#Cupid For You

[gyuwoncheol]

Man On A Mission

Pair: Joshua x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, very slight angst

Summary: Plans are made and the surprise is all set, but what happens when you’re suddenly refusing to be Joshua’s Valentine’s date? Will your boyfriend get your sweet yes in time for the big day or will he have to force it out of you? Good thing this sexy gentleman has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Warning: slight angst if you squint, lots of playful teasing, Shua and oc being menaces to each other, making out, suggestive content.

WC: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This is my piece for @svthub Cupid For You Collab - Valentine’s Gift Exchange. This is very much dedicated for my Valentine @shuadotcom 🩷 I’m so sorry this is late 😭 I would’ve really wanted to publish this on the 13th but your valentine has been very sickly these past few days. I hope you enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing the antics I wrote for you and your beloved Joshua. I love you so much!!! To the moon and back 😉 The biggest thanks as well to my dearest @wongyuseokie for being so patient with me and helping me out with all my questions AND for organizing this event! Ily 😘

Svthub’s Cupid For You Collab Masterlist

“You can’t be serious right now,” you frown in shock.

“SURPRISE!” Your boyfriend exclaims.

You turn around fully to face him, “babe… I thought we agreed on no surprises? And no extravagant gifts?”

A cheesy grin flashes on Joshua’s face but when he notices how serious you actually are, his once excited expression starts to fall.

You really should’ve known that when you both agreed on a simple staycation for Valentine’s, your CEO boyfriend would do anything but. However, when he mentioned to you about how busy he would be this week trying to close a merger deal, you thought perhaps simple would be possible. So when he asked you to join him for a lunch with business partners in a fancy hotel the day before Valentine’s, you didn’t actually think it was all a trap to just get you both checked in in the presidential suite for an overnight stay.

Joshua observes you a bit more before answering, suddenly feeling embarrassed and scared, “do you not… like it? I mean, I can still cancel the booking and then we can go do—“

“Baby, no,” you interrupt, “it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… not what we agreed on.”

“Well you said you wanted a staycation, right?” Isn’t this what that is? A nice place just less than an hour away from the city, perfect view, nice amenities, a good looking boyfriend. But I mean, if you’re not into it, I might still be able to get us those Bali tickets I canceled last week.”

“You what?!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hong?” The small voice of the hotel receptionist calls you both and Joshua is thanking the heavens you were given no time to further interrogate him.

“It’s Miss y/l/n,” you immediately correct her and Joshua frowns at how quick you were to dissociate from him, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he ponders how his extravagant surprise might have really upset you.

“Oh, my apologies miss y/l/n. Anyway, I just wanted to inform you that your suite is ready. Here are your room keys and you will be assisted to your room.” You kindly thank the receptionist and make your way through the hotel lobby.

The elevator ride up to the top was silent and awkward. Joshua consistently bounced on the balls of his feet from nerves. However, when the doors to your suite open, your jaw drops and your feet automatically lead you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that boast a 180 degree view of the city. You didn’t even notice the bell man wishing you both a pleasant stay or hear your boyfriend carefully approach you. You could see the concrete jungle of the business district yet so beautifully backdropped by the sprawling mountains in the distance. You never thought much of your city, it wasn’t exactly a tourist destination in itself, but now that you’re looking at it from hundreds of feet above, you realise it has a charm of its own.

“I take it you want to stay?” Joshua asks as he observes the glimmer in your eyes.

You finally peel your gaze from the view and turn to your boyfriend who’s carrying an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he grabs your hands and sandwiches them between his, “I just thought this would be nice and I know you didn’t want to do anything big but I also know you like surprises and I just really wanted to give you the perfect Valentine’s I could pla–“

“Who said I’d be your Valentine’s?”

At that very moment, all color drains from your boyfriend’s face. His mouth is agape, eyebrows raised and eyes are round as ever. Complete and utter shock wash over him and then you see pain, his eyes show early signs of wetness and he starts to blink hard and that’s when you burst out in laughter.

“I’M KIDDING!” You laugh loudly, hands cupping his face and you just hear him take a deep breath.

“Babyyyy,” he whines and you’re completely melting at the pout etched on his face.

“Aww, babe,” you peck his lips before embracing him tightly. He takes a few more seconds wrapped in your arms, trying to let his heartbeat stabilize from the prank you just pulled. “I was just kidding. I think.”

“You think?” He pulls back and catches the mischievous smile on your face. “What does that mean?”

“Hmm… well for starters, you just assumed, you didn’t even ask me, and then–“

“Okay so will you be my Valentine?” Your boyfriend rushes out and if you just weren’t feeling playful, it would be a definite yes right then and there.

“I’ll think about it,” you shrug. “This wasn’t exactly how I thought we’d spend the holiday, you know. I thought we’d only meet with Mr. Min today.”

“Well, I had to find a way to get you to come here with me.”

“Yeah, but what happened to no surprises, Josh? Didn’t we agree on a simple Valentine’s, just a staycation? No fancy gifts and just our favorite food?”

“If you think about it, we’re still in the city, so it’s still a staycation. And we can still have our favorite food!”

“And yet… what was that I heard awhile ago? You had plans to take me to Bali? Hmm??”

“Okay, fine…” your boyfriend slumps in defeat, “but that was honestly booked before we even agreed on anything. And then I canceled when you said you didn’t want anything too extravagant. C’mon baby,” Joshua prods, his arms wrapping around your waist, “I’m still somewhat following the agreement. I just… I really want to make this special for us. Please let me?”

“Okay, I’ll let you,” you smile at the sincerity of your most loving boyfriend. You truly appreciate the effort he’s putting into this, but just like the dynamic of your relationship, what’s a romantic holiday without a little fun? “But I’m still not saying yes to being your Valentine… not yet.”

He sees the wink you just gave him as you walk away and he rolls his eyes. “So that’s how you wanna play it, huh?”

You dramatically turn around before letting yourself fall on the large couch by the living room, “oh whatever could you mean, my love?”

Sometimes, Joshua just hates how you may just be as mischievous as he is, if not more. But he also adores your playful side, especially when it makes him think outside of the box. When he sits beside you on the couch, he’s immediately pulling you onto his lap, hands roaming up and down from your waist to your thighs. “I’ll get you to say yes,” he answers confidently.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm… before midnight.”

“A deadline, I like that,” you nod in approval, “let the games begin, babe.”

Joshua scoffs, “they already have.” A searing kiss is delivered to you that you almost fall over if your boyfriend hadn’t had his muscular arms supporting your back. When you’re finally responding back, Joshua is surprisingly the first to groan, but could you blame him? Your lips were full and soft and it didn’t help at all that your hips have decided to grind against his crotch. He’s sucking on your bottom lip and when they part to grant him entrance, the CEO wastes no time in exploring with his tongue. He hears you moan once, twice, and then he’s pulling your pelvis down as he bucks his hips to meet yours.

“Will you be my Valentine?” He asks in a muffled rush while trailing down your neck, hoping you’d be caught off guard. But Joshua should’ve known, you took your games just as seriously as he did.

“Not so fast, baby.” You giggle, pushing him back against the couch. “You’re not gonna get me in one try.”

There’s a genuine laughter shared between the both of you but when you feel Joshua’s hand begin to pull down the strap of your blouse, you gasp in shock, scaring the man beneath you, “what is it?”

“Babe! I don’t have clothes!”

“Even better,” he smirks.

“No!” You swat his hand away when he attempts another kiss. “I mean, we’re staying the night, right? I didn’t pack anything. Oh my god! I don’t even have my skincare!”

“Okay, calm down,” he rubs your arms, “I have it under control. I’ve packed for you, yeah? Clothes, skincare, even some accessories. Just… except maybe underwear.”

“Babe!”

“What? You won’t really need it anyway.”

“Joshua!” You scold louder this time.

“I’M KIDDING!” He laughs like a maniac, “I brought you… a few.”

To be very fair with your boyfriend, he stayed true to his promise of a staycation. While the hotel you were at had a luxury shopping center directly below it, he knew you just wanted to laze around in the comfort of your suite. Room service was ordered for your lunch, you both watched your favorite movie on the large built-in flat screen on the wall and now, you’re sighing happily sprawled out on the bed wrapped in the hotel’s fluffy bathrobe.

“Someone’s happy,” Joshua notes, settling beside you.

“Are you kidding me? That was the best massage I’ve ever had in my life!” If you were being honest, your whole body felt like jelly, in a good way, it’s as if you could still feel the masseuse’s skillful hands kneading away the knots on your lower back. “I think I might just marry her.”

“Wow, okay???” Your boyfriend takes offense.

“If she asked me to be her Valentine, it’s a yes,” you stick your tongue out at him and before you know it, you’re smothered in tickles from your boyfriend.

“What did you just say?!” He challenges and you want to trigger him more but you’re simply reduced to a fit of squirming giggles underneath his muscular body.

“S-s-sttooooppp!”

Your wrists are conveniently pinned down above your head as you try to squirm away, your body encased between his legs, and a pair of scrunched up brows and pursed lips are staring you down, “Not until you say yes to being my Valentine!”

“No!” You deny him, “the more you tickle me, the more I’ll say no.”

This actually catches his attention and he lets go of you. “Wow, I didn’t think that would work.”

“I’m just nice,” he proudly grins, “and that’s why I’d make the perfect Valentine’s date.”

“Mhmm, probably. You are a gentleman, after all.”

Joshua wiggles his finger at you disapprovingly, “I believe the exact term you’re looking for is a sexy gentleman.”

You both share a laugh at the inside joke that began a few years back in his workplace and has simply stuck until now. “Speaking of,” his tone turns a bit more serious, “I know you just wanna be lazy in bed all day but if it’s okay with you, will you let this sexy gentleman take you to dinner tonight? It’s just going to be in the restaurant downstairs and I made sure to ask the staff to place us where it’s more quiet and secluded.” Big doe eyes stared at you and while you did want to tease Joshua a little more, the sincere look on his face proved too difficult to even playfully deny.

“Okay, I’ll go, but I’m still not your Valentine date. There’s still a few more hours to woo me, Joshua Hong.”

He scoffs and then smiles, leaving a kiss on your cheek before hopping out of bed, “I’ll get that yes before midnight.” It’s cool and confident, and somehow, you’re beginning to lose your resolve.

“What is this?!” you gasp as you open the small hand carry luggage that your boyfriend had packed for you. It was the first time you had gone through it, completely trusting him when he said he had brought all your essentials. You also didn’t feel the need to go through the bag earlier as you had no plans but to live in the fluffy robe the hotel provided.

“What?” Joshua snickers.

You squint your eyes at him, knowing his agenda a little too well. “This,” you mutter coldly, raising up the lingerie with your hands. It was skimpy and it was lacey, and most of all, it was your boyfriend’s favorite. He tries to act innocent but a cheesy grin breaks out on his face anyway and you just roll your eyes at his antics. However, rummaging through the rest of the bag for underwear that had more coverage proved to be unsuccessful. “Just three pairs of lingerie? Nothing else. Really?”

“Hey, no! I packed four. Four pairs of lingerie. All of which are my favorite,” a boyish grin on his face.

“You couldn’t even bring me at least one comfy pair of panties for sleeping?” You pout.

