#I don’t know how to make him look shiny

[mssainz]

PART 4 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: Angsty

AN: A little backstory about YN , a flashback from five years ago. Thank you guys. I appreciate all your comments. Let me know your reaction and if you wanna be added to the tag list. Love y'all!

It's done. You are now divorced. You are no longer Mrs. Sainz. You are sitting on the bed feeling empty, looking at the bedroom floor.

So what now?

You grabbed your phone on your side table and dialed your Mom's number. It took a few rings before your Mom picked it up.

“Mom, I'm going home.” Your mom didn’t say anything and hope you have a safe flight.

You didn’t wait for a second and immediately grabbed your luggage. You gently fold all your clothes and stuff them into your bag. You then went to the bathroom to grab your skin care products and other toiletries. After making sure that all your things are complete, you zipped and sealed your luggages. You saw the gold commitment in your ring finger and a shiny diamond one you got when you said yes.

“You two are way more expensive than filing a divorce,” You whispered and scoffed at yourself. You removed your necklace, then your rings, and made them as a pedant.

“Maybe, I can take you to an auction. Engagement and wedding ring from Carlos Sainz.” You let out a painful laugh before putting the necklace in your bag. Your finger feels strange without them, after wearing them for almost three years.

You put on the most casual outfit you can grab, a black trousers, white shirt, and a black cap. You also put on a face mask to hide your face. You don’t want any paparazzi following you at the airport. You just want to leave in peace and make a simple statement of your break up. Being questioned about what happened and explaining everything is the least thing that you wanna do. It feels like squeezing lime on your opened cut.

You arrived at the airport earlier than your scheduled flight. Gladly, there are only a few people in the vicinity. You sat down in the waiting area and unlocked your phone. You deleted Carlos' phone number and even blocked him in all of your social media accounts. Painful for you but you also deleted any contacts of his family, his father, mother, and even his siblings. You also unfollowed anything related to Formula 1. But you didn’t unfollow some of the drivers that you are close with.

After almost a day flight, you finally arrived. It feels great to be back in your home country. Your mom fetched you at the airport. She initiated some small talks on your way home but didn’t dare to mention anything about your divorce. She wants you, yourself to open up about it if you are comfortable to talk about the whole situation.

You proceed to your old room after getting out of the car. You and your mom brought your luggages in your room and began unpacking them. You opened your closet and saw your white coat hanging. It has your name with MD on it. “Emergency Medicine,” you whispered as you read what's on your coat. Warm tears started falling from your eyes.

“What did I do wrong, Mom? I gave up my career for him. I let this go to be with him. I chose another path of my life and tried to settle down, followed him to the other side of the world. How could he do this to me?” Your mom looked at you and stopped unpacking your bags. She is disheartened, staring at you sitting on the floor, hugging your knees. It is her first time seeing you cry and break down after everything that happened. She is actually worried about you as you didn’t show any tears when Carlos filed the divorcement papers, when you found out about your baby, and after everything. It’s like your emotions shut down. You were just filled with mixed feelings and couldn’t even process it as everything happened so fast.

She walks towards you and sits beside you. She didn't say anything, she knows that words are not what you need right now. You need ears, who can listen to you.

“I hate myself, Mom. I let myself be fooled by a man and I'm now fucking pregnant with his child. He doesn't even know, I'm having his own blood and genes. And I don't even know where to start with my life again. I have nothing left, Mom. I am such a mess,”

She can feel how broken you are. She hates seeing you cry and hate yourself for something you are not the one to blame.

“I sold all my properties in Madrid, even the coffee shop Mom. I can't go back there. I can't be in his hometown. I can't even bear the thought of breathing the same air he breathes. I can't Mom, I don't wanna.” Your voice is broken and so you are. Your words are nearly inaudible and your face is filled with glistening tears which can't seem to stop pouring. Your sorrow left you having difficulty catching your breath.

“He knows how cheating and lying was my last straw. He always knew that. He knows about Dad, what he did and how he left us, Mom. Why did he have to repeat the same history as he did? Why do I have to go through this again? Why do I keep catching men in my life kissing another woman? How can they put me in this position?” You are on the verge of hyperventilating from crying. Hence, your mom gently held your arms and made you face her eyes.

“Baby, look at me. Breathe, my love,” She started exhaling and inhaling with you to calm your nerves down and control the pace of your breathing.

“Mom, I don't know what to do. What should I do?” You asked her while she was wiping the tears on your cheeks.

“You don't have to do anything, my love. You don't need to know what you should do at the very moment. I just want you to take care of yourself. Just have a meal, take a shower, and rest. Mommy got you, okay? I always do.”

She pulled you into her arms to give you a safe space to cry. Her words gave you an inner peace, a reminder to take it slow. You don't need to know what the future holds for now.

“And stop saying you have nothing left. You have me, honey. You have this,” your mom said before putting her warm hand on your belly.

I have Cael. When I thought I had nothing left, I had him. He is the only one I can call my own.

YN'S Private Instagram Post

"my sunshine Sebastian Cael Sainz"

TAGLIST:

@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @openthenyoor01 @carlossainzbelongswithme @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @charlottef1 @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @wonderfulkawaii @khaylin27 @hc-dutch @avengers-assemble123456 @likedbygaslyy @xoscar03 @yukiotadako @barcelonaloverf1life @bearryyy @mahii7 @mxdi0 @heyheyheyggg @sunny44 @casperlikej @ironmaiden1313 @biitch-with-wifi @elia-the-bibliophile @nataliazzzz @bernelflo @madkohi @lillunna @loloekie @jinimon-tr @glai1023-blog @not-nyasa @jolixtreesunn @changetyre @thatsusbitch @distancedss @miarabanana @iawfwm @f1fanatic55 @taniamndez @voidsfics @jasminesacademia @ahahvalerie @a-beaverhausen @glow-ish @ccallistata

AN: Should YN put the necklace in an auction? Just kidding. Please unhide your accounts guys, I can't tag you if its hidden huhu. Thank youuuu!

[masterstr0ke]

Hihi, i wanted to make a request (if it’s open) Your last aventurine and welt pieces were beautiful 🩷

Dr ratio hasn’t gotten the time to spend time with you lately and he works hard, but you are his supportive spouse so you bring him snacks and remind him to take breaks in between and kiss the cheek of his alabaster head as a treat (he has it on) before you do your own work. Now all he can think about is you for the rest of the day (perhaps he would have preferred it on his skin too)

If you don’t write for him that’s fine ^^

No need to rush, tyt! ☁️

YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU.

HUSBAND!RATIO x GN!READER

WARNINGS: annoyed Ratio, jealousy over an inanimate object (?), drowning in work. 2nd person POV (you/yours/yourself)

WORD COUNT: 494

AUTHOR NOTE: i know what you are👀

The day was slow at the Intelligentsia Guild, especially for the infamous Dr. Ratio.

Since the day began, all he has been doing is deal with insufferable morons with a worn-out shoe for a brain! Such imbeciles, Ratio believes time is precious, but unfortunately his students are dumb enough to waste it, even dumber to waste his time by asking how old he is or if he’s single or not.

Those fools don’t have to know that at-work Dr. Ratio is different than at-home Veritas, and can’t they figure out the question themselves by paying the slightest bit of attention to the silver band on his left hand’s ring finger? His attitude should’ve intimidated them enough for their minds to not go beyond the assumption that all he does at home is shower, eat work and sleep.. right? At least, that’s what he thinks.

However, he hasn’t been paying enough attention to the beautiful person sharing the other ring with him; the one he said his vows to. All he does when he goes back home is shower, eat, work and sleep. That’s it. He doesn’t even have time to glance your way, and that angers him.

He put on his alabastor head; His expression was too sour to welcome anyone who dares enter his office besides higher-ups. And just as he was about to start working in peace, a knock erupted at his office’s door, great. Ratio grumbled quietly. “Come in.” He spoke in an authoritative tone, expecting this to be a higher-up or an idiot student.

You open the door, a box in your hand, and a wide smile that rivals the sun in its shiny glory. “Veritas!” You call out as a greeting, before rushing to his desk. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll make this quick. You forgot your lunch at my office,” Oh, so that’s where his lunch went. You also worked at the Intelligentsia Guild, also being a teacher of high regard. Opposites attract, they say. All of your students love you, and you’re friends with everyone; An obvious contrast from your husband. You place the lunchbox on his desk with your left hand, the band on your ring finger glistening in the sunlight, the source being the window behind Veritas’ chair.

You then lean in and kiss the cheek of the alabastor head, then the lips. It wasn’t enough, since the head lacked the warmth of skin, but you were content. You give him a smile before you head out the door, just like that.

Ratio slowly took off the alabastor head, looking at it in disgust as if it owes him something. It does, it took away his lover’s kisses. As childish as it sounds, he’s been craving a kiss for a while. He supposes he has to wait until he goes back home, maybe he’ll get all the kisses he wants. In exchange of his work being put aside, even for a little while.

[youandiwerealive]

You make a mess of me [rd]

Author’s note: this isn’t a request, it’s just an idea that has been on my mind lately 😭 also I’m almost asleep while posting this, so sorry if there are many typos in this, I barely proofread it 😭

Warnings: this is a whole lotta smut, so MINORS DNI!!! Unprotected sex once again because I want Rúben to impregnate me, sex kind of in public? Dirty talking, a lot of cumming. Let me know if I’m missing something

Wc: 2840 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

After a very much tiring season, you and Rúben finally find yourselves on vacation. Travelling to Greece with the man of your dreams means breathtaking views, great adventures, amazing food, crystal clear waters and incredible, hot and unbothered sex with Rúben.

Tonight, you two were getting ready to go have dinner out with Rúben’s managers, who need to talk to him about some sponsorship deals that your boyfriend needs to approve before the both of you can enjoy the rest of your vacation together.

You finish applying your red lipstick and smile at your reflection in the mirror, feeling good and knowing that you look good. Once you step out of the bathroom, Rúben was already waiting for you, sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone. When his eyes land on your figure, his breath hitches a bit on his throat, already having unholy thoughts at the way he could take you right then and there.

He tries to play it cool, but he can’t stop staring at your shiny and tanned legs, due to the short dress that you’re wearing. He can’t stop his mind, already imagining your legs wrapped around his head while he eats you out like he’s been starving lately.

But Rúben doesn’t know that you’re thinking the exact same: how you could kiss him on his neck, down his collarbone, the buttons of his shirt left undone doing malicious things to your mind. You look at the clock, still having 20 minutes until your dinner appointment, and your body tells you to have some fun during those minutes.

So, why not? Rúben’s eyes never leave you as you walk seductively to him, stopping in between his legs. His hands travel up and now your legs softly now, as yours go to his exposed chest, feeling his broad shoulders and muscles, already tensing up a little at your touch.

You slowly kneel down so you’re at his eye level, sharing glances that speak for themselves. You are hungry for each other, and don’t have enough time do to everything that your bodies are begging you.

You’re a giver, so you decide to gift Rúben first, already leaving lipstick stains on his neck as you adorn his body with mouth open kisses. His breath gets caught in his throat, his heart already beating faster under your control.

You love the influence you have on him, his bulge looking huge by now, just by the way your touch feels so soft and yet burning on his skin.

You slowly undo his shorts, bringing his boxers down at the same time, already hungry to taste him. His cock springs, finally free from being conditioned in his clothes. He sighs at the way you gently blow on his tip, the cold air hitting him where he feels hot the most.

You start kissing his tip, coating it with your spit already, knowing that you don’t have much time to tease him like you’d want to.

“Babe, we don’t have time” - Rúben tries to protest against his own will, while caressing your hair softly, seeing your lipstick drawing figures on his dick.

“I’ll be quick” - you wink at him, now getting his cock in your mouth, sucking the tip while stroking the rest of it with your hand. You circle your hand around him, sucking like crazy - putting even more effort into it while you hear Rúben’s moans now. It’s like music to your ears.

His hand is still in your hair, trying to push your head further into his cock, but you don’t give in. Instead, you stroke his dick faster, while your tongue is now circling around his red and swollen tip - tasting his precum, now mixed with your saliva.

Your other hand travels to his abs, making you moan on his dick, the vibrations sending electric waves through his body.

You start bobbing your head further on his cock and faster, while your hands keep stroking his length and balls.

Rúben’s body tenses up as he feels his orgasm approaching.

“Baby, I’m not gonna last long” - you hear him say as you look at the clock through the corner of your eye - 8 minutes left until you two need to leave for dinner.

You deep throat his cock, punctuating his moans with your mouth. Rúben starts whimpering as he now grips at your hair, his breath shaking now as you suck him hard, hearing him groaning as he starts spilling his cum in your mouth.

You let him empty his seed down your throat, swallowing it whole until he’s trying to catch his breath to calm down. You take his dick out of your mouth, and you open it up again to show your man that you swallowed it all.

Rúben smirks at you, breathing heavily as his hand starts caressing your cheek sweetly. You smile innocently at him, like you didn’t just drank all his cum at once.

“We have to go” - he says in a sad tone as he dresses his shorts again, composing himself.

“I know” - you answer, matching his tone and hugging him from behind as you help him cleaning all the lipstick stains that you left in his neck.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you” - he says cheekily before you two leave your room.

