His hips dug down deep into his own mattress. Mussing the blankets beneath both of your bodies as if they were neat before. He squeezed your other breast with his free hand, continuing his ministries just for another moment. Keeping his moments practiced and planned for the time being. He flicked your unintended, rock-hard bud with his free hand. Mind Numbing stimulation coursing throughout your body. 

Your hand came down to paw at his erection straining painfully against the grey cotton of his boxers.

“Oh–”  

He groaned, his hips pressing into yours before you could touch more. Clamping himself down so the only way you could feel him throb would be against your thigh.

“You think you’re ready, baby? Ready for my cock?”

Of course the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes how you were writhing, practically salivating at the thought. Both panting like dogs. He pulled himself out of his boxers. The dim light of the room making it impossible to see was was between your legs. The details left unseen and unsaid as all you could rely on was feel.

You felt his head begin running up and down between your folds. With a girl so fuckin’ wet who needed lubracant. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began to push in. 

You’ve never felt anything like it.

Funnily enough. He’s never felt a girl like you either.

“Joel!” You’d squeal. “Fuck, Joel– JoelJoelJoelJoel–”

You were quickly chanting his name under your breath like an invocation. He was big though a three-letter word so simple as big was a fucking understatement. He was stretching out every ounce of your gummy walls. Your head craning backwards into his pillow. His pillow. The scent of his hair, his scent all seeping into your nose mixing with the sensations throughout your body.

“S’fuckin’-- shit, babygirl…”

Joel’s words were slurring together as if he had drank more than those two lousy whiskeys at the bar. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you enveloped him. Clenching up every time the tip of his fat cock would graze your cervix. His hand pressed just over your pelvis. Feeling around, ‘til– oh fuck.

“Fuckkkkk… Feel that, baby?” You felt a lot of things right now, your body all too hyper-fixated on the feeling of him to focus on anything other than that. Then Joel took your hand. Trailing it down your stomach as he weakly supported himself with his left arm. Palm flat against the sheets. His bicep tense.

He brought your smaller hand down to your low stomach, feeling the bump there. The bump he was oh-so obsessed with. Jutting out against your palm. 

“S’my cock. Yeahhh. He wants you, s’fuckin’ bad.” 

He was barely there.

“--So. Fuckin’. Bad.”

He punctuated his words with every thrust. You wanted to call out, say something over and over again like your only fucking prayer. But words defied you in the moment. As soon as you felt the unbearable pressure build up in your gut, the pressure that took over, spilled from your pelvis to your pussy. You felt the wiry hairs that crowned his cock scratching against your clit only adding to the feeling. The feeling that was building and building. 

“Joel– I’m gonna–!”

It was so cliché. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it. Feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused. Your hips wriggled against his as your orgasm came ripping through your body. Leaning up as best you could to bury your face in his neck to gasp. Cry out into his ear as much as you well pleased as you felt your legs kick out, your thighs buzz.

His cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowing, becoming sloppier, rushed. His hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him til’ he was dry. Just wasn’t safe for an old man like him to blue-ball himself like this, huh?

“Fuck- she’s gonna milk daddy dry, ain’t she–?” He was trying to kill you.

With that it was only one more thick, deep thrust into your tight, throbbing cunt where he spilled his cum inside of you. Using what little energy he had left to paint those pretty walls white. Rolling his hips to drive his semen into your pretty little hole. His thumb pushed past your parted lips, your mouth quickly latching on. Cock-drunk, suckling on his thumb to muffle any whimpers. No more cries.

“Atta girl.”

He’d praise. His sweaty, damp body pressing heavily against yours. He didn’t wanna pull out. It’s almost like his body wanted him to stay this way until he was passin’ out. Though, he wouldn't let that happen. He slowly unsheathes his thick cock from your pussy with a wet, squelch as your walls adjust back to normal. Opaque, pearly cum dripping out of your cunt, drooling down your inner thighs all the way to your ass was pornographic. 

Reaching around the back of his head to seize a chunk of his greying, soft-to-the-touch curls. Your tongue licking his way into his mouth instead of his thumb. 

You felt absolutely and utterly euphoric. 

Laying with the blanket lazily draped over both of your bodies. Joel took a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, drinking it like water to refresh his mouth. He felt exasperated. He wouldn’t be able to pin point the last time sex made him feel this good if you were paying him a million bucks. But now he could say with you.