“Not when we’ll be sleeping naked, no. But your nightgown is there,” your boyfriend earns another roll of your eyes and now he’s really giggling with mischief. “C’mon babe, don’t pout. Any of those four will fit perfectly with…” he runs to the closet and then quickly comes back with a huge white box in his hands that had a big black ribbon tied around it.

“Babe,” you gasp silently when you manage to open the box and pick up the beautiful dress that was folded neatly inside. It came in your favorite color and in a style that complimented your curves well. “This is too much,” you say just above a whisper, “I thought no more gifts?”

“Well, this isn’t really a gift. It’s more like… hmmmm…” your boyfriend purses his lips, “giving you something to wear for dinner. I can’t have you walking in the restaurant in just your lingerie! That’s only for my eyes to see!”

You should’ve been annoyed really, he was coming up with the most mischievous excuses to break the agreement you both made, but the way Joshua was pouting and huffing towards the end of his sentence had you smiling like a love struck teenager.

“I love you so much,” you smile and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, planting a kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

And you both did, you really loved each other so much. Mischief and jokes were common between you and Joshua; he was equally playful as you are, but no matter how much you teased each other, every single ‘I love you’ that came out of your mouths was always said meaningfully.

“Baby?” your boyfriend asks in the middle of your scrumptious dinner, “do you think Valentine’s is overrated?”

You’re slightly taken aback by the question, especially since the topic before this was how Joshua managed to win the chubby bunny contest during your friend group’s Christmas dinner.

“Uhmm.. “

When you realize he looked dead serious about his query, you give it some thought before answering him, “I see why it could be. It is quite a capitalistic holiday and well, Saint Valentine did die a gruesome death on this day, but I do think that if your Valentine is the right person, it doesn’t really matter if it’s overrated or not.”

Josh is listening intently to your words, his thumb slowly rubbing the back of your hand, “So… you don’t think all my surprises today are overrated, right?” There’s a curious look behind his eyes and your heart physically squeezes at the sight of it.

“Oh, love…” you sigh and scoot your chair right by his side, cupping his cheek and giving him a kiss that you hoped would wipe his worries once and for all, “You could’ve surprised me with a trip to the moon and I would still hop on that spaceship with you volunta–”

Joshua gasps loudly, “Now, how did you know that’s where we’re going tomo–”

“Babe!” you laugh and shove him lightly, “Even if you weren’t kidding, I’d go with you. I told you, even the most possibly overrated thing you could think of will not be overrated as long as it’s with you.”

“Ohhh, so I am your Valentine tomorrow, huh?” The proudest, most obnoxious smirk breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, his chin is held up high and one brow raised approvingly. It takes a few seconds for you but when you realize what he’s done— falling perfectly into his trap— your jaw simply hangs low.

Your boyfriend is quick to tuck his hand below your chin, “close your mouth babe, else a bug might fly in.”

You scoff at the remark but honestly, Joshua isn’t able to hear you amidst his cackling, and you absolutely abhor how he’s gotten you to slip so easily.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” the laugh is evil and confident, and you want to punch his stupid annoying grin away, “you loooooove me, quite literally to the moon AND back.”

Damn him, you thought, because he’s right, you love him, to the moon and back.

As if he wasn’t proud enough, your boyfriend seals your defeat by grabbing your neck to kiss you fervently only to then raise his fist in victory, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, AND a Valentine’s date for Joshua Hong!”

[monstersflashlight]

Lusty for love

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Cupid (monster) x fem!witch reader || sex pollen, (light) dub con, breeding, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink

You were stupid. A bit more stupid than normal at least.

You were trying to get some new potions to work when you accidentally spilled the pink powder he gifted you specially for lust potions. The pink powder was obtained from the cupid species, they produced it on their wings and any human or monster would instantly fall into a lustful frenzy once they touched it. And that’s why it was so hard to get, they had to give it to you specifically with a very clear intent of lust...

Your cupid friend gave it to you as a birthday present, and you were supposed to drop an itty bitty quantity in each potion because every time someone used the powder, he would feel it. You promised not to use much, always controlling how many potions you’d make… But you weren’t expecting for it to slip your fingers and pretty much cover your whole body. Your skin was tingling and your brain was barely coherent when you dialed his number.

“I need your help,” you whispered against the speaker, not letting him even say hello.

His response was instantaneous: “What happened?” You could hear him batting his wings in the background, and you were sure he was already mid air coming to get you. He must have felt the powder activating.

“I- I dropped the pink powder on me,” you confessed, your breathing labored and your skin tingly.

Fuck, you were about to burst and you didn’t even move. You’d never felt such intensity before, it was like every inch of your body was electrified and caressed at the same time, even the touch of the clothes over your body felt erotic.

“Fuck,” he cursed. The air against the phone was enough to know he was rushing to your house, his wings almost deafening in the background.

“Please, please…” You barely made sense, your brain was fuzzy in a way that made your clit tingle and your panties were so wet you could already feel your juices ruining your pants.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. In other circumstances you would have blushed, your unrequited crush on your cupid best friend making you feel all kinds of emotions. But you weren’t thinking straight, and he was talking again: “I’ll be there in a few minutes, take your clothes off, rub your pretty little clit until you are dripping wet because as soon as I cross your window I’m going to be inside of you, and I won’t stop until you are dripping with my come for every single hole.”

His words drove your brain into a frenzy, the effect of the pink powder getting even stronger as you did as you were told, pulling at your clothes so fast and hard you broke something. You didn’t care, you’d deal with whatever tore later on. You laid on your potions table, not caring about everything falling down or the million little pieces of glass that were probably on the ground, you had only one focus: obey. Your fingers found your clit and you started rubbing rapidly, moaning against the phone.

“You sound so sweet, good damn it. I knew you’d be perfect,” his words meant nothing and all at the same time, your inside twisting and turning as your pussy contracted over nothing, making you whine and beg. “I know, love, I know.” You could hear him breathing hard, the powder probably affecting him too, and with each movement of his wings you could feel him getting closer.

The second your window opened with a big crash, you were begging for him and he was falling to his knees next to the table, not caring about the glass, grabbing your ankles and pulling your legs as far apart as possible. He set his big body between them, his wings so wide and soft you felt the tickle against your knees when he pushed your legs over his shoulders.

The first contact of his tongue against your tender flesh feels like lightning hitting your body. And it only turned better when his dexterous tongue found your clit. He ate you out like a starving monster, fucking in and out of your pussy with his forked tongue until you were screaming his name and asking for more. More. More.

You came in less than two minutes, with his fingers pressing against your G-spot and your brain turning into jelly inside your head. It was so much and so little at the same time. You needed more. You needed him inside of you in any way you could. You pushed your torso up, pulling your legs off his shoulders and shoved his chest back until he was a few feet back. You jumped off the table, not even feeling the tiny glasses on the ground as you walked over them.

It was like your orgasm only made you hornier, more desperate, you needed him more than you needed your next breath. “Let me suck you off, please, please…” You begged, your eyes fixated on his dick straining against his pants.

You fumbled with the zipper, and he helped you, looking at you with such tenderness that your heart was about to explore out of your chest. But first: dick.

“Okay, love. Okay. Whatever you want. You can do whatever you want to me.” His words sounded like a promise, and your brain was so fuzzy you could only nod as you fell to your knees. “Open up,” he ordered, taking himself on his hand and caressing your cheek with the other. He fed you his cock and you swallowed it down greedily. “That’s it, such a good witch for me, such a pretty mouth wrapped around my shaft. Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your tongue over his head, pressing against the underside where you knew he was most sensitive. That cupid anatomy book coming in handy when you were wrapping your hand at his base and squeezing until you felt the ridges inside move. He cursed over you, his hand grabbing your hair so harshly you felt the tiny spikes of pain, but that only made you moan louder around him.

He cursed again, telling you nonsense as he moved his dick in and out of your mouth slightly. “Fuck, your mouth, love. You are perfect. You are so good to me. I’ve been wanting to have you like this forever. Good goddess, your mouth.” You grabbed his ass, trying to get him closer, further down your throat, but he stopped you. “None of that, I… I need you. I need to be inside of you. After that you can play with me all you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” your voice was airy and low, and without a doubt you knew your whole body was pink all over.

He helped you to your feet, claiming your mouth in a brain melting kiss before grabbing your ass and helping you back onto the table. His fingers found your pussy at the same time he positioned himself on your opening. “You are so wet, fuck.” He pushed the tip inside, and you were indeed so wet he slipped right in.

He cursed in so many languages you weren’t sure how many words he said, but you were in heaven. You reached Valhalla or whatever other heaven there existed out there. All at once. None at all… You touched the stars and came back to your body when he moved his hips back, pushing right back in and drawing a scream out of your lungs.

And then there was no more playing, only frantic fucking and dirty words.

“Do you like me, love? Do you like the feel of my cock inside of you? Do you like when I say dirty things to you?” You shivered, nodding frantically as you rolled your hips, chasing some of the pleasure he was promising you with his thrusts. “Of course you do, you love to be fucked this hard, this fast… You never had it so good, did you? None of your stupid boyfriends was as good as me. Say it.”

“None were… None as good as you…” Your voice was trembling, his thrusts too fast and harsh, but you couldn’t complain. You wouldn’t. It was that good.

“I know darling, I know nobody was as good as me. But you didn’t let me tell you that, did you? You were always with one or another, never enough time for me to fuck you as you deserved. To treat you as you deserve. To make you fucking mine,” he punctuated each word with a hard thrust that hit right over your G-spot, sending sparks of desire and pleasure to your brain until you were drooling over the table. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me you don’t like me like that and I’ve been pining over you for nothing,” his anger was palpable in each thrust of his hips inside your pussy, his ridges undulating and massaging you from the inside.

“I CAN’T. I CAN’T. YOU ARE RIGHT!” You screamed as another wave of pleasure washes over your body.

But he wasn’t listening to you, he was too focused on his actions, on driving you insane. “You can’t because you like me. You’ve liked me as long as I’ve liked you and you’ve been denying us both. For what? For some flimsy human dick? No more, love. You don’t go back to anyone else anymore. You. Are. Mine. To. Please.”

“Yours. Yours. Yours…”

And then there’s fireworks behind your eyelids and your brain is short circuiting. You could barely hold your body up as he expanded his dick inside of you, the cupid trick of locking inside your tight pussy was multiplied by a thousand because of the pink dust, and you could only scream silently as he bred you to the brim and your vision turned white behind your eyelids.

You came back to your body resting over his chest, the soft feathers tickling your cheek as you looked down at his wet dick, still half hard. Your body still craved him, and you were about to act on it when he said: “For what’s worth… I really like you like that, too, love,” he whispered against your sweaty forehead, his breathing labored as his dick twitched in your line of sight.

You threw a leg over his middle, rubbing your still dripping pussy over his dick. “Prove it.”

And he did.

(He was also true to his promise to leave you leaking and bred from every single hole, but that’s a story for another day...)

[pearlessance]

Cupid's Chokehold — part two!