You and Rúben arrive a bit late to your dinner with his management team. Your boyfriend made up some excuse that your guests apparently bought, and you two sit down at your table.

Rúben sits beside you, smiling as he talks to the men in front of you two.

While you order your dishes, Rúben is engaged in the conversation, talking about a Nike partnership that he needs to shoot once your vacations are over.

You start eating your food, and some minutes after, Rúben’s hands starts touching your leg, your small dress not helping you covering up your body from him. He caresses your knee, going up until he reaches your thigh, letting his hand wonder there for a moment.

When you notice, his finger is rubbing your wet core. Rúben smiles to himself when he realised that you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. You choke on your food, and try to disguise what was happening by coughing.

Rúben is still engaged in the conversation like nothing happened, his fingers working to find your clit now. You try to close your legs, but Rúben’s hand stopped you immediately. His middle finger travels through your folds, and he looks at you with a cocky smile on his face, his partners oblivious to what he’s doing to you. You fight the urge inside of you to moan at the way his fingers are working on you. He gently opens up your legs a little wider, pulling at your knee carefully so nobody notices.

Then, he manages to put a finger inside of your pussy, already wet from all the previous touching he did, mixed with all the anxiety that this scene is causing you. You could never imagine that being fingered by your boyfriend in the middle of the restaurant would be on tonight’s menu.

Your pussy is now throbbing at the way his finger is going incredibly slow inside of you - needing more of him, so much more. He suddenly takes his finger out of you, leaving your cunt to feel needy and empty. You murmur a whine at the sensation, and Rúben sends you a warning look to be quiet.

His hand quickly touches you again, his fingers now coating your folds with your juices, on their way to your clit - rubbing it furiously now. Rúben coughs slightly because he knows damn well that the men in front of him could hear the wet sounds coming from your pussy, the noise already driving him insane.

His bulge is hurting in his shorts again, and you try to hold his wrist, silently begging him to stop - you couldn’t hold it anymore.

But Rúben doesn’t stop. His fingers continue to bully your clit, and you are breathing heavily now - saying out loud that you feel hot inside the restaurant - trying to prevent the people near you to suspect of what was happening under that tablet.

Doing it in public turns you on even more, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, your pussy throbbing even more at the thought of possibly being caught.

You need to cum, you’re desperate to do it, and Rúben feels your legs starting to close, signalling that you’re close. He keeps working on your swollen and sweet spot until you hold your breath, preventing any sound to come out of your mouth. You cum on his hand, as your legs shake a little but Rúben just pretended that your phone had fell to the floor, managing to help you move around a bit, so you could make yourself comfortable in your seat again.

But, at the same time, Rúben doesn’t care about the dinner anymore. He doesn’t want to talk to any of his managers, he just wants to have you. So, without even giving an excuse, he finishes the dinner sooner than expected. After paying, you get up from your sit, feeling so wet that your juices could actually be running down your legs.

He takes your hand in his, walking outside the restaurant, directly into the beach. Rúben is desperate, looking around to find some kind of place where he could fuck you in, but it’s either the restaurant or the beach itself.

“Fuck it, I’m fucking you right here” - he says as his mouth finds yours, starting an aggressive make out session.

“What are you talking about?” - you worriedly ask in between kisses.

“I’m fucking you here, I can’t hold it anymore” - he explains while he starts to undo your dress.

“Rúben wait, we are not about to fuck in the middle of the beach” - you try to reason with him.

Rúben sighs as he looks around. “It’s empty, you see? There’s nobody here. Plus it’s getting dark already, no one is going to see us” - he grabs you by the hips as he picks you up.

He doesn’t even let you talk anymore. He lays you down on the sand, your dress coming down to your belly, allowing your boobs to be on full display right now.

“You’re so hot, fuck, all mine” - he breathes out as he starts to kiss all over your chest and tits, grinding himself down on your core. Your legs are now wrapped around his torso, while his mouth roams your entire body.

The feeling of his erected dick trying to touch you through the fabric of his shorts is making you desperate to feel him, your cunt already pulsating and clenching around nothing.

“Thank god you chose not to wear panties. My naughty girl is making this so much easier for me tonight” - he whispers in your ear as he starts kissing your neck, while his fingers find your pussy again, working on it a bit more.

“Been thinking about you all night, babe. Feeling your pussy getting wet on my fingers was driving me insane” - he says as you moan loud now at the way his hands keeps touching you so good.

“I didn’t even care about dinner at all - the only thing I wanted to eat all night was you” - he says in a low voice before getting down on you, his face now deep in your pussy, leaving mouth open kisses in your folds, like he’s kissing your mouth.

You can’t stop moaning and whimpering at the sensation of his mouth on your pussy, finally giving you what you’ve been wishing for the entire night.

You bury your hand on Rúben’s hair, griping it tightly as his tongue starts working on you even harder.

He sucks on your folds, taking your juices in his mouth, as his tongue starts devouring you. He licks a long strap along your pussy, until his tongue reaches your clit - now swollen and red from all his touching and getting you so turned on.

His tongue is drawing circles on your clit as he inserts two fingers inside your pussy, curling them to touch your g-spot with every thrust.

You’re a moaning mess, feeling your mind cloudy from all the pleasure that Rúben is giving you. You keep pulling at his hair and pushing his head further into your needy pussy, making him groan at the feeling.

You feel your orgasm approaching, and Rúben doesn’t stop eating you out like he’s starving.

“Ruby, please” - the gentle pet name making him moan into your pussy, sending vibrations through your body.

“Cum baby, let me get drunk off your precious pussy. Please - I need it so badly” - he says before he inserts his tongue inside of you now, desperate for you to cum on his mouth.

After some moments of him fucking you with his tongue, you finally cum again, whimpering at the way your pussy feels like it’s on fire.

Your breathing is shaking while you calm yourself down. You look up at Rúben, now taking off his shorts and boxers, his hand already stroking his painfully hard cock.

“What? Didn’t think you’d get dessert?” - he says dominantly to you, while holding your legs to rest them on top of his shoulders. He aligns himself at your entrance, filling you up at once, making you cry out. Rúben sighs, content that he’s finally where he needed, inside of you.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be inside of you, amor” - he admits while gently thrusts into you. Rúben doesn’t want a quickie. He’s got time, he’s taking his time inside of you, lazily fucking you like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

You moan at his words, not giving him another type of answer. But Rúben is feeling vocal tonight.

“I mean it, princess. You will never understand this feeling, because nothing can compare to the way your pussy hugs my cock so hungrily, you’re so needy for me” - he continues to explain cockily, while his dick keeps fucking you, going a bit faster now.

“God, you are always so wet for me. And so warm and tight. Fuck, your pussy is the best place to be. See how good I slide inside of you babe? Feels amazing to see your dripping juices flowing down on my cock” - his words make you moan out of pleasure, making your stomach turn like you’re a teenager.

“And when you moan for me, fuck” - he lets his head back, like he’s replaying your sounds on his head. “You sound so fucking erotic babe, you have no idea. You drive me wild” - his dick never stopping, going at a constant speed inside of you.

“And you’re mine, all mine. This pussy is mine, just like I always fuck you like I’m only yours - because I am, babe” - he admits as he lets out a small whimper, now picking up the pace to fuck you harder.

“You have no ideia how much I want to cum inside of your wet cunt. Fuck- I’ve been thinking about this all day” - he groans as he is now fucking you hard and raw.

You scream at the crazy feeling between your legs, and you look to your left to see the restaurant where you two were a while ago. The walls and doors of the building - all made of glass. You could see a lot of people staring at you two from the inside for the restaurant.

Rúben notices the same as you, as he keeps trusting like a mad man inside your now sore cunt. “Looks like we’re giving a show, huh babe” - he breathes as his finger goes to touch your clit for what seems like the millionth time this night.

“Cum for me baby, for them. People want to see the end of this movie” - he speaks dominantly as you feel the bubble on your stomach bursting, moaning loudly as you cum on Rúben’s cock. At the same time, Rúben is cumming as well, buried deep inside your pussy.

He empties his juice inside of you as you both rode out your highs. He collapsed on top of you, the two of you breathing heavy.

“Do you think they can see it’s us?” - you ask, now feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Nah, it’s dark now. They probably could only see two silhouettes having crazy sex in the middle of the beach” - he laughs at his words, as you gently pet his hair.

Going on vacation with Rúben means a lot of things, but you never thought that it could turn you two into two silhouettes that gave one hell of a show to a fancy restaurant full of strangers, in the middle of Greece.

[oreolemur]

Second Base- Gojo Fanfic

Sitting down at an Italian restaurant, you waited patiently for your blind date to show up. “I hope she picked a decent guy this time”, you sigh. Scrolling through your phone for a few minutes, the waiter comes over. “Would you like something to drink, mam?”, the guy asked. Ordering a glass of water, you scarfed down a breadstick or two as you took in the building’s surroundings. “At least she picked a good spot”.

15 minutes go by, and you begin to grow impatient. “Is this supposed to be a set up? Am I getting played right now?”. In the middle of texting your friend, you suddenly see a man standing beside you from your peripheral vision. Clearing his throat, “Sorry I’m late”, he smiled. Averting your eyes towards the man, you were jaw-dropped by how beautiful he was. “Woah…”, you whisper. Wearing a light blue button up, and black tuxedo pants, you couldn’t help but stare at his shiny blue eyes, and gorgeous white locks. 

Taking a seat in front of you, “By the end of this date, I'll have you screaming my name", the man grinned. "Just you wait". Surprised by his comment, you scoffed. “Nope”. “Oh my, someone's feisty! What's your name?”, he asked. “Y/N, and you?”. “Gojo Satoru”. Giving you a cocky grin, you furrowed your eyebrows. “What exactly did you mean by, “I’ll have you screaming my name”,?”, you questioned. “You'll see soon enough, won't you?”, Gojo replied.  “I don’t know. Will I? Maybe I’ll just ditch you right now and call it a night”. “You wouldn't dare", Satoru scoffed. A smirk spread across his face. "Besides, I've got so many surprises planned for tonight”.  Looking at him speechless, you grabbed one of the menus off the table, ready to order. 

"You do realize that there's another meaning to 'screaming someone's name'?" Satoru chuckled, leaning in and whispering in a suggestive manner. "A much more fun sense”. Rolling your eyes, you shove a bread stick into his mouth, "In your dreams". "Oh, I think you'll be changing your tune by the end of tonight" Satoru teased, his eyes roaming across the table to study you. "You're so cute when you're mad", he muttered just loud enough to make you question if it was intentional.

Ignoring him, you signal the waiter over. "I'll have the chicken Florentine". "Excellent choice", Satoru beamed with pride. "I'll have the spaghetti", he chimed in, not looking at the menu even once. Asking what the two of you would like to drink, Gojo smiled. "I'll have a glass of Merlot", he requested the waiter. Turning back to you, he smirked. The corners of his lips curled up as he watched you. "How about you?". “Red wine”, you replied. The waiter nodded and took the order. 

Gojo waited until he was out of sight before leaning over the table to whisper to you. "You know, you've got really nice skin. I wonder how soft it is...". Sticking out your hand, you let Satoru feel how soft you were. The man took your hand and ran his fingers over your skin in a teasing manner."This is incredibly soft", He whispered. "I'm sure some other parts of your body are soft too...".  “I’m sure there is”, you teased back. "Well, I intend to find out", he smirked. 

The waiter eventually returned with the drinks, setting them down on the table and leaving. As he was walking away, Gojo stood up, stretching. "Would you like to come to my place after this?", He asked, a sly look on his face. "The night isn't over yet". "After we eat...maybe", you reply back. "I can live with that", Satoru teased. As he sat back down, the waiter arrived with the meals. He waited until the guy left to speak again. "This is going to be an unforgettable night." His voice was low and husky, his eyes wandering all over your body. "Especially when we get back to my place”. Making a toast to each other, the two of you sat at the restaurant for another hour, exchanging jokes.

"Well, that was good", you exclaim, standing up. "Where to now? Your place seems nice ",  you wink at him. Satoru chuckled at your comment, standing up and offering his hand. "Let's get going then. I hope you didn't forget what you promised me”. He started to walk out of the restaurant. "I can tell that you're eager to see my private domain”. "Eager? No. I'm just ready to lay back and be treated with care"."Oh, I could do much more than just treat you with care. I can be everything you want me to be at this moment. You can forget about the real world; I want to be the center of your universe”. He turned to face you, a grin plastered on his face."So come with me. Let's go see what it's like in my world”.

Hopping into the man's car, you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye. "Yes?". "Just admiring the view," Satoru chuckled. He continued the drive, glancing over at you every once in a while to study your expression. The atmosphere was filled with an intense tension and Gojo seemed to be enjoying making you squirm with anticipation. After a couple minutes of this, he eventually parked the car, getting up and heading around to your side to open your door. "After you", he smiled. “Thanks”

The two of you made your way into his house, leading you upstairs. The moment you were there, it was abundantly clear what his intentions were. He gently pushed you down onto the bed, looming over you like a predator. Staring into your soul, you felt yourself become hypnotized by his shiny blue eyes. “Hurry up and kiss me”, you blush. “Impatient much?”, Satoru chuckled. Gently grabbing your face, he smashed his lips onto yours. “His lips taste so sweet”, you thought. 

