#I have a collection of mugs and when I move I want to start collecting more cause cute mugs are 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[ch-4-eri]

So It Goes — Lara Croft.

lara X fem!reader.

warnings: phone sex, masturbating, pet names (lots and lots of them, baby princess sweetheart etc) edging if you squint, let me know if i missed anything else.

word count: 1.6k

idk about y’all but she makes me lose it.

your eyes were glued to your tv screen, but your thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

you were debating whether to go to bed or touch yourself as you hadn’t in a long long time, and you were in the mood.

the only problem was that you hated to touch yourself with your own fingers, you’d have much preferred if it were lara’s fingers instead, your girlfriend who’s too busy working, travelling at the moment.

with the thoughts of lara’s fingers, her calloused hands, the way they were thick and would fill you up— you quickly jumped taking off your panties and lying down on the couch, keeping the image of your girlfriend’s fingers and her sweet voice in the back of your head as you stuck two fingers inside of yourself.

surprised to find yourself already wet at the thought of lara, of course.. you never doubted how much she’d turn you on when you needed it.

as your fingers were moving up and down your pussy, your back arched against the couch, the nightgown you had on pushed up to reveal your belly, noticing how much your breath hitched and faltered, your free hand gripped the cushions as you tried to focus on the feeling.

collecting your slick and smearing it all over your clit as you let out a moan, you usually never made noise as you were touching yourself, but all you thought of was lara, which made you rock your hips back and forth as you fucked yourself with your own fingers, your breathing heavy and your moans so loud that you felt her there, like she’s the one touching you.

your eyebrows were furrowed with sweat breaking out on your forehead and between your breasts, the same ones that bounced as you were drunk on the feeling of your own fingers.

your goal was to cum, you wanted it so bad, but the more you thought of it the more you started to be more aware that you were alone; and lara was not here with you.

god you missed her, you missed her so bad you frustratingly stopped, removed your fingers out of your throbbing wet pussy while your legs twitching as you edged yourself, your body had other ideas but you just couldn’t take this anymore.

your breathing was heavy as you reached for your phone, your eyes staring at the ceiling as you dialled lara’s phone number, please pick up please pick up.

it took three rings until lara picked up.

“hi, love.. what are you doing calling this late?” she chuckled through the phone, her thick british accent making you even more frustrated.

you bit down your lip, what kind of excuse do you have for her? that you couldn’t finish because she’s not there? lara would probably never let go of this one; ever. and you weren’t in the mood to get laughed at…

“hello?” lara spoke once again. “love, you okay?”

“hi.. sorry is this a bad time?” you asked, sitting up on the couch, your core brushing against the silk nightgown, driving you crazier.

“not at all.. was just grabbing some tea.” lara says, hearing the crinkling of the spoon against the glass as you squeezed your eyes shut, still unsure of how to come clean with this.

you played with the hem of your nightgown, hearing lara shuffling and moving things around, still trying to come up with a proper way to tell her this, rubbing your thighs together as you did so.

“alright..” lara whispered into the call, probably sitting down somewhere as you heard the sound of fabric and the mug being placed on a table. “you’re not speaking, did you just call me because you missed hearing me talk?” lara giggled, she seemed in a good mood; which was a good thing.

you was were a mess right now and you had no idea what to do.

“i did… actually.” you finally said, keeping your head tipped back as your eyes scanned the ceiling. “hm… satisfied now huh?” lara gave you a cheeky chuckle, knowing how flustered it gets you, even if it’s from the damn phone, your cheeks went red and your thighs rubbed together.

“erm— not yet.” you finally confessed, but then the other line went silent, but it wasn’t long before you heard lara laugh a bit.

“ah, i get it now.” she cleared her throat. “you’re being a naughty girl right now.” lara adds.

“…. lara, i need you.” you desperately let it out, not caring anymore, you were indeed desperate and would do anything for her to talk you through it.

“you’re so selfish.” lara chuckled through the phone. “but it’s okay, i’ll be nice… give my girl what she wants.”

you felt absolutely terrible at her words, but knowing lara— she’s just teasing you, riling you up so you need her even more, and you do as your legs involuntarily spread on their own.

“so, how are we gonna do this?” lara began, her tone soft and sultry. “your fingers hm?” she guessed making you hum a response.

“alright… now, lick them and rub your clit.” lara gave you a command as her tone was quiet, like it’s just for you to hear.

you put your already wet fingers inside your mouth and filled them up with your saliva. “get them real wet okay?” lara says through the phone, your core burning with a sensation at her words and your actions, you’ve never felt this horny before, or done anything like this before.

you did what lara wanted; you were sucking on your fingers and made them as wet as possible. “you can start now, okay baby?” lara’s voice carried you through it, your fingers dipped between your thighs once again, touching your pussy in gentle circular motion, letting out a stiff moan.

“there we go… i’ve always wanted to do something like this with you.” lara chuckled, making your fingers rub faster.

“tell me what you’re doing.” lara requested after a moment of silence; your squelching filled the room, unsure if lara could hear it though.

“i’m.. hm..” you moaned, your cheeks burning red.

“don’t overthink it now, you’re doing good.” lara praised you, your fingers still moving as you pleasured yourself hearing the way lara breathed into the phone, you could cry out for how much you missed her.

“i miss you… i miss you so much.” you gasped, your lower belly tightening.

“i miss you too honey… and i miss fingering you myself, i miss how wet you are, god… you’re so perfect.” lara teased you, her tone so quiet and sultry as you felt your pussy twitching and throbbing as you were so damn close, just one more praise and you’re coming undone.

“lara—“ you moaned, her name sounded amazing coming from your pretty mouth, lara could cum in her own pants at the sound of you like that, her panties were stuck to her own cunt as she was listening to everything and barely breathing.

“cum for me… hm? do it for me baby, i know you can do it.. imagine yourself sitting on my face, and ruin me.. come on baby.” lara says, her voice coming out breathier, moving her own fingers around her clothed cunt as she manspread on the couch she was seated on and touched her needy self, she’d so take care of this when she’s done with you.

“hm.. fuck i can’t..” you rasped, your fingers were so wet, the couch probably stained as well as your nightgown.

“come on princess, you know you can do it.. goddamn it i bet you look so fucking beautiful touching yourself like that for me..” lara breathed, her own fingers teasing her hardened nipple, biting her lip.

you were driven crazy at her words, so crazy you couldn’t contain your whimpers and writhing, your hips rocking themselves against your fingers, letting a gasp out each time you moved, your vision became so blurry as you came all over your fingers and on the couch.

all while lara was trying so hard not to touch herself, not right now.

this was your time, she wanted to focus on you, give you whatever you needed.. she can hardly wait.

“good… good girl you did so good.” lara breathed into the phone and let out a satisfied chuckle.

you on the other hand, sweating your bum off, your breathing heavy and your fingers wet and sticky, your knees wobbly as you were trying to catch your breath. “thank you.” was all that came out of your dry throat.

“you’re very welcome, sweetheart.” lara responds after a second or so, trying to collect herself, you got her so worked up she couldn’t think straight, her tea turning cold.

“go wash yourself, and get some sleep.. i’ll call you in the morning, kay baby?” lara says, standing up on her own shaky legs.

“mmhm... lara, i love you.” you finally managed, sitting on the edge of the couch, listening to the way she breathed, your toes curled, grabbing the hem of your nightgown. “i love you, too.” lara said, you can hear a grin in her tone which reassured you she’d call like she said she would; she always did.

you hung up then, your body still so tense after such a long overdue orgasm.. it felt amazing, your skin was so tingly, your cheeks flushed, nothing felt better than this right at this second.

as soon as you hung up the phone call, she put her cellphone aside while trying to control herself, took a sip from her tea, rubbed her face, then rubbed her hands on her thighs.

but every time she recalls your moans through the phone she just couldn’t help the way her nipples were hard, seeing them through her shirt, her wet panties, she had to do something about it.

[rosicheeks]

From the fun asks - 1, 31, 46, 71?

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

more cereal 🥰

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

Ohhhhhhhh I’ll go off in the tags about socks 🥰

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

Gee-I’m-a-tree 🤦🏽‍♀️😂

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea?

Honestly I’m not a huge tea person. Mainly cause I haven’t tried many and I want to try them but they expensive and I’m scared I won’t like it hahaha

[tlouwhore]

modern!ellie headcanons

notes/warnings: pet names used (baby), sfw, loser!ellie a little (i cant help it), no race specific information, androgynous reader

★ she has an insane mug collection thats so strange, when you go to hers for the first time its such a weird thing

"you want something to drink?"

"sure"

and you'll go back to messing with her stuff that she left sprawled across her coffee table until you hear her clomp over and extend her arm, she'll be holding an inconveniently built mug out to you casually

"els, what the fuck is that?"

she tilts her head and furrows her brow, confused at your comment as if its unreasonable to ask why shes handing you a horrifically constructed alien mug thats bound to spill all over you

★ speaking of these mugs, she refuses to get rid of *any* of them. when you guys move in together you're begging her to just get rid of one but she refuses

"els, please. we dont have enough shelves for these, we need normal drinking glasses."

you sigh as the mugs sit across the kitchen counter, shes on one side staring at them while youre on the other side staring at her.

"i cant, i use them all"

she doesn't. she drinks out of one and she only ever drinks water from it. you go back and forth for merely minutes before you throw in the towel and just let her do her thing, if shes happy you dgaf about the normal water glasses.

★ shes a loud ass walker, you will hear her before you see her. you genuinely start to think she's doing it on purpose.

★ she has one belt and its one wrong move from completing snapping in two pieces, there is a literal half inch of material holding it together

★ needs to pet street cats every time she sees them, whenever you point out that they're probably diseased she scoffs

★ tries to pretend shes good at fixing things but has no clue what shes doing—the toilet isnt flushing properly and so she stands about 3 feet from it and stares at it with her weight shifted to one side. she'll have on a tank top on and slacked down carhartt pants engulfing her legs as she nods. she really likes to take care of you so she'll refuse to admit she has no idea what shes doing and when you walk away she looks up "toilet not flushing reddit"

★ she fucks with the twilight franchise but pretends to hate it because it doesn't "look cool"

★ she cant drive, she failed her permit test 3 times and pretends like every other driver on the road is the problem (shes the issue every time)

★ she drives a beat up car or truck, it smells a little funny and the radio gets three stations so you have to rummage through her mass cd collection to find something to listen to. half the cds wont even be in their case but instead haphazardly chucked around her car in random spots. the only ones she keeps in order are your cds, which have a specific bag so you don't have to scurry about in her car to find them.

★ 3 pairs of socks and they all have holes in them, she'll complain that the floor is cold all the time

"god the floor is so cold in here"

"can you just put some socks on?"

"i'm wearing socks right now"

"oh really?"

and she'll point as her feet, half her toes are out and her heel is fully exposed. its about the same as just wearing no socks at some point. you'll just stare in disbelief for a moment before scoffing.

"what'd you do that for?"

that small crease between her brows finding its way to her face as it always does.

"you're barely wearing socks"

"oh whatever"

★ has to physically restrain herself from telling you the gift she bought you for any holiday or event, shes tweaking out and cant function until she gives it to you

★ she loves to just be in your presence, she'll observe your routines. she enjoys perching next to you as you get ready, no matter how short or long or a routine she will be by your side

★ she can cook a crazy burger but that's literally all she can make

★ shes a blushing mess for you but she loves to get cocky and pretend she isn't when texting you

★ needy and will message you thirst trap ass photos in an attempt to get you to leave work early and be with her (it works)

[multifandomgirl08]

On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

Warning(s): Flashback to a year before, post-childbirth (Non-graphic)

A/N: Shorter chapter today before my classes start up again this week. Title from the song Hear Me You by Jimmy Eat World.

Words: 1.4k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It was late at night, a few hours before what would be Nikita’s first birthday. You were staying up because Max’s flight from England was running late. He had finished up the last of his sponsorship obligations earlier that day, and there were weather problems, so they hadn’t let his plane take off until a couple hours ago.