PEARL NECKLACE

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

summary: Uncle Tommy gives you everything you want for your twenty first birthday.

pairing: step uncle!Tommy Miller x f!Reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, stepcest, age gap (reader is 21, Tommy in his mid thirties), size difference, praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, begging, dom/sub undertones, tommy yearns bad in this one, a bit of angst mixed in, alcohol overconsumption, reader is made uncomfortable by someone at a bar, references to being drugged (but doesn't actually happen), allusions to addiction, reader gets a facial

note: if you haven't heard yet, i'm turning this into a little mini series!! you can let me know here if you'd like to be added to the taglist. thank you to everyone for the support on this one, I'm so glad you all love uncle tommy as much as i do. let me know what you think of this chapter, i love love love talking to you guys and i promise there's more to come!

wc: 10.8k

[series masterlist] [main masterlist] [AO3]

Tommy Miller is a high functioning addict.

Self aware enough to admit it, hedonistic enough to only manage it. Has been that way for as long as he can remember.

He likes the head buzz of nicotine and the dizziness of liquor and the adrenaline rush of a real bad decision. His favorite high, though, is you. His favorite sound, his favorite taste, his favorite sight. 

His favorite girl.

After that fateful night in his apartment, the two of you get good at the balancing act. The push and pull. You ride the line of too much and not enough religiously. Have gotten it down to a goddamn science.

But the problem is that an addict never knows when to quit.

He does well for a while. Truly. Learns that it’s a whole lot easier to manage his longing with witnesses around, and goes out of his way to avoid being in an empty house with you. He interlocks his fingers together and squeezes when the urge rises in him to touch you. To cradle your pretty face, to run his thumb over your mouth when you make some filthy joke and smile up at him. He bites the inside of his cheek when you’re sitting beside one another and turn to whisper something in sync, bringing you face to face, so overwhelmed with a craving for the taste of your tongue that his heart hammers against his sternum.

For what it’s worth, Tommy tries. Loses sleep over it, even. Stares up at his ceiling for hours, warring with what he wants and what he knows is right. 

The right thing would be to wean himself off of you. Cut back a little at a time. Day by day, until eventually the thought of you becomes less persistent. Until he stops smelling the faintest trace of your shampoo in his sheets, until he stops transferring that half-smoked cigarette with cherry lip gloss on the filter from pack to pack.

But then, sometimes, he catches this look in your eye when you’re listening to him speak. He could be talking about something shitty that happened at work or telling you about a song he heard on the radio that he thinks you’d like, and you just stare at him like he hung the moon in the sky.

He’s important to you, and you make him feel it. And it’s this, this that he can’t give up. The way you trust him so completely, the way you love him without a trace of doubt. 

You say it once, in passing. Everyone’s sitting in lawn chairs in the backyard, enjoying the nice weather before the rainstorm moving in from the west hits. You’re sitting next to Sarah, but your feet are resting in Tommy’s lap.

Sarah’s talking animatedly, telling everyone about her college English professor and how they’ve been playing matchmaker all semester. On three separate occasions, they’ve paired groups together, and couples have emerged from them. Sarah thinks it’s intentional, but your mom and Joel aren’t so sure.

Tommy stays quiet for most of the conversation. But then he says, “Definitely a little weird. But, uh…anyway, I wanted to let everyone know I’m a changed man. Dropping the whole blue collar act and going back to school to study English.”

Everyone laughs, and you kick the side of his thigh lightly with a shake of your head. Through your giggles you say, “I fucking love you,” and it fills him with so much warmth he’s overflowing with it.

He rides that high for days. Gives you shit for it, even. 

When he steals your half finished slice of pizza right out of your hands and you call him a dickhead with a smile on your face he says, “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

You don’t deny it, and even that makes him feel special. Tommy takes every crumb of affection you throw at him and eats it up with a fork and knife like it’s the most delectable meal he’s ever had. Consumes your sweet words and your closeness so thoroughly, it’s almost comical. Like he’s a dog with a bone, desperate for it, because he is.

He stays balanced, though. Never lets it go too far. Can feel right when his desire begins to cloud his judgment and knows when to call it. 

But things change one night at the dining room table.

You and Joel sit beside each other. He‘s in front of that shitty laptop he bought decades ago, trying to write an email that sounds both professional and assertive without using the words asshole or fucking idiot.

He’s grumbling and typing with his two pointer fingers and a single thumb on the keyboard, shaking his head as you explain, “You have to capitalize her name, Joel. You’re not sending an email to your friend, she’s a CEO.”

“Yeah, well, capital letters are meant for people. Not for corporate lizards trying to fuck with my company.”

You catch Tommy’s gaze from across the table, making you both snort and fall into rambunctious laughter, earning you a glare.

“It’s not funny,” Joel says sharply. “Stupid I even have to do this. I don’t know why people don’t just leave well enough alone.”

“Everyone wants a piece of the pie,” you explain. “You’re making good money doing good things, and she wants to be a part of it. You guys keep taking on more projects this year, and inquiries like this are just the beginning.” 

“It’s a good thing, ain’t it?” Tommy shrugs. “Means you’re doing somethin’ right.”

“Exactly,” you agree. You lean across the table and swipe the glass bottle from his hands to take a sip. 

Tommy knows you don’t like beer and isn’t surprised when you cringe at the hoppy flavor, wrinkling your nose at him. He thinks maybe you drink it anyway not for the alcohol, but to put your lips to the same place his were seconds ago. He tries not to let the warmth that idea elicits in his chest spread too far. 

“Well, I don’t need some uppity lady who works in an office telling me how to do my damn job,” Joel adds.

“So say that,” you tell him. He starts typing on the keyboard again, so you lean in close, peering over his shoulder. “Oh my God. Not word for word. You have to paraphrase.”

Joel throws his hands up in the air and groans in frustration. “How do I say fuck off in a nice way?”

You and Tommy both laugh again, which only serves to piss Joel off even further. It’s not funny, not really; it’s just the dramatics of it all. And, truthfully, Tommy finds everything funny when he's with you.

“You write it,” Joel says, pushing the laptop towards you. 

“That’s not gonna solve anything,” you say, shaking your head. 

“What if I pay you?”

“Then you’ll be in the same situation next time. You’re gonna have to learn how to be a business owner, Joel. Not just a contractor.”

“Okay, so make it permanent, then,” Joel says, shrugging. “Like a…a receptionist. Come work for me and quit that coffee place. They don’t even offer health insurance.” He says it with such disdain, and Tommy knows exactly why.

They’d discussed it on the way home from work one afternoon. Too god damn smart for a place like that, Joel had said, and Tommy could do nothing but agree.

“I can’t quit my job to write your emails for you,” you argue.

“Not just that,” he says. “Can be in charge of payroll and schedules and the licensing bullshit. All the things I’m bad at. Weekends off, whatever hours you wanna work. I’ll pay you double what you’re makin’ now, and you get health insurance.”

Hesitation shows on your face. Tommy knows his brother means what he says, and he thinks you know it, too. But it’s a lot to consider. A big change.

“You’re good at talkin’ to people,” Joel continues, closing the laptop. “An’ it would mean a lot to me.”

That’s what does you in, Tommy knows. The nail in the coffin. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop and your eyes soften. Selfless girl, he thinks. Always taking care of the people you love. “What if I don’t like it?”

“You will,” Tommy answers. Because he knows Joel will take care of you, too. Make sure you have everything you might need. But more importantly, Tommy knows you. And even though he can sense the way it threatens his balance on that already thin line between safe and depraved, he knows you’ll enjoy it.

And he’s proven correct on that very first day.

Joel sets you up in the air-conditioned trailer they haul from job site to job site. Mostly, they use it to cool off during lunch, everyone piling into the small space for half an hour before going back out into the Texas heat.

The two of you spend most of the day going over all the contacts Joel’s acquired over the years, and how to schedule a consultation, and where to order materials. He gives you all of his passwords and clears off the cluttered desk that never gets used. 

Everyone on the team is awfully eager to meet you, and Tommy’s no fucking idiot. He knows exactly what goes through their heads as they shake your hand and introduce themselves and stare a little too hard at the shadow of red lace beneath your thin white top.

They conveniently wait until Joel’s out of earshot before the comments start pouring out of their foul mouths.

Pretty little thing, ain’t she?

Joel’s got that livin’ under his roof? Christ. Poor old man.

You see the way those jeans fit her?

Is it too early to start callin’ Joel ‘pops’?

Tommy wonders briefly why they feel so comfortable saying shit like this in front of him, knowing who he is to you, but then realizes he’s said far worse in the past about girls half as pretty. They feel comfortable because in any other situation, he would be joining right in.

Noah’s the worst of it. Takes things a little too far when he says, “Stepdaughter videos ain’t number one on the hub for nothin’.” 

Tommy clenches his teeth. Keeps his head down. Tries and fails to fight his smug ass smirk when you come grab his truck keys a little after four and return to the trailer wearing his Carhartt hoodie, the one he’d left in the back seat a couple days ago.

Later that night, Tommy follows you up to your room. Door wide open, with Sarah just across the hall and Joel and your mom downstairs. Not that he has any intentions other than checking in after your first day. It’s just…precautionary—an added layer of security to prevent a backslide.

He flops back in your unmade bed, hands folded behind his head, and watches a little too closely as you bend over to unlace your sneakers. “Well?”

You unclasp your necklace and drop it into a ceramic bowl on your dresser. “I loved it,” you admit. “It was a little stressful, but…I don’t know. I liked feeling like I could make a difference. Like I’m not just going in there to do my job and go home, I felt like I was being productive. It was nice.”

Tommy’s pleased to hear it. Loves the way your voice sounds in his ears. Happy, satisfied. He knows right then and there that he needs to set a firm boundary with Noah because you’re never going back to that coffee place, and Noah’s not going anywhere near you. “Said you’d like it, didn’t I?”

With a roll of your eyes, you sit beside him and pull your legs close to your chest, resting your chin on top of your knees. “Joel’s kind of a hard ass.”

It makes him laugh because it’s true. Can’t count on both his hands just how many times his brother has nitpicked the way things are done. He can only imagine the pressure you'd felt in that trailer, likely being told how to talk to this person or that one. “Only the beginning, darlin’,” Tommy says. 

The sunlight leaks in through your bedroom window, sheer lace curtains casting rays of gold over your skin. You’re beautiful, Tommy thinks. Painfully so. Sometimes he’ll catch you at a certain angle, just like this one, and it makes his heart rate stutter.

In another world, Tommy wouldn’t let you out of sight fucking ever. Would accompany you whether you were going to a nightclub or if you were just going to the corner store. Because he knows from experience that all it would take for a man to fall to his knees before you is a single look from those pretty eyes. In another world, one where he wasn’t your Uncle Tommy, one where he could just be yours, he’d make damn sure you’d never need anything from another man. 

Never need a door opened for you, never need to pay for a meal, never need to confide in anyone else. He’d take care of you. Do it all. Satisfy you in every way of the word because it’s what you deserve. He wants to take care of you, wants to be a provider. 

Tommy supposes it’s what he’s always wanted, despite his actions reflecting the opposite. He wonders if maybe he’s just been waiting for you this whole time.

You ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

And he doesn’t lie. “You.”

With a scoff, you playfully pinch his side. A sliver of his abdomen is exposed where his t-shirt has ridden up, and feeling you there is a shock to his nervous system. 

And when your touch lingers, his body tingles, and his brain becomes foggy. Tommy Miller has never wanted anyone the way he wants you. Is reduced to the simplest, most carnally driven man just at the feel of your delicate fingertips on his skin.