You tucked your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him, the stickiness of his skin. The salty scent of sex still lingering in the air around. 

It was silent. Like you were both trying to process what had happened within the last hour- hell, the last three. Even the whole bar thing seemed like an impossible daydream you’d watch on a soap, something that you’d say is unrealistic. 

“I was jealous.”

He murmured. Turning his attention back to you as the silence was officially broken. You could’ve figured as much.

“I guess I should be flattered.”

You’d giggle. Real and genuine. Not the fake one you put on for that pervert at the bar. 

“I’ve never had a man break another guy’s nose for me before.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Wrapping his warm arms around your body as he pulled you in close. The first time in twenty years his bed wasn’t empty and cold. A warm body tucked right against him, perfectly as if you belonged. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

[monstersflashlight]

Magic dick

A/N: It's been a while since I posted something non-request or commissioned, so here. Also, what’s more romantic than a glory hole?

Non-identified monster x fem!reader || glory hole, free use (kinda?), oral sex, dirty talk

Ending Valentine’s Day on a monster club isn’t what you were expecting, but definitely welcomed. The dance floor is great, and you talked and almost humped a couple monsters. You are keyed up and ready to ask one of them to bring you home for the night, but when your friend asks for a bathroom break, you follow her.

That’s when you see it.

There’s a door at the back, a black door with only one sign in the front that says “Let a magic dick decide your destiny”. You turn to your friend with a smile, she’s already shaking her head.

“No,” she cuts your overexcited self. "Let's go, come on," your friend says, pulling you away from the door. But you dig your heels on the floor.

"Dude, come on! It says Let a magic dick decide your destiny. We need to try it!" You know it’s very unlikely she would say yes, but you want to. You want to end your Valentine’s on a high note, and what a better note than a monster dick.

"I don't wanna try a magic dick," she says, almost exasperated.

You look at her, clasping your hands and begging her: "But I do! Come on, pleaseee!" You try to sound as annoying as possible.

"Ugh, okay, I'll wait here. Go in, have fun, if you aren't out in 30 min I'm coming in, though." She rests her back against the wall and takes her phone out, dismissing your very happy-self.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you say as you kiss her cheek loudly and open the door.

Your excitement and anticipation can’t barely keep up with the instant joy that fills your insides. You don’t have time to process why do you feel like that, though.

At the other side there’s a colorful wall with all kinds of genitals painted in pastel colors: human, monster, alien, robot… There’s so many and in so many shapes and colors that it looks almost cozy, like something you could see in a Monstagram post or something. But you don’t focus on that for very long, because in the middle of all of that, there are three holes… and one of them is occupied.

It’s in a pretty combination of purple and green, and it has ridges under the tip, forming almost a crown that looks like it could drive you into oblivion if they rubbed against your G-spot. You lick your lips, your mouth salivating at the idea of tasting him. You don’t know what kind of monster he is, but you can almost picture him with his head thrown back and maybe… maybe horns. Yeah, you’d like if he had horns.

You approach slowly, measuring your steps so he’s at least surprised when you touch him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He starts cursing as soon as you wrap your hands around his shaft.

You aren’t expecting such strong reaction, but it ignites something inside of you that drives you a bit insane with desire. You always preferred partners that were vocal, and the monster on the other side of the wall definitely is.

He’s so big, bigger than any dick you’ve ever seen before, and it’s making you all kinds of hot and bothered. “Hi there, I hope you don’t mind if I help myself here,” you tell the monster, not expecting him to say anything else, but being surprised when he does.

“Are you... who are you?” He sounds choked out, almost as if he’s holding back already and you have only touched him.

“A human,” you simply say, amusement clear in your voice. You don’t know much about glory hole etiquette, but asking for somebody’s identity is probably not it.

He takes a deep breath, sniffing the air audibly. “You smell… Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans, as if your smell is good enough to give him pleasure. His dick twitches in your hand, and well… Maybe your arousal is clear to him? You aren’t sure, but you don’t really mind it, you want to suck his cock and get out of there.

You chuckle, not the first time somebody said that to you tonight. “You can smell me from there?” You ask back, spitting on his dick and using it as lube as he whimpers pitifully.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.” You go faster, your hands working in tandem over his shaft as he bulks against the thin wall.