You had stayed up reading your book, drinking tea from your mug that was resting on the end table. The house was silent aside from the sound of the open doors that lead to the backyard.

You looked up at the clock that hung on the wall in the entry way.

11:42 pm, it read. You reached for your mug and took a sip of the tea, it had gone cold two chapters ago. You were just about the close your book and get ready to go to bed when you heard a set of keys in the lock of the front door.

You shut the book placing it on the coffee table before getting up and seeing Max standing in the entryway of the house, his blue Louis Vuitton backpack around his shoulders, and duffle bag in one hand.

“You waited for me.” He said mindlessly placing his keys on the console table.

“I figured that you’d want to be there when I tell Nikita happy birthday.” You said walking closer to him.

Max slid his backpack off, placing both of his bags on the floor. He reached out for your hand, turning off the living room lights, letting you walk in front of him on the floating stairs that lead downstairs. You kept turning off the few lights that were still on in the house, and stopped by Nico’s room first. He was fast asleep in his warm sheets curled up around his pillows.

Max closed to door just enough to let the cats in if they ended up wander around the house in the early hours of the morning. Nikita’s room had a small glow casting a shadow into the hallway. Max had pushed open the door to see Niki lying in his crib fast asleep. Max looked down at his watch for a moment, seeing the hands turn before both of them hit the 12.

You both reached in, kissing him on the forehead one after another. Max ran his hand over Niki’s head.

“Happy Birthday, Nikita.” You whispered. Max moved to sit in the fluffy chair that you would normally read to Niki in. He opened his arms for you inviting you to sit in his lap, while you both looking on into the crib as your son slept.

December 3, 2025 - 12:03 AM

It was a few moments later the nurse placed a swaddle of blankets into your chest, you still couldn’t comprehend the fact that you had just given birth aside from the weight that was against your chest.

“So good, so strong,” Max muttered resting his forehead against your arm. Max’s hand was placed on the baby’s back.

You could hear the nurse say something about giving you a few minutes before they had you start to push the placenta out while taking the baby to get washed, weighed, and changed.

Max kissed your forehead and then the back of your hand that was cradling the baby’s bottom.

“Max, would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asked. You ran your fingers over the back of Max’s hand, encouraging him to go and do it.

Max went ahead and heard the little cry that the baby let out.

“What do we have?” You croaked having not heard the doctor earlier. Your throat sounded like it had been rubbed raw.

“A boy.” He said, and you could see the tears start to collect in the corner of Max’s eyes. You sometimes forget that Max didn’t get to experience Nico being born.

You had brought a boy into the world, Nikita.

Eventually, they took the baby out of your arms, and Max went with one of the nurses so you could push the placenta out and then get you cleaned up before they brought the baby back.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour. More pushing that felt like a strange ache, and a nurse helping you into the bathroom to clean you up. They ushered you back into the bed, after helping you into a new gown. As you leaned against the pillow, your eyes started to feel heavy. You rested your eyes for a bit before you heard wheels against the tile floor.

You forced them open to see a clear bassinette placed by your bed, and Max sitting in a chair with the baby in his arms.

“Hi, mijn leeuwin.” He said looking up at you. You gave him a weak smile.

“So do you have a name in mind?” The nurse asked.

“Nikita?” Max asked looking at you. He was giving you a way out if you wanted to change it.

You gave the nurse a nod, “Nikita Daniel,” The nurse nodded back to you, pulling a few papers out to write it down before leaving you, Nikita, and Max together.

You sat there in the hospital bed exhusted out of your mind, but let yourself take in the quiet of Max cooing at Nikita. You wanted Max to have as many moment with him as possible.

Max was slow to get out of the chair before walking towards you. He carefully laid Nikita against your chest. You ran a finger over Nikita’s cheek, feeling the soft skin under your fingers.

“I know your not a fan of Nikita as a name, so I thought we could call him Niki for short.” You could feel Max’s eyes trying to meet yours, but you were too busy looking at your son.

“I’m okay with Niki, but I’ll never hear the end of it from Helmut about him being named after Niki Lauda.” You looked up after hearing Max’s words.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Max, always thinking of others.

“After 12 hours of labor, Helmut doesn’t really get much of a say.” Max said nothing to that, just kissed the side of your head before pulling the chair closer to you. Max had laid Nikita in his bassinet after a while letting you get some more sleep. The nurse would come back in a couple of hours to help you breastfeed Nikita for the first time. Max looked in awe of you again, either watching you breastfeeding your child or Nikita eating straight from you. Another first for the both of you to share.

It was in the late hours of the morning that Sophie showed up with Nico holding her hand before Nico got the chance to meet his little brother for the first time.

“Come,” Max said holding your hand as you both walked to the master bedroom. “We should let the birthday boy sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”

“Do you have plans that I don’t know about?” You asked, admiring Max as he got ready for bed removing his stale plane clothes. He was all broad shoulders, and defined arms.

“Maybe.” He shrugged before pulling the bedsheets back.

“Who’d you invited?” You asked as you pushed the thick comforter towards the bottom of the bed.

“The usual people.” That just meant the grid (past and current), Martin, Max’s grandmother, Sophie, Victoria, Tom, and their kids.

“Don’t tell me you ordered a cake.” He said nothing back. You lightly shook your head, oh Max.

You remember him telling you the story of Nico’s first birthday. Max had to blow out Nico’s candle, Luka had thrown a tantrum from not taking a nap earlier in the day. Victoria had apologized profusely afterwords. You always wondered if Max had any photos of that day.

“We’ll blow out the candles for him, and I’m sure Nico will help.” Max said as you both climbed under the sheets.

He had you pulled you up against his chest with his hand resting of your hip. Your fingers were playing with his wedding band. You would have to get up soon to celebrate your son’s first birthday with the family, and somehow you didn’t feel even a little bit tired.

“Sleep mijn leeuwin,” Max muttered into your neck. You could hear that he was falling asleep just from his voice. You pulled the sheets up over your shoulders, and closed your eyes.

It was going to be a long day with people filling up the house, you would need all of the sleep that you could get. Your second oldest was turning 1 and you didn’t want to miss a second of the day.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog

[kimberly-spirits13]

Moving In

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: a short Drabble on you convincing Jason to move in with you

Word Count: 963

Your house was a haven for Jason. It was somewhere where he could lay down and forget all his troubles or simply sit in silence and not be overwhelmed by the life outside of your front doors. Despite the occasional complaints he hears from you about the woes of homeowning, he sees no flaw in your home. You were well off from your job, able to buy a nice home in the same area that Wayne Manor sat. It wasn’t intentional, you had been living in this home before you knew Jason, and through the years you had completed various renovations and upgrades to make it reflect you. There was a garden in the backyard filled with your favorite flowers, a sizeable kitchen where Jason likes to spend most of his time, sunlight poured through the floor to ceiling windows, and a few additional rooms catered to your interests were settled between the walls of the home. Convincing Jason to move in was not a hard thing to do. He hated living in an apartment and hearing his neighbors talk or walk around in the middle of the night when he was trying to sleep. You and Jason also found that it was a hazard climbing into the windows during the waking hours of dawn after patrol. A few close calls meant that most of the time when you were out on patrol, you two went back to your place to crash. It’s easy to say that he was delighted when you offered to let him move in after a long week of patrols gone south. 

         “You know, you should ditch the apartment, Jay.” You were laying on top of his chest, legs sprawled out over his and blankets nearly covering your face.

         “Whatcha mean Doll?” He stopped combing his fingers through your hair and started twisting small loops into it with his fingers.

         “Come live with me. You always talk about hating living in the city anyways and you sleep better there.” 

         “It would make patrols easier.” He commented, “You’re not delirious right, you’d actually want me to live at your place?” There was a tone of insecurity in his voice like at any moment you’d tell him you were joking.

         “I am not delirious Jason.” You sat up and looked at him, “I have plenty of empty room that needs you to fill it.” “There’s plenty of room for your books in the library and you practically already live there. I’m pretty sure more than 60% of your things are already somewhere in the house.” “You could literally move in right now.” 

         “I would love to live with you.” He said smiling, “but I think we’d need to, you know, make sure everything is taken care of before I move out. My lease ends in a week and I’d need to pack everything up” 

         “We can get boxes tomorrow.” You said, “You can just start leaving things for the next week, plus, you don’t have to stay in the apartment even if your lease isn’t over.”

         That was exactly a week ago and Jason was ready to move into your place. He pulled into the space in your garage that was meant for him with boxes loaded in the back of his car. There weren’t many boxes in his trunk, but he had a few odds and ends that he couldn’t send to Goodwill or throwing away. Most of the contents of the boxes were his books, some old mugs and pictures, the clothes that weren’t already in your house, hygiene stuff from his place, and other knickknacks he had around. After a few seconds of collecting his thoughts, he looked up to see you coming into the garage from the side door into your house with a smile.

         You took his hand as he got out of the car and shut the door to walk to the trunk and start unloading. Taking a few boxes at a time, the two of you gradually unloaded everything and put it into the room connecting to the garage. It wasn’t going to take a long time for you two to unload everything, the most daunting thing to Jason was permanently invading your space. Taking the box filled with mugs, you opened the cabinet in the kitchen that kept all the mugs and started carefully putting them in like they were meant to be there. 

         “Hey doll, do you have a place you want all of this?” He asked timidly.        

         Usually moving in somewhere wasn’t a problem for him and he knew where everything was meant. He knew that you didn’t mind and just wanted him to be comfortable, but at the same time, Jason was afraid he would mess something up, make you regret letting him live with you.

         “You know you can put stuff wherever. I mean obviously shampoo and conditioner belong in the bathroom and dishes in the kitchen but Jay, this is your home, I don’t mind.” You said comfortably.

         Jason felt his heart swell at your words. This was his house now. You might have been there first, but you were telling him that this was allowed to be his home. Everything was perfect, nothing was popping Jason’s bubble now. 

         He set his stuff down and watched as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. In a moment of silence, he ran his fingers through your hair and put his chin on the top of your head.

         “I’m glad you’re here now.” You said softly, “I hated when you had to leave.”          Jason held onto you tighter and lifted your chin with his finger, “I love you y/n/n. You’ve given me the best life I could have ever lived.”

         “I love you too Jay.” 

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 21 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake works to secure his future with Jessica while also being supportive of her. She is dreading Brian's return to work, but she recognizes that she finally has the friends she deserves.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drinking, language, 18+

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica had never been hungover during the week before, but all the celebratory champagne and rough sex had definitely gone to her head a little bit. She groaned when she felt Jake's hand on her shoulder. "Baby, you have to get up," he said, voice hoarse next to her ear. "We have to go to work."

"Oh, god," she groaned, rolling over away from him. "No."

"You have to," he repeated. "It's your first day with tenure, Reedy. You have to go."

A smile spread across her lips in spite of her headache, and she whispered, "Tenure. I have tenure."

"You sure do," Jake drawled softly, and she finally opened her eyes to see him grinning at her. "If you get up now, I'll make you breakfast."

Her stomach growled so loudly they both laughed, and then she pouted playfully. "But I don't have a waffle iron."

He kissed her forehead. "No. But I do. And you told me you weren't going to renew your lease."

"I'm not," she whispered as her heart swelled with happiness. 

"Well, soon enough you'll have daily access to waffles," he whispered, kissing her just below her ear. "I guess I better start cleaning out my closet to make room for your lingerie collection."

Now she wanted to move in with him as soon as possible. She could already picture herself organizing all of her pretty pieces in his nice closet while modeling a few of them for him. She still had some things he'd never seen her in, and it was going to be so much fun to tease him. 

"Get up," he said, patting her butt as he climbed out of bed. "I'll make some eggs."

Jessica went through her morning routine only after taking some Advil, and she had to drink two mugs of coffee before she really felt human. She also left her apartment a good fifteen minutes after than she usually did. "You'll be late," she fretted, running toward her car which was parked next to Jake's truck. "You'll get in trouble."