Your attention is centered on your hand as you slowly move it across his soft belly, eyes hooded and filled with desire. 

Tommy knows that look now. Knows the filthy thoughts invading your brain, knows exactly what you’re reminiscing about. He knows, too, that the balance is skewed. The longer he lies here with you, the closer he comes to caving. “Your turn,” he says. “Spill your guts.”

When you speak, your voice is quiet. A barely-there whisper. “It would be so easy, you know.” 

He does. Has rolled the idea over in his head a million fucking times. “S’the problem,” Tommy explains. “Can’t stop myself twice.” 

“Then don’t,” you say simply, continuing to run your fingers over his skin. He sees his favorite troublesome smirk begin to form on your sweet mouth and has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself from finding too much joy in it. “Could do it right here. Bet they’d never know.”

The edge of your pinky finger dips just below the waistband of his jeans. Barely there, but Tommy notices everything you do, and this is no exception, hyper aware of your every movement. He lets out a slow, shaking breath and swallows hard. He can’t bring himself to move or push you away like he knows he should. All he manages are two, hesitant words. “Ain’t right.”

Your response is quick. Honest and true. “I don’t care.”

It only makes his will to abstain that much harder. Knowing he isn’t alone in his longing, knowing you’re suffering in such a similar way…it hurts him just to think of it. But it’s different for you. Easier. Because you’re just at the beginning of your life, while he’s nearly halfway through his.

You have time to bounce back from this. To choose someone your age who’s a lot less twisted. Someone you don’t have to hide from the people closest to you, who you can kiss out in the open without shame.

And Tommy’s…well, Tommy knows there will never be anyone else for him. Has sat with that fact for quite some time. Accepted it by now, and considers himself lucky just to have had that one, stolen night.

Slowly, you move further down the mattress. The same one he once slept on that now belongs solely to you. You slot yourself between his strong thighs and his cock swells as you look up at him through your lashes.

There’s an experiment here, Tommy knows. The two of you are just alike. So similar that sometimes it frightens him. He can see the challenge in your eyes, testing the waters, seeing how far you can go before he pulls you back. 

You lean forward, bracing yourself with your hands on his hips. And when you press your lips to the bulge in his jeans, Tommy bites back a moan. 

This is too far, he knows. Way too fucking far.

His heart hammers in his chest. The door is still wide open, and everyone is home. All it would take is one person to walk down the hallway, and it would all be over. 

But it would be easy. Quick, too—Tommy’s never had much control when it comes to you.

With a quick flick of your thumb, you pop open the silver button. Saliva gathers between your parted lips, mouth watering for a taste of him. 

Tommy Miller is weak. Corrupted. Sick and twisted and perverted and— “Beautiful, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking…Christ. You got any idea how fuckin’ pretty you are?”

He gently strokes your hair, and when you smile up at him, he grins right back. His cock is already hard but then you pull his zipper down with your teeth and Tommy thinks he might die without relief.

Sarah calls your name from across the hall.

You scramble away from each other, sitting at opposite ends of the bed seconds before she rounds the corner. 

“Do you remember Summer? That girl from my biology class?” Sarah pays Tommy no mind as she sits beside you.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to be in your room, after all. He’s the first to lend a helping hand when you get the urge to move your furniture around and has carried up your laundry from the basement countless times.

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “The one you…”

Sarah flushes a deep crimson. Her eyes flicker between your face and Tommy’s, and he’s smart enough to read the room.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he says, standing from the bed, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.

You grab his hand as he walks past. Just briefly, but it turns his insides molten. One more lingering touch before he leaves. A way of saying, I don’t want you to go, but I know you have to.

Once out in the hallway, Tommy zips up his jeans and takes a few long, deep breaths before he goes downstairs to say goodbye to your mom and Joel. The two of them talk briefly, and Joel asks how you felt after your first day.

He says, “An’ I know you know that girl like the back of your hand, so don’t lie. She like it or not?”

Tommy isn’t quite sure why the words leave him feeling dizzy, but they do. He likes that he knows you so well and likes even more that the closeness you share is so visible. If he can’t outwardly call you his, if he can’t outwardly be yours, then he’ll take whatever this is. “She likes it.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief. “Good, cause she’ll make my life a hell of a lot easier.”

The next morning, Tommy stops by at seven to pick you and Joel up before heading to the job site. You carry a steaming travel mug in each hand, and before you climb into the back seat, you poke your head through the open driver's side window. “Just milk and sugar,” you say. “Right?”

He doesn’t know why you ask when you know the answer. “You didn’t have to do that, darlin’,” he says. But he happily takes the coffee anyway and takes a careful sip. It’s the perfect ratio. Tommy’s not surprised. 

There’s a playful lilt to your voice as you say, “I usually take mine with cream, but we were all out. Thought maybe you could supply me with some.”

He laughs hard and shakes his head. “Un-fuckin’-believable,” he says through his mirth. He glances over the top of your head to see Joel locking the front door behind him.

You uncap the lid. “Well?”

His face burns, but Tommy thinks he’s never had such a perfect start to his day. “Get in the truck before you start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

“But that’s my favorite thing to do,” you whine, pushing your bottom lip out into a dramatic pout. You listen, though. Replace the lid and climb into the back seat behind him.

Tommy scoffs and says with a grin, “Don’t I know it.”

It doesn’t take long for you to get awfully good at your job. That first week alone, you manage to slice their payment for materials in half just by haggling with the lumber mill Joel’s bought wood from since the nineties. You accompany him to a handful of consultations, learning what to look for in a client and how to pick and choose which jobs are worth taking.

You convince Joel to buy a mini fridge for the trailer that you keep fully stocked with bottles of water. And when you bring in those electrolyte drink mixes, it’s all anyone talks about for days.

Noah says, “The peach one is my favorite. Wanna taste hers next.”

Everyone finds humor in it but Tommy.

The words come out sharper than intended. “Quit sayin’ shit like that, man.”

Noah laughs. Like it’s funny. “You’re telling me you don’t want a piece of that ass?”

“What I’m telling you is to shut your goddamn mouth,” Tommy answers. He stops digging through the sand they’ve been moving for the last hour, left hand squeezed tightly around the red handle of his shovel.

“It was a joke, Tommy. Lighten up.”

“Don’t care what it was,” he says, staring Noah in the eye. “I hear some shit like that again and I’ll fuck you up. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

Noah sizes him up, and for a split second Tommy thinks he just might be brave enough to step. But Noah just sneers and returns to the task at hand, an awkward silence lingering between the group of them.

But Tommy doesn’t care. Sits in that silence happily knowing he won’t have to listen to anyone speak about you like that anymore.

Joel cares, though. And on the way home, he says, “Mike told me about you giving Noah a hard time today. You two gonna have a problem?”

“Wait, what happened with Noah?” You slide to the center of the leather seat in the back of the cab.

“Nothing,” Tommy lies. “Ain’t gonna have a problem.”

Joel narrows his eyes in warning. “Good. 'Cause that’s the last thing we need right now. Behind enough as it is.”

He thinks that’s the end of it.

But then you say softly, “He asked me out the other day.”

“He what?” Tommy and Joel say it in perfect unison. Equally floored and equally irate.

Joel turns almost completely around in the passenger seat.

You raise your hands in surrender and look at Tommy through the rearview mirror. “Said he wanted to take me to dinner, and I told him I’d rather starve.”

“Listen to me,” Joel says with that stern, no bullshit dad voice he sometimes still uses on Sarah. “I don’t want you anywhere near those boys. Ain’t a single one worth a damn. Liars and cheaters and fucking criminals. All of ‘em.”

A crease forms between your brows. “So why the fuck did you hire them?”

“Cause they’re good at what they do,” Joel explains. “But that don’t make them good. Deserve better than that. You hear me, kid?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Keep it professional with everyone,” you say. “Except for Uncle Tommy.”

He chokes. Tries to cover it up with a cough, but it doesn’t work in the slightest. His hands pale around the steering wheel.

“Exactly,” Joel says.

Later that night, Tommy is smoking on the back porch when you step outside to join him. It’s the first moment he’s had alone with you all day. “You tryin’ to get me killed or somethin’?”

“Or something.” You lean back against the siding and shrug. “Kinda sounded like Joel’s blessing to me.”

“You’re fuckin’ trouble, girl.” Tommy chuckles and passes you his lit cigarette when you reach for it. “Joel wasted all that breath warnin’ you about those boys when he should be warnin’ them about you.”

“Yeah, probably. But you love it.” 

Tommy can do nothing but agree because it’s the truest thing he’s ever heard. “Your birthday’s comin’ up soon,” he says, watching as you take the nicotine deep into your lungs. “Twenty-one. Anything you want?”

That too familiar smirk forms on your face, and Tommy knows what you’re going to say before you even open your mouth. Can see all those filthy thoughts behind your eyes, can almost hear whatever dirty joke you’ve got locked and loaded on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t even fuckin’ start with me,” he warns, a playfulness to his voice. But there’s no weight to it. Your inability to take anything seriously is one of his favorite things about you. 

Your lips part in a mockery of surprise. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Didn’t have to,” he says, plucking the cigarette from between your fingers. “Give me something realistic.”

“Okay…” You tap your index finger against your chin, contemplating. “What about…a pearl necklace,” you say with the sweetest, most innocent smile.

Tommy laughs. Can’t help himself. “Alright, you know what? I take it back. You only get gifts if you’re good.”

He thinks the sound of your giggling might be the only thing that’s ever truly brought him peace. Finds comfort in your joy, in knowing you’re happy. But when your laughter dies down, there’s a sad sort of look in your eye. A melancholic longing. 

Then you quietly say, “I just want you.” And Tommy’s ears ring.

This is what hurts him the most. The heavy truth of it. 

He’d known that taking your closeness to new heights would change him in irreparable ways. Known that nothing would ever compare, and he was ready and willing to live the rest of his life with that dull ache in his chest. Welcomed the haunting of emptiness with open arms because it was you and it was him and that one fucking night was yours.

But Tommy wasn’t the only one who’d been changed by it. Wasn’t the only one to suffer in the aftermath. 

He wants to comfort you. Wants to take your hands in his and kiss each of your knuckles until his lips turn blue. He doesn’t move, though. Not even an inch. Because he’s never felt nearer to a relapse than he does when you look at him like that. Like you see him. Like he’s all you see.

“I’m right here,” he says. “Always will be.”

Tommy means it. He thinks he would follow you anywhere just to feel the faintest warmth of your affection.

It seems to satisfy you. For now, at least. You give him the tiniest smile, a half effort, but it soothes the sting for him, too. Just a little. 

Your birthday falls on a Friday. Tommy gets up early and stops at a bakery before heading to Joel’s, and is pleased when he uses the key under the mat to find that the house is quiet. Still.

He creeps up the stairs and slips soundlessly into your room. The day is just beginning, and the light of dawn spills through your cracked window. Tommy sits on the edge of your bed and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

When he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, you stir and stretch out your limbs. Your voice is tired and filled with sleep as you ask, “Uncle Tommy?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers. He cradles your face in his hands and strokes your cheek with his thumb as clarity slowly finds you.