While making out, the man began to unbutton his shirt. “Need help getting undressed?”, you ask, pulling away from the kiss. “Sure, why not?”. Getting off , he stood in front of you as you were sitting on the edge of his bed. “You look even more beautiful down there”, Gojo commented. Undoing his pants, you pulled them down along with his boxers. “Damn”. Staring at his pretty veiny cock, your mouth watered. “Is there a problem?”, he wondered. Shaking your head, “N-no”. Hearing you stutter a little, Satoru admired it. 

Holding his shaft, you stroked it a little. “It feels so big in my hands”. Looking up at him, you saw him blushing as he kept eye contact with you. “Why is he so pretty?”. Averting your attention on his dick, you opened your mouth, sucking his tip. “Mmph”, the man moaned. Listening to his enjoyment, you tightened your mouth around him as you slowly went down his dick. “Fuck”, he seethed. Bobbing your head, you felt him run his fingers through your scalp. Gripping your hair, he began to gently thrust into your mouth.  

Feeling his tip hit the back of your throat, you found it hard to breathe. You tapped his thighs, signaling him to stop. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. Having a line of spit come out of your mouth, you licked your lips. “You’re too big to go all in”, you complained. Rubbing your head, the man smiled. “Well that’s too bad”, he said. “But, I’m not finished yet”. Shoving you back down his cock, you held onto his waist for support. He fucked your throat, using it as his little toy, while he worked to get his orgasm. “I can’t believe he just did that”, you said to yourself. “It’s like he doesn’t even care that I can’t breathe…that’s….so…hot”. 

A few minutes later, Gojo’s thrusts became sloppy and slow as his moaning became more high pitched. Without warning he came into your mouth, filling it with his sweet warm liquid. “Oh..”, he paused. “You’re a swallower”. Making sure to get every last drop, you wiped your index finger around your mouth, collecting any cum that leaked out. “I am full of surprises after all”, you smirked, giving his cock a small peck.

Gojo stared at you with lust, he felt as if he’d found a suitable partner to fulfill his needs. “Take off your clothes and lay down”, he ordered. Doing what he wants, the man watched you get naked. “You have a beautiful body”. Spreading your legs open, he got down on his knees. “Everything is so natural, it’s exciting”. He squeezed your inner thighs, teasing his way up to your cunt. Being sensitive in that spot, you squirmed around a little. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet, and you’re already starting to act up”. 

Placing his hand on your pussy, he spread your lips apart, seeing your fluids drip down onto his comforter. He slowly licked your wet folds, making his way to your clit. Once there, he drew circles with his tongue, sucking your sensitive bud in and out as he repeated the pattern. “Satoru..”, you moaned, pulling his hair. Giving in to your adorable whimpers, he started to  finger you. “You’re tight, darling”, he smiled. Having him pleasure you two different ways at the same time, drove you crazy. 

You pulled his hair tighter, trying to move his head away from your clit. “I’m cumming. I’m-”. Letting out the biggest moan, tears formed in your eyes, realizing he wasn’t stopping. “I should’ve warned you that I’m into overstimulation”. Trying to move away from him, he dug his nails into your plumped thighs. “I-I can’t take it”. Reaching for a pillow, you screamed into it as you felt another orgasm come. “Mmmmm!!”. Feeling satisfied, Gojo moved away from your cunt. 

Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his face from the fluid you squirted onto him. “Now”, he smiled, walking over to you. “Let’s finish this”. Taking hold of your waist, he flipped you over on your stomach, forcing you to arch your back. He slapped your ass. “Ouch”, you whined. Laughing at you, he rubbed his cock on your pussy. “Don’t tease me like that”, you whined. 

Shushing you, he slowly thrusted his tip into you, stretching your walls little by little. “Sex shouldn’t be rushed”. Burying your face into the mattress, you tried your best to take him. He was gentle with you, knowing how tight you were. “Are you used to it yet?”, he asked. “N-no”, you whimpered. Feeling devious, he grinned. “Let’s try this”. Shoving his cock in all the way, you gasped. “Gojo!”. “There it is”, he laughed. 

Fucking you mercilessly, he slammed his hips into you hard, hitting your cervix. “Nngh”. You held onto his comforter, handling him with what little tolerance you had left. “Sa…to…ru”, you called out. “Yes?”, he grinned. Not being able to speak anymore, you tried to reach behind in an attempt to stop him. “Aht aht”, he smacked your hand away. “I’m not done”.  Changing positions, he pushed your body down, turning you on your back.

Laying there weak and vulnerable, Gojo scooted you up the bed. “Are you done now? I’m too sensitive to continue”. Crawling on top of you, he leaned into your face. “Oh really?”. Going for your neck, he kissed it gently, before marking you up with his teeth. “Ah”, you winced, placing your hand around his throat. “Squeeze it”, he blushed. “You’re into choking?”. Nodding his head, “Yes”. Putting you on top of him, he lifted you up a little to slide his cock inside you. “How did you do that so fast?!”. Grabbing your hand, he placed it on his neck. “Less talk, more fuck”. 

Proceeding to choke him, he let out a small whimper. “My god…is there anything he’s not good at!”. Grinding your hips, you went slow. “Ow, he's deeper than ever”. Trying to go a little faster, you started to feel more pleasure than pain. “Is this okay?”, you asked. “Nope”. He gripped your waist, thrusting upwards, making you scream again. “Fuck!”, you squealed.

With him taking control over you, you didn’t notice how hard you were choking him. “Almost…there”, Gojo groaned. He flipped you over again, this time being on top. “That was good, but not good enough to make me cum”, he said, gasping for air. Satoru put both of your legs over his shoulder, fucking you even harder than before. “Shit!”. His headboard banged against the wall, causing the bed to squeak.  Finishing up, you both climaxed together, moaning each other's ears. “My, my, my”, Gojo huffed. “I should buy a ring”. 

[wrongfourtytwo]

Gotta do th e so I can and be yes uhm where’d his fucking jacket go? shit

I’m gonna be using him for my anatomy studies so I apologies if there is literally only Larry for the next month or so

[ubassembly]

First (100% certain) shiny is a male combee! He’s perfect as he is he doesn’t need to evolve I’m going to train him so so powerful you’ll see

[screampied]

getting edged by jjk men. thats it thats the request.

❛ BUT THAT D!CK WAS A 10/10! ❜ ⠀

༊࿐۫ ᩿ㅤㅤㅤ feat. nanami, gojo, toji, geto, choso

warnings. fem! reader, overstim/edging, praise kink, heavy dirty talk, implied multiple rounds, őrgasm denial, squirt kink, unprotected sex, size difference, cunnilingus, cockdrunk, mdni.

an. well yes.

⟢ SUGURU GETO.

“…sugu,” you’d whine, shifting your hips back and forth against his face. he’d be laid underneath you, two rough hands of his gripped onto the very back parts of your ass. his tongue gingerly swipes against your folds, a long trail of your slick covering his entire chin. he looked so pretty, eyes half lidded with a smug grin pulling against his lips. he noticed based from your hips—you could just about feel the tenseness of your legs just about giving out. “really gonna c-cum again, suguru.”

“but princess,” he whispers against your cunt, you shudder from the warmth of his breath wafting against your entrance. he had a few strands of hair that ran down the sides of his face, sliding a finger between your folds before planting a went kiss near your pulsating nub. “i know, i know. but ‘m still hungry. wait a liiiiittle longer, just a little.”

your legs quavered, the brief sting of overstim makes you moan — a soft whine gets snatched from your throat at the prick of geto’s nose rubbing all over your pussy. the very tip of his nose was sheeny, forever glossed with your sweetened slick. his tongue was entirely skilled, lapping over your cunt. he even gathers a wad of spit just to give your pussy an excuse to make it more shiny for him. “can never—get enough of how sweet you taste for me, fuckk.”

you’d be practically riding his face, rutting your hips against him and he’s got such a sleazy grin. geto’s got your panties lazily moved to the side, his tongue constantly breaks away, intentionally giving the crevices of your thighs soft sucks.

his lips brushed against your skin, making you quicken your hips against his mouth.

“s-suguruuuu,” you mewled, and moments later whilst his tongue drags back and forth against your clit—focusing directly on you slick folds, he starts reciting the alphabet with his tongue. “fuck, f-fuckkk. ‘m gonna cum.”

“look at me,” he purrs, bringing a thumb towards the inner part of your clit. he slowly slides his tongue up, meanwhile you watch the entire time. your breath gets caught in your throat, hands grabbing onto his hair before he flashes a smile.

“thaaaat’s it, eyes down here,” and his voice went low, such softness to it — but a faint rasp could be heard from behind it. he made you throb, solely from his words, the warmness of his breath that wafted right against your sensitive entrance had your knees buckling.

trapped in your own lewd thoughts, you felt your entire body heat up, the feeling of coming to a halt, being edged. your lip trembled, various sweetened whines escaping before you moan at his next words.

“you wanna cum, don’t you—?”

“y-yes,” you huffed, your chest heaved and it feels so good, you’re right there. geto slides his tongue between your slit, and he gives it a long suck to make you hold make a moan. he was so sloppy, his entire chin was smothered with your sheeny slick. yet he never minded, he’d happily kiss you afterwards to clean it off. “please, please.”

“please…what, princess,” he raises a brow, and you whimper once his tongue softly glides against your clitoral hood. he was so tender — he knew the exact spots to lick, to suck. “i taught you how to speak to me. so use those words. don’t be shy.”

your glossed lips form into a cute saddened pout. geto circles his tongue alongside your folds before you give in and whine in a needy, “suguru, please. pretty please—pretty please… can i cum now. i deserve to c-cum.”

“oh…you deserve?” he teases.

“i—i think i deserve it,” you correct yourself, entirely nothing but a whiney mess. “just wanna cum, suguru…please.”

“good girl,” he hushes, and you shudder once he starts to rub and caress circles on your swollen clit. you felt thousands of nerves pulse all throughout your body, you moaned once he tells you the go ahead.

after what seemed like forever… you finally came. your legs shook vigorously as you rode against his face. your moans grew high, and you’re speechless — a tiny squeak leaves your mouth as he’s still got a firm grip on your hips. “now that wasn’t so bad, mhm…? pft. my drama queen.”

⟢ NANAMI KENTO.

mid-thrust, nanami’s panting, bulky toned strong arms held near the sides of you. you’re stuffed full of his cock and your legs just dangle with him having you in a sweet mating press. “k-kento,” you’d moan, feeling his hips sharply smack against you each time.

you felt forevermore warm.

the more you stared at nanami, the more you felt yourself throb. he was glistening with sweat, blond hair of his was slightly ruffled because of his repetitive moments. needless to say—it was effortlessly attractive.

his rhythm, his pace…

it was so perfect. a sweet mixture of rough and tenderness. his cock, it was so hefty. the was his girth stretched and stretched—it left your maw hanging open to where he had to kiss your candied whines always.

“i know. my baby’s getting close, huh?” he whispers between kisses, and his soft lips press all over your face. a plethora of kisses.

nanami’s so gentle with you, peppering your chin, your nose, your lips…

he even playfully runs his tongue against the corner part of your mouth, soft pants of his own collide against your skin before he lets off a grunt. “god, i’m close too,” and he swallow thickly — he notices you’re starting to cover your hands from embarrassment so he grabs them with a joshing grin. “oh, my love don’t do that. i wanna see those eyes, good girl just look at me. look at your husband makin’ you feel good.”

your head was rested against a soft padded pillow, as he’s drilling into you—you grab onto his hand, and he ‘awwws’ before intertwining his fingers. “kento…c-cum.”

he found it cute how you could barely properly make out any words—you were being filled with thick inches of his cock. nanami’s pace couldn’t be more perfect. his angle he had on you, a free hand of his presses down lightly on your tummy. you moaned, feeling the cold band of his wedding ring skim against your belly, tracing all over your soft skin.

“patience… wait for me, sweetheart,” he’d hoarse, and oh how hes just mindlessly buried to the hilt.

you’re dizzy. you can feel him reach so deep, he’s feeling you clench around him and it makes his jaw tighten. “hey,” he murmurs, gingerly swiping his thumbs on your cheeks. the moment he brings his hands up towards your face. nanami cups yours face before leaning in to give your nose a kiss. “wait a little, can you do that?”

“okay,” you pant, feeling such heat ignite in you. just as you were about to come undone, you stop yourself—a soft pout forming against your lips, gnawing on your lip. “sensitive, kento. f-fuckkk.”

“such a colorful mouth for a pretty girl,” he tsks, and he’s starting to slowly grind his hips. your nails claw into his back. his back muscles sexily tense up, and your head goes way back. “should teach you some more manners, sweetheart.”