"Nah," he replied, "Bradshaw will cover for me." He kissed Jessica as she tried to push him toward his truck, stumbling in her high heels.

"Go to work. Goodbye. I love you," she said quickly. "I'll see you tonight!" 

"See you tonight, tenured Dr. Reed," he called out as she climbed into her car and started the engine. 

Jessica barely had time to get to her office before she had to grab her notebooks and head back downstairs to give her first lecture of the day. But it felt so damn good to stand there in front of her students. Dr. Rosenthal wouldn't be stopping in, because he didn't need to. Because she had tenure. And now that her headache was virtually gone and the breakfast that Jake made was sitting nicely in her belly, she kind of felt like screaming about it from the rooftops. 

But she settled for screaming about it at lunchtime when she grabbed the little container of food Jake made and took it over to the math building. After one knock on her friend's office door, it swung open revealing a bright smile. Jessica screeched quietly and hugged her. 

"I have tenure," she whispered.

"Well, obviously," Advanced Calculus replied. "There was never any doubt in my mind."

Jessica set her lunch down on the desk while her friend closed the door. "I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me. Helping me set everything up with Rosenthal and giving up so much of your free time and everything," she gushed. "Just... thank you. And I hope you had a nice time at the library with Bradley."

She snorted in response as she opened her tie dye lunchbox. "Bradley had a great time at the library, as per usual. And once again, I don't think you appreciate how very much I want to see Brian go down like a sinking ship. In fact, I volunteered for another special project."

"What kind of project?" Jessica asked as she watched her friend dip a carrot stick into some hummus. 

"I can't talk about it quite yet. I have another meeting with Dean Walters in an hour, but I think it's a project that you'll fully support." Then she bit into the carrot like a woman who was in complete control of her surroundings, and Jessica couldn't think of a single reason why she couldn't be the same way.

"If you think I'll appreciate your new project, then I can't wait to hear about it later," she said, taking a bite of the delicious food Jake made for her. 

"I'll tell you all about it as soon as I can."

After lunch, Jessica took some time to gather her scattered notes to teach Brian's senior studies class for the last time. She learned as much about chemistry from the students as they had from her, and after she worked a few problems out on the board with them, she asked, "If you have any other questions for me, please let me know now. This is the last time I'll be covering this class."

"What do you mean?" one of the students asked, leaning forward in his seat. 

"Dr. Conley will be back for class next week," she explained, and then she heard an outraged sigh followed by some muttering. "It'll be okay though," she said in a tone she hoped was reassuring. "You've all been doing so well, and you're so close to graduation now!"

"But Dr. Conley doesn't even show up to class."

"He doesn't help us with anything."

"Is there any way you can stay until the end of the semester?"

"What about the practice problems you give us?"

The sudden influx of comments and questions made Jessica feel better and also so much worse at the same time. She let them all get their concerns out of their system before she said, "My office hours are always available for you. And you can still email me if you want to. I can even try to make more practice problems, but honestly, all of you are much better at chemistry than I am. Maybe you can run the class yourselves if Dr. Conley isn't here?"

She hated Brian. She actually still hated him. But more so for these students now than on her own behalf. They all looked concerned and apprehensive, and she spent another ten minutes talking to them until they were calm enough to head to their next class. She wished she could finish teaching them for the rest of the semester, and she decided she would ask Dean Walters if there was any chance she could teach her own senior studies class for physics majors next school year.

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

Jake was already home and showered with dinner in the oven, eating some chips on the couch while he waited for Jessica. He was keeping a running tally of things he still needed to give her since he'd already willingly handed over his heart. His spare key was sitting next to his feet which were propped up on the coffee table. He had already cleaned out half of his closet and consolidated his stuff to make some room. And he wanted to pay for the flights to Massachusetts and Texas for her once she approved the dates. 

When his phone lit up with a text letting him know she was here, he ran down to her car in just his sweatpants and slippers with his spare key ring looped around his finger. "Did you have a good day?" he asked, taking her overnight bag from her hand as she locked her car.

"I did," she replied quietly. "I left so late, because I talked to the dean about teaching my own senior studies class next term."

"And?"

She smiled as they walked to his condo. "He said it's a good possibility now that I have tenure."

"There's nothing you can't do." Jake kissed her and pressed the key ring into her hand.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at it as she stood outside the front door. "Oh!" She slipped it into the lock and let them both inside as she blushed. "You want me to have it now? Even though I'm not moving in quite yet?"

"Please," he replied as he walked inside, his eyes catching on the print of his jet that she gave him for his birthday. "You can come and go as you want, but I hope you'll be here more often than not."

Jake watched as she took her keys out again and added his ring to them. "Thank you." She was fiddling with them a little bit when she looked up at him as she stepped out of her high heels. "Brian will be back tomorrow," she said softly. "That's what Dr. Rosenthal told me when I ran into him. And if he doesn't know I have tenure by now, he'll find out soon enough."

Jake collected her in his arms. "He can't do anything about it now, Reedy. It's a done deal. And unless you fuck up spectacularly at work, which you definitely won't, he's not entitled to say anything about it."

She nodded against him. "I know that. I do know that, but I still don't want to have to see him and hear his stupid, condescending voice complain about me."

He pressed his nose to her hair and kissed her before he whispered, "You wear your tenure like a shield. And if he can't figure out how to shut his mouth, you let me know, and I'll be there in an instant."

Jessica shivered in his arms. "That shouldn't sound as sexy as it does. You know..." she mused, "none of this would have happened if you hadn't punched Brian in the face the first time. So I guess I really have you to thank."

"How so?" Jake asked as he led her to the kitchen where the oven timer was going off. 

"You punched Brian, and then his wife saw his messed up face. And then she came to campus looking for answers and found him with the teaching assistant. And then he took a leave of absence." When Jake set down the baking dish and glanced over his shoulder, she was smiling brightly. "Jake, you literally saved my career with your fist!"

He shrugged and shook off his oven mitts. "All I did was punch someone who was trying to intimidate my girlfriend. I'll do it again if I have to. Now, would you like some parmesan cheese sprinkled on top of your dinner?" he asked as he cut into the casserole. He ended up with Jessica in his arms. 

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

Jessica heard the whispers all day on Thursday. If Dr. Rosenthal hadn't told her that Brian was coming back, she would have chalked it up to everyone at the university being addicted to their daily gossip, but she half expected to see him lurking around every corner. She kind of wanted to go right to Brian's office, knock on the door and tell him that she got tenure just to get it over with. But when she thought about seeing his face, she shook her head in disgust. 

She hadn't heard much from Jake all day, and Advanced Calculus was scarce as well. But when she went to the lounge to make a sad cup of coffee before her office hours started, the teaching assistant that Brian had been sleeping with was in there along with another one that Jessica wasn't familiar with. They must not have seen her at first as they were clearly talking about Brian.

"He looks terrible, honestly. Like he hasn't slept. I'm sure he's going to ask me if I want to mess around again, especially since his wife left."

"I don't know. I heard he's actually pretty upset that she took the kids. But I really want to know who broke his nose in the first place."

Jessica considered sneaking back out of the room, but it was too late. They had seen her, and they both snapped their mouths closed. Had Sabrina Conley really taken their kids? Was she gone for good? Jessica thought she'd probably be better off without her husband. She also wanted to ask the TA if she knew Brian was married when they were messing around before, but it was really none of her business. 

"Hi," she greeted evenly, strolling toward the coffee maker. The only sound in the small room was her high heels tapping against the floor as she walked. But neither of them said a word in response before they turned and left. Maybe they were embarrassed about being caught talking about Brian, or maybe Jessica still had a bad reputation in the science department. Either way, she was going to take her coffee upstairs and wait for Luca to stop by before spending the night cuddled up with Jake. 

When she finished stirring her drink and turned toward the door, she almost spilled her coffee all over herself. "Brian," she gasped, taking an awkward step backwards so her hip hit the edge of the counter a bit painfully. He looked so angry, she immediately felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest as her nerves took over. 

"Call me Dr. Conley," he snapped, and she could feel her face flushing with embarrassment as she stood there silently. 

Jessica's hands shook as she tried to walk to the door, but he didn't budge from his spot blocking her exit path. "Excuse me," she said, trying her best to sound stronger than she felt. 

"I don't even want to know how badly your lesson plans have gone off course over the past few weeks," he practically growled. "You're going to need to schedule a meeting with me to go over everything. The sooner the better."

"No."

Brian looked surprised by her response. "Yes," he replied with a sarcastic laugh. "I know you think you really did something special by getting that asshole to punch me in the face, but your days here are fucking numbered. Understand?"

"No," Jessica repeated as Jake's voice in her mind kept telling her to wear her tenure like a shield. Plus, she could clearly picture the paperwork she signed with Dr. Rosenthal since she read over it a dozen times. "I don't have to answer to you about my curriculum choices any longer."

He laughed. "Okay, so now you're unreliable, slutty, and stupid?"

"I have tenure," she said firmly, gripping the coffee a little tighter while his eyes bugged out in anger. 

He shook his head. "You can't get tenure unless you get it through me," he snarled.

Jessica looked at his crooked nose and miserable expression, and if she wasn't on the verge of tears, she might have laughed. "You can ask Dean Walters for a copy of my signed paperwork. And if you have concerns about my curriculum, then you can take it up with him." She tried to duck past him through the doorway, certain her resolve was almost gone now. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian demanded loudly, and she jumped back. "Explain yourself right fucking now."

"Dr. Conley!" came a familiar voice from the hallway, and then Dr. Rosenthal was poking his head in the lounge door. "You shouldn't be raising your voice like that to Dr. Reed, especially since you're on probation."

"Probation?" Jessica whispered, and Brian's face soured further.

"Mind your own business, Rosenthal," he snapped, and under his breath he added, "you should have retired a decade ago."

"Yes. Probation," came another familiar voice as Advanced Calculus strolled in with a notebook in her hand like she hadn't a care in the world. She stopped right in front of Brian with her back to Jessica, acting almost like a buffer. "He's in a lot of trouble," she said in a voice that bordered on teasing, and Brian's face grew pink.

"What do you mean?" Jessica whispered, and the other woman smirked at her over her shoulder.

"He's on probation for a history of behavioral issues, and I volunteered to be his probation officer of sorts," she replied before turning back toward Brian. "Don't forget, Dean Walters asked to check in with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And I'll be dropping by your classes to make sure you actually show up to them. Oh, and I'll have to add to my report that you raised your voice to a professor with tenure while she was just trying to make a cup of coffee." She tapped her notebook. "It's not looking good, Brian."

Jessica watched Dr. Rosenthal shuffle away after he cleared his throat, and Brian spun on his heel to follow suit. "Is this for real?" Jessica asked, looking around the room to try and tell if she was in a dream.

"Yep. He's my new volunteer project. I think Dean Walters could just tell that I have a lot of experience taming fuckboys. But Brian takes the cake, let me tell you. He's been skipping out on his classes to meet up with different women."

Jessica adjusted her glasses and looked at the floor as she whispered, "I never missed my classes when he and I were...."

"Of course not," she said blandly. "That's why you were given tenure instead of being put on probation. You actually do your job. He doesn't. Now, I was thinking about Chippy's tomorrow night? Kind of a celebration?"

Jessica just blinked at her. "A celebration for what?"

"You! A tenure party! Fratraiser part deux as Bradley has been calling it. You know what, I'll take care of the whole thing. Don't even stress about it."

Jessica had been planning on spending the weekend cleaning out her apartment before she started to move a few things to Jake's place. But going out for a bit could be fun. She had more friends in San Diego now than she ever dreamed she would. "What were you thinking? Like a double date?"

"Something like that," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. "How about tomorrow night at eight?"

"Let me check with Jake," she said right away.

"Oh, Jake already knows."