You smile up at him with starry eyes, and Tommy’s stomach flips. You’re so good, so perfect that sometimes he wonders how the fuck you’re even real.

“C’mon,” he says. “Sit up for me. Got you somethin’.”

Tommy holds your hands when you reach for him and pulls you forward. You push yourself up the rest of the way and fold your legs over one another beneath the blankets.

It’s only at that precise moment that Tommy realizes you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and the sight of it steals the air right from him. He likes it—loves it. Loves that a piece of him lives here with you. In your closet, in your room, in your sheets.

He’s not quite sure how you ended up with it, though. Thinks he might’ve left it on a lawn chair after spending an afternoon in Joel’s pool, or missed it in the dryer when the ones at his apartment were out of order.

But then you say, reading his every thought, “I stole it.”

Tommy laughs. “Think you’re supposed to ask before you take things that aren’t yours.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You lean forward, lips an inch away from his ear. “And I know I’m not the only one with sticky fingers, Uncle Tommy.”

His face burns. He thinks of your cherry lip gloss on his bathroom sink and your tank top on the right side of his bed and your lace panties in his nightstand. Tommy thinks he should know better than to hide things from you anymore. You’re too close, too similar. “Caught me,” Tommy mutters.

And then he digs his lighter out of the front pocket of his jeans and lights the ten cent candle he’d found at the back of Joel’s junk drawer. He sticks it into the center of the cupcake he’d picked out just for you—lemon flavored, with vanilla frosting and lime colored sprinkles. 

He holds it between you and says, “Make a wish, birthday girl.”

The flame flickers as your gaze darts between Tommy’s eyes and his mouth. You smile widely, and he can’t resist mirroring your joy. Feels it as thoroughly as if it were his own. Tommy’s never cared much for his birthday, but he feels overwhelmed with gratitude for yours. Thankful.

You close your eyes, make your silent wish, and then blow out the candle. He unwraps the wax paper for you, crumbs sticking to his fingers, and laughs when you take a bite and let out a blissful moan. “Holy shit,” you say.

Tommy feels pride bloom in his chest. Thinks pleasing you might be his favorite thing on the planet. “S’good?”

“It’s fucking amazing,” you answer. And then you turn the cupcake towards him. “I’m not kidding. Try it.”

He does. Leans forward and takes a careful bite right from your hands. You’re not wrong, either. The lemon is refreshing, and the vanilla buttercream is the perfect sweetness. Tommy nods as you take another bite. “Christ,” he says. “Worth every damn penny.”

You touch your thumb to the corner of your mouth. “You’ve got frosting on your face,” you say with a teasing grin.

Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I get it?”

“More to the left,” you instruct. But when he tries again, Tommy knows it’s still there when you hold in your laughter. And then you say, “Can I…?”

Tommy doesn’t understand right away why you even ask. You’re always laying your head on his shoulder or draping your legs over his or running your hands through his hair. This is no different, nothing out of the ordinary. 

But when he nods, you lean forward and lick the frosting off his bottom lip. 

It freezes him in time. Seconds feel like minutes as they tick by. He can feel the wetness of your tongue on his mouth, and you linger. Close enough that he can taste the sugar on your breath.

His morals hang in the balance. Sobriety threatened. Tommy Miller wants you so badly that he starts to wonder if you’re some fucked up form of punishment. Karmic justice for all those hearts he’s broken in his youth, just to be denied the one woman he’s ever truly wanted.

When you speak, it’s breathless. Nearly inaudible. “Kiss me.”

It is your birthday, after all. 

He fights the intensity that batters against his every impulse and instead presses his mouth to yours gently. Unhurried. So much different than the first kiss you’d shared. Your lips move against his in sync, one soul split into two bodies, whole again for the first time in months. 

Tommy thinks it’s just instinct when his tongue meets yours. You taste just as he remembers. A little warm and a little honeyed and a little like opium.

When you pull away, he feels the loss like a knife.

But then you cover your mouth with your hand and laugh, elation spilling through your fingers, and it’s like a balm to his heart.

Around another mouthful of confectionery, you insist, “Here. Have some more.”

Tommy sits there with you, waiting for the sun to rise, and the two of you share your birthday cupcake before the rest of the world wakes. You close your eyes and drop your shoulders as if it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten, giggling between each bite.

It’s such a soft, quiet moment. Only the two of you. For just a little while, you have nowhere to be, no one to perform for. It’s just you, and it’s just him, and when you take the last bite, Tommy licks the frosting from your fingertips.

Joel’s alarm echoes down the hallway, and Tommy taps the tip of your nose, delighting in the pretty way it scrunches in response. “I’ll see you outside,” he says. “Happy birthday, darlin’.”

On the way to work, Joel asks about your plans for the weekend, and you tell him about how your friends are taking you to that new bar that just opened up downtown. He warns you to be careful, tells you it’s been packed full of people every time he’s driven by it, and says to call if you need anything.

You promise you will. 

For dinner, your mom makes all your favorite foods, and Sarah gifts you a handmade pony bead bracelet. She wears a matching one on her wrist with the colors inverted, and they both say 4EVER in little black letters.

When Tommy returns to his empty apartment that night, it’s with a deep sadness. He tries to drown it out. Showers off the sweat of the day and watches something mind-numbing on television. But the main character in the sitcom rerun makes a dirty joke, and he can almost hear you laughing at it beside him. 

Everything reminds him of you.

He thinks about calling one of the women he’s hooked up with on and off throughout the years, but the problem is that Tommy knows how that ends. Knows he’ll ask them to leave halfway through, and he’ll lie there, unsatisfied and painfully in love with a girl he can never have.

His longing chokes him until he’s devoid of breath, of life. Just a shell of a man without you. 

This is the wretched low he pays for those highs, Tommy knows. And he pays it without complaint because the highs are heavenly. Fucking spiritual.

He goes to sleep every night without regret. This emptiness is oppressive, but his love for you is transcendent.

His phone rings a little after one in the morning.

Your voice is slurred when you speak. “Uncle Tommy?”

Something’s wrong. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. Can hear it in your voice. “Where are you?”

There’s faint music in the background. “That new bar on Sixth Street. Can you…I’m sorry. Can you come get me?”

He’s out of bed and pulling on his jeans before you finish asking. “I’m on my way, baby. What happened?”

You say, “I’m not…I’m not sure,” and Tommy’s heart sinks.

Because whatever it is is bad. Can feel it in his fucking bones. “Are you alone? Who’s with you, sweetheart? Where are your friends?”

“No, I…I’m just really—I had too much to drink, I think. There’s just so many people and I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

The new bar is halfway across town, but Tommy makes it in six minutes. It’s at capacity, just as he’d anticipated, all the townsfolk trying to see for themselves what all the hype is about. Tommy might recognize a few faces if he gave anyone but you half a second of thought, but he doesn’t.

He makes a beeline for the women's restroom at the back of the bar and ignores the scowls he receives from the two girls touching up their makeup in the mirror. He calls your name and finds you in the very last stall, sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around your legs.

Tommy breathes a little easier when he sees you. Knows that with him, you’ll be safe. He kneels at your side and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You let out the softest whimper. “Uncle Tommy,” you say, voice filled with affection. “You came.”

“Course I did. S’alright. C’mon.” He tucks his arms beneath you and pulls you to your feet. Supports your weight almost entirely as he leads you out of the crowded bar and back to his truck.

When he leans over your slumped frame to try and buckle your seatbelt, you start peppering the side of his face with sloppy kisses.

He says, “Okay, alright一would you just一sit still一”

But he doesn’t mean it. Not really. You’re a giggly mess of a girl, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and sliding your cold hands over his too-warm skin. “You’re just.” Kiss. “So.” Kiss. “Fucking cute.” Kiss.

Tommy’s smiling hard, but pushes you away as much as he hates to. “Cute, huh? Don’t know about all that, sweet girl.” He finally latches your seatbelt and quickly rounds the truck to the driver's side.

You're reaching for him the moment you can, arms outstretched and fingers grabbing for him. “Hold my hand,” you say, and of course he does. Kisses your knuckles as the engine roars to life.

Tommy says, “Let’s get you home.”

And you respond sleepily, “You’re my home.”

He tries not to read too much into it. Knows you’re just sappy and drunk. You don’t mean it. Not really. Tommy’s seen you trashed before. Has covered for you countless times and has all those drunken texts you’ve sent him memorized. You’re always like this. Loving and overly affectionate, a happy drunk to your core.

But you’ve never said anything that moved him quite this much.

Home.

What a perfect way to describe it.

But he just shakes his head. “How much have you had, kid?”

You toss your head back and laugh like it’s the silliest question he ever could’ve asked. “Too much! That’s why I called!”

Still holding tight to his hand, you roll down your window all the way. The air is cold but fresh, filling the cab of his truck with the scent of the early morning dew. You lean your head against the leather frame and close your eyes.

Tommy’s not quite sure when you fall asleep because your hand remains in his, squeezing tight even in your unconsciousness. He checks on you every couple of seconds, monitoring your breathing and the soft, slumbering noises you make.

He hates to wake you, but does it anyway when he returns to his apartment. You groan in defiance when he makes you stand, and it takes everything in him not to give in and carry you. 

“I know, baby, I know. But I need you awake for a little while longer,” he says. “Gotta get some food and water in you first, okay?”

You fight him each step of the way. Defy Tommy’s every instruction, once bubbly demeanor now replaced with agitation. But once he’s got you inside, he lets out a sigh of relief. He lays you on the couch and disappears into the kitchen for only long enough to make some toast and fill a tall glass with icy water. 

He holds your head up with one hand and tilts the cup against your mouth with the other, doing everything for you apart from the actual hydrating. You eat the toast slowly and argue between each bite, but he persists.

While you sleep, Tommy sits on the floor beside you. Half monitoring, half admiring.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for a single second. Even though exhaustion weighs down his limbs, Tommy is more concerned about you than he is about himself. He spends the night stroking your hair and making you drink a little more water each time you stir in your sleep.

A few times, you wake up completely, turning over to try and find comfort. You whine and sniffle, and Tommy repeats the same tender words until you fall back asleep. “You’re alright. I’m still right here. Uncle Tommy’s got you.”

It’s late by the time you sober up, almost noon. Tommy’s back aches from sitting on the hardwood for so long, and he needs a coffee or a nap or both—but the important thing is you. Always you.

You smile when you see him, and it’s so warm. A kindness that he’s only ever received from you.

It’s a visceral reaction, his mouth pulling up at the corners. Like he just can’t help it. He sees your happiness and feels it, too. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you say. And then you grab his big hand and press it against the side of your face. Tommy can feel your joy, can feel the way the muscles strain as you fight off your sleepy giggles.

He runs the pad of his thumb gently over your cheekbone. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like my head’s going to explode,” you say, voice filled with so much faux cheer that it’s comical. 

Tommy chuckles and stands to his feet, knees cracking. “Let me get you some aspirin.”

He’s not at all surprised when you follow him to the bathroom, never far for very long. While he sifts through his medicine cabinet, you sit on the edge of the tub. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” Tommy promises. He dumps two aspirin into his palm and hands them to you.

It takes a second before you speak. You turn the little pink tablets over and over in your hand, eyes downcast. And then you say, “I was too drunk and overwhelmed last night, but that isn’t what scared me. Noah was there.”