The sounds he’s making are desperate, and you can feel your pussy tingling as you fall to your knees in front of the hole. You think about saying something, but you end up just leaning forward and taking his tip on your mouth, your tongue softly touching the ridges at the crown until he’s begging you to take him deeper, to move faster, until he’s crying so loud you are sure even the people on the dance floor can hear him. But you don’t even care about it.

You only care about the dick in your mouth and the pathetic sounds he’s making, bulking against the wall as if he’s trying to get as far as possible down your throat. But he can’t. You have all the power, and that excites you. That drives your desire higher and higher until you are drenched and your clit is mirroring the pulses of your heartbeat.

“You are great. Fuck. You are doing perfect. You are perfect. Such a pretty mouth, such good tongue over my shaft. Holy fuck…” He’s chanting all kinds of nonsense, but you don’t answer, too busy swallowing around the shaft in your mouth. You hum a response, making the monster groan very loudly. “Goddess, darling, that feels so good…” His voice breaks in another groan, one that makes your insides twitch and your free hand travels down.

You rub your clit over your panties, thanking the universe for wearing the cute little dress that allows you to touch yourself easily. “Are you touching yourself? Fuck, that’s so hot! Get yourself there, darling, please.” You don’t even question how he knows, but knowing he’s aware of your hand in your panties makes you swallow around him, groaning around his shaft. “Finger that pretty pussy for me. Make yourself come with my dick in your mouth.” His words are exhilarating, you’ve never been with somebody who didn’t make dirty talk sound corny, but good damn it if he isn’t helping you out with that dirty mouth.

You do as he says, rubbing your clit at the same time you jerk him off, your mouth too little to take all of him, not even half. He doesn’t seem to care, cursing and screaming for the Goddess as you drive him crazy with your mouth and hand. You push two fingers inside your welcoming pussy, rubbing the heel of your hand against your clit.

The combined sensation between your hand and the cock in your mouth is enough to make your eyes roll back into your head, the symphony of your mixed moans ascending you to heaven. Your back and knees hurt, but you don’t care, you can’t care. You are so close. So, so close…

“I’m… I’m coming. Goddess, fuck. Holy fuck. Come with me, darling, please, let me smell your orgasm…” His words mean nothing, but they are enough to drive you over the edge.

You clench around your fingers at the same time he screams and your throat is filled with his seed. He tastes sweet, almost like pie (the joke in there isn’t missed). You hum around his shaft until he’s begging and crying out, pulling back as you smile and run your tongue over your lips, catching the last drops of his release. You lick your own fingers as you get up, humming happily and sated.

“Wait there,” he grunts across the wall, the dick disappearing completely as you wipe your mouth and get your dress down.

You chuckle, walking to the door and opening to find your friend looking over your shoulder. You turn around just in time to see a very big, very scary purple and green monster barreling down the hallway, dick still wet and hanging out his open pants.

Turns out the magic dick could predict who would be your soulmate, and nobody was expecting for you to be the mate of the dick in question… Not even him.

[vingtetunmars]

A New Heartbeat

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he'd get another chance at building a family—especially not at his age, especially not after everything.

Tags: Fluff, pregnancy fic, domestic fluff, birthday surprise, emotional feels, warm, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is 58-59), set between season 1 and 2, jackson!Joel Miller, soft joel miller. No physical description of reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Thank you @dedicatedfangirl2001 for inspiring me! So this is technically a continuation of this fic, but it can also be read as a stand alone. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3.3k

masterlist

You didn’t think much of it at first.

Between the early mornings at the stables and the evenings spent passed out on the couch beside Joel, days had started to blur into each other. Your body always felt tired this time of year—mud season clinging to your boots, cold air snapping at your fingertips even under gloves. You’d chalked the nausea up to bad stew from the dining hall. But when your headache lingered past the usual, when the scent of hay and leather turned sour in your nose, it hit you.

You hadn’t had your period.

You stood in the feed room, half-empty bucket of oats dangling from your hand, the realization sitting heavy in your stomach. The math rolled around in your head, tumbling over itself. It had been… what? Over a month? Maybe more. You weren’t exactly counting days when every morning looked the same—Joel sipping black coffee, Ellie stealing bits of toast, and you rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you layered up for work.