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

"We'll just stay for a little bit and then head home again," Jessica whispered as she and Jake made their way slowly from his truck to Chippy's. He was fucking obsessed with the way she just called his condo home. He was obsessed with everything about her as he pressed her up against the side of Chippy's out on the sidewalk. She'd let him dress her for the night by turning it into a game, and he had chosen a black lace bodysuit paired with a mini skirt and denim jacket.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, voice rough with need as he let his hand slip underneath the skirt. Then he moaned, "A huge mistake."

She laughed as he bumped her glasses with his nose while he kissed her ear. "Did you?"

Jake was uncomfortably hard in his jeans. "Baby, I really want to fuck you. And your outfit is not helping," he added as he squeezed her bare thigh.

"That's your fault," she whispered with a grin while he whined. "Seriously, we'll just stay for a drink or two. It'll be like a double date. And then we can do whatever you want, okay?"

Jake took her hand in his, kissed her fingers and said, "On the way home, you're ordering those toys from that dirty website you found. I think we need all of them."

He could tell she was blushing in the darkness by the warmth of her cheeks against his lips. "Okay," she agreed softly, and Jake had to adjust himself in his jeans before they could walk inside. 

"Holy shit," he gasped when a crowd of people cheered Congratulations! to his girlfriend. Bradshaw's wife didn't mention there would be this many people in attendance. He saw Bradshaw with his backwards hat and hideous tie dye shirt with his arms wrapped around his wife, but all of the other aviators were there, too. Jake spotted a much older man in a sweater vest sipping a beer, and he assumed that must have been Rosenthal. And of course someone had invited Dev.

"You okay?" Jake asked Jessica as she just stood next to him with happy tears in her eyes. She nodded and sniffed as she read the banner that was hanging above Chippy behind the bar. 

CONGRATS, REEDY!

"Yeah, I'm okay," she whispered, burying herself against Jake as he wrapped his arm around her. "I'm just surprised so many people cared enough to be here."

"Don't cry, Jess!" Bradley shouted over the music and conversation as his wife headed over. "It's a happy occasion! It's not like you're in a relationship with Jake or something horrible. Oh... wait...."

Jake shot him a nasty look while he laughed hysterically, and he watched Jessica hug everyone in attendance, thanking all of them individually for coming to her party. Jake briefly wrapped his arms around her and kissed her as he asked, "You want a Sam Adams, Baby?"

"Yes," she replied, but then she added, "but I want to thank Chippy, too." And with that, Jessica walked right behind the bar and gave the grouchy bar owner a hug, and Jake saw a rare smile break out on his face. "Thank you for always welcoming me here," she told him softly while Jake leaned on the bar. "I felt safe here when I didn't really feel safe anywhere else."

Chippy patted her on the head and then started to push her away as he got a little emotional himself. "You're always welcome here, Reedy," he told her before he started to reach for some bowls to fill them with peanuts, and Jessica walked back around the bar and into Jake's arms. Chippy poured a few beers, and set them down in front of Jake as he growled, "So I guess you're sticking around then?"

"Looks that way," Jake replied, leaning down to kiss Jessica's cheek. "Until this one comes to her senses."

"I told you I wouldn't," she replied with a laugh. Then she turned to Chippy and said, "He's not so bad. And he's sweet to me."

"Then I guess he can stay," Chippy replied with a shrug, still glaring slightly. 

Jake picked up two beers and led the way to a table near the others while Jessica carried the peanuts. "I think he finally tolerates me," Jake boasted. 

"It only took you several months," she replied with a smirk. "Chippy didn't fall for your charms as quickly as I did."

Jake set the beers down next to the peanuts and pulled Jessica closer to him. "You made me work hard for it. Ever since the first night I met you when you brought me here for a three dollar beer."

She reached up and raked her fingers through his hair. "I had to know for sure. That you really wanted me."

Jake kissed her rough on the lips right in front of everyone. "I need you, Jessica," he promised, making her smile. "I love you."

"Okay, that's enough of that," Bradshaw's wife said, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "I just have a few words I want to say." She looked a little emotional as she started. "Jessica, you've become one of my very best friends in just a few short months. I know that your time at San Diego State started off a little rocky for you, and I'm sincerely sorry from the bottom of my heart that I didn't take the time to get to know you last semester when you really needed a friend in your corner. You're one of the kindest and smartest people I have ever met in my life."

Jake held Jessica as she looked like she was about to cry. "I'm the one who should be saying nice things to you!" she replied, swiping at her tears behind her glasses. "You've done so much to help me."

"And you've done so much by taking Jake off our hands for us," Bradley added loudly as everyone started laughing. 

"That's fair," Jake admitted with a grin as he pressed his lips to Jessica's hair.

Then Bradshaw's wife lifted her pint glass in the air, and everyone else did as well. "Congratulations on your tenure, Dr. Reed!"

The bar erupted in loud cheers, and Bradley shook up a bottle of champagne. Jake spent the rest of the night kissing the sticky sweetness from Jessica's face and making sure Dev kept his hands to himself. He made sure his girlfriend always had a Sam Adams in her hand and that her denim jacket was neatly buttoned over that bodysuit that he was dying to get his hands on. 

He didn't mind sharing Jessica with everyone else for the evening, especially since she'd made such a good friend in Bradshaw's wife. But much later, when Jessica turned and looked at him while she intentionally unbuttoned her jacket, he was more than ready to get her alone. 

"Take me home, Jake," she said sweetly, reaching for his hand. "I'm ready to go home."

He kissed her lips and wrapped his arms around her. "Let's get out of here, Smart Girl."

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

I hope you loved reading this as much as I have loved writing it! There will not be just one, but TWO epilogues! Stay tuned for those and pegging! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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[bxwitched]

To Be With You

Warnings: Mature, 18+ only. Fluff, workplace flirting, verbal sparring, angst, vulnerability, self-doubt, anxiety, swearing, pining, old school romance, sexual tension if you squint.

Character Pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Hangman takes a shine to the Admiral's new aide.

A/N: This is my first attempt at fluff in a while so please be gentle, I also know absolutely nothing about the US Navy and how it operates. As always, comments, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! You can find my masterlist here.

You haven't been at North Island for long, having transferred when your previous admiral retired but you've come to love the sea views and the sandy beaches. Waking up to the soft crash of the waves and the fresh ocean breeze is certainly a welcome change from the hot, dry suburbs of Lemoore.

You've found that Admiral Simpson is an intelligent, respectful man, firm but fair and most importantly, he treats you well. Like all military men he's disciplined, but he's also in high demand and with such a hectic schedule and high level of responsibility he can often become stressed and lose track of things.

That's where you come in. You manage his ever-growing email inbox, file all of his reports, arrange all of his meetings and supply him with a steady flow of strong, dark coffee to keep him functioning. You've established a routine with him and with that, his days run smoothly.

Your mornings are methodical; you shower, dress, have breakfast and then make the drive over to base. You shrug off your jacket as you reach the office and flip the switch on the coffee machine as you pass it, before settling down at your desk to make a start on your emails.

Beau enters ten minutes later and mumbles out a good morning as he passes, ambling towards the door of his office. He looks tired, you think as you pour him his usual black coffee.

"Good morning, Sir." You follow him as he moves into his office and hand him the steaming mug. He thanks you as he accepts it gratefully, taking a long sip and making a sound of relief as he sinks into his chair and swallows the rich liquid.

"Ok. What's the damage today?"

It's just after midday when a knock sounds on the door and breaks the silence, startling you. You frown as you glance at the clock on the far wall, Beau is scheduled in and out of meetings for the whole day and he hadn't mentioned expecting any visitors to you this morning. You straighten in your chair, slipping your phone away into your desk drawer before calling out.

The door opens promptly and in strolls a man you haven't met before. He's handsome; all perfectly styled blonde hair and sunkissed skin and you find yourself shifting in your seat nervously as he saunters towards you with an air of confidence and a dazzling smile.

"Afternoon, miss."

"Good afternoon-"

"Lieutenant Jake Seresin." He leans in closer to your desk, holding out a hand for you to shake and you oblige, offering him your name in return before taking his larger hand in yours and giving it a light squeeze. The name does sound familiar but you can't quite place it.

"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" His eyes narrow then and his lips quirk up at the corners, putting the dimples in is cheeks on full display. You don't miss the way that he eyes you, his pretty greens flickering down to your left hand before locking with yours once more.

"Pleasures all mine. I have some mission reports for the Admiral." It's then that you notice the collection of the manilla folders tucked against his side and you take them from him carefully, setting them down in a neat pile on the corner of your desk.

"And-" He drawls, his Southern accent as smooth as honey. "Maybe I wanted to see for myself if the rumours were true."

You falter, your brows lifting in confusion. His expression is teasing and his lips are curved into a grin, exposing his pearly whites. Anxiety swirls in the depths of your stomach and you eye him wearily, feeling defensive.

"What rumours?" He leans down even closer, into your space and you catch a whiff of his cologne; a heady mix of cedar and amber that makes you feel dizzy.

"About how gorgeous the Admiral's new aide is. Have to say sweetheart, they don't do you justice."

He winks at you and you scoff, heat filling your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment. You've never been good with men and now that this very attractive man is in front of you, flirting with you, you feel completely out of your depth. You clear your throat awkwardly, opting to try and remain professional rather than make an idiot of yourself.

"Careful Lieutenant, you could be written up for that." His grin only widens and your eyes narrow suspiciously. That horrible voice of doubt in the back of your head is screaming that this man couldn't possibly be attracted to little old you, that he must just be messing with you for the rise.

"Please, call me Hangman."

"Hangman?" You frown and he lets out a laugh at your bemused expression, it's deep and warm and you fidget in your seat as your stomach knots at the sound.

"My callsign, I'm a pilot." His finally straightens up and his chest practically puffs with pride, his mossy eyes gleaming down at you.

It's then that the light bulb flickers in your head, you've heard the moniker several times, whispered amongst the administrative staff, accompanied by knowing smiles and girlish giggles. You've also heard it from the support crews on one of your recent trips to the hangers along with some pretty choice vocabulary.

You think back on the meeting you had attended with Admirals Simpson and Bates a few weeks ago with Captain Mitchell, discussing his newly formed-now permanent Dagger Squad and it's members. Including the one stood before you now.

"I've heard plenty of rumours about you too, Lieutenant." You don't miss the way that his cheek flexes when you ignore his request and instead address him by rank. You feel a rush of satisfaction at having put a dent in his ego but it doesn't last and his smile turns impish as he calls your bluff with a raised brow.

"Do tell." His self-assurance starts to grate on you and you shrug absently as you lean back in your chair, your eyes falling to the multitude of ribbons pinned to the left of his chest.

"They say that you're good." He makes no effort to hide his delight as he stoops down and places his palms flat on your desk, invading your space once more. He surveys you with mischievous eyes, they fall to your lips and you fidget in your seat as heat begins to creep up your neck.

"I am good darlin'. I'm very good." You inhale sharply and his grin widens further, thinking that he's won this verbal sparring match of yours. You fold your arms across your chest defiantly, levelling him with your best glare as you recall some of his notorious exploits.

"They also say that you're an arrogant narccisist with no care for anyone but himself."

His pleased expression drops in an instant, his confidence slipping before you. He opens his mouth to retort but abruptly stops when the door to your office opens and his attention is taken away from you.

You exhale as the heavy air around you dissipates and silently thank whichever higher power has sent Sarah from finance early with her weekly budget report.

"Thank you for the reports, Lieutenant."

Sarah looks on, curious at the situation she's walked in on and Hangman nods to himself, his expression unreadable before he snaps right back into that infuriatingly cocksure demeanour. He throws you a wink as he backs away from your desk and makes his way to the door, ignoring the appreciative look that Sarah gives him as he passes her and leaves.

You're three quarters of the way finished with one of your reports when there's a rap at the door and you groan under your breath, knowing that you're not going to be finished with your task as quickly as you had planned.

"Come in."