Tommy’s heart sinks to his feet. His jaw clenches, his knuckles turn white. 

“He kept…I don’t know. He wanted to take me home, and I was dodging him all night, but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Followed me for an hour, trying to change my mind. He didn’t…didn’t do anything, but it freaked me out.”

Tommy thinks he’s never wanted to hurt another man so badly in his life. He takes a deep breath, makes sure his rage isn’t fueled by any rash decision. And then he leaves the bathroom and finds his shoes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Wait—Tommy, please don’t.” You follow, clawing at the back of his t-shirt. “Please.”

The fear in your voice stops him. He thinks maybe you don’t quite understand the gravity of the situation, so he tries to explain. “Can’t let this one go,” he says, shaking his head. “Not—Christ. Not this. He doesn’t get to make you that uncomfortable and get away with it. Fuck no.”

“I love that job,” you reason. “And I promised Joel—!”

“He’ll be just as pissed when he finds out—”

“I don’t want him to find out. Please, don’t.”

Tommy takes your hands between his. “Do you understand how much worse it could have been?” Tommy feels sick, thinking back on all those times Noah had made jokes about roofies and Tommy had just discounted it as dark humor. “Ruined your fuckin’ birthday,” he grumbles. 

You say, “He didn't ruin it. I got to spend it with you, didn’t I? That’s all I wanted.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. Tommy can’t hear such sweet words when he’s like this—hot and angry and murderous. “No.” He shakes his head. “He doesn’t get to—”

“If Joel fires me for this, I will never forgive you,” you suddenly say, voice holding a cutting edge.

Tommy doesn’t understand. “What? Sweetheart, he’s not going to be mad at you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing. Joel will understand why I have to do this. He’s going to be mad at Noah, baby, not you.”

“Who I swore not to cause issues with!” Tears well in your wide eyes, and Tommy feels something inside his chest crack wide open. He’s never seen you cry before, not like this.

He pulls you into an embrace. Holds you tight against his chest, arms wrapped around your shoulders. His hands shake, unable to get a handle on either his anger or his despair.

Against his shoulder blade, you murmur, “Promise me you won’t tell Joel.”

And Tommy does. Swears to keep this as far away from you as possible. He refuses to make matters worse for you and, Christ, the sight of you crying makes him fucking miserable. He’s never hated anything more.

Once you sniffles subside, you lift your head and say, “I smell fucking awful.”

Tommy laughs, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Go shower. I’ll find you some clothes.”

He picks out an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, sets them on the bathroom sink and decides to make you breakfast. But Tommy notices quickly that his eggs are expired, and the box of cereal on top of the fridge has gone stale. He has nothing to offer you, and he’s not sure why, but the realization leaves him feeling hollow. 

Eternal bachelor with nothing to his name. You can never be his, and Tommy knows this, but he thinks maybe if he were…better, somehow, that maybe you could be. But you’re too good for him. Too sweet, too lovely, too you.

And Tommy’s…well. He’s Tommy. And just because you look at him like he puts the stars in the sky doesn’t mean he actually does. He’s not like Joel, never has been. Has always gotten into trouble, doing things he knows he shouldn’t. Fighting or drinking or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tommy’s never had his shit together a day in his life, and you deserve someone who can take care of you. Someone less disappointing.

Someone who can make you breakfast, for fucks sake. 

He feels you before he sees you一your warmth at his back. Tommy’s eyes flutter closed when you slip your arms around his waist and lay your head in the space between his broad shoulders. 

You say, “Thank you for always keeping me safe,” and Tommy wonders how the fuck you always know exactly what to say. Like you’re in his brain, somehow—a sixth sense finely tuned precisely to him. 

Emotion bubbles up in his throat. Thick and smothering. He loves you, Tommy knows. Has never and will never love anyone like this again.

“You make me so happy.” There’s a tenderness in your words, soothing his every ache. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Tommy turns in your embrace. Cradles your face in both hands and promises, “You’ll never have to find out. M’always gonna be here for you.”

You kiss him, and Tommy lets you, even knowing he shouldn’t. It’s a little different than the one you’d shared at dawn in your bedroom. A little more heated, filled with clear intent.

He can sense it. Feel it in your every movement. Knows just what you want, what you need, and slips his tongue into your mouth when your lips part anyway. Let's you tilt your hips against his, feeling the growing hardness there, and swallows up your moan as he slots his knee between your legs. 

His breath comes fast, and he’s aware of just how wrong it is, but you make him feel so important. Like you really, truly want him. Not for the things he does but just for him—flaws and disappointments and all.

An addict who always craves your fix.

You rock your hips against his knee and breathe a sigh of relief into his mouth. Tommy helps you, grabbing at your soft thighs and pulling you back and forth to increase the friction. 

It’s too much. Too far.

This isn’t a drunken night. It’s the morning after. Stone cold sober, inexcusable.

“We should stop.”

“I know,” you say. But neither of you takes your own advice. He only kisses you harder, soaking up all of your benevolence for as long as he can. You slide your hand between your bodies and palm his cock through his jeans.

The surety of your touch is dizzying. You want him. It’s clear as day, but he wants to hear you. “Say it.”

You don’t hesitate, reading him like an open book. Tommy suppose, for you, he is. With sugary sweet words, you admit, “I need you, Uncle Tommy.”

He’s never been good at denying you anything. “I know, baby.” In one swift movement, he lifts you off your feet, and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. He kneels down and lays you back, right there on the kitchen floor, and tugs your borrowed sweatpants down your thighs.

You kick them out of the way, and he pushes your t-shirt up over your breasts. “Touch me,” you sigh.

Tommy presses his mouth to the center of your chest. Inhales deeply, taking the familiar scent of you into his lungs. He cups your breasts in his big hands, the rough pads of his thumbs grazing over the peaks of your nipples.

He kisses and licks and bites down the center of your belly, leaving shallow indentations in the shape of his teeth on each of your hips. When he presses his mouth to your pubic bone, Tommy leans back just enough to get a full look at you. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

A soft flush crawls up your cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much,” you say.

Tommy understands. Even though he’s been right here, right by your side, he hasn’t been completely honest until this very moment. Not with you, and not with himself, and not since that night in his bed.

It’s like being unclothed. Bare boned. You both know the truth of it, know that he’s your Uncle Tommy and that it’s corrupt and perverted for him to be here, kneeling between your legs. But he’s here anyway, and his mouth is watering, and he fucking loves the sounds you make when his slides his tongue through your slit.

He licks up the wetness that has gathered, groaning at the heady taste of you. Your hands tangle in his hair when he circles your clit with a pointed tongue, drooling down his chin. 

With one arm wrapped tightly around your thigh, keeping you in place, Tommy uses the other to gently press his two middle fingers into you. The sight of your arched back is extraordinary; the kind of goddess-like beauty the poets write about. Your pussy clenches around his fingers when he twists them inside of you and pushes firmly against that spot that has you writhing.

“That’s so一” You inhale sharply. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

It pleases him to hear it. Loves knowing that in this, he can never fail you. Tommy sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the sensitive nerves, and thrusts his fingers a little faster. He thinks he’ll never grow tired of this. Of the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you call his name.

“Oh, God. Please don’t stop, please.” He wouldn’t dream of it. Your body shakes beneath him, thighs trembling in the grip of his rough palm. He can feel your walls pulse around his fingers, and Tommy knows you’re close. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he slides his thumb easily through your folds to swipe it over your clit. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your soft belly. “Your pretty pussy always get this messy?”

You shake your head and say brokenly, “No, it’s just…just for—hmm—just—oh my God—”

“Shh,” he coos, chuckling lowly. “S’okay. I know it’s just for me. I know how much she likes it when Uncle Tommy kisses her like this.” He angles his hand and pushes it deeper inside of you, cock throbbing at the way you soak his fingers. “Give it to me.”

With a stuttering breath, you let out a salacious moan and your orgasm hits you hard. Your hands tug at the curling strands of his hair, your every muscle tenses, and your spine bends off the linoleum. His name falls so fucking beautifully from your sweet mouth, and Tommy wants to taste it. 

So he does. Slides up your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You whimper into his mouth and he swallows down the sounds of your bliss like fine wine. “There you go,” he whispers tenderly. His thumb on your clit doesn’t slow until he’s sure he’s pulled every last drop out of you. “S’that feel better, sweetheart?” 

You nod and giggle softly, a wide grin stretched across your face. The moment is filled with such happiness that it warms him from the inside out. 

And even though his cock aches, Tommy thinks this alone is enough to satiate him. Enough to curb that craving, just seeing your pupils blown wide and the pretty flush on your face. Knowing you’re fulfilled and content and that he’s the one who’d brought you to that high does wonders for his confidence. 

“You’re so good at that,” you say, and it makes him laugh. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he explains, kissing you hard. “Could eat you all fuckin’ day and still feel hungry.”

Tommy laughs when you turn your head to press your face into your shoulder, hiding the way your nervous smile grows. 

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now, darlin’,” he says, pressing his stubbled cheek to the side of your throat. He presses his lips to the curve of your jaw and grins when goosebumps form on the back of your neck. “Uncle Tommy just had your pretty pussy in his mouth. Least you can do is look him in the eye when he tells you how fuckin’ good it tastes.”

He can feel the way your spine bends, pressing your body firmly against his. But you’re a giggling mess beneath him, squealing at his filthy words as if worse hasn’t come out of your mouth.

“S’alright if you ain’t got nothin’ more to say,” Tommy tells you. “Gonna have to start from the beginning ‘til you learn to use your words again.” His mouth moves down the column of your throat, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

He’s slow in his pursuit, listening to the way your breaths become shallower and shallower as he lowers his head to the valley between your breasts. When he makes it to that sweet spot just below your navel, he stops.

“Wait,” you say, and he does. “I want…more.”

Tommy knows. He knows, and yet still, he urges, “Tell me, baby.”

“I want you.”

He thinks suddenly about the conversation you’d had on Joel’s back porch. The last time you’d admitted that you wanted him, that he’s all you wanted. Tommy doesn’t understand it, in truth. Will never understand what the fuck you see in him or why you not only give him the time of day but why you seek him out.

But what he does understand is this.

Tommy sees your need and matches it. Exceeds it.

You slide your hand down your body, fingers slipping through the wetness between your thighs. “Want you here,” you say. “I need it, Uncle Tommy.”

He knows he shouldn’t.

But you want him. And that’s the best high of all. 

“M’comin, sweet girl,” he promises. He leans back on his knees and grabs his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head. You watch him with half-lidded eyes as he undoes the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, and Tommy watches you. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs, shoving the denim down around his hips just enough to take his heavy cock out. 

You take him in your delicate hand and press his tip to your clit, sliding it slowly through your slick folds. Such a gentle movement, but it has his breath stuttering already, and Tommy has no fucking idea how he’s going to make this last. “Go slow,” you say. “Wanna feel every inch.”

Tommy notches himself at your entrance and does just as you ask. Pushes into you so carefully it’s almost painful. His every instinct urges him to surge forward, to split you open and bury himself inside of you. But the whimpers you make as you adjust to the stretch he creates keep his head on straight.