“s-sorry.” you whined, watching the corners of his lips tug into a simper.

nanami hums, “don’t be sorry,” and then as he speaks — his voice grows a rich pitched low. it makes you pulse, the bass in it never failed to make your entire body heat up. “truth be told, hearing you with such a filthy little mouth turns me on,” and he watches as your eyes briefly light up. your back starts to arch, you’re writhing in pleasure before he places a hand on your hip. “go ahead ‘n cum, princess. i don’t wanna be mean ‘n make you wait too long,” and then a soft chuckle departs from his lips, bringing your hand towards his mouth to kiss it tenderly. “would never want my gorgeous wife to get mad at me.”

once you came, shockwaves coursed all throughout your body. in response, you shuddered beneath nanami — and shortly afterwards, he came too. although, he pulls out just in time to pain a thin rope of his cum all over your tummy. he notices the saddened frown on your face, and he chuckles before sneaking a kiss on your lips. “don’t be so disappointed. i can always,” he huffs, out of breath, “…can always give you a baby later, my love. how’s that sound?”

⟢ GOJO SATORU

he loves edging you.

it’s his favorite thing in the world. gojo’s always been fond of a little humility with you—you’d be propped up against his back, basically cockwarming him. before, you were riding him in reverse but he grabs onto your hips and tells you to wait.

you start to babble and whine, because you were just about to come to a sweet powerful release.

“give me a sec, angel,” is all he says, and you’re taken by surprise once he brings a hand to reach down between your legs. he pries them open, and as you lie your head back against his chest—you start to feel his fingers ghost against your pussy. a gasp gets elicited from your throat, and a playful chuckle leaves from gojo.

“ooh. you’re so wet down here,” and he’s still buried deep deep inside you. he gracefully maneuvers circles with the tips of his fingers against your entrance, and you hear the squelches of excitement your cunt made. “fuck. so nasty. just listen to how she speaks to us, baby.”

as your body was pressed right up against his bare chest. you softly let off a whine, feeling the hardness of his flexed pecs and abs rub against your skin.

his warmth…

you could smell gojo despite facing the opposite way, just leaning back against him. he was always so good with his fingers, the thrill of your sudden orgasm coming to an abrupt stop. you whined, feeling your thighs continuously clench together.

“sato—ruuu,” you spoke in broken dialogue, and by this point you’re just trying to create some sort of movement. he leans in, kissing against your neck at your cute attempt to start up your hips again. yet — he’s still got a hand holding your left hip down, he’s whispering in your ear, another hand occupied between your legs. “i- i wanna cum, ‘m so close.”

“don’t care what you want,” he sings in a melodic tune, his teeth softly press into the inner part of your neck and you moan. it’s not too hard, but it’s just enough to earn a whine out of you. you felt your head spinning, the stimulation was almost too much to bare. you already felt a viscous mess start to slick between your legs. “besides, when you whine my name like that it’s so cute. say it again for me.”

whilst he was deeply buried inside your pussy, your eyes became half-lidded…having a useless chase with your breath, panting and panting.

his fingers felt so good, all he had to do was ghost the tips of them against your folds and you’re feeling yourself start to twitch profusely now.

“satoru, ‘toruuu,” you gasped, a sudden pulse and not even a moment later—you gush. “oh my god,” you breathed, immediately knowing you were soaked. it was an intense feeling, your teeth shattered and your breathing become more and more erratic.

“woaaah. did you just…squirt on me?” gojo snickers, after a long expanded pause. he takes absolutely nothing serious.

you could hear the smirk, envisioning it stretch across his face before he bounces his thigh purposely. his dick still inside—it’s just going in and out, you moan once you start to gradually move a bit before you nod against his chest. “well fuck, that…was kinda hot. just couldn’t hold it, couldn’t you?”

you let off a sweet moan as response and gojo hums, trailing a free hand down your waist. he pulls you closer towards him, and your legs were just dumbly sprawled open still.

you had no words, shock overtook you before you grab onto his wrist. he raises his brows before you drag his hand towards your slick entrance, whining out a pathetic. “can…can you do that one more time, ‘toru?”

“sure,” he replied cheekily, thinking you’d never ask. although—you don’t expect gojo to lightly remove you from his lap, only to make you lie flat on your back. you’re panting, staring at him with a look of straight puzzlement before he cheeses. “whaaaat? don’t gimme that look. i told you, whenever my girl makes a mess, i gotta clean it,” and with a quickness, he spreads your legs again. “so, just let me do that with my tongue, baby.”

⟢ CHOSO KAMO

poor choso. once he edges you, he ends up edging himself by accident.

twice the pleasure though—you’re the one to ask him to edge you. he’s got the cutest dumbfounded expression, tilting his head before murmuring with a shy stutter of, “…edging? you want me to—what’s edging?”

albeit, the second he experiences it, he doesn’t want to stop. hours had probably passed, and he’s panting, sweaty and all. choso’s staring deeply into your eyes as you’re riding him. he can’t stop the slutty whines that leave his mouth, strands of his own hair irritated him from the way it brushed against his forehead.

“f-fuckk, your hips..” he’d hiccup, and he bites down on his lip — choso whines, feeling the ridges of his cock hit and meet every edge. your gummy walls were clinging onto him with such force that it’s sloppy. it makes his head spin, and he just couldn’t shut up.

not that you ever cared, choso’s voice was always adorable—despite it being a soft hoarse, husky and a tad bit deep. you leave him with kisses all across his face the moment he warns you that he’s about to reach yet another teeth-shattering orgasm.

“hold my hand, choso.” you’d whisper, stroking his cheek with a thumb. youre trying to distract him from his ecstasy-filled nerves, dark eyes flicker towards you and not for one second does he hesitate.

a big hand grabs onto yours, and he squeezes it. choso swallows, feeling your hips grind and grind back against him.

he doesn’t finish his words before you clench around him, choso’s breathing picks up time and time again before his head throws itself back. you start to moan with him too, completely in sync. giving his hand a squeeze before right when the two of you were about to give in to the shockwaves of pleasure…

faster and faster.

he’s so close to you that he uses another hand to pull you into a hug—you giggle once choso starts moaning right into your ear. “baby, i-i wanna cum with you, but you asked if i could…”

you both come to a sudden respite.

choso’s eyes were half open, and he’s just breathing. “s-shit,” is the first thing that slips out of his mouth as he looks at you. dilated pupils of his that forever got lost in yours.

you smile, heaving yourself before pressing a wet kiss against his lips. it was rare to hear choso curse. hearing the words roll off his tongue, you just wanted to kiss him all over. “think ‘m startin' to see why you—you wanted to be edged so much,” and his voice was pitched a lot lower, you’re still softly moving against him and he lets off a low sigh. “feels so good. different..”

“are you tired already, baby?” you huff out, planting a kiss near the very edge of his mouth.

he grows flustered at your touch, he blinks twice before cutely shaking his head, only for his voice to crack. “w-what? no, ‘m not tired. i was just,” and he pauses, avoiding eye contact and you lean in for a sweet kiss. that always shut him up. choso’s tongue collides against yours, and once he feels your hips start to rock back and forth against his. a moan goes out of him, and you let off a noise yourself once he gives your ass a soft spank. he squeezes it shortly afterward, and it’s not even seconds later before he cums inside.

once he pulls away, strands and strands of spit departing—choso shudders, licking his lips before breathing out a, “…i made such a mess inside,” and you’re taken aback once he grabs your wrist, making your fingers wrap around his neck—a cute plead with his eyes that he wants you to choke him a little. “i want more, please baby. ride me all night, please. jus’ wanna be good for you.”

⟢ FUSHIGURO TOJI

“the nerve you have, girl,” toji grunts. you’re an entire mess, laid all on the bed and he’s got a toy of yours that’s making your legs feel like complete mush. “sending pictures to me while ‘m at work. spamming my phone like that, ‘n to do it in my clothes too?”

“i said s-sorry,” you’d moan, and you tried suppressing your moans but it was little to no use. the wand rubbed against your clit, and it felt so good—you were approaching yet another orgasm that you could practically taste it on the very tip of your tongue. “toji. tojiiii.”

he’s got the toy turned up a few notches, a high level and you’re just idly hitting the back of your head against the pillow. dark irises of toji’s remain on yours to where it makes you not only nervous, but ten times horny.

he scoffs, a free hand reaching towards your right breast to lightly pinch against your nipples. “hard just for me, baby?”

“…i want you not the toy,” you whined, fully ignoring his words. he rolls his eyes, ghosting the rubber head of the toy even more over your soaked pussy. you were so wet, it felt good but you wanted the real thing. toji’s dick, inside of you, stretching you at your very mercy. “i’ll be good, promise.”

“little girl,” he grouses with the most sassiest tone imaginable. his voice was a sexy low, it made you throb.

your orgasm was just screaming for its release that you couldn’t help but start to shift and grind your hips against the toy, oh how pathetically…. “so ungrateful, ‘n i was just about to let you cum.”

“t-toji,” you pouted, raising your neck up just a bit to meet eye contact with him. he snickers, a rough hand of his prying your legs open just a bit more, another still occupied with your tits, his thumb grazes against your perky nipple and you moaned. “it’s boring, i want you toji.”

toji jeers, sliding the toy up and down your folds before staring directly at you. “…boring?” he matches your whiney tone.

“but y’er already so soaked for this stupid fuckin’ toy. ‘sides, don’t even think you deserve to be fucked. that shit’s only for girls who listen.”

“fuck y-you, i— i am listening,” you huff out, your eyebrows curling together and he chuckles at your sudden attitude.

“oh reaaaally? with a tone like that, might as well finish yourself off.”

toji sneers, and you let off a cute frown. he leans up close to you.

you think he’s gonna kiss you but right before he presses his lips against yours, he leaves you looking down with your own lips twitching. “hm,” he utters, moving back before you hear the toy flicker off.

you’re still just sat there, moaning because you wanted to cum—yet toji’s already getting up, and you whimper out a, “t-toji. you said i could cum..”

“y’er a big girl. do it yourself,” he mumbles, burying his hands into his pockets. “have fun with those weak fingers of yours, heh.”

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO SATORU x FEM READER

Gojo “my girl is mad at me I hope I die” Satoru

wc — 600

tags — fluff, companion piece to modern intimacy so you’re also married in this one, love as annoyance 

Gojo looks like he tried to drown himself in the shower. 

If you hadn’t just mopped the floor, you might be tempted to give in and beckon him over to cuddle. As it is, your annoyance is only mildly tempered by how adorable he is. You suspect this was his plan all along. 

“Go dry your hair,” you tell him coldly, hardly even giving him a glance after his first step into the room. 

He pouts, which you were expecting. He should really learn some new tricks at this point. You make a shooing gesture at him to drive home the point. 

Instead, he clambers down next to your feet, all six feet and two inches of him compressed down to fit his head into your lap. Gojo’s so lanky it gives you the impression of a Jenga tower collapsing in on itself to watch him get on his knees. 

“But you’re mad at me,” he whines. Chilly droplets are seeping into your thighs. 

“I’ll be madder if you keep getting my pants wet. Go on, you’ll catch a cold.” 

“I deserve it.” 

“Gojo.” 

You say it as if you’re short of patience, when really, you’re far from it. You’re enjoying this way too much. 

He turns his head so he can look up at you. His hair falls into his eyes, making him look like a sad, wet puppy, shivering at your feet for mercy. It’s an act, of course. 

He’s the strongest man in the world. Still, you feel your heart melting as you would for any poor abandoned creature. You brush his bangs out of his face, trying to hold onto your weakening resolve. 

He knows he’s got you. It’s just a matter of time. 

“I can’t live with myself,” he says. “If you’re going to be mad at me, you should just kill me. It would be easier-“ 

“Don’t be dramatic,” you say, but that’s when he strikes the killing blow. 

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just looks at you with eyes that are suspiciously shiny, his pretty pink lips in a soft frown. You sigh and put the book you were trying to read down. 

“Go get the hairdryer.” 

Gojo perks up immediately. You stay on the sofa. He sits on the ground between your legs as you run your hands through his hair, moving section by section. It fluffs up as hot air moves over it. 

“Are you still mad?” 

“Want to take a guess?” 

He turns around so fast he almost hits himself in the face with the hairdryer in your hand. 

“I’ll never do it again, I swear.” 

“You swear?” You’re teasing. 

Gojo places one hand over his heart and raises the other like he’s making a pledge. You’re the only nation he’d ever devote himself to, anyway. “You know my motto is happy wife, happy life.” 

“I don’t know, actually.” You laugh. “Did you just come up with that?” 

“Now you’re just being mean,” he says. 

“I’m glad you picked up on it,” you say dryly. 

You like him pathetic. It appeals to your worst nature, the one that kind of wants to pinch him just to see him cry. You don’t know when you developed such feelings, and you’re certainly not sadistic towards anyone else, but Gojo just provokes you. It’s what he does. He’s good at being annoying. 

But you love that part of him, just as much as you love the part of him that can’t live without your attention. 

“You really learned your lesson?” You ask. “You won’t do it again?” 

“And go through this again? You kidding?” 

You pinch his cheek in annoyance, but he just laughs and wraps his arms around you, ignoring the way you try to wriggle away. 

“Your hair isn’t dry yet!”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, rubbing his cheek against yours. His shampoo smells good. “Happy husband, happy wife.” 

He knows you too well for you to disagree. 