You frown as Lieutenant Seresin slips into the office, wearing a broad smile whilst carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and a takeaway cup in the other. You nod curtly as he approaches and he tilts his politely in return.

It's been a few days since he visited your office last and whether you like to admit it or not, a part of you was terrified that you had gone too far and successfully managed to scare off one of the single most attractive men you've ever met. You clear your throat awkwardly.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I have some more reports for the Admiral." You nod in understanding and take the bundle of papers from his outstretched hand, careful not to brush his fingers with your own.

You turn your back on him as you move to the filing cabinet in the corner, sorting through the top drawer until you find the correct section and deposit the files. You return to your desk then, the comfortable barrier that separates you both.

"Thank you Lieutenant. Will that be all?" He tilts his head and flashes you a coy smile as he extends the takeaway coffee out to you. You eye it warily, confused by the unexpected gesture and he watches, studying your reaction.

"Call it an apology." Your eyes narrow as you accept it hesitantly, your eyes flickering between his face and the white cardboard cup as you cradle the warmth of it between your palms. You choose to remain quiet, giving him room to expand on his words.

"The other day? I was out of line and I wanted to apologise. I meant no offence." You study him carefully, looking for any sign of ulterior motive but he seems genuine and the longer that you stare at him, the more his warm smile makes your insides twist.

"Well, thank you Hangman. I appreciate that." His green eyes light up as you finally concede and address him by the moniker, his lips pulling up into a broad smile.

"Of course." You raise the drink to your lips, taking a long sip in an effort to hide your smile. Your eyes widen as the liquid warmth hits your tongue; it's from your favourite cafe and it's a million times better than any of the standard issue you have on base, but what shocks you is that it's your exact order.

"How did you?-" You throw him a questioning look but he already knows what you're going to ask him. His expression is roguish and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he grins at you, before he turns towards the door and walks out.

Can you believe that he's interested in her?

I don't get it either!

Who?

You hear your name once, then twice, before you step into the room and the chorus of chatter dies. You stop in your tracks, feeling as if you're intruding and the collective of women all turn to look at you; some of them have the decency to look guilty at having been caught while one or two simply walk away, unbothered.

You feel mortified and you grit your jaw as you carry on to your office, ignoring the feeling of eyes boring into your back as you go.

Brenda from HR catches you as you pass by and you soften slightly when the older woman flashes you a kind smile. It's almost reassuring, but then she says 'Don't worry sweetie, they're just jealous.' and your confusion deepens.

Your brows furrow as you turn away and wrap your hand around the brass knob. The gears of your mind turning as you close the door behind you with a click.

You still as soon as your eyes land on the beautiful bouquet and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. It's not the first unexpected gift that you've discovered on your desk in the last week but it's by far the most extravagant.

At first it was little just things, more cups of your favourite takeaway coffee, then a pastry or two from that charming new bakery in town. Then as a few weeks passed it became a box of fine chocolates, followed by the bottle of wine that definitely cost more than ten dollars and now, a gorgeous mix of flowers and foliage all tied up in pretty ribbon.

You feel conflicted as your eyes scan over the accompanying card, on the front of it is your name, on the back, the gentle cursive that spells out his callsign. It's the kind of romantic gesture that you read about in your crappy romance novels, the type of affection that you've always wished for, and yet at the same time it all feels too good to be true.

You think about the tales you've heard; details of the drunken escapades and the one night stands, the lengthy trail of bitter women and broken hearts that he's left in his wake. The thought of becoming just another notch in the aviator's bedpost makes your stomach churn and amongst it all, the same question remains.

Why me?

Your heart wrenches as you wonder whether he may have been put up to it, whether it's some kind of bet. These men were competitive at the best of times, but he wouldn't go to all this trouble to win some twenty dollar wager, would he?

That negative voice niggles at the back of your mind then. He would if it meant getting underneath your clothes.

You startle as the door opens behind you and Beau ambles in, uttering his usual greeting as he passes. He stops when he notices the flowers, a stark pop of colour amongst all of the beige.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" His expression seems slightly panicked as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and the bouquet. You smile softly and shaking your head.

"No Sir."

"Anniversary?" His frown deepens then.

Unlike some of your previous employers, Beau didn't like to pry into his staff's private lives more than was absolutely necessary. He didn't ask you about your relationship status or what your vacation plans were, only that you were ok and you strongly appreciated that.

"No Sir." Beau's expression hardens then.

"Did someone die?" Your eyes widen and you stumble over your words in your haste to cover

"Oh! No, no! They are uh- from a friend, Sir."

"A friend?"

He eyes you suspiciously but he doesn't press the subject any further as you shift on your feet and wring your hands, uncomfortable at having to provide an explanation.

"You are to report to me if you have any concerns. Is that understood?" His voice bleeds authority as he looks at you sternly. If you were unfamiliar with the man you might've been scared but you've come to know his ways and you feel a sense of gratitude as you process the hidden meaning in his words.

Are you ok?

"Yes Sir, understood." He nods once, acknowledging your confirmation.

"Good. The last thing I need right now is another HR nightmare." He disappears through to his office, he mutters away to himself and you just about manage to suppress a snort as you catch him grumble 'horny bastards' before the door clicks shut.

It's later in the afternoon and Beau has been summoned to a high priority meeting at short notice, one that you don't have the clearance to attend.

You've finished all of your reports, filed away your paperwork and refreshed your emails three times. The boredom creeps up on you as the clock ticks obnoxiously in the background, marking each passing second, taunting you.

It's then that you find your eyes drifting back to the pretty blooms, perched atop the mahogany in an old vase you'd managed to dig out of a cabinet.

Whilst you appreciate the Lieutenant's interest in you, the awkward encounter with your superior is enough for you to realise that you need to talk have a talk about the propriety of it all.

You've worked hard to get where you are and you don't want this man's attentions, honest or not, to give anyone the opportunity to question your professionalism.

You haven't seen him around, but you know that he's going to be flying today, you'd seen his name on the approved roster. You take a deep breath as you shrug on your jacket, knowing that you just need to grab the bull by the horns and get it over with, no matter how uncomfortable.

You take the long way around base; around the administrative buildings, then the barracks, past the mess until the hangers finally come into your view.

You can hear the rush of linemen on the tarmac, the heavy thud of of their boots and their shouts as they prepare for the landing of the four F-18's you can see on the horizon. A part of you wonders how otherworldly it must feel to be up there in the skies whilst the other, more rational part is absolutely terrified by the thought.

By the time you reach the tarmac they've already landed and the pilots have exited their aircraft; the group stands off to the side, making conversation amongst themselves as the linemen carry out their post-flight checks.

You notice a shorter brunette, the only woman in the group, she looks mildly irritated as she converses with a tall head of blonde hair and you feel a pang of empathy as she rolls her eyes at him. You can tell it's him from a mile off, even with his back to you.

As if on cue, she catches your stare and a curious look laces her features, she mutters something and points a nod in your direction, urging him to turn around.

Hangman's green irises lock with yours and his lips curve up in a pleased grin. He watches as you take him in; all sun kissed and sweaty from a hard day's flying, wrapped up in that obscenely well-fitting flight suit with the sleeves turned up to expose his strong forearms.

He makes his way over with confident strides, ignoring the questioning looks from the unnamed female pilot, as well as the three males who have taken notice of his departure and are watching the scene with interest.

You shift on your feet, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny of their stares.

"And to what do I owe this nice surprise?" His tone is warm, teasing, as he sidles up to you and your stomach knots as he looks at you fondly. You shrug, trying to play it cool as you lean back against the hanger door.

"The Admirals' been called away and I'm at a loose end, I uh-I wanted to talk to you." His mossy eyes narrow then, something unknown dancing in his irises.

"Is that right?" He plants a hand against the hanger door, close to your head and leans into your space. Whilst you're thankful that he's somewhat shielded you from the prying eyes of him team, you falter under the weight of his heavy gaze.

"Why don't you come on and take a closer look?" He jerks his head in suggestion and your mouth falls open slightly, although you see the F-18's from a distance all the time you've never had the opportunity to get up close and personal with one.

"You're not serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"But- won't we get into trouble?" On instinct, you glance around nervously and he chuckles. You can't help but appreciate the deep timbre of it as it rumbles in his chest.

"The engines' not on and the wheels aren't gonna leave the ground, we'll be fine. Besides-" He leans in closer, looking conspiratorial as he whispers close to your ear. "What Cyclone doesn't know can't hurt him."

He gestures an arm out in the direction of the flight line and you quickly oblige as your excitement gets the better of you, falling into step with him.

"Hey Hangman! Who's your friend?" Jake ignores the moustached man's taunt as you pass the group, his focus solely on you as he asks you about your morning. You catch the moment the brunette aviator jabs her elbow into his ribs and he groans out a complaint, rubbing at his side.

She offers you an apologetic smile and you return it before you refocus and realise that Hangman has come to a stop.

His face beams as he presents his aircraft to you proudly, like it's his firstborn child. You hesitate as you reach out to touch it, feeling the smooth metal underneath your palm, running it along the panel until you get to the part with his name on it.

"Is it weird that I think it's pretty?" He laughs, moving in closer to you.

"She's very pretty, but not nearly as pretty as you." The way that he's looking at you makes feel warm all over, heat creeping up the column of your neck as you let out a nervous laugh and look away.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Actually, no." You sigh, turning to face him head on.

"Listen, Hangman-"

"Jake." He insists.

"Jake-" You stumble as he interrupts you, moving in closer.

"Did you like them? The flowers?" You notice that his expression is serious now, almost apprehensive. You bite your lip as a smile threatens to split your face and everything you had planned to say goes out of the window.

"I did, very much. Thank you." He smiles broadly then, putting the dimples in his cheeks on full display. Your gut twists as you speak your next words. "But why?"

His brow furrows deeply and he looks at you like you've just told him that the sky is green. You elaborate for him.

"Why all of the wine and chocolates and flowers when we've barely spoken to each other? I don't understand?" His face is perplexed as he stares at you with those mossy eyes.

"Because, I think you're beautiful and I'd really like to take you out."

You frown, feeling taken off guard by his answer.

"Look, Jake. I know about your reputation and I'm not going to get involved with someone who's just going to break my heart and move on."

He breathes out a sigh, scratching a hand through his short hair nervously.

"I'm not gonna deny the past happened because it did, but believe me when I tell you I'm different now. I'm older and wiser and when I look at you? You make me want things I never thought I'd want. After I messed up with you the first time, I knew that I needed to do things right, the old fashioned way."

You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you any time to interject as he rambles.

"You're beautiful and kind and smart, you don't fawn over me just because I'm a pilot and you sure as hell don't put up with any of my shit. You're different and I like that, a lot."

"But you don't know me, Jake. I don't know anything about you."

"I'll tell you anything you wanna know, sweetheart."

You shake your head as he takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, even through his flight suit.

"Look, I know that you work hard and you're damn good at what you do. I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sit on your porch in the evenings and watch the ocean and that at the weekends you spend time tending to your garden and taking long walks on the beach. Maybe I don't know what your favourite meal is yet, or colour or song, but I'd love to find out. If you'll let me."

You're left dumbstruck by his admission, devoid of all thought except one.

"You know where I live?" He blinks slowly then and exhales a laugh.

"Sweetheart, we live on the same street. I noticed you as soon as you moved in and I see you all the time." Your mouth falls open a little, your expression one of confusion as you try to figure out how you've never noticed him before, especially as handsome as he is.

Jake just grins, completely enamoured with you.

"And my coffee order?" He gives a shrug, his face coy as he admires the flush that's bloomed across your cheeks.

"I may have had to charm it out of a barista named Jenna." You dip your head as you laugh in an effort to hide your face, your heart hammering wildly in your chest.

He stoops slightly, his pretty green eyes searching your face until you concede and finally look at him once more.

"So will you let me in, sweetheart? Let me get to know you?"

That little voice in the back of your mind rears it's head and screams no! That it's a horrible, terrible idea. But what if it's not?