It’s the most pornographic image he’s ever seen, watching your sweet pussy greedily swallow up his cock. You’re so wet, dripping for him, and it makes these obscene sounds with each pressing inch that has Tommy’s heart beating hard against his sternum.

“Shit,” he hisses. “You feel so good, baby.” Once he’s fully seated inside you, his waist pressed against yours, Tommy rolls his hips, and the movement has you gasping. He can feel your walls clamp down around him, and it only spurs him on more. He does it again, a gentle pressure at the deepest part of you he can reach.

“It’s so—so big,” you whine, fingernails clawing at the back of his shoulders.

Tommy only smiles. Kisses your mouth tenderly and says, “You can take it. Hm? My perfect girl. Made just for me.”

One of his hands slide up the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist, while the other comes to circle your clit. He can feel your body’s reaction, can feel the way you squeeze tight around his cock.

You nod frantically, the beginnings of tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You breathe out the word, “Yours,” and he feels his orgasm threatening already, building at the base of his spine. “I’m all yours.”

Tommy circles your clit and sets a steady pace. Fucks you slow, fucks you deep. Just how you need it, delighting in your moans. He presses his mouth softly to your temple, your cheek, and spends a little extra time with his teeth at that spot just behind your ear. “Look at me, baby,” he says, nudging his nose against yours.

When you do, your eyes are all starry in that way he loves, filled with awe. You’re the only person to ever look at him like that, with not an ounce of disappointment. It’s like you’re just happy he exists, and Tommy feels emotion build in his throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you say, and so he quickens his pace, circling your clit faster. “Don’t stop, God, I’ve—I’ve missed you so bad, Uncle Tommy.”

It’s the most dizzying thing he’s ever heard. It nearly tips him over that edge. But he needs to feel you first, needs to make sure you get everything you need. “Yeah, I know it,” he says tenderly, thrusting in deep. “Missed my baby, too.”

He thinks it’s an understatement. Feels wrong, saying he’s only missed you when he’s thought of nothing else.

Tommy knows you’re close, can feel the way you pulse around him, breathe stuttering. “That’s it,” he mutters. “You gonna cum for your Uncle Tommy? Hm?”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m—”

“S’good, baby,” he whispers against your mouth, keeping his rhythm. “So fucking good for me.”

Your moans echo off the walls as you reach that peak, thighs trembling around his hips. He can feel a rush of moisture against his cock and he tears a low sound from somehwere deep in his chest.

He doesn’t stop, chasing his own high, even when you start to squirm beneath him. His fingers stay circling your pretty clit, ratcheting the pleasure higher and higher until—

“My face,” you suddenly say. “Want you to cum on my face.”

Tommy thinks you’re going to be the death of him.

Perfect, filthy girl. 

He pulls out of you quickly, orgasm dangerously near. You prop yourself up, palms against the kitchen floor behind you, while Tommy takes his cock in his hand and squeezes. “Goddamn,” he groans. “Ask me nice.”

With the prettiest, most innocent smile, you say, “Cum on my face, Uncle Tommy. Please, please, please.” You stick out your tongue and look up at him, and that’s what does him in. The fucking love in your eyes.

Tommy cums hard, stroking his cock over top of you. Sticky, white ropes of his release coat your face, leaving splotches on your cheeks, your chin, down your chest. It’s disgusting. Easily the worst thing he’s ever done in all his life.

But when he’s finished and his cock begins to soften, you swipe the mess off your chin and push it onto your tongue and moan. Like it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. And any remorse he once had vanishes into thin air because how can he be sorry when you look so happy?

You giggle and say, “Guess I got that pearl necklace after all,” and Tommy has to look away to keep from laughing too hard.

He cleans you up with a hand towel and water from the kitchen sink, shoulders a little lighter. And once you’ve got his borrowed clothes back on, Tommy watches with reverence as you move around his kitchen as if you belong in it. 

You open the freezer and go right for the half empty carton of mint chip ice cream. It’s your first choice. Not expired eggs or stale cereal. 

Seeing it gives him a flicker of false hope. 

Because he knows he can’t be what you need forever. Knows he won’t keep you in the end, knows that whatever this is isn’t sustainable. But maybe he can just…keep you happy to the best of his ability. Just for now.

You only grab one spoon but offer him the first bite. “Mint chip is the best flavor by a fucking mile,” you say. “And anyone who says otherwise is delusional.”

“Keep that up when Sarah finds out it’s your favorite,” Tommy insists. “Cause she’ll fuckin’ tear you apart. Believe me, I know from experience.”

Laughter falls from your lips when he hands you the spoon. “Oh, I know. Was a victim of her chocolate chip cookie dough defense monologue, too.”

Tommy’s phone rings on the kitchen counter, and he swallows hard when he sees Joel’s name flash across the screen. When he answers, there’s a trace of alarm in Joel’s voice as he asks if he’s seen you. “Just a little concerned is all. Figured her phone’s dead or somethin’ but…haven’t heard back since last night. Just wanted to make sure she got somewhere safe.”

He’s never lied to Joel in all his life, and Tommy knows he would sense it the minute he tried. So he tells as much of the truth as he can. “Yeah, she uh…called me early this morning. Picked her up from that bar an’ let her crash on the couch. I’ll be bringin’ her home in a minute.”

You gather your things, and Tommy tries not to let that sliver of emptiness trickle in too fast. You’re still here, still with him, and this moment still belongs to you even at its close.

Like always, you sense his gloom before it’s even fully hit. And when he pulls into Joel’s driveway, you thread your fingers through his and say, “Stay for dinner. I miss you already.”

Tommy knows he shouldn’t. Knows that feeling lightheaded just from your words alone is a real problem for him.

But he’s never been good at telling you no.

taglist; @theretrofuturista @chuutu @gabymalikk @nana90azevedo @alidiggory92 @marisemonteiroo @ivyinthesun @hollowgracie @moyavsemoya @madadadison @polkadotsocks1993 @malewifejoelmiller @mmmunson @ssssc0m @skye-44 @tateypots @joelscowgirl69 @dbs5647 @cuntyhunty22 @thaliagracesgf @whossbunny @jamespotterismydaddy @whatdoyoumeanhesnapped @rainydayathogwarts @urfavhanna @subconsciouscollapse @worhols @joyridinginzombieland

[divider by @bernardsbendystraws]

[cupid-grl]

18+ mdni.

simon “ghost” riley is absolutely the type of man to fall asleep while giving head.

dooon’t care what anyone else has to say. i know he’ll come home, exhausted and sore everywhere. he doesn’t even have the energy to pound his meaty cock into your tight little precious cunt. all he can think about is having you lie back, and bury his head deep into the softness of your thighs and eat you whole.

he’s lapping at your folds like a starved man, those half lidded eyes looking up at you as your face is glistening with sweat and your cheeks are all red and hot. his hands grip onto the sides of your ass so tight you wanna cry but he feels so good, you can’t tell him to move. he’s too pussy drunk to realize his grip is gonna leave purple hand marks on you tomorrow.

and you’re so focused on trying to reach your high, that when you finally look down the valley of your stomach, realize that simon had stopped working his skilled tongue on your pussy. his eyes closed, lips squished between your folds and he’s.. snoring?

poor baby was so tired, he tried to please you and himself the best he could. but you were so soft and so warm he couldn’t help but doze off on the comfort of your warm, wet pussy.

but don’t worry because when he wakes up, still half asleep, he’ll lazily begin drawing circles around your swollen clit with his warm tongue, before the twitching inside his trousers wakes him up and he’s back to tongue fucking you so good.

[somewhereincairparavel]

gentle reminder that jason has striked a god with his blade causing him to bleed, when the god was INVISIBLE, simply based on the movement around him.

[frenchublog]

Part 1

[cupidsworstcrime]

stalker!kyle going through reader's things and finding her sketchbook, only to realize they are full of drawings of him.

-🛸

Oh em gee.... <333

He didn’t mean to find them.

Well—he didn’t mean to find them tonight. He’s been through your apartment before, always careful, always surgical. He’d comb through your drawers, your laundry, your laptop, your books—devouring every thread of your life like it was scripture. But the sketchbooks? They were stacked in a milk crate, barely hidden under your bed. Not exactly locked away.

He opens the first one with idle curiosity and stills.

The first few pages are abstract—warm-ups, maybe. But then there’s a profile sketch. Sharp brow. Cropped hair. A beard he doesn’t have anymore but used to.

His breath catches.

Another page: him, again. Closer this time. The ink captures a furrow in his brow he’s only ever seen in his reflection. The precision—the obsession—is uncanny.

He flips faster now, frantic, as more of him fills the pages. Some drawings are from behind. From across the street. From places you shouldn’t have had unless you were watching him before you even knew his name.

Some are dated—months before he ever spoke to you. Before he accidentally bumped into you at the café. Before he saved you from that creep in the alley. Before you ever let him into your life.

Kyle sits back on his heels, the sketchbook trembling in his grip.

You’ve been watching him.

You saw him first.

And fuck—it does something to him. Makes his pulse spike. Makes his stomach flip in this sick, intimate way.

All this time, he thought he was the predator.

But now? Now he’s not so sure.

[the-star-rigel]

pjo/hoo/toa + the cycle

The Lightning Thief / Growing Sideways, Noah Kahan / Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan, Ilya Repin + Saturn Devouring His Son, Goya + Saturn, Rubens / The Blood of Olympus / The Family Jewels, MARINA / The Last Olympian / The Sea of Monsters / The Family Jewels / Orestes Pursued by the Furies, Bouguereau / The Hidden Oracle / Apollo and Marsyas, Manfredi / In The Blood, John Mayer / The Sea of Monsters / The Combat of Ares and Athena, Jacques Louis David / The Family Jewels / Mark of Athena / The Combat of Ares and Athena / The Lightning Thief / Family Line, Conan Gray / Cronos and Rhea, Schinkel / The Lightning Thief / The Blood of Olympus / In The Blood / The Last Olympian / Chronos and His Child, Romanelli / Desireé Dellagiacomo / The Lightning Thief / Family Line / The Fallen Angel, Alexandre Cabanel + The Last Day of Pompeii, Bryullov / The Blood of Olympus / The Outcast, Botticelli / Glass, Irony and God, Anna Carson / House of Hades / Family Line / The Last Olympian / The Lament for Icarus, Herbert Draper + Sacrifice of Iphigenia, Roman School + Minerva and Arachne, Houasse + Venus Induces Helen to Fall in Love with Paris, Kauffmann / The Last Olympian / Hadestown / The Lightning Thief / apple, Charli xcx / The Last Olympian / I Would Leave Me If I Could, Halsey / The Sea of Monsters / ? / LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK, Lavery and Corrigan / The Last Olympian / Eat Your Young, Hozier / The Last Olympian / Orpheus and the Bacchantes, Lazzarini / The Blood of Olympus / Susan Smith, wych elm / Orpheus and the Bacchantes / The Burning Maze / ? / The Tyrant’s Tomb / Perseus Freeing Andromeda, Veronese / Abduction of Psyche, Bouguereau + Bacchus and Ariadne, Van Loo / The Tower of Nero / The Tower of Nero / The Tower of Nero

[ateezscupid]

nerdy pervy bf yunho who instantly got red and hard whenever you wore his clothes

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST yunho sees you in his hoodie and shorts ♡

"Yunho!" You jumped up and down excitedly as you stood on the other side of the door, watching as he walked into the apartment with a tired smile. His eyes searched the room, looking for the source of the noise. When they landed on you, his expression brightened. "You're home!"