[yuwuta]

AFTERGLOW. — JJK BOYS + JEALOUSY

❝tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when i've lost my mind  

featuring. gojo, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu

content. a character study in jealousy, no content warnings, no smut in this version, fem reader

word count. 2.8k

SATORU GOJO You’re attempting to finish getting ready for the evening and Satoru has taken his favorite activity: filing through every crevice of your room like he’d been hired as a private investigator. Even though he knows that you know that he’s nothing more than a nosy idiot, Satoru claims that it’s an important and intimate routine that he should know the ins and outs of your living space just as well as you know his—“You know exactly where I keep my boxers, and I don’t even think I’ve seen the inside of your closet—oh, hey, this is cute,” he grins, sticking out his impossibly long arm to shake a thin, lacy bodysuit on a hanger, “How come you’ve never shown me this, huh? Maybe you should wear this instead, it seems easier to take—ouch.”

He groans at the impact of your hairbrush against his shoulder, then swiftly proceeds to pout and whine about how mean you are to him when you return to ignoring him in favor of applying the final touches to your makeup. Your closet seems to be of little interest to him after that, as Satoru crosses the room to hover around you at your vanity instead. He leans in too closely, as if watching you apply bronzer was a novel sight to him. You flip your brush quickly, barely tapping at his nose and laughing at his scrunched reaction.

“Your reflexes aren’t so sharp today,” you tease. You’re prepared for a witty response, and when you glance, there’s a familiar mischief shimmering in your boyfriend’s eyes; but, then his gaze ventures slightly past you, and all signs of playfulness drain from his face. Instead of getting revenge, or annoying you further, Satoru reaches over your body and into a shallow jewelry dish to pick up the bracelet he’d spotted. It’s a dainty little thing, thin gold with a small heart in the middle glittering with shiny stones, that he threads along his fingers with scrutiny before standing up straight to dangle it in front his face for further inspection, “This is new to me.”

Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, because only Satoru would spot that one piece of jewelry amongst the others swimming the tray. His eyes flutter between the bracelet and you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head, and the accusation he won’t say outloud—did you buy yourself heart-shaped jewelry, or is there something else going on here?

You sigh and keep your expression and voice neutral, your attention seemingly still focused on the finishing touches of your makeup, “It’s new to you because I haven’t worn it in years,” you tell him, “My ex gave it to me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you occupy yourself with your mascara, before Satoru speaks, “That makes sense, it doesn’t look all that promising. What is it—barely gold plated?” he taunts, sweeping away his air of concern with one of mockery, standing up straight to twirl the bracelet around his index finger, “Figures your ex boy toy had no taste for the finer things in life. You’re worth more than this, my darling.”

You shake your head with light laughter, patting in the remnants of your setting spray before standing. Satoru continues on, rambling about the poor construction of your commercially produced bracelet—holds it between his index finger and thumb like it’ll poison him if he exposes it to too much of his skin, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for the lapel of his blazer to pull him down for a kiss. He has no words of objection to this, pulling you in by the waist for another and another and another, before you finally pull away, “Come, let’s go. I don’t feel like getting lectured by Utahime for your tardiness again.”

You’re too preoccupied for the rest of the evening to notice the item missing from your jewelry dish. What you do notice, two afternoons later, shortly after Satoru has left to pick up Nanami from the airport, is a blue velvet box with your name written in pretty, gold cursive along the top—and inside, a gold tennis bracelet, glittering with diamonds, with a necklace to match. You have no doubt they’re legitimate, if not for the way the sparkle, then by the text that rings through on your phone after you question Satoru:

from: satoruwu 🫧🩵 — only the best for my baby <33

TOGE INUMAKI

Toge knows that the price of coffee has gotten way out of hand, but what bothers him more is the decreasing pace of said coffee getting made and the increase of crazy, caffeine addicted people who feel the need to be loud around him while he’s waiting for his drinks. You, however, seem to take pleasure in his suffering, as you always thank him and coo, saying he looks cute despite his grumbly demeanor, “You always look like you fought a war for two cups of coffee, Toge.” 

He rolls his eyes as he steps into your apartment, not minding the sound of your giggling behind him. He sets the drinks on your island, and pulls out a stool to sit on. You round the marble, reaching him just as he’s pulled down his mask for a thank you kiss to his cheek. He wants to make you suffer for longer, but when you lean against him, he can’t help but to return the hug and kiss your forehead—you’re welcome, always.

Still, he pokes at your head, waits until you dig your head out of his shoulder with curious eyes, before he points to the Keurig sitting in the corner of one the wall-mounted counters, and moves his hands to sign, “Why keep that if you spend all my money on coffee?”

“Rude. I offer to pay all the time,” you chide, poking at his collar bone and standing straight. You make your way back to the opposite side of the counter, and reach to a drawer to fetch a straw, before shrugging, “My ex left it here when we broke up. I keep it for the aesthetic—I’m not even sure if it works.”

A myriad of thoughts runs through Toge’s mind—most importantly: had your ex left other things here, and how quickly could he get rid of them?

“Besides,” you break his murderous train of thought, “None of the pods make good espresso. Couldn’t even make my hot girl latte if it worked.”

“Your ‘hot girl latte’ is iced,” Toge signs.

Under normal circumstances, a comment like that would earn him a flick to the forehead, but you can tell that behind the sarcasm, Toge is actually upset. So, in lieu of teasing him, you walk back over to him; settling yourself behind his stool to give him a back hug. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and press a small kiss there, “You’re cute.” 

Toge huffs, shaking his shoulders for dramatic effect. You laugh, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re cute and you have nothing to worry about. It’s an old coffee machine.” 

He hums, taking another sip of his coffee before turning, barely bumping the top of your forehead, so you can see his raised eyebrow. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, “You’re cute, and you have nothing to worry about, and I love you.” 

He finally smiles again, content, and grants you another kiss to your forehead. With his mood back to normal, the two of you finish your coffee and carry on with your scheduled study session as normal (normal being Toge leaving you alone for all of twenty-seven minutes, before he starts taking videos of you with various outrages Snapchat filters on).

However, the following day when you return from your classes, there’s four new items on your kitchen counter: a silver espresso machine, a reusable Starbucks cup (already filled with your usual drink), a neatly folded apron decorated with cartoon Shiba Inus, and a small card with Toge’s bubbly handwriting on it: “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for you $6 pink drinks, but if you wanted to thank me by making coffee in just the apron, then I wouldn’t complain ;)”

KENTO NANAMI Kento is a rational man; he favors using logic to carry out decisive actions, rather than letting his emotions get the best of him. So, the rational part of him knows that it’s not a big deal that the lunch bag and bento-style tupperware you bring to work was a gift from your ex-girlfriend; but there’s a small, ugly, green part of him overrun with jealousy and another bitter-tasting feeling he can’t quite name.

Because it’s not that important. It makes sense that you keep using them—the lunch bag is nice, leather, sleek, and insulated, and the tupperware is sturdy and functional. The whole system is sustainable, practical. It was a good present, one that objectively serves a good purpose whether or not it was given by an ex or not.

Maybe that’s what he hates so much. That this person still has room in your life, even though you haven’t spoken to them since you’ve met him. Kento doesn’t like that reminder—that there are people out there who might be a good fit for you, a better one than him. Those ugly feelings aside, there’s a sour taste in his mouth when he packs your lunch now; knowing that the food he cooked for the two of you—the meal you’re both going to indulge in—sits in a container gifted to you by an ex-lover.

Irrational to the point of being unfocused, he doesn’t realize how close the glass is to the edge of the counter, and when he turns to scoop more rice, he accidentally knocks it over with his elbow. It breaks into tiny pieces on the ground, the small portion of rice and chicken spilling onto the ground. The sound draws you out of your bedroom, mascara wand in hand and robe still on to call for him, “Kento? Everything okay?”

“I… it was an accident,” he explains, setting the spoon down in favor of reaching for a napkin, dropping to his knee with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.”

Your laughter surprises him, prompts him to look up at you with broken glass shards pooled in his palm, “You don’t have to worry so much! It happens, we have a million more.”

There’s something about the way you don’t seem to acknowledge it being special to you in any way—Kento’s not even sure if you recognize what broke—that reassures him. Because it really was an accident, but Kento doesn’t mind that he managed to break this particular plate. 

When he shoos you back to getting dressed, he finishes picking up the broken glass shards. There’s a certain lightness to his actions now, petty as it may be, he’s happy. Spends extra time writing a note for you to see when you unpack your food before he retires to the bathroom to start getting ready himself. 

Maybe he could do something about that lunchbox next. You don’t seem to mind.

YUUTA OKKOTSU Thursdays are Yuuta’s favorite day of the week because on Thursdays, you two meet up at your spot, which is really just a set of twin benches in the west quad, but it’s your place and Yuuta loves it. You will have reserved a study room in your favorite library, and Yuuta will buy snacks for your study session before you both head to the library in an attempt to finish up your work for the week in order to keep your Friday evenings free.

Yuuta usually gets to the bench before you, a combination of the engineering building being a little bit closer, and his legs being a lot longer. He doesn’t mind waiting for you, as it’s usually his first time seeing you in two days (your Tuesdays are too packed for anything other than a shared coffee break between lectures, and Wednesdays are his hell days), and spotting you through the crowd of dissipating students always brings a smile to his face.

You look cute today, an oversized sweater enveloping your frame that Yuuta can imagine you cozying into and nearly dozing off in your dreaded microbiology lecture. He laughs to himself at the mental image, just as you stop in front of him to ponder, “Something funny?”

Yuuta shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a proper greeting. “Nothing,” he reassures you, reaching around to pull your backpack off of your shoulders, and slings it over one of his, “You look cute. Did you mean to buy a sweater big enough to double as a blanket?”

“The oversized look is in,” you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes, letting Yuuta take your hand in his despite his teasing, “I don’t even think I bought this, honestly. It might be Todo’s? Or Toge’s—it might even be Maki’s at this point.”

Yuuta freezes. He feels the world stop and a million different emotions surge through him at once, but the most prevalent of them all is something ugly and green. He could deal with Toge, though he doubts he’s the culprit. While you two shared a penchant for oversized clothing, Toge was more often than not the thief, rather than the lender, and he’s pretty good at keeping his collection of stolen goods under lock and key. Maki was out of the question, too, because you shared a class with Nobara earlier today, and there’s no way you’d have made it out of there wearing her girlfriend’s sweater.

So it probably was Todo’s. And Yuuta had said you looked cute. Though he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his moment of self-pity is waning, and overcast by something steely, something too-hot bubbling in his chest. The question of why you have it goes over his head—he’s not concerned with that, nor will he fault you for it—the matter at hand is that you’re wearing it. And, sure, Yuuta thought you looked good in it before, but he could name sixteen other things you’d look better in at this very moment.

You’ve gone on to ramble about something that happened earlier, but Yuuta’s not listening. He drops your hand first, then both of your backpacks on the bench behind him, before tapping at your wrists. You don’t seem to understand him, cocking your head to the side with a pensive expression, but Yuuta only taps at your wrists again with a simple command, “Up.”

It doesn’t seem like you understand, but you follow anyway, and Yuuta is pulling the sweater up and off of your body before you can question him. He tosses it onto the bench with little care, then removes his white jacket and places it atop your backpacks. “What are—” you don’t have time to finish before he’s pulled his own hoodie off his body, and slid it over your head.

Yuuta smooths out the fabric under his palms with a satisfied grin on his face. Much better.

“Aw, Yuuta!” you bring a hand to tug at the strings of the hood, a wicked smile replacing your dazed blinking, “I didn’t know you were so possessive.”

You tease him until he’s red up to his ears, embarrassed and borderline bashful, a complete 180 from the looming jealousy that took over him moments before as he shimmies on his jacket again and picks up your back backs. He huffs, as you tease him, circling an arm around his as you begin to walk to the student center. He doesn’t know if he agrees with your declarations of him being a possessive boyfriend, but he does know that he’s your boyfriend, and your boyfriend only.

“So, you think I look cute, still?” you question, picking up a pack of gummy worms. Yuuta lets out a breath of laughter, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Even cuter than before.”

(Two days later, Todo can be found screaming wildly to Itadori when he comes across a familiar hoodie strewn across a random bench on campus—who considers visiting the Student Health Clinic to make sure an eardrum wasn’t ruptured—because, “Bro, what the hell? I swear I fucking lost this thing!”)

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[chestharrington]

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear. 

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces. 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names. 

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up. 

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone. 

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table. 

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question. 

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents. 

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery. 

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with. 

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. 

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. 

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom. 

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box. 

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

 He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. 

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. 

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement. 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense  is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today. 

Not that you’re really complaining. 

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit.  His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful. 

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?” 

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.” 

He grins and raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips. 

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once. 

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously. 

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out. 

“Just Joel if fine, actually.” 

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience. 

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe. 

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief. 

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out. 

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements. 

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head. 

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same. 

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes. 

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it. 

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word. 

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as  his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming. 

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace. 

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open. 

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore. 

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper. 

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case. 

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him. 

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day. 

For the next time. 

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip. 

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to. 

Because he just called you his girl. 

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century. 

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy. 

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice. 

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?” 

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting. 

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your  jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him. 