But now, standing there, the silence of the stable around you, something clicked. You set the bucket down on the ground a little too quickly, pressing your palm to your stomach. No pain. No bloat. Just… a quiet sort of stillness.

The horses shuffled in their stalls. One of the younger colts let out a soft snort. You leaned your back against the wall, heart hammering in your chest.

You weren’t sure. But something deep in your bones told you—you already knew.

You didn’t tell anyone where you were going that morning.

Said you had errands to run—needed new gloves, maybe stop by the library. Joel didn’t press. He’d kissed your cheek, grumbled something about checking in with Tommy about a busted water heater, and told you he’d see you for dinner.

You walked to the clinic with your hands jammed deep into your jacket pockets. The cold bit at your cheeks, and every step felt heavier than the last. Not from dread exactly, but from the weight of maybe.

The clinic wasn’t much to look at. Two rooms, patched-together equipment, and a nurse named Carla who used to be a vet before the world ended. She was kind, though, and knew how to keep her mouth shut. You told her you wanted to rule something out. She just nodded, handed you a cup, and pointed toward the bathroom.

You stared at the strip of plastic on the counter like it held your whole future.

Five minutes. That’s all it took.

Carla didn’t say anything right away. She just looked down at the test in her hand, then back up at you, her expression soft.

“Well,” she said, “you’re pregnant.”

The room didn’t spin. It didn’t crash down on you, either. Instead, everything went still—like the moment before a horse takes off into a gallop. Heart pounding, lungs full of something sharp and sweet.

You were going to have a baby.

Joel’s baby.

Carla asked if you were okay. You nodded before you really even felt it, voice rough when you said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

The walk back home was slower. Like you were afraid to jostle the news loose, or maybe afraid it still wasn’t real. But your hand drifted down to your stomach more than once, resting there in quiet awe.

Now, all that was left was telling him.

And with his birthday just a few days away, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you were going to tell him.

Joel didn’t like birthdays.

He never made a big deal out of them before the world ended, and now… well, now they just felt like reminders. Reminders of what he’d lost. Of how much older he was getting. Of how goddamn long he’d been carrying around all this weight.

He’d never forget waking up on that birthday—the one that split his life into a before and after. Many years later, the world had changed, but the ache hadn’t. Not really.

Still, this morning started like any other. The early light crept in through the crack in the curtains, soft and gray-blue. Beside him, you were curled under the blanket, one arm slung across his stomach, your face tucked against his shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Home.

He didn’t move at first. Just lay there, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the quiet. The muffled sound of someone in the street. A rooster off in the distance. You breathing slow and steady beside him.

You made it better—this day, this life. You had a way of pulling him back from the edge without even trying. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Your fingers twitched slightly against his chest. You were starting to stir.

He turned his head just enough to watch you, that soft haze of sleep still in your features. He found himself smiling, just a little. The lines in his face stayed, though. The ones that came from time and sorrow and holding it all in for too long.

You blinked up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“Happy birthday,” you whispered back, eyes warm and knowing.

He groaned, turning his face away slightly. “Don’t remind me.”

You gave a quiet laugh, but didn’t tease him for it. You never did. You just leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, fingers brushing along his ribs, gentle and grounding.

“I’m makin’ you pancakes,” you added softly. “Don’t fight me on it.”

He huffed, but it wasn’t real. “‘Course you are.”

He didn’t need gifts. Didn’t want anyone making a fuss. But if the day started like this—your warmth, your voice, your lips on his skin—then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Even if he still carried the ghosts, this morning... it felt different. Like maybe something was waiting on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure what—but he trusted you’d tell him when the time was right.

You flipped the last pancake onto the plate, steam rising as you added a handful of thawed berries—ones you’d carefully saved from the last supply run. They weren’t exactly fresh, but they were sweet enough, and they made the stack look a little more festive.

Birthday pancakes.

Joel would pretend to grumble about it, but you knew he appreciated it. The small gestures. The quiet kind of love. You’d learned early on not to make a big deal of his birthday. Not out loud, anyway. But that didn’t mean you’d let it pass by like any other morning.

“Damn, something smells good,” Ellie mumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up in five different directions, sleeves too long for her arms. She plopped down at the table, blinking slowly. “Is it somebody’s birthday or somethin’?”