You swallow, summoning all of your courage as you nod slowly. Jake's face lights up, his expression is almost euphoric and you can't help but match it, your lips splitting into a grin.

You feel hot all over, your chest tight as your heart threatens to burst out. The level of emotion that you feel is both frightening and exhilarating but as you gaze into those his bright eyes of his, looking at you with so much adoration, you know that it's right.

"Alright. We can start with dinner."

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | do you have an appointment?

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 11.2k words, pretty wife visits joel at work when he forgets his lunch, and he wants to show everyone there just how good you are to him. and when you're good, you get a reward. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, exhibition kink, oral (m + f receiving), kneeling???, dirty talk, sir kink, pet names for reader, reader is joel's little doll hehe, little bit of domestic bliss, brief mention of alcohol, extremely submissive reader a/n: idek what happened here, it's been a while since i've gotten a chapter finished and went a little crazy with the word count on this one oopsie. i was plotting and writing this chapter then read this book and was extra excited that it lined up with this chapter so well so ANYWAY ENJOY! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

You love the mornings you have with Joel before he works, the ones where he takes it slow and sits down to sip coffee with you, eating the plated breakfast you set in front of him and chatting about what’s on his agenda for the day. You even love the ones where he practically flies into the kitchen, dressed and ready, and you can read the signals that there isn’t any time to spare for sweet chatter and a meal this morning.

This happens to be one of those mornings, with Joel buzzing around quickly, trying to get his things in order. He’d spent way too long making out with you like a horny teenager after already sleeping in too late for everything he had to get done at the office today, and now he was paying the price. 

“Shit, sorry, baby, gotta rush out of here,” Joel mumbles as he scoots past you, taking a hasty gulp from his mug of coffee. You’ve been standing, fingers curled around your hips, brushing the fabric of your silk robe and watching in amusement as your husband starts to fall apart in the chaos of his own doing. You can smell the freshness of his shower on him, his heavenly body wash making you take an extra breath in just to keep it with you a little longer. 

“You just worry about your shoes and bag, let me get this into a travel cup for you,” you tell him, grabbing the mug out of his hands before he can protest. 

“God, m’perfect wife, thank you,” he says quickly, pecking the side of your head as he passes by again, heading towards the coat closet near the front door. 

You hear him rustling around as you fill one of his favorite cups - a Texas Longhorns travel mug - and walk it over to the front door. 

“Dumb ass for scheduling this meeting so early,” he mumbles to himself, critiquing his lack of foresight in his own agenda. He has his shoes on and looks ready to go as he looks up at you, his irritated expression immediately changing into a soft, lopsided smile. 

His arms reach out to you and pull you in for an embrace, grabbing the mug out of your hand before leaning down to kiss you, long and deep. 

“Make it up t’ya later,” he promises with a wink before one more chaste kiss makes its way onto your lips from him. 

“You better,” you quip back, “Bye, honey.” He waves as he slips through the front door, and moments later you hear his truck start up, speeding off through the neighborhood. 

You sigh, shaking your head a little at your husband, but start to move along with your day, changing into your more worn clothes - an old t-shirt of Joel’s and some cloth shorts - to tidy the kitchen first and then get a good vacuum done all over the house. You find a few more projects - taking an inventory of toiletries for your trip to the store this week and a quick clean of the half bathroom on the main level has you feeling accomplished for the day, realizing it’s nearing the time you’re supposed to meet your friends for your weekly tennis scrimmage. 

You contemplate inside your closet for a few moments before deciding on an all white tennis outfit - a pleated skirt and workout tank top, completing it with ankle high socks and your white tennis shoes. You throw a zip up on top of everything and clasp on the sparkling tennis bracelet Joel had gotten you, claiming it had tennis in the name, so it must go with your tennis outfits, right? You’d nearly fallen out of your chair that day at the glimmering diamonds as Joel put it on your wrist for the first time, telling him that it wasn’t in fact something that actually had anything to do with you playing tennis. You decided to wear it most weeks to play tennis, anyways, just because of how sweet the gesture had been from him.

You open the fridge to grab some snacks and a protein drink to bring to the court with you, when your eye catches on Joel’s lunch, still sitting in the fridge and untouched - in his rush this morning he must have forgotten it. You frown, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to your friends, letting them know you won’t be able to make your usual time today and then pull up Joel’s contact to call him.

“Hey darlin’, how are you?” Joel says upon picking up, sounding slightly distracted among the sound of shuffling papers in the background.

“You forgot your lunch,” you blurt out.

“Oh, shoot, you’re right, ain’t ya. Hmm, s’okay, I’ll just grab somethin’ to go, maybe,” Joel says, sounding lost in thought over his current situation.

“Let me bring it to you. We could eat together?” you ask, biting your lip and hoping his day isn’t too busy to fit you in. 

“Don’t ya have tennis and lunch with your girls right about now?”

“Er, well, I already canceled to bring you your lunch,” you admit. You hear Joel hum quickly on the other end in contemplation.

“Alright, ya got me. Jus’ didn’t want you to go out of your way f’me,” Joel says, and you shake your head a little bit.

“Of course not, I want to eat lunch with you. Besides, I haven’t been to the office in a long time.” 

“See ya around noon, then?” Joel asks, and you agree that noon sounds perfect. 

“W-wait, doll -” Joel cuts in before you two can hang up.

“Hmm?” you murmur, clutching the phone back into your ear.

“What’re you wearin’? Your little white skirt?” he asks, and you lick your lips and break out into a smile.

“Maybe…” you tease, “I was about to change, though, if I’m not playing.”

“Don’t.” Joel says more sternly. “Don’t change.”

And as usual, you obey. 

You walk into Joel’s office building, part of a larger skyscraper downtown, and as you notice little details again you realize that you really haven’t been here in ages. It always impresses you every time you see it, though, the pristine office space and location, and it makes you smile at how successful your husband has gotten. You bet he’s as good a boss as he is a husband, you think to yourself, knowing that Joel’s business is one of the top contracting companies in Austin.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” a younger, sandy haired woman behind a counter labeled Reception asks as you walk up. 

“Oh, I’m here to see Joel - uh, Mr. Miller? I -“ you stutter uncomfortably - you suddenly feel a bit out of your depth looking into this woman’s curious, critical eyes.

The woman looks you up and down, assessing you quickly. You find yourself wishing you could hear the thoughts going through her head as she quirks a brow at you. You try not to be self conscious, but sometimes in a situation like this, where you’re not sure exactly where you belong, you tend to get nervous. You just want to see Joel and find some solace in his arms.

“Do you have an appointment?” she interrupts you, glancing at the computer to see if there’s anything on the agenda for this time of day. 

“Gosh, no. I’m his wife. Sorry, should have said that right off the bat. He forgot his lunch this morning,” you tell her, putting on your kindest smile and holding the little cooler bag up. Her eyes widen just slightly and she stares for a moment, her quick gaze roaming your outfit and body having a different meaning now, landing with a small, furtive smile on the high pony tail that had been swinging back and forth on your head as you’d walked in. 

“Sorry, he didn’t say he was expecting you. I can show you where his office is, if you need,” she says, suddenly straightening her back and cocking her head at you.

“No worries, I’ve been here before. Uh, thanks,” you tell her, trying not to falter your smile. Something about the way she’d looked at you made you feel… off - like she was judging you for some secret that you weren’t in on. It’s obvious you’re much younger than Joel, but you’ve never been bothered by the fact and you wish other people weren’t, either. Maybe they’d expected some frumpy older lady to walk in here, or something, and instead were stuck with the conundrum that was you. 

You try to shake it off and make a beeline to Joel’s office, but you find more eyes are on you - people looking up from their desks as you pass, doing double takes, their faces completely unreadable. Your skin is crawling a little uncomfortably at the sidelong glances from so many people you don’t know. You’re starting to regret your choice of outfit, not changing before you’d left the house, but you do know Joel loves this particular tennis skirt on you, and he’d specifically asked you not to change. You try to remind yourself that the only opinion that matters in this office is his, and it settles your nerves a little bit. 

“There she is,” Joel says sweetly as you give his office door a few quick knocks and enter. He practically jumps out of his chair to meet you, swiftly going in for a kiss. He takes the lunch bag you’d packed out of your hand and plops it onto his desk. 

“Hungry now?” he asks, and you nod, smiling almost dumbly at him. You just find that he does something to you, this man, and you can only smile and nod and be this submissive little thing around him most of the time. And it’s absolutely glorious, the effect your husband has on you. It's like everything that happened, all the uncomfortable stares from the office, completely vanishes once you’re with him. 

Joel gives you one more kiss, groaning a little into it before pulling away reluctantly. He rearranges chairs so that you two can sit next to each other and eat at his desk. He starts to unpack the lunch, pulling out a small slip of paper with a knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh, that’s -” you start, a small blush coming over your cheeks.

“I know what it is, darlin’. You pack them every day,” Joel replies, unfolding it and reading the small note you’d packed in his lunch. You started to get into the habit so long ago that you can’t even remember how long you’d been doing it. Putting funny jokes, sexy promises, or just a quickly scrawled I love you and tossing it in with his lunch each night became just simply part of your routine at this point. 

Joel stands up and opens a drawer at his desk, pulling out a small box that he opens to place the note inside. Your mouth hangs open a little as the realization of what he’s doing hits you.

“You… keep them?” you ask timidly, and Joel’s eyes find yours, his smile growing.

“Every single one,” he states simply, and you feel your eyes grow watery before blinking it away. “Good for when I’m havin’ a rough day,” he adds, finding his way back to his seat. 

You’re practically speechless, loving that the small gesture has meant so much to Joel, has helped him on days he’s here without you and needs a pick me up. The thought alone sends your heart soaring, filled with love for your husband and you lean forward to kiss him again, savoring the feel of his lips on yours.

“That’s so sweet, baby, I love it,” you finally manage to say with a tight voice, and he pinches your cheek lovingly before settling back in his chair to eat.

“Oh, hang on, darlin’, I think there’s some sodas in the break room I could sneak us,” Joel says with an effortlessly suave wink, leaving you smiling to yourself as he slips out of his office. 

Joel hears hushed voices through the open door to the break room, and he’s about to turn in when the words they’re saying catch his ear. He knows he should just go in, silence them with his presence alone, but he can’t help himself. He immediately feels a seething boil under his skin at what he’s hearing. 

“I swear, I heard from someone who went for like, a party or something at their place, she’s totally like one of those Stepford Wives. All dolled up and in dresses and aprons all the time and shit. I don’t know, just sounds weird to me,” a female voice says, and Joel’s brow crinkles further, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“What, really?” a male voice replies, with a second female voice murmuring something similar. 

“I mean, didn’t you see her walk in today? The outfit alone. Cute, but like… feels like she’s trying a bit too hard, you know,” the first woman says, and Joel hears laughter between the other two. 

“Oh, I saw,” the second woman says with a snort. “It’s all people are talking about out there, seriously. Didn’t know the boss was such a sugar daddy.”

“I know, makes you wonder. He could have anyone, he’s handsome enough and successful, and he chooses to just be with some housewife? She’s pretty and all that, but like…. I guess to each their own,” she says, with a tone that indicates she doesn’t mean her words at all, and her judgment is still swift. 

Joel has found himself sucked into their conversation, listening from the outside with baited breath, a sinking feeling in his chest. Sure, he’s angry, absolutely livid that these three are being so hastily judgemental, but what’s hurting the most is knowing they’re talking about his wife. His sweet, loving, caring, absolutely perfect wife. Someone who always thinks of others, so giving, so wonderful. He knew if you heard their words, it would hurt you deeply, the thought that these people were talking badly about you for just living the way you want to live. 

Joel can’t take it anymore, swiftly turning the corner of the doorframe and entering the room. The three of them are mid-laughter and it tapers off as Joel heads for the fridge. 