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore. 

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch. 

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is. 

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you. 

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. 

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.” 

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation. 

But he would never let you win that easily, would he? 

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper. 

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts. 

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms. 

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess. 

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under. 

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything. 

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want. 

It’s Joel.

All of it. 

You want Joel. 

All of him. 

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him. 

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh. 

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily. 

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders. 

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane!  And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.” 

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you. 

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in. 

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if  you think I'm like this with anyone else.” 

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying. 

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip. 

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything. 

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together.  “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you. 

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second. 

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up. 

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts. 

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out. 

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly. 

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls,  his thumb moving  to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually. 

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again. 

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm.  "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry.  Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive. 

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and  scorching you from the inside out. 

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions. 

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress. 

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.” 

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair. 

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is  betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you.  "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me."

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him. 

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then  bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them. 

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk. 

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile. 

Every time. 

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times. 

How the fuck is this real? 

He  stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it. 

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket. 

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?” 

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone.. 

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but  kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes. 

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back  on his knees, one  hand around the base of his cock, the other  on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change. 

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him. 

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan. 

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost. 

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch. 

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you. 

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest. 

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it. 

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile. 

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure. 

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away. 

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard. 

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

[the-witheredroses]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

[highonakuweeds]

POV: Your Alastor's wife and it's October

(A/N: I didn't read anything beforehand, so if you see any weird mix ups of whatever, I'm sure your brain can ignore it thank you <3)

“My dear!” Alastor exclaimed towards you, who was at the bar, conversing with Husk. Your attention changed so that Alastor had it fully, which made Husk roll his eyes and chug a drink down. “Mon amour! How are you this hellish evening? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Ah, yes well,” Alastor tugged on his coat, his grin somewhat strained. It wasn’t obvious for the majority of the others, but it was to his wife. “Just some irritating demons on the streets, is all; nothing to worry about.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Alastor, I know what that face means.” 

He raised a curious brow. “Do you, now?”

“Mhm.” You sipped the last of your champagne, and thanked Husk for the drink, earning a nod from him. “It means you’re horny.”

…

…

…

“What? Noo!” Alastor attempted to brush off, his eyebrows stitched with disbelief. “You know how I am about anything sexual, dear. I—” “Yes, yes, it’s not really your thing; we all know that. However,” light flickered through your gaze as you bore into Alastor’s eyes. “That doesn’t mean you can’t escape that month you hate so much.”

Alastor remained quiet, his eye twitching. You shrugged. “I mean, hey, if you want to wait it out, suit yourself. People will ask where you’ve gone, and you don’t want them to give in to curiosity, do you?”

He hesitated before grunting, grabbing your wrist, causing you to yelp. “Fine.” 

As your giggles of amusement echoed in the halls, Charlie tilted her head. “What’s he going to do to her? Oh, no, I hope it isn’t anything horrible…”

Angeldust snorted, swirling his pink cocktail before sipping. “Nah, he’s probably gonna fuck’er.”

“What!?”

“Angeldust!” Vaggie exclaimed, causing the spider demon to look at her in surprise. “What? You saw the way he looked at her, plus the way she was teasin’. I thought it was obvious.”

Cherri bomb grinned. “No shit they’re gonna fuck. But it’s kinda weird, don’t cha think? The edgelord finally wants to bang someone.”

Charlie thought about it. “Well, they are married.”

“Wait, they’re fuckin’ what now?”

“Wow, is this month that tough you gotta drag me to your room, Alastor?” You teased, causing him to groan. “You don’t even want to know how much I had to endure for the past couple of days.” He replied. 

Your brows furrowed. “Honey, if it was hurting you, you could’ve asked me way sooner. You know I would’ve been more than happy to help you.”

Alastor laughed, locking his door, and whisking the swamp side of his room away to not let anything disturb them. “Of course, you would’ve been, darling; you’re always so willing to help. Speaking of which, would you be a doll and soundproof the area?”

You cocked an eyebrow, obliging nonetheless. With a flick of your wrist, blue wisps coated his bedroom, leaving some sort of shiny residue scattered in the room. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was going to be a rough night for the both of us…”

“Oh, shut it.” Alastor mumbled before walking towards you. He crashed his lips onto yours, cupping your cheeks with fervor and slight desperation. You let out a noise of surprise before giggling and allowing your husband to do whatever he needed to do. You snaked your arms around Alastor’s neck, scratching the base of his ears, just how he liked it.

He let out a soft sigh of bliss, his steps making the both of them stumble onto the bed, with him on top of your. Before, Alastor normally just locked himself somewhere private, usually his radio tower, until this stupid cycle wore off. But now that his wife, his technical mate, was right where he was currently residing, it was way more difficult than it was before to be cooped up.

He had attempted to take matters into his own hands, both literally and figuratively, and the only thing it gave him was sheer shame and embarrassment, so he had stopped trying. So, to have you below him was such a relief.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more. 

He needed to taste you, and mark you, and show every single demon that came your way that you were his wife. No one else’s.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, planting small yet precise marks on your jaw, causing you to softly moan so quietly it riled him up even more. 

He tried his best to keep his composure calm, to hold himself back. But he truly couldn’t with how foggy his mind made everything become. Alastor sunk his teeth into your neck, right below your pulse. You let out an animalistic groan, your back off of the mattress already. “Alastor, love, calm down—”

“Apologies, my dear, but I don’t think I can.” He responded tightly, licking the wound he inflicted fervently, shuddering as the metallic taste hit his tongue. You chuckled, sweeping his hair away from his face. “Alright, then. Do whatever you need to, sweetheart.”

Alastor tried to think clearly, to regain any sort of control he had in his sexual desires, but he so miserably failed. The urge to bite you and mark you and make everyone know that you were his overruled his mind. It was the only thing he could ever think straight at that moment.

“Mine…” He muttered, kissing and sucking on almost every single part of your neck. His hand had other plans, though, as it traced your figure until it reached your hips, and it squeezed hard. 

You let out a yelp and a moan, your breath practically nonexistent as you chuckled. “I’m yours, darling.”

His hand, even if it was just one, grounded you to the bed. You found yourself unable to move, not that you cared, anyway. Alastor rarely needed you in this sort of way, and to have him like this, so desperate, so needy, it made you feel things.

You were not quite sure what was going on hearing-wise, but you felt yourself saying Alastor’s name as a plea. He groaned, pulling himself away from your neck with a strained struggle. He drank you in, his smile still present. You almost laughed as his eyes didn’t match that, though, since they were looking at your outfit in disgust. He adjusted his position to balance himself before snapping it away, leaving you bare.

You gasped at the drop of temperature, causing you to scoff. “Alastor! At least warn a demon.” His deer ears twitched as he descended onto your collarbone, peppering kisses everywhere. “I apologize again, (name). I just…” He took a deep breath in and felt his eyelids fall heavy. “You’re intoxicating…”

At the mention of your name, you stirred slightly, feeling the heat pool down to your core. Alastor must have noticed this, however, since he started trailing kisses around your chest, his favorite part being the underside of it. He nipped at the skin and sucked like a dog in heat.

Well, a deer in rut, but one must digress.

You squirmed in your position as he bit down right before he resumed his trail of kisses down to your stomach. He could feel your arousal like it was his own, and that put him in quite the predicament.

“Aren’t you going to take care of yourself first, Al? You’re practically bursting.” You quietly asked, a hand running through red tufts of hair that was tickling your torso. A low growl escaped Alastor’s throat. “I will; have some patience, love.” Me? You’re literally bulging. “But right now, I need a taste of you…”

Your eyebrows twitched as they creased together. “What are you trying to do—” You cut yourself off with a yelp as Alastor planted a soft kiss on your clit, making your jump. “If I go too far,” Alastor started, gazing up at you through his bangs. “Tell me.”

You nodded, knowing that he never would go too far, and if he did, he would be too busy enjoying his meal to understand that. 

Alastor’s grin just stretched wider before probing his tongue into you, causing you to shudder with a groan at the feeling. You played with his ears, your breath being stolen away. Honestly, if it weren’t for his cannibalistic and homicidal instincts, he would’ve landed a spot in Heaven with how gentlemanly he was, giving you pleasure before indulging in his own.

Alastor was fully aware of the growing tent in his pants, but he paid it no mind, which he was glad he was at least able to do. With that, he knew his mind hadn’t succumbed to the worse thoughts that he dreaded the most.

He lapped and sucked up all of the juices you had to offer, his pace unforgiving and sloppy. You could feel your own claws puncture the mattress with how tight your grip was on it, but you were sure Alastor wouldn’t care later on. He doesn’t really…sleep.

With how quickly Alastor was working against you, you felt that knot in your stomach appear just as fast, making you curse under your breath. For someone who doesn’t really like anything inherently sexual, he sure is a master at it.

Alastor felt it. He felt you getting closer, and he wanted nothing more than to see you writhe in pleasure all because of him, and nothing, or no one, else. The hand that was gripping your thigh to the point of wounds hooked your leg onto his shoulder for the time being, holding it in place as he quickened his pace.

The only thing you could do was whimper and plead and whine. And every single syllable that dropped from your mouth went straight to his arousal, and he cursed internally. A string of violent curses escaped his wife’s lips as you tugged on Alastor’s hair, which led him to hiss in both the pain and pleasure it shamefully gave him. 

“Close—Alastor, wait—!” You managed to cry before snapping, waves of pleasure crashing into you intensely. You let out a demonic groan as Alastor drank you until your high faded.

Your head flopped onto the fluffy pillows of Alastor’s bed, staring at the red head of hair just where your abdomen started. The radio demon rested his head on the inner side of your thigh, catching his breath slightly, which caused a bit of feedback from the voice effect he always had on.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked, tilting your head. Despite the fact that Alastor kept smiling, his brows twitched. He was far from satisfied. 

You laughed, and Alastor could hear a bit of nervousness laced into it. Not that kind that was associated with fear, but the kind that was associated with excitement. 

It’s going to be a long night for the both of them.

You sat up properly before crawling to be in front of Alastor. “It’s quite unfair that I’m the only one bare right now.” You teased, undoing the buttons of his coat. Though, even as you did, he knew how much you enjoyed that power difference.

Alastor didn’t resist as you unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt underneath. You had stopped undressing him when his shirt hit the strain in his pants, and he felt an annoyed grunt scratching his throat at the lack of friction. “(Name), dear.”

“Hm?”

“You have to stop teasing…”

You scoffed out a laugh. “Is the radio demon attempting to beg right now?” Alastor’s face immediately turned bright red, the cold air that was hitting his bare chest not helping him, either. “Chérie, don’t make me do this—” “What, beg?”

You had figured out how to make it more fun for you, and more cruel for him.

It made him so embarrassingly hard.

Your positions were now flipped, since Alastor had tried (and failed) to cage you in, and so when he crawled towards you, you swiftly went behind him. So now, his back was towards the headboard, his ears pinned back slightly. Without his coat, you could really have a nice view of his small deer tail which was currently tucked in between his legs, barely covering the bulge in front of his pants.

His grin twitched. “So, how are you planning on taking advantage of our current situation?”

You laughed, a finger to his lips to shush him, which made an irk mark appear on his forehead. “Oh, dear Alastor, have some patience! You wanted me to have the same thing just minutes before, right?” Your finger swept to his chin to lift it up as you leaned in closer. So close Alastor heard your pulse.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your lips mere centimeters apart. Alastor sighed, ready to feel the sensation of your soft lips against his, but he only felt the cold air hit it instead. He opened his eyes to find you grinning with an eyebrow raised. His brows dropped as his smile strained, just as much as his pants were. Alastor cleared his throat before giving you an amused gaze. “Do you really think that would work on me?”

You shrugged, leaning forward to straddle yourself on him. He cursed under his breath (a rare scene, honestly. You savored every moment) as he felt himself buck against you. “Well, it did; there’s no real debate about it, hun.” You cupped one of his cheeks, in which he melted into, while tracing the outline of his deer ears with your other hand. You laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry, your ears are just…absolutely divine.”

Alastor fought back every single moan and whine that you were pulling out of him from playing with his ears. “The things you do to me…” He whispered as he grinded against you slightly, that needed friction making him see stars. 

You almost lost self control at that statement. Just the way Alastor was slowly breaking under you purely because you were touching and prodding at his ears gave you such a power surge. Your hands made their way to his pants, where they undid them and freed Alastor, who had just hissed at the cold air hitting his cock.

You stared and ogled at the sight before you, your hand wrapping itself around it. Alastor tensed, his shoulders raised slightly. He let out a shaky breath, watching his own chest rise and fall to calm him down.

He was already leaking, and you used that to your advantage. You stroked painfully slowly, causing him to shiver. You glanced at Alastor’s expression with a sly smirk. “You’re enjoying this a lot, dear.”

Your tone was mocking; Alastor heard it. He tightly chuckled. “How would you know?”

“Alastor. You’re so hard right now.”

“Oh.” 

You snorted before increasing your pace against his cock. Alastor cleared his throat, feeling his mind fog with desire and lust, the two things he really wished hadn’t plagued his mind too much.