You smirked as you slid a plate in front of her. “Could be.”

Joel followed behind her a second later, moving slower, like his body hadn’t quite forgiven him for being nearly sixty.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat down across from her, eyes drifting to the plate you set in front of him.

Pancakes. Berries. A little dab of honey. No candles, no singing—just the kind of breakfast you didn’t make unless the day meant something.

He glanced at you, brow raised.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing your hand over his shoulder as you passed. “Don’t argue with me on your birthday, Miller.”

Ellie shoveled a bite into her mouth. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Are these the blueberries?”

Joel chuckled under his breath, fork already in hand. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he took his first bite. You saw the tension ease in his shoulders, just a little. Maybe the day still carried shadows for him, but right now? With a warm plate in front of him and people who loved him on either side?

He was okay.

You sat down beside him, resting your hand on your lap, feeling the thrum of nerves underneath your skin.

A knock on the door broke through the calm.

Joel looked up, chewing his last bite with a quiet grunt. You stood up to answer it, already guessing who it was. Sure enough, when you opened the door, Tommy stood there with a crooked grin and two hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Mornin’, birthday boy,” he called past you, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. “You look real good for a hundred.”

Joel let out a groan, dragging a hand over his face. “You had to come by, didn’t you?”

“You think I’m missin’ the one day a year I get to remind you I’m younger and prettier?” Tommy grinned, clapping his brother on the back as he passed by.

“Debatable,” Ellie chimed in, still chewing. “And you missed the berries.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Berries?”

“Yup,” you said with an apologetic shrug, walking back to the stove. “Saved 'em for Joel. There’s still pancakes, though.”

Tommy sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “You spoil this man.”

“Someone has to,” you quipped, already grabbing another plate.

You served him a healthy stack—no berries this time, just a bit of honey and some leftover butter—and slid into your seat again. Joel was watching you, his eyes soft beneath the usual weight. He hadn’t said much, but you could feel it in the way his hand drifted to your knee under the table. Just a gentle touch. A quiet thanks.

Tommy shoveled in a bite and made a loud, satisfied sound. “Hot damn. You better marry her before someone else do.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You wanna lose a tooth today?”

You laughed, elbow resting on the table, chin in your hand. The teasing, the warmth, the way Ellie rolled her eyes and asked if she could have seconds—it all made the house feel full in a way you never took for granted.

Still, under it all, the secret sat in your chest like a fluttering heartbeat.

You’d give it a moment. Let them finish breakfast. Let Joel have this calm before you turned his world upside down.

In a good way, you hoped.

The house felt quieter once the door shut behind Ellie and Tommy. The laughter lingered in the walls for a moment, then faded, replaced by the gentle creak of wood and the soft clink of dishes as you rinsed them off.

Joel was still finishing the last of his coffee, sitting back in his chair, watching you. He looked more relaxed now—shoulders looser, lines around his mouth softened. Birthdays were hard for him, but this one… it hadn’t been bad.

You dried your hands on a dish towel, heart thudding steady but loud. You knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

His brow knit slightly, but he nodded, setting the mug down. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, sitting down across from him, your hands resting in your lap. “Not wrong. Just… big.”

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table. You reached for his hand without thinking, grounding yourself in the warmth of his calloused fingers.

“I didn’t know how to bring this up earlier. Didn’t wanna spring it on you in front of everyone,” you started, voice quiet. “But I’ve been feelin’… off. The past few weeks.”

His expression shifted—concern flickering behind his eyes, guarded like always. “You sick?”

You shook your head, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “No. I went to the clinic yesterday. Ran a test.” You swallowed, heart climbing to your throat. “Joel… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like dust caught in sunlight.

Joel blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t say anything—just stared at you, eyes wide, unreadable. Then slowly, without a word, he stood up from the table and took a step back, hand resting on the edge of the counter like he needed something to hold onto.

“You’re… you’re sure sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I mean—are they sure?”

You gave a soft laugh, heart aching with affection. “Yeah. They’re sure. I’m late, the test was positive, and… I feel it. I know it.”

Joel let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. His shoulders dropped as he sat back down, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I just—I didn’t think—I mean, hell, at my age?” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes wide and almost dazed. “I didn’t think that was even possible anymore.”