“Afternoon,” he says casually, a knowing smirk on his face to try to hide his anger. He glances at the three of them, surely sweating bullets and all looking a bit like they were caught in the act, eyes blinking rapidly and smiles a little too forced.

They all murmur similar greetings in response, trying to act casual. Joel grabs a few sodas out of the fridge, wrapping his large hands around the cool cans and letting the change of temperature ground him a bit. 

He makes his way to the door, letting them think that he didn’t hear anything, that they got off the hook that easily. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the room, glancing over his shoulder at his three employees, looking so uncomfortable as they stand huddled together that he could laugh right in their faces.

“Y’know,” he starts, dragging it out a little with a small sigh. “I’ll bet she’d have nothin’ but nice things to say about you three,” he says simply with a quick shake of his head before turning, not even bothering to check their reactions. 

All he wants now is to head back to you, back to his wife, and give you an extra squeeze and a kiss for being so wonderful to him. You’re waiting eagerly, nervously playing with your fingernails when Joel returns, and you immediately smile widely again at the sight of him. 

“Hit the jackpot,” he says, and you grab the can from him. Joel leans down, grabbing your face with his free hand, slightly cold still from the drink and you yelp with a playful giggle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly with a chuckle, moving his hand off of your cheek. “Just needed to kiss my girl.”

You meet his face in the middle and let him, his lips crashing into yours for a few blissful seconds before he sits down next to you and asks to hear about your morning. He keeps a firm hand on your knee any time he doesn't need to use them to eat his lunch as you two sit and catch up between bites.

“Y’swear, you made this bread?” Joel asks you, marveling at his sandwich - meat, cheese, and veggie toppings sitting between a sourdough recipe you’d been trying to perfect.

“I swear. I can’t believe you haven’t seen the levain in the house, it’s just a big gross blob in a jar,” you say, stifling a laugh.

Joel ponders his memory for a few moments before nodding. “Guess maybe I did. But m’point is - what can’t my wife do? So talented…”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the special attention and compliments he’s giving you, shaking your head modestly in reply. “N-no, it’s just bread,” you say meekly.

He squeezes your thigh, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief second as he speaks. “You’re perfect, darlin’, sorry to say it, but it’s true.”

You laugh then, deciding not to fight him on it anymore. Your face continues to warm from his compliments, your body tingling slightly as you feel a hint of desire pooling low in your body. You know that isn’t his intended result from the compliments he’s doling out on you now, but you can’t help but respond to his attention like this, feeling a deep satisfaction that you’ve pleased him in some way.

“Hey Joel, I -“ a voice interrupts, a broad, light haired man entering through the cracked door. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know - uh -“ he says upon seeing you, chair scooted close to Joel’s, his hand rubbing circles on your thigh. 

“S’alright Rick, what is it?” Joel replies, not bothering to move his hand. If anything, he instinctively tightens it, claiming you in front of a new person, letting them know who you belong to.

“Jus’ had a few questions on the Parker Street project, but it can wait.” His eyes flash back and forth between you and Joel, seemingly trying to size up the situation. Joel opens his mouth to respond to Rick, but the man smiles suddenly and speaks again before Joel can.

“Now who’s this, though? Don’t tell me you’re hiring girls to eat lunch with you now,” Rick teases, and you feel your mouth pop open and your face get hot at the insinuation. Joel’s face doesn’t crack, it hardly even moves as you glance over at him desperately, feeling a burn of embarrassment prickle at your eyes. You try to blink it away, hoping you don’t end up crying in front of this random asshole. 

Joel clears his throat a moment later, his hand tight on your thigh, sudden energy and irritation coursing through him and out into his grip. “If you need to hire your own wife to eat lunch with you, then you got bigger problems, don’t you, Rick?” he snips back, and Rick pales realizing what he thought was a light-hearted joke didn’t quite land. 

“J-just messing around, I’m sorry. She’s just - uh -“ Rick stutters, and Joel just gives a blasé raise of his eyebrows. 

“Careful what words come out of your mouth next about my wife.”

Rick seems intent on digging himself deeper into his own hole and stutters some more, trying to explain himself. “N-no, it’s just - well, you’re very beautiful,” he says, turning to you quickly. “Some people around the office, t-they said some things when you came in. Just jokes, that’s all, just you’re pretty and young, and Joel, well he’s… and… we just made funny assumptions that you couldn’t be his wife.”

Joel sighs, keeping a cool demeanor as he cocks his head in Rick’s direction “People really think my wife, my perfect little wife, is some random girl I hired, huh? After the way you all know I feel about my girl, way I go on and on about this perfect little thing right here,” Joel says, gesturing to you quickly. “Think I’d want anythin’ to do with anyone else?”

“God, no, Joel, it’s just - we didn’t know, she was… shit, so young, okay?”

Joel’s lips purse and you watch on, wide eyed and stunned silent by this conversation, not sure what you could even say right now to help. 

“Well, she is the age she is,” Joel says simply. “Let everyone know if they’ve got an issue, they can come see me.” He breathes an unamused chuckle, looking at Rick expectantly.

“You’re right, Joel. It was just s-stupid office chatter, sorry you had to get caught up in it. We know how m-much you love your wife. He’s always - always talking about you, promise,” Rick says, and your lips turn up a little at his groveling. 

“I know he does,” you finally say, keeping yourself meek but clear, turning to look at Joel and planting a kiss on his cheek. He turns his head, meeting the kiss and making sure Rick sees just how much you care for each other. 

“We’ll talk about the Parker Street stuff later, come back in… mm, an hour or so with Steve and Pat,” Joel says, glancing down at his watch. 

“Sure, of course, sounds good,” Rick says quietly, starting to back out of Joel’s office. “Again, I’m so sorry…” he trails off, and you smile blankly at him in return. 

“It’s alright, I get it. Joel does pay me in other ways to eat lunch with him,” you say, and you hear Joel nearly choke on a laugh next to you as he mutters an impressed curse under his breath. 

Rick doesn’t know what to do - smile, laugh, or let his face get a deeper shade of red at your sudden fierceness, but he settles on a strange, awkward combination of all three before leaving the door cracked shut behind him. 

“Now what was that?” Joel asks, turning towards you, shock written on his face. 

“What, I can’t give him a taste of his own medicine?” you reply, doe-eyed and smirking.

“God, no, y’can. It was perfect, so fuckin’ sexy to see you tell them what I do for ya,” Joel growls, standing up and pulling you off your chair and into his arms. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck in response to his movements, pulling yourself closer.

“Do you have to get back to work now?” you ask with a slight pout, knowing this lovely afternoon with Joel would have to come to an end eventually.

“Don’t want ya to leave,” Joel says, hand splayed across your lower back, holding you tight to his torso. “Could keep ya here w’me at work as my little pet, couldn’t I?” His eyes gather up a mischievousness as he considers his own words and what they mean he’d be getting this afternoon. 

“Have me, then,” you reply, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink up at him. Joel’s jaw sets a little tighter, a groaning noise working its way out of him as he grinds up against you a little bit. His hand gently taps under your chin, lifting it slightly and holding it there, cocking his head in amazement at you. 

“All mine, hm? My little pet to play with?” he asks, his voice going an octave lower in want. 

You dip your head in one long bow, and Joel starts forward, catching your lips with his. He devours you, forcing his tongue into your mouth quickly and you slide yours against his in equal fervor, starting to moan wantonly into his mouth. He’s already got you breathless, the way his hands move fluidly along your back, catching your ass in his palm and squeezing, the other one gripping the back of your neck, holding you in place.

Joel moves you backwards, slowly walking you until he collapses in his office chair, pulling you down with him and settling you to straddle his lap. He pulls away, thumbing your cheek and scanning your face, glowing and flush with arousal for him already. 

“Wanna teach some assholes here a lesson about disrespectin’ my wife,” he says. “Can’t have that, can I?” 

Your lips turn up in a smile and you shake your head for him, eliciting a devilish smirk from Joel. 

“Alright, why don’t ya stay next to me, darlin’, while I get some work done. See if any of ‘em got somethin’ more to say when they see how good my wife is to me.”

You blink a few times in confusion, your body torn because of the way he’d just been all over you, to not have it progress any further. You start for a chair, to pull it over next to his desk, and you hear Joel tisk as soon as you begin to turn away. His hands hold onto your back, stopping you from sliding off of his firm lap.

“Not like that doll, y’know what I want - need y’to help me relax a little,” Joel says, his eyes quickly dipping to the floor and back up, and you stiffen, immediately picking up on the change. You should have known better when he’d brought up the words little pet. You tilt your head innocently at him as he releases his hold on you, and feel your body moving before you can even process it, moving off of his lap, legs buckling and sending you to your knees. 

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, looking down at you, settled on your knees next to his chair, “Good girl, my good little wife.”

Your insides warm at his praise, bubbling with satisfaction as you gaze up at him seated above you. You have to admit that you’re surprised Joel has gone this far in the workplace - this dynamic isn’t necessarily anything new to you, and Joel does have to be in a certain mood to get as far as wanting you kneeling next to him like this, but you’re always more than happy to oblige. You love the way it makes him look at you, so pleased and adoring as you fulfill both of your needs and desires, turning yourself off to become everything he needs, and in turn, everything you need. 

“Now, you okay if people see you like this? Y’know the last thing I want is to upset ya,” Joel says and you nod. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a small smile, scooting a bit closer to his chair. You worm your way closer, nuzzling his leg before resting your chin on his thigh. “Whatever you need, sir.”

“Mm, that’s it, jus’ get comfortable,” he coos down at you. Your heart is lifting, thundering happily in your chest at how natural this position feels for you. “I’ll let y’know when I need you.”

You nod dutifully into the fabric of his slacks and Joel turns his chair slightly, patting his thigh before pulling you in between his legs rather than next to him, and you rest your cheek on his inner thigh, letting your breath calm at the warmth of his skin. Your initial nerves that anyone could walk in and see you like this, see you in a position they might consider weak or strange or even gross are dissipating when you sense your husband's presence so close, the thick muscles of his thigh moving underneath your cheek.

You observe his world as he starts to get to work, clicking and typing on his computer with a few irritated sighs. You can tell just how much Rick’s comments are affecting Joel, how the tension spreads and radiates throughout his body. He tuts a few times as he scrolls his emails, your eyes flicking up to the screen but not bothering to read much, giving him his privacy. He picks up the phone and you hear bits and pieces of the conversations he’s having, just finding yourself content to let your mind wander, focusing on the sensations at hand - Joel’s warmth, the muscles on his leg shifting every so often, the sound of his breathing above you when the room gets quiet. 

His hand drifts down while he’s waiting for the other end of the line to ring on a new call, his large hand landing on the top of your head and moving down, stroking gently along the side of your head several times. The sudden attention has you glancing up at his face, and he gives you a sweet look, eyes glazed over as he watches your lips parted and eyes trusting and twinkling for him. You melt instantly, a frown coming to your face as soon as Joel breaks eye contact and blinks quickly a few times, snapping out of it.

“Oh, yeah, this is Joel Miller calling for Devin,” he says. You then decide to filter out anything unimportant again, and wait for Joel to call your attention again as he places what sounds like some order for different lumber sizes for a new build they’re working on. He doesn’t move his hand, though, brushing it along your head in slow, repeated strokes while his voice drones on. You don’t even notice the way your hands have moved of their own accord, grasping onto his calves and inching yourself even closer to where his legs meet on the chair. Your hands are crawling up his thighs, rubbing them, and your face is dangerously close to his crotch now. You can feel Joel’s eyes peering down at your slow, steady movement towards dangerous territory. 

“Mhm, you too, bye,” Joel says, before harshly setting the phone down onto the receiver on down his desk and hissing through his teeth as he snaps his head down to look at you.

“What’re you doin’,” he snips, and your movements halt, a bit of fear burning through your veins that you’ve upset or disappointed him.

“Just… wanted to touch you more,” you say quietly, putting your eyes and head down towards the floor. 