You felt a tentacle wrap around your left thigh, and your breath hitched. “Al?-” It started to massage your pussy, making you gasp and grip Alastor’s cock a bit too tightly.

He grunted in both pain and pleasure, that brief moment of extreme bliss washing away again. “(Name), love, I think you should calm down this time.”

“Well, it’s not my fault your stupid tentacles start to just—” You cut yourself by sighing in relief, the same tentacle you were referring to going in circles against your already sensitive clit. “I swear.” You muttered, quickening your pace against Alastor.

Suddenly, you stopped your hand, cursing when the tentacle wouldn’t do the same. At that lack of motion, Alastor swore under his breath, his grin showing annoyance as he grunted. Yet even with shocks of pleasure spreading across you body, you kept a steady face, the smile on your face absolutely shit-eating. “Is someone annoyed already? Doesn’t feel good when pleasure’s just taken from you, does it?” You swiped you thumb against his tip which made Alastor stir. He let out a low, dragged-out moan at the sensation. you repeated the motion, amused at the way Alastor took a sharp inhale and exhale, as if regulating his senses.

Alastor hated the way you pouted at him as if he were some pitiful creature. “Awh, does someone crave what he wants?” You scoffed, swallowing a gulp of saliva as the tentacle on your pussy quickened its pace. you attempted to think of something, anything, that could postpone your orgasm.

Ah, you knew.

Angeldust said something about Valentino having a waterboarding kink. Honestly, the thought of Valentino was enough.

You grinned, tilting your head as you set your pace to be irregular. When you knew Alastor was at the edge, you stopped, then when you knew that it subsided, you would continue. “You thought I wouldn’t make you beg for it?”

Alastor couldn’t help the lewd noises he was making, letting out strangled moans and whines and huffs. Just who do you think you are, making the radio demon beg for you?

Well, you are his wife.

Alastor tried to fight the urge to give in, but the way you were teasing him and playing with his pleasure made him want to snap. He averted your gaze as he muttered something incoherent, but you knew what it was.

You slowed your pace on his cock again, tilting your head in feigned innocence. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that. You better speak up.” Immediately after you spoke, you bit your lip and cursed internally. You were so desperately close because of what Alastor’s tentacles were doing to you. Hell, you weren't even sure if Alastor knew that his tentacles were pleasing you to the brink of insanity.

Alastor’s pride and ego got the better of him, though, as he mumbled it again, just a bit louder.

“Alastor.” You warned. “Speak. Up.” You quickened your strokes before slowing them down again, smiling as you got the reaction you wanted from Alastor.

“Hhngh, please, darling…” He moaned, his eyelids heavy. Alastor’s grin twitched once more in annoyance. “Please, finish what you started…”

You were going to say something before you felt you coming close. you cursed under your breath, something you didn’t know if Alastor heard you or not. And just as you was about to reach the highest peak, 

The tentacle against your pussy stopped its rubbing, and you whined, arching you back. You were grateful for it, though. You could tease Alastor even more.

“Awh, Alastor,” you taunted. “Surely you can do better than that…right?” You placed a kiss beside the tip, and Alastor suppressed (but horribly failed) the need to moan. “Beg like you mean it.” 

Alastor accidentally whined, his eyebrow twitching once he heard himself. “Please, darling… don’t tease me like this…” You gazed into Alastor’s eyes, a look of mischief on your face as you stroked quicker. 

He moaned heavily, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. “Fuck, please let me finish already…!”

Your eyebrows shot up at that crisp swear, you grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re getting there, love.” The speed of your strokes gradually increased. Suddenly, you felt the tentacles again, but this time, it was just one. It was two.

You discreetly attempted to glance back, getting interrupted by the thicker one prodding your entrance. you gasped, trying to regain your composure and control over him. You tried your best to focus on Alastor instead. “You’re so cute when you beg; you know that, right?” You propped yourself on your elbows instead of having your other hand support you to play with Alastor’s cock more.

More quickly than he would have wanted, Alastor felt himself losing control. He let out an animalistic groan, gritting his teeth. His shoulders tensed once more as he felt himself getting close. He bucked his hips into your hands, the friction making him whimper ever so slightly. “Please…please, please, please please…”

You had never heard Alastor so whiny, so helpless. It was unlike him, just allowing you to assert yourself in this kind of situation. But hey, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it.

You should visit more often.

The hand closer to his tip massaged it with the thumb, making Alastor cry out in response. His breath was shallow and ragged, and his voice was breaking. His radio filter was long gone, and just the sound of his real voice made you go crazy.

You felt yourself nearing your climax, too. With how quickly the two tentacles were either massaging or pumping into you, you realized it was inevitable.

You decided it would be ideal if you came together.

You immediately quickened your pace against him, the fact his whole intimidating facade was gone with how he was muttering pleas made your heart pump, if undead hearts could do so.

Alastor felt kisses against his inner thigh, and that was what sent him over the edge. With a cry of your name, strings and strings of white translucent fluid released itself from his cock. His hearing was compromised with a ringing sound, but he heard you moan his name out just a couple of seconds after him, your grip against him tightening as you never stopped stroking.

His breath hitched as he realized that you weren't going to stop. “Wait, (Name)—” He whined, his head hitting the pillow behind him. It was too much; the feeling, the pleasure, just everything. He hadn’t even touched himself in decades, so to just have someone stroking him even after he came felt painfully pleasurable.

Thankfully, you stopped after some time, your grip loosening as you caught your breath. Somewhere during that time frame, your right hand made its way to his thigh, acting as a pillow for your cheek. your eyes trailed down Alastor’s twitching cock, and you grinned, liking a stripe from base to tip.

He shivered, his eyes closed as he held his forehead. He placed his hand down onto the mattress and… Why were there punctures in it?

Just as Alastor was about to ask, he noticed movement behind you, his brows furrowed. Then, he saw it. He saw the shadowy tentacles he knew were his.

His eyes widened slightly as he looked at the now flushed out you who was half-lidded with your ass in the air. “My dear?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Why are my tentacles…out?”

“Huh?” You glanced back and sweatdropped as you finally realized just how thick they were. No wonder You felt full. “Oh, they–” You cleared your throat. “They were…fucking me. I thought you knew that.”

Alastor’s eye twitched before he let out a chuckle. “Well, I apologize for that, dear. Though, I hope you can still take more, since,” he sat up straight, helping you fix your posture before picking you up by your hips and straddling you against him, your pussy just mere centimeters on top of his cock. “I’ll be handling you now.” Alastor glanced up to look you in the eyes. “Do you consent?”

“You know I always do.”

Alastor huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say, darling.” He strained himself as he held every ounce of the animalistic urge that he had kept constrained as he made you sink down onto him. A guttural moan forced itself out and he started to grip your hips tighter, using that as a way to bounce you on his cock.

You always knew and understood how mating seasons work, from their cycles to the subject’s attitude during. Well, you needed to read about it; one can never have too much knowledge, right?

You weren't sure about one thing, though: if demons experienced the same kind of cycle that their animal counterpart did. Well, this explains it.

It was obvious that Alastor was attempting to help you adjust to his throbbing dick but just the idea of being inside you drove him towards the edge. He bucked his hips at the same rhythm you bounced on him.

Your mind was clouded with lust and pure bliss. Alastor’s cock was kissing your cervix one too many times, and it sent you to absolute ecstasy. your lips formed a lazy grin as you kissed him hungrily, causing his hips to stutter.

With no ounce of shame left in his body, he allowed himself to groan and whine at every thrust he did in you, savoring how warm everything felt. How ironically heavenly you made him feel. 

The only unfortunate thing in Alastor’s mind was the desire to breed. To fill you up until his cum splattered onto his mattress. He wanted to make a mess of you, and possibly himself in the process. Alastor needed to make sure you knew that you were his, and his alone.

Somehow his lips made their way to your neck, savagely nipping and sinking his teeth into your flesh until he tasted metal. That sweet intoxicating flavor that always drove him wild.

you dug your nails into Alastor’s back, feeling your climax rising up again. It wasn’t long until you were spewing curse words that would make a normal man break down and cry as you felt the cord in your stomach violently snap again. 

But Alastor wasn’t stopping. He started to prioritize his release the moment he slipped inside of you. His pace never faltered; in fact, it quickened at an inhuman speed, causing your gasps of air to be just hiccups.

“You’re making me see stars.” He whispered into your ear, desperate and whiny. He could feel that build up happening again, and this time, he was going to get what he wanted as quickly as possible.

Fuck, just the idea of him cumming inside of you almost broke him. He knew that since you were both sinners, you could no longer have children, but it would never hurt to try, right?

His grip against your hips tightened to ground you in place as moaned as loudly as you had ever heard him. He pumped inside of you, thrusting harshly yet slowly until he felt himself fully inside you. you gasped, feeling your pussy stretch until something absolutely huge squeezed itself inside you.

Wait, did Alastor just–

Loads and loads of cum painted your walls, filling you up to the brim. Alastor’s teeth bit your shoulder as he released inside of you. you felt your mouth dry as you finally gasped for air, involuntary moans coming out for you.

You stayed like that for a minute or two, chests heaving as you caught their breath. Alastor’s knot finally deflated, yet it felt like he didn’t want to leave the position. However, you were still at the hotel, and the others might probably be looking for them.

Even worse, they might think they did something steamy.

Well, you did, but Alastor didn’t want that thought in their heads.

He planted a kiss on your forehead, his lips slightly burning from your skin. “We should get going, my dear.” He whispered, his radio filter back on.

“Did you know you could do that?”

“Do what, love?”

you looked at him through lazy eyes. But even if you did, he could practically feel the mischief beaming through them. “Knot.”

Alastor stitched his eyebrows together, confused. “What’s…knotting?”

you tilted your head. “You don’t know how your cycles work?” He averted your gaze, his ears flopping down in embarrassment. “I’ve never really done this before, dear.”

Your grin turned devilish. “Well…”

Oh, deer (hah). It’s going to be a long night for them.

“Where is Alastor?” Charlie asked, looking around. “I’ve been trying to call him for an hour or so but I haven’t seen him.”

Angeldust snorted before it turned into a cackle. “Like I said, toots! He’s probably in his room, fuckin’ the shit outta (Name).”

“I really doubt tha–” “Good evening, everyone!” Alastor exclaimed, his usual outfit now on. His grin remained constant as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “I do apologize for not being present for the past couple of hours. I had some business to do.”

“Yeah, her.” Angeldust mumbled, a smirk on his face. He lifted his face to look at you. “How was it?”

You just smiled, tilting your head. At that, the whole crew saw what you were trying to show.

Marks and marks of bites all over your neck, bruising it a little. They were surprised that it wasn’t bleeding with how wounded it was. 

Angeldust’s mouth went agape with a smile. He wasn’t entirely serious about that statement, but for it to actually be true? This was a day he never saw coming. “Ho-holy shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh. “I didn’t realize it was actually true!” 

[lanabuckybarnes]

Sergeant’s Got You

18+ Minors DNI

You’re stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.

Note: I was asked for something like this, so it’s heavy on the love for his dog tags

Pairing: beefy Bucky (but he’s got that fatws attitude) x reader

Warnings: Dom Bucky, basically smutty right from the get go, filthy buck, he has his metal arm (I’m a slut for it), you like Bucky’s dog tags, like really like them, Petnames: sweetness, sweetheart, sweet thing, sweetie, good girl, baby, a LOT of dirty talk, sergeant kink, sir kink, oral (M receiving), unprotected p in v sex, he’s rough, degradation, feral Bucky, squirting, creampie, aftercare.

Word Count: 3.2k *insert cat HUH sound*

You were stressed beyond belief. Your mission ended up having a few more loose ends than anyone was anticipating leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you were finally back in New York and ready to punch the next person who pats your back sympathetically with a ‘you tried’ look on their face.

Just as you were contemplating boxing the cupboard in the kitchen than wouldn’t stay open two strong arms pulled you back and into a hard body.

“You alright sweetness?” Bucky spoke into the locks of hair at the back of your ear. His cologne had you relaxing already, the fingers on his right hand hitched up your shirt to rub soothing circles over your hip bone. What really got you was the subtle grind of his hips against your ass; he was a filthy shit, you loved it when he knew what you wanted.

You flipped your body around in his arms, your fingers running up from his abs to his soft chest until they wrapped around his neck. He smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do but he was a tease, you had to tell him or he wouldn’t. It’s just the way the world worked for you sweetheart.

You surged forward, desperate for a taste of the cherry lips you missed so much. You hated to admit just how much the man in front of you affected you, how often on your mission your hand snaked down your body and in-between your legs at the photos Sam sent of your lost puppy husband, his wide back and tiny waist wrapped in that blue Henley that had the arms pulled up to his forearm revealing the long veins and thick structure underneath. You needed him, now.

He pulled back just as your lips brushed his, a dark smirk and a filthy blue colour surfacing in his orbs. Fucking tease.

“You know you gotta use your words sweetheart” One of his big hands, his metal one, landed on the back of your skull, the metal thumb dancing over your bottom lip before you sucked it into your wet mouth. He growled at the innocent look you gave him as your tongue flicked over the tip before poking out and running up the underside of the shiny plates.