You reached for his hand again, thumb brushing the top of his knuckles. “Well… apparently it is.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And something shifted in his face. Like the ground underneath him had tilted, but he was choosing to stay standing anyway.

“You’re… you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I wouldn’t have told you today if I wasn’t. I know it’s gonna be a lot, but… yeah. I’m okay with it. More than okay.”

Joel’s eyes started to glisten, and he cleared his throat hard, blinking fast as he turned his face away for a second. When he looked back at you, his voice was thick.

“Thank you,” he said.

It broke something open in you.

“For what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“For this. For you. For givin’ me a reason to think there’s still more life out there for me than just survivin’.”

He reached out, cupped your cheek with a rough hand, his thumb brushing just under your eye.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance,” he murmured. “Not with someone like you. Not like this.”

You leaned into his palm, smiling through the tears that started to slip down your cheeks.

“Well… surprise,” you whispered.

Joel gave a breath of a laugh, then leaned in and kissed you—slow, steady, reverent. The kind of kiss that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that promised he would be here for all of it.

For you.

For the baby.

For the life you were building together, one quiet moment at a time.

Sunday dinner was loud in the best way.

Tommy and Joel had spent the afternoon repairing one of the water lines near the edge of town, and both were still rubbing their lower backs like old men. Maria was bouncing little Benji on her knee, spoon-feeding him mashed carrots between exaggerated airplane noises, while Ellie recounted an incident involving a runaway chicken and a pitchfork.

You’d always loved these nights—long tables, shared food, laughter that made the walls feel smaller in the best way. But tonight, your hands kept drifting to your lap, nerves curling in your stomach even though you’d done this a dozen times in your head.

Joel’s knee brushed yours beneath the table.

He glanced at you, gave a small nod.

It was time.

You reached for your glass and gently tapped your spoon against it. “Uh… can I say something real quick?”

The table quieted. Benji let out a soft squeak and tried to grab a carrot off Maria’s plate.

Joel cleared his throat. “We’ve got some news.”

Maria looked up first, brows raised. Ellie paused mid-chew.

You smiled nervously, heart thumping. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then—

“What?” Ellie blurted, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Joel chuckled low under his breath, his hand slipping onto your thigh, grounding. Ellie set her fork down slowly, blinking like she hadn’t quite heard you right.

“You mean like… an actual baby?” she asked, eyes wide. “Your baby?”

You nodded, leaning closer to Joel's side. “Yeah. Our baby.”

Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, then reached for her water like her brain needed a reboot. “Holy shit.”

“Language,” Joel murmured.

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” she asked softly, blinking hard. And then her face cracked into a smile—wide and kind of watery. “I’m gonna be a big sister.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle, grinning ear to ear. “Joel, buddy. You still got swimmers at your age?”

Joel groaned loudly. “Tommy, I swear—”

“I mean, damn! You’re nearly sixty and still makin’ babies? What’s in the water over at your place?”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Joel muttered something under his breath, but he was smiling, too, shaking his head as Tommy clapped him on the back.

Maria just laughed and leaned her cheek against Benji’s soft hair. “Honestly, I had a feeling.”

Joel looked at her sideways. “You did?”

“You turned down a glass of wine at dinner last week,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You. You never turn down wine.”

You shrugged with a grin. “Was trying to be subtle.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us now,” she said, smiling warmly. “Benji’s gonna need a little buddy to boss around.”

Benji cooed like he somehow approved.

Then Maria stood and crossed the space to pull you into a hug, tight and full of warmth. Ellie joined a second later, throwing her arms around both of you, mumbling something like “I’m not crying” even though she very much was.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Joel with a playful shake and muttered, “Old man,” while Joel just rolled his eyes and let it happen.

In the middle of it all—arms tangled, laughter echoing, and that familiar scent of home-cooked food still hanging in the air—you felt it.

Family.

Not perfect. Not always easy. But real. Rooted. Growing.

And you were bringing another piece into it.

Dinner had long passed. The dishes were done, the laughter faded into memory, and Ellie had gone back to her room with a final hug that lingered just a little longer than usual.

Now, the two of you were tucked beneath the soft quilt, the chill of Jackson’s night air kept at bay by Joel’s familiar warmth beside you. The house creaked gently, like it was settling in for the night too.