You were wearing one of his hoodies with your pretty white pajama shorts, and he couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him at the sight. He dropped his bag on the floor, a mix of textbooks and gym clothes spilling out. "Jesus…"

"What-?" you started to ask, but the words got stuck in your throat as Yunho stepped closer, wrapping you in a bear hug that was at once comforting and overwhelming. He smelled faintly of rain and mint, the scent of the outdoors mingling with the clean scent of his deodorant. It was a smell that was uniquely him, one that never failed to make you feel safe and loved.

"Oh- okay-"

"I love when you wear my things." he murmured into your hair, his voice gruff with affection. You couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling the tension of the day melt away as his arms tightened around you. His hand traced patterns on your back, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You pushed yourself closer until you felt something poking your stomach. You furrow your eyebrows. "Yunho,"

"Hm?"

"Are you hard?" You whispered the question into his ear, your voice barely audible over the sound of his steady breathing. He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, a playful glint in his eyes.

"It's not my fault," he said with a smirk, his cheeks flushing slightly. "You just look so… tempting."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. "Well, I'm not complaining," you admitted, leaning in to kiss him lightly. His lips were warm and familiar, and the taste of mint from his breath washed over you.

He kicked the door closed behind him and picked you up, spinning around with you in his arms. You giggled, feeling lighter than air, as he carried you into the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep the evening light at bay. He set you down gently on the bed, and you watched as he pulled off his shoes and socks, then reached for the hem of his shirt. His muscles rippled with the movement, and you felt your breath hitch in your chest.

"Yunnie~" You teased as he threw his shirt aside, his abs flexing with the motion. He chuckled, a sound that never failed to make your heart flutter. You scooted back on the bed, making room for him as he climbed in.

"Yes, baby?" He said as he climbed into bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He leaned over you, his eyes darkening with desire as he captured your mouth in a kiss that was anything but light. His hand slid under the oversized hoodie, tracing the line of your waist before moving up to cup your breast. You moaned into his mouth, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Can you eat me out-?" you mumbled against his lips, feeling a blush creep up your neck. It had been a long week and you hadn't seen him much. Your body craved his touch, the feeling of his mouth on you.

Yunho's eyes lit up, and without a word, he kissed his way down your neck, peeling off the hoodie as he went. He left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. You shivered, arching into his touch.

When he reached the hem of your pajama shorts, he took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes lingering on the lacy underwear you had chosen for the night. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly dragged the fabric down your legs, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. You watched him, anticipation building in your core.

He took a moment to gaze at you, his eyes roaming over your bare skin. He leaned down to kiss the inside of your thigh, the gentle pressure of his lips leaving a trail of heat. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp as he continued his exploration, moving closer and closer to your center. His tongue flicked out to taste you, teasing your clit with feather-light strokes. You arched your back, silently begging for more.

Yunho chuckled, enjoying the way you squirmed under him. He took his time, savoring every inch of you. His tongue swirled around your clit, pressing harder, then retreating. Your hips bucked in response, seeking more of the delicious friction.

"Mmm, Yunho," you gently grabbed his hair, urging him closer as your legs fell apart. His mouth was hot and insistent, the pressure of his tongue increasing with each pass. Your breath grew ragged as he began to suck, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

You could feel your arousal building, the ache growing with every flick of his tongue. The sound of his mouth on you filled the room, a wet, intimate rhythm that echoed in your ears. Your hands tightened in his hair as you lost yourself to the sensation, the world outside the bedroom fading away to nothing.

"Yunho, please," you begged, your voice strained. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and then he was diving back in, his tongue pressing against you more firmly, more urgently. You felt yourself getting closer, your body tightening with each stroke.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice muffled by your cunt. "You taste so good."

The words sent a new wave of heat through you, and you bucked your hips, trying to get more of his mouth on you. He groaned in response, his hands moving to grip your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked with a fervor that was both thrilling and overwhelming. Your toes curled, your nails digging into the sheets as the orgasm built within you.

It crashed over you like a tidal wave, a powerful rush of pleasure that had you crying out his name. Your body convulsed, your muscles tightening around his tongue as the sensation washed over you. Yunho didn't stop, continuing to kiss and suck at your sensitive flesh.

"Y-Yunho! Oh my god-!" You gasped out, your eyes flying open as the intense wave of pleasure subsided. Your body was a trembling mess, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your veins. His mouth remained on you, gently lapping at the wetness he had created, his hands still gripping your thighs.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn't help the blush that spread across your cheeks at his words. He kissed his way back up your body, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached your face, he captured your mouth in a kiss, the taste of yourself on his tongue.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel his warmth enveloping you. His hands roamed over your body, touching every inch of you, as if he hadn't seen you in years rather than just a few days. You moaned into his mouth, feeling yourself getting wetter with each stroke of his thumb on your clit.

"I'm gonna treat you so good, princess."

[paperkoifish]

Finally posting my love bullet art here :33

[rookanisstuff]

“Oh,” Rook says. “That’s the Eighth Talon.”

“Fuck,” Lucanis says.

Based on a scene from chapter 6 of @ttrevelyan’s fic I, Carrion because I am LOVING IT.

[carmenscarnations]

I LOVE when eah girlies do this

[2-dsimp]

Yandere Anticupid! who’s disgusted at the idea of love, thinks it’s a crackload of bullshit only used to promote sales on that detestable holiday, Valentine’s Day.

But the one thing he can’t stand to comprehend is you. A foolish idiot who flourishes off of being stuck in your lover girl era.

No matter how many times he sabatoged your dates, turned your love interests against you, aided your love rivals in besting you.

You being the stubborn optimistic wrench, you are. Merely shrugged your shoulders saying “It is what it is” the very line, that made the loveless cherub wanna stab his own damn self with his sharp hateful arrows.

Day after day of countless failures in your love life. He’d gripe angrily watching you from beyond the clouds. Simply bushing off the rejections and setting off yet again to find your new bae.

Your next target, who happened to be the cute employee who helped you out at the store.

And just like that, he had yet another migraine from the ridiculousness of it all. He can’t fathom how you always seemed to fall in love at first sight. With a fucking rando no less, who just so happened to show you a sliver of kindness.

“By the Gods how could your bar be any lower?! They’re clearly a scumbag you blind bat!” He’d bellow, banging his head against the wall, being used for cover to stalk you on your date.

The cute employee happened to be an impulsive cheater. Texting n calling others spouting the same old cheap lines. You ate up during your date being none the wiser to their intentions of having you as a one night stand.

So once you went to the bathroom, the anticupid just casually shoved the two-timer down the escalator using the tip of his bow. Sure it was a bit extreme but he’s just doing his job. Who cares if there’s a few casualties? It’s none of his concern.

Plus he needed to vent his frustrations from the way you were stressing him the fuck out with your naivety.

When will enough be enough?! He used to be the top of his ranks as the no1 heartbreaker in the Anticupid league. And now his position is being threatened, all thanks to you and your tenacious demeanor in wanting to secure your so called “true love”.

Damn you! You were just a mere thorn in his side! An idiot who can only see through rose tinted glasses. But for you alone, he’d put his pride on the line and take you on.

He was at his wits end, it was now or never. Since you weren’t falling for his indirect attempts at making you give up at finding love. Then he’d go all in, make you fall for him, give you the high of your life despite his philophobia.

And finally break your heart and core belief in love once in for all.

Unfortunately, nothing ever goes as planned. Especially when it comes to you.

In just a single night you defeated him entirely, all it took was your cute drunken self brazenly coming onto him.

With the batting of your lashes, the tearful but touched gaze, and the honeyed words of declaring your love for him at first sight. Since he was oh so kind to console you upon your disaster of a date that took place that very day.

There he stood donned in a suit and tie, watching like a deer in headlights as you slipped a ring on his finger. And smooched the living daylights outta him at the altar.

Kirai, the Anticupid, and no1 hater when it came to love was now your husband.

Fuck. His upper management was not going to be happy about this.

———/———//—-

A/n: Want more of your Anticupid? let me know👀

[Part 2]

[heartfullofleeches]

Harpy Reader who confuses Amyas [Yan Cupid] as one of their own- With his fluffy hair and wings he must be. A hybrid with a human or some other creature, perhaps? It doesn't matter either way- It's been so long since Reader has seen another of their kind they'll take whatever they can get. Amyas is such a fragile thing, though. He's bound to get himself lost or daresay injured if Reader let's him out of their sight.

Amyas is more than happy with that arrangement. Cupid boy is living his best life swaddled in the safety of Reader's wings. Big, cuddly bird person picks him of all beings to smother with affection? - it's a dream come true. Amyas will do his best to keep Reader safe as well. He may not be anywhere near their size, but his arrows aren't just for helping humans find their truth love. Reader scarcely interacts with humans, but that doesn't stop them from trespassing on the harpy's land.

-

Harpy Reader: Do not worry, little one. You're safe here with me

Amyas: H-huh?! J-Just a minute!

[Frantically shoves a bloody arrow into his bag]

Amyas, hiding his face in Reader's chest feathers: Oh, bless you! I was so afraid! All those scary humans roaming about- At least I have you to keep me safe~

[cupidsworstcrime]

was editing my octopus merfolk!simon fic and was INSTANTLY plagued with orca gaz thoughts ...

Kyle is sleek, massive, and playful—his black-and-white patterned skin shimmering under the artificial lights of the tank as he breaches with a showman’s grace, then glides silently beneath the surface. He’s the star attraction of the marine research program, adored by children and tourists alike. But behind the glass, behind the smiles and claps, he’s watching you.

Every day, you slip into a wetsuit and laugh through routines, toss him fish, stroke the curve of his jaw like he’s just a very smart animal. But he’s not. He’s sentient. A predator.

And lately, he's been getting restless.

He circles closer every time you enter the tank, bumping against your legs under the water, purring deep in his chest in a sound that’s almost a growl. The scientists say he’s bored. Agitated. But you know better.

He’s in rut.

He can’t speak like humans do—or at least he chooses not to, but the hunger in his eyes when he corners you against the tank wall? That speaks volumes. His hands—webbed, claw-tipped, surprisingly gentle—grip your thighs as his enormous body presses close. You can feel the swell of his cock unsheathing, thick and slick and foreign beneath you, emerging from a slit low on his pelvis. Heavy. Veined. Dripping.

You try to push him back, laugh nervously, whisper his name like it’s going to stop him—but he just rumbles, deep and possessive, and pins you there. His pupils blow wide, mouth open in a grin that shows sharp rows of predator’s teeth.

You're soaked—water, adrenaline, arousal. You shouldn't want this. You can’t—but you're grinding against the thick heat between your legs like your body’s starving for it.

Gaz clicks, low and sweet, like he's comforting you.

Then his cock presses up, thick head sliding against your entrance, and—

Well.

Who are you to deny the ocean’s apex?

[collarteraldamage]

🩷🏹🫀Cupid Asteria

Queen of my heart WELCOME BACK BELOVED

Lovergirls on top forever after 💘