He pushed down, holding your tongue in place as it travelled, drool dripping from the muscle but he didn’t care, the sight of the rivulets of saliva sliding down the silver had him harder than a rock. One of the most technologically advanced pieces of handiwork and you were sucking on it like a little slut, pathetic.

He had you in his room before you could even blink, the rough slamming of the door vibrating the wall he pushed you up against.

“You’re a little slut ain’t you? Sucking on my thumb like my cock, getting your drool everywhere, you’re so lucky I don’t make you clean it up” he spoke as he hastily pulled your shirt and his off, his dog tags jangling softly as they fell back into place between his huge chest. You moved like a magpie, gripping at the shiny metal tags, giving them a squeeze, his name imprinting for a second of the fat of your palm before letting them slip between your fingers.

He watched you, ever fascinated at just how worked up you got about him, but it was your love for his dog tags that had him curious. You always, without fail slipped a finger around them, whether it was when you pulled him close for a kiss or if your slept on his chest, one of your fingers slipped itself through the chain and held them close to your hand.

He wasn’t stupid though, he could practically smell when you soaked yourself, always conveniently after his swinging tags made contact with your chin or ran up the column in your spine, the way that little pussy tightened around him when the old metal swept over your lips, tapping your teeth as you moaned out in pleasure. It made him embarrassingly weak too.

“You want me to fuck you cute girl?” He groaned into the crook of your neck, his plush lips suckling obscene dark marks downward till he reached the crevice of your breasts, your legs wrapped around him tighter as his hand grazed over your sensitive sides to the meat of your tit, gripping it softly and flicking a warm thumb over your nipple. You jerked into him at the shock of pleasure, your hand carding through his waves of hair and pulling him close as worked on the underside of your other boob.

“Words Sweetheart, I need words” He knew it wouldn’t be long till you hit that sub space, the same thing always happened when you were stressed, you needed your big Sergeant to take the wheel, use you a little bit.

“Please” fuck the whimper in your voice had him grinding up into you, the scratchy fabric of his jeans meeting the barely their material of the shorts you wore under your gear.

“Please what sweet thing?” he moved to watch the deep colour of your eyes swim with lust, eradicating any stress they once held, he was doing his job.

“Please use me Sir” you whined, fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again to pull him close, finally getting that kiss you so desperately needed. His left hand cupped your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the high point softly, a sharp contrast to the bruising kiss you had going on. Teeth clashed with teeth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed closer, flicking his tongue viciously with your much weaker one, running against the top of it and sucking once it gave up it’s fight. He pulled you in again, tender with his lips this time, enclosing your swollen ones with his, his tongue running over your upper lip soothingly.

“Fuck! You’re making me go crazy” he chuckled as he moved off the wall, backing himself up to the bed till his calves hit the frame. He sat down with both of you, your body straddling him, his right hand pushing you back and forth softly on his bulge. The lust in his eyes mixed with a softness as he looked up at you, his metal hand still on your face although now his shiny forefinger and thumb hooked onto your chin, pulling you forward for a kiss, and another, and another. You whined, you didn’t want kisses and grinding, you wanted him to blow your back out, use your pretty face, anything but this.

Seeming to sense your thoughts he stopped your movements, the right hand coming up to join his left on either side of your face.

“What do you want sweetheart? You want your soldier to ruin you? I can feel how hot you are on my dick… you want it bad don’t you?” You moaned at his words, dripping filthily from his tongue, he sure had a way to fuck you up without even pulling out his cock.

“Yes, yes please. Use me” he smirked, satisfied at your whimpered begging. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his eyes he had you manoeuvring onto your knees in front of him.

He was a sight, he looked carved from marble, each bend of his body, every nook and muscle and vein delicately etched into rock solid stone to be preserved for a lifetime. His bulge strained painfully against his jeans, angrily awaiting your slender fingers offering it reprise from its tight cell. You were glad to give it just that.

Clumsily, you fiddled with the thick belt around his waist, smiling in satisfaction when the rhythmic clanks finally hit your ears. You flicked the button open and were about to pull the zip of his fly when his hand stopped you.

“With your mouth sweetness” his lip caught between his teeth, a soft blush decorated his face and chest as he watched you. Your tongue ran up the metal, the slight tang hitting your tastebuds, you flicked the little tab until sat snug between your teeth and pulled it down slowly, each tooth of the zip clicking as it finally opened.

Once you were done, Bucky pushed the thick material down his legs with a relieved sigh, letting it pool at his ankles before flicking them off with your help. His hard-on raged against the soft grey briefs, a pool of darkness lay at the head, precum soaking through.

His hands met yours, pulling them up his thighs and hooking them around the waistband of his briefs. He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling and neck craned as he watched you both inch down his underwear until it caught on his tip, he hissed as the scratchy fabric pulled over his silky head before it slapped deliciously onto his public bone and stomach.

“God” he chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of finally being free “look at you drooling all over yourself for me, you want a taste sweet thing?” His metal fingers had wrapped themselves around the fat base of his length, pushing it forward till the spongy tip hooked onto your upper lip, his salty precum smearing over it like a x-rated lip balm.

You pecked the tip of his dick, the tip of your tongue barely poking him as you did. You moved down, lips brushing against every angry vein on his cock until you met the metal of his hand in which you slowly licked a thick strip back up until you swirled your wet muscle against his head relentlessly.

“Fuck sweetheart, good girl” he groaned, head lulling back as his hips jittered off the bed softly, pushing his head into your awaiting mouth. You sucked him in greedily, selfishly inhaling his thick musky scent that had your pussy drooling against your lace panties, threatening to spill into your shorts— you didn’t doubt that if he had you naked, your essence would drip all over the wood of the floor— he’d have a field day making you clean it up.

“God you’re so good, ha— making your soldier feel so good, you like your sergeant all needy? Ready to pull you up off that floor and sink my cock into you” You moaned against his length, gagging softly when he jerked up into the back of your throat.

“Shit, Nuh uh get up here, I wanna cum in that pretty pussy, move come on” He pulled you up and off his length like you weighed nothing at all, his fingers ripping the shorts from your body and only stopping when he caught a glimpse of you’re soaked panties.

“Fuck girl, who’s got you like this hmm?” His thick thumb brushed small circles over your neglected clit. You moaned loudly, jerking off the bed with a shudder at the feeling, more of your slick pooling into your already soaked gusset.

“Mmm I can fucking smell you, smell so good baby… bet I could fuck you without prep, you want that?” He spoke, his voice deep, laced with primal lust— nothing like the composed grumpy old man everyone else saw— no, he was raw, unhinged, pupils blown wide with sexual desire. You wanted nothing more than his cock in you.

“Please Buck, just your cock I don’t care just please” you cried when he pushed particularly hard on your aching nub, your knuckles turning white as you fisted then covers beneath you; your legs shook as they threatened to close on his thick forearm, you were close already but you didn’t want to cum without him filling you out.

He gleamed at your form, fucked out, soaked and crying already— he’d barely fucking touched you— he couldn’t wait to see your face as he fucked you raw.

He ripped your panties with renewed vigour, the ruined material pulled away from your sensitive heat to hang around the your ankle that now sat over Bucky’s muscular shoulder. Your thigh quaked softly at the stretch but his cold digits ran softly against the tight muscle, soothing it for the time being.

His fat head tapped against your clit, each wet slap causing your body to twitch off the bed at the electric jolts of pleasure it sent up your spine. You could feel Bucky’s fingers circling your entrance, two of his thick fingers squishing into your tight hole as he prepped you lightly. When they left, a long line of arousal followed, connecting him to you, he growled at the sight before licking the wetness from his rough palm and middle finger.

“Mmm so sweet, if I wasn’t so fucking horny I’d make you cum all over my face… make you soak my mouth, shit” he was talking more to himself than you but you clenched around nothing at the thought, the thought of him eating you out for hours was not impossible, he’d done it before.

His thick tip drooling against your entrance pulled you from your trance, he pushed softly, hooking his head along the tight rim of your pussy as he stared up at you.

“you ready sweet thing?” He leaned over, right hand resting against the side of your head, his thumb flicking stray tears from your cheeks. You nodded softly, eyes unmoving from him, watching as his lips twitched in pleasure as his head popped into you, each inch dragging in slowly, aided by your soaked folds.

You moaned pathetically, his head running over your g-spot had you clenching around him, your orgasm hitting you quickly, your hands tightening painfully against the sheets as white hot pleasure soaked through your nerves. Everything was tingling, flashes of colour dancing over your closed eyelids.

Bucky wasn’t much better as he watched you, having to will his own orgasm down at the sight of you losing yourself over him already. You were a fucking sight to him, your tits bouncing with each sharp breath you took, mouth hung open allowing each whimper or silent scream to escape unabashedly.

“Ohh good girl, that’s it mmmm shit you’re fucking clenching me tight baby” Bucky mumbled, words falling from his lips in verbal mush, his own mind barely keeping up. When you finally came down from your high you open your eyes to look up at him, a shy little smile playing on your lips at the way he bore down at you.

“I’m so-“ you began but he pushed forward, sucking up your moan at the feeling of him hitting your cervix into his mouth.

“Don’t you dare be fucking sorry for that sweetheart, you hear? Fucking almost made me cum like a fucking teenager again, naughty girl ain’t you? I fucking love you” His hot breath panted against your lips as he growled at you, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel ashamed about the pleasure you were feeling. You blushed deeply, it was quite funny just how much his love for you made you blush, even when he was currently pushing against the deepest parts of you.

“Can I move baby?” He asked against your lips, smiling satisfyingly as you nodded before planting a wet kiss on your lips and pushing himself up.

He started slow, letting each vein pull against every nerve in your heat, his teeth clenching at just how tight you’d squeeze every time his head brushed against your sweet bundle of pleasure. His smooth pace never lasted long though, his hips jerked violently against you once he deemed you ready enough, your body slipping up across the sheets at each slam of his hips against your thighs.

He was leaning over you now, your leg pushed up between both your bodies, his dog tags clanging above your face at each jerk of his body. You reached a hand up, encircling the darkened metal, pulling on it as your body twitched with hints of a second orgasm.

“Shit! You like when my fucking tags hang over your face, fucking little slut aren’t you? You like being fucked like this? your sergeant fucking all that stress away? Mmm god, maybe I’ll put them around your neck next time hmm? Have you wear them when you’re riding me, let them fucking swing between those tits— god you’d love that” Bucky rambled, on and on, thrusts becoming sloppy as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time, only this time your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, you could feel yourself soaking Bucky’s dick and thighs— probably soaking the already destroyed sheets below you.

With one final thrust Bucky’s moan caught in this throat as he pushed himself the deepest he could go, hot cum soaking your cervix and pushing out against his length to run along your folds, mixing with your juices. His legs give out forcing himself against you even more, pulling a pained whine from you at the feeling. As your orgasms settled, your breathing slightly less laboured although still heavy, you pulled him close by his tags, kissing his blissed out face right on the lips.

“You were so good for me sweet thing, so fucking good” he praised, his metal hand running through your tangled hair, soothing your heated scalp.

He leaned back up with a groan, massaging your aching leg as he pulled it from his shoulder before slipping out of your pussy. You both moaned at the loss, your heat clenching against nothing as his cum slipped from your body in waves. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your heat, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watched intently. You giggled shyly at his intense expression, your aching legs closing softly in embarrassment much to Bucky’s dismay.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to the bathroom. You snuck a glimpse of the sheets as he carried you, the whole area soaked in a mixture of you both.

“Oh my god” you whispered in disbelief against his head.

“What?” He replied as he set you down and began running a bath.

“The sheets are ruined, I can’t believe I did that” you eyed his naked frame from behind, his wide back flushed red but still absolutely stunning, each muscle rippling as he moved methodically, his small waist directing you to his thick globes. It was then Bucky turned to look at you, catching you ogling at his ass, he laughed when you turned quickly.

“It makes me proud when I look at those sheets, I mean who else can make you squirt like that? Fucking no one” he growled the last part against your lips giving you a quick smooch before turning the water off and lifting you both into the hot bubbled water.

His hands massaged your shoulders, working out the knots from your activities as well as any left over stress from your mission, not that there was any after he fucked it out of you.

You two sat in silence, save for the occasional sigh you let out when he hit the right spot, both savouring each other’s presence, reminiscing on the way you exhausted each other. You laugh when you remember his words.

“What? what’s got you all giggly?” he asked, nipping the skin on the nape of your neck.

“Nothing… just… were you being serious?”

“About what sweetheart?” He eyes you curiously.

“About letting me wear your dog tags” you suppress a smirk as you feel him twitch against your back, obviously your words sparking something in him.

“We’ll discuss it later” he rasped causing you to laugh out loud.

Your week had been stressful, with never ending problems and constant nagging from the higher ups to do the job but when you were in Bucky’s embrace, when you had those dog tags between your fingers or dangling over your face, everything melted away into nothingness, leaving you and Bucky alone.

-

So I lied mwahahahaha, I was going to post it yesterday but I love alcohol so I was drunk but here we are.

I’m a little nervous to post this one idk why.

I hope you enjoyed x

(I do not own any of the photos, credits to original owners)

[scuderiahoney]

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all