You lay on your side, facing him, his arm already around you. The bedside lamp was off, but the moonlight spilling through the window was enough to catch the faint lines on his face—the quiet, thoughtful ones that only ever appeared when he let his guard down.

He hadn’t said much since the others left. Not out of hesitation, but the way he always got when something mattered so much it felt sacred.

His fingers brushed your stomach lightly under your shirt. Slow. Careful.

There wasn’t much of a bump yet—just the slightest swell, barely there—but his touch was reverent, like he was afraid to miss even a second of it.

“That’s really ours in there,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Whole little person. Just... growin’.”

Your hand covered his. “Yeah. They’re in there.”

He shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just above your temple.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up,” he murmured. “That this is some dream I’m gonna lose. But then I touch you, and it’s real.”

You turned your face to kiss the underside of his jaw, voice soft. “It’s real, Joel. You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.”

He nodded, throat tight. His palm stayed resting on your belly, like it anchored him.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” he asked, voice thick with quiet emotion.

You smiled. “You show me every day.”

“Gonna say it anyway,” he whispered, kissing you again. “I love you, darlin’. More than I got words for.”

The two of you fell asleep like that—his hand over the life you were building together, your fingers laced with his, hearts beating steady in the dark.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Joel Miller didn’t feel haunted by his past.

He felt ready for the future.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Sleepwalking

How I imagine the lads men handle a partner that sleepwalks. [requested by: anon & @nocturnaoasis]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

calmly watches you as you move around the house

knows not to wake you up ; tries to guide you back to bed without waking you

cleans up your messes behind you ; taking socks into the bathroom? he’s putting them away ; you left the fridge door open? don’t worry he's closing it ; opening the windows? he’s already on it

you tried to use a knife for something one time while you were asleep so now Zayne locks up any sharp utensils before bed

tells you in detail exactly what you did while you were sleepwalking

makes you whatever it was that you were trying to make while asleep “how did you know I wanted sliced fruit this morning?” “You took out all the fruit last night and stood in the kitchen saying ‘knives I need knives’ for ten minutes”

teases you sometimes ; he finds your antics cute

will hold anything you hand him

forbids you from eating foods that will trigger your sleepwalking close to bedtime ; you do it out of spite

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

the first thing he does is wake you up ; rookie mistake

won’t let you live down the fact that you made the funniest face when you were confused

baby proofs the house “why are all the outlets covered?!” “you can’t be trusted”

screamed bloody murder when he woke up one night and you were standing over him

you got outside once and he about had a heart attack

tries singing to you so you follow his voice ; it worked now this is how he gets you back in bed every time he catches you sleepwalking

asks if you’re awake and wholeheartedly believes you when you say yea even though you’re 1000% not awake

doesn’t mind when you indulge on foods that trigger your sleepwalking ; he knows he’ll keep you safe

if you ever say something unsettling he acts like it didnt scare him ; he’s scared af

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

wakes up when he feels you getting out of bed ; groggily follows you around at a distance to make sure you don’t hurt yourself

gently takes objects out of your hands

tries to block your paths in attempts to guide you back to bed

responds to your rambling as if you’re actually having a conversation

tuck you into bed and stays up for a while watching you sleep

wraps his arms around you so he can feel you get up

would follow you down the road if you decided to go for a walk outside

keeps his distance so you can get your bearings I you start to wake up “Hi starlight lets go to bed”

tries to get you to not eat foods that will trigger your sleepwalking, but one look of those puppy dog eyes and he’s folding

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

Sylus is probably the perfect man to sleepwalk with considering he sleeps during the day and you sleep at night.

advises you to not eat anything that will trigger it close to bed, but won’t stop you if you’re really craving it

he would already be up and about when he sees you walking to the bathroom with socks in hand ; he would use his evol to catch the socks when you try to drop them in the toilet

Meticulously guides you away from anything that you might walk into

knows better than to try and wake you up

finds your sleepwalking kind of amusing except when you stand over him and stare with dead eyes

first instinct is to guide you back to bed and he’d use his evol to do this and the second you become difficult he’d keep a close eye on you; has Mephisto follow you as well

Sylus has to hold the twins back from waking you up “She’s gonna get hurt!” “She’s fine” “What if she goes over the balcony?!” “She’s fine”

will always protect you and get you back in bed with no harm

from time to time will indulge in your sleep conversations “I only have five left” “but I need six sweetie” “I have five take it or leave it” ; he’s trying so hard not to die of laughter

the twins once left the kitchen a mess and tried to blame it on your sleepwalking ; he wasn't happy

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋

records the whole thing ; shows you the videos and teases you “look even in your sleep you try to reach the top shelf” “delete it” “luckily for you I caught every dish in time” “shut up”

compiles the videos together and even has favorites

it was all fun and games until you got outside one night and he about lost his damn mind

baby proofs the house every night ; locks up sharp utensils ; deadbolt on the front door

holds you tight every night so he can feel you get up

cleans up behind you when/if you take anything out

shifts furniture slightly if you run into it so your mental map doesn’t get you hurt ; uses his hands or body as a barrier to keep you from running into walls or hitting your head on anything

has considered waking you up, but will never do it

sometimes responds to your sleep rambling “Pears are better than apples” “I like apples better” “……NO!”

forbids you from eating anything that triggers your sleepwalking close to bedtime ; you still eat it anyway

[froggibus]

i’m begging you for some nsfw hcs with wade & logan

i NEED more info about jealous sex with them specifically

please and thank you 💋💋

Jealousy Sex - Logan Howlett & Wade Wilson

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader (no pronouns are used but has a pussy) x Wade Wilson

Genre: smut/nsfw

CW: poly! relationship, jealousy, possession, scent kink/scenting, taunting & humiliation, oral, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, AFTERCARE

omg of course!! the two of them being jealous over you would be such a handful >~< id love to write a full length of this sometime too!! thank you for the request lovely 💓

these two are such a handful when they’re jealous

Logan has no patience for other men getting in your personal space

if some other guy is talking to you too long or starting to get a little too close

he comes and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck

he’ll make a big show of it too, sucking at your skin and breathing in your scent

“d’ya smell that? hm?”

you scrunch your eyebrows together, wondering what’s about to come

“that’s my scent. mine. all fuckin’ over ya.”

he’s dragging you upstairs to the nearest locked bedroom before you can even react

sex with him while he’s jealous can go either way depending on just how riled up he is

sometimes it’s deep and intimate, going until you’ve forgotten the rest of the world

or it’s rough and hard and biting, until your head is spinning and his name is the only thing you can remember

he’ll have you face down in the pillows, his grip on your hips so tight you swear he’s using his claws

his cock bullies so deep inside of you that tears form in your eyes and you have to wind your hands into the sheets to keep from screaming

and once you throw Wade into the mix…

Wade does NOT get jealous easily & even if he does, he just jokes it off

it would take a lot to get him going & god help you if he does

he’ll swoop in when someone’s hitting on you and press himself in real close

not nearly as showy as Logan but he’ll make real good eye contact with them and call them out for it

“i know i know” he’ll kiss the side of your head. “so fuckable, right?“

he’ll have you propped on the counter of the nearest bathroom, his face stuffed between your legs in an instant

he’s holding your legs open with ease & relentlessly licking your poor, overstimulated clit

every time you try to shuffle away or close your legs he’s pushing them further apart

“ahahah, not yet baby. if you can still move then I haven’t done my job right.”

when they’re together & jealous?? you’re not leaving that room for hours and they’re going to fucking ruin you

they’ll have you whining and overstimulated long before either of them slip inside of you

they take turns over who gets to eat you out, the other holding your legs open and mumbling a tantalizing mix of praise and degradation in your ears

they’re both dirty talk kings

by the time Logan slips his cock through your folds, your legs are already shaking

you’re moaning so damn loud that Wade has to shove his cock in your mouth to keep the people at the party from hearing

the two of them can go for hours thanks to their regeneration and if you think you’re getting out anytime before that…

once you’re nice and fucked out in Logan’s arms, Wade’s sliding his cock inside of you and then they’re both fucking you

they get SO caught up in the moment trying to one up each other too—the only thing they can agree upon is that you’re theirs

when the night is over, you’ll be stuffed to the brim with cum and half-conscious, fucked out on the bed

they’ll clean you up nice and good though

Wade is the best ever at aftercare, he’ll always have water and a warm cloth for you (or in this case, a tshirt he stole from the closet)

meanwhile Logan will massage your aching muscles and shaking limbs, kissing your feverish skin

masterlist | marvel masterlist

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