“Said I’d tell y’when I needed you, didn’t I?” he asks.

“I know… I’m sorry, Joel. You just… make me so…” you stutter, knowing he probably won’t like that you’re trying to make excuses right now, not when he’s in this dominant mode. He’s usually pretty lenient with situations like this though, when he knows you just want to be close to him and aren’t trying to be a brat on purpose.

“Hmm,” he growls a little, his lip bit in contemplation for a moment before he places a hand on the back of your head, fisting your high ponytail into his palm. “I know I do, can’t help yourself can you?”

You shake your head in quick movements. “No, I can’t… sir.”

“Make it up t’me…” Joel says, dragging his words. “Suck on my cock like a good girl while I finish this work, then I’ll give ya all the attention you need.”

Your hand brushes gently over the obvious arousal bulging out of his pants, so close to where your cheek was just resting, as you graze your fingers up to his belt in a slow, tantalizing manner, garnering a hum of satisfaction from Joel. You’re about to pull it through the first loop when there’s a knock on the door and you jump, dropping your hand back to his thigh. 

“Shit,” Joel spits under his breath in irritation. “After,” he commands a bit louder to you, and you nod, staring up at him in anxious anticipation for what to do next. Should you stand, stay right where you are, get into the seat next to Joel? Your heart starts to pick up a little as you sit up straight, ready to move if needed.

“Don’t get up for them,” he says sternly, seeming to read your mind, so you blink and try to relax back down. His hand finds its way back to the side of your head, stroking to calm you. “S’okay.”

“Yes, sir,” you say quietly as Joel summons them to come into his office.

You refuse to make eye contact with them, suddenly feeling shyness weigh on you, your shoulders curling in as you find refuge against Joel’s leg again. You hear the shuffle of shoes and bodies entering the room and try not to tense up, wanting to make a good impression for Joel. You try to be brave, looking up at Joel and then turning your head to his coworkers with a lazy smile, and they’re already staring at you with a mixture of emotions - confusion, lust, disgust, and so many things you can’t read that you find it makes you avert your gaze immediately.

“The Parker Street project, right?” Joel says, completely ignoring the rapidly changing emotions on their faces. 

“Right,” one of them that isn’t Rick says. “J-joel, um,” he says, flashing his eyes to you a few times.

“My wife, don’t worry about her. She’s visiting today. Tell them hello, darlin’,” Joel says, his hand still moving lazily along the side of your head.

“H-hello,” you manage to choke out, giving them your name and hoping your voice doesn’t waver too much.

They awkwardly greet you in return, and you try to focus, focus, focus, on Joel’s soothing hand on your hair, the well worn fabric of his pants below you that smells like him, the promise of dirty things after he has this meeting. You find it calms you, wishing you could be exactly like he wants - perfectly submissive, not scared for these other men to see you like this, and you aren’t scared, per se. Joel just doesn’t always bring this dynamic out of the home with him, and it has you feeling more timid than ever over it, even though you do like it. The chance for Joel to show you off, practically in a begging position between his legs, knowing you’re in a skimpy skirt that he loves as it flows out around your hips and onto the floor below you. The thought of these men seeing how much you belong to Joel has arousal starting to pool deep in your belly, swirling lower and lower the more you think about it. Joel’s girl. His pretty little wife. Let them see how good I am to him.

Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your head as they all speak - Rick, Steven, and Pat all doing their best to focus despite the out of the ordinary circumstances. You can’t help but wonder if Joel cares, if he thinks this will affect the way he’s treated by his employees. You start to spiral out, hoping your eyes don’t give away the sudden panic and worry that you’re somehow doing something wrong, making Joel’s life harder by being here. His hand edges down to your chin, unnoticeable to the other men, who have their eyes trained downwards on some blueprints on Joel’s desk as they chatter. He tilts your head slightly off of his thigh, having you look up at him, and he can see the nervous breath hitch in your throat. His eyes go soft and he gives your chin a few gentle strokes of his finger. 

“Good girl,” he mouths, and you melt a little, still not completely rid of the tension. “I love you,” he mouths next, and you find that was the key to the lock, the exact thing you needed from him right now. Of course Joel wouldn’t have you sitting like this if he cared at all what these men thought, if he had any doubts. One thing you knew about Joel was that he wasn’t a man with many doubts, ever. 

You squeeze his calf lovingly and relax again, not failing to notice that Joel’s pants have a prominent bulge just inches from where you’re nuzzling against him. You feel the familiar crawl of arousal in your core again, starting to throb in time with your clit, and you want nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and start riding his cock right now in front of everyone. As if he read your mind yet again, sensing the low, low pooling of heat inside of you,  Joel decides to adjourn the meeting. 

“Hope that answered most of it, but let’s talk tomorrow, hm? Gotta get this pretty girl home soon,” Joel says to them, and to your surprise, they seem much more relaxed, giving out smiles and little chuckles and talking more animatedly with Joel as they wrap their meeting up. You breathe a sigh of relief and say goodbye to them when Joel requests you to, thankful you can be alone with him again. 

As soon as the door to his office clicks shut, Joel shifts in his seat, moving your head off of his lap and replacing it with his own hands. He growls a little, the sound deep and rumbling all the way down to where you’re sitting at his feet, eager to please. His fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it with a fury that you’re not sure you’ve seen from him before, deft fingers undoing it and unzipping his fly in record time.

“Get my cock in your mouth, pretty girl,” he groans, yanking it out of his pants - the tip exposed first, achingly red and dripping with precum. Your mouth salivates, your tongue starts to poke out before you even realize, desperate to lap it onto your tongue and taste him. He fists it in his hand, slapping it against your mouth a few times, looking down at you through hooded eyes.

“No playin’ around, either, no little kitten licks and all that shit - I want this fat cock stuffing your mouth ‘till you’re choking,” he says, his voice a hot heat that licks down your skin like fire, sending a wave of arousal crashing through you. Slickness pools in your underwear, and you rub your thighs together instinctually. You nod, your mind still processing the vulgarity of what he’d said.

“Your words,” he reminds you, and you blink a few times, swallowing hard.

“Yes, o-of course, sir,” you say eagerly, eyes fixed on the bulbous head of his cock, sitting less than an inch from your hungry, salivating lips. 

“Good girl.” Joel lands another gentle stroke on your head, reaching back to grasp at the high ponytail sitting atop your crown, wrapping it around his hand in a few swift tugs. He has complete control, his hand firmly pressing your head to close the gap between your soon to be swollen lips and his cock, and you open wide for him, not wanting him to even have to ask, and he doesn’t fail to notice. 

“Eager girl, so good,” he praises, the end trailing into a groan as he slips past your lips, the immediate taste of him on your tongue more than welcome for you. You hum around his girth, the satisfaction filling your soul instantly as he presses on the back of your head, sending you further and further down his shaft. He hits the back of your throat, and he breathes hard, nearly gasping as you try to swallow him down and gag a bit, but Joel smiles crookedly, loving the sound that makes him feel so big and powerful above you.

“Yeah? Chokin’ on this big cock, are you? Bet you love it,” he purrs, his fingers tightening around your hair in his hand, scratching along your scalp. 

“Mmm,” you hum affirmatively around him. Your mouth is so full, jaw stretched and hurting already and you can scarcely breathe with the angle he’s hitting you at. You bob your head, slowly starting to move yourself faster along his cock, and Joel feels impossibly hard inside your mouth. You nearly moan at the feeling of what you alone do to him, your thighs clamping together under your skirt as you feel your warm center start to ache for him.

“Fuck, pretty thing, so good for me, aren’t you? Suckin’ on me like that at work like the little slut you are,” Joel grunts out, his breathing more erratic now. He’s losing himself completely to you, his head thrown back into the chair, panting as you keep up the quick bobbing of your head. 

You continue to take him in deep thrusts, your eyes watering, saliva pooling all around the base of him and starting to drip. Your hand pumps along what your mouth can’t take and you’re becoming a complete mess, tear stained cheeks and gagging noises that only serve to egg Joel on. 

“Fuck, perfect fuckin’ mouth, let me fuck it.” Joel tugs on your ponytail, trying to pull your head back to hear the two words he needs, the two words you’re desperate to say to him. 

You slide yourself up his shaft in a long, slow stroke before popping the head out of your mouth. You gaze up at him, your eyes completely changed and fucked out already for him, and Joel nearly comes at the sight alone. Your hair is starting to become undone in the way it only does when he fucks you, your lips puffy and overused now, and eyes glassy. It’s a sight to behold, absolutely angelic, and Joel feels only pure adoration for you and gratitude that he’s the only man who can gaze upon this exact view any time he wants. 

“Yes, sir,” you say, lapping his head and waiting for him to make the next move. He bucks his hips into your small licks before he tightens his grip on the back of your head, holding you in place as he slides himself back into your warm mouth. He sighs at the feeling and only moves slowly for a few moments to stand up from his chair before he starts to thrust his hips into your mouth with more vigor. 

It sends you reeling, the speed he’s moving in your mouth now, so unrelenting, taking everything he needs from you as you choke around him and try to swallow him down. You feel the ache between your thighs that has been growing reach an apex, your panties undoubtedly completely soaked through now, needing him to touch you, to find some relief for your neglected, throbbing clit.

“I’m gonna come down that pretty throat,” Joel says among his panting breaths, shoving himself into you with a hearty thrust.

You encourage Joel with a tight suck, trying to flick your tongue underneath his shaft as he moves your head. He groans loudly, and you know he’s close, your hands flying up to claw at his thighs and hold on as he slams himself into you. 

“Yeah little doll, gonna come in you, gonna c-“ Joel cuts himself off with a swift groan of pleasure as he bucks forward, spilling himself deep into your throat as promised, painting your throat white with his spend. He holds you in the position, keeping himself buried deep in your mouth as he comes down, breathing heavily. You feel his fingers slowly relax on your head, dropping your ponytail before he plops back into his chair. When you look up, his eyes are closed, head leaning back, and he looks completely blissed out, making you grin in satisfaction. You take care to tuck him back into his pants and he smiles down at you, peeking an eye open. 

“C’mere,” he says softly, patting his lap. You clamber up onto him, letting him press you against his chest as he wraps you in his arms, kissing the side of your cheek and neck. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and you grab his hand in yours, bringing it to your mouth. You kiss along each of his knuckles, carefully giving each spot attention before letting his hand drop and putting both of your hands around his neck, scratching up into his hair. He hums contentedly at that, nuzzling himself into your neck.

“You liked everything I did today?” you ask tentatively, knowing what his answer will be, but you can’t help but seek his praise. After a more intense scene together like today, it feels extra good to hear. 

“Mm, I did, m’pretty doll.” He pauses thoughtfully for a moment, his fingers brushing along your back. “Y’know I wouldn’t change you, right? Change any of this? I want ya just as you are.”

“Oh.” You blink and knit your brows a little, nodding. You flick your eyes to his face, seeing that he’s already studying you. “Yeah, I do. Why’re you asking?”

“Jus’ makin’ sure. Too much damn chatter in this office today. All I care ‘bout is you knowin’ you’re my perfect girl.”

You sigh happily and plant a kiss where your head lays on him. “I’m so glad you liked it, I just wanted to do a good job for you.”

Joel makes a low, understanding sound and nods. “Y’did. Bet my baby is all worked up though, isn’t she? Needs a reward for being such a good girl today.”

You practically start to salivate at the words, good girl and reward in the same sentence always seem to lead to glorious things with Joel. You bite the inside of your lip, not sure if you should show him how suddenly eager you are, but a small shift from you in his lap tells him everything he needs to know. He chuckles, low and reverberating across his chest before he grabs your ass, moving you so that you’re straddling his thigh. One hand stays on your ass, and the other comes to cup near your lower belly, the one splayed on your behind starting to push you forward first. His hand on your belly pushes you back, encouraging you to use his thigh while he raptly watches your features screw up into pleasure.

You breathe in shakily at the miniscule amount of pressure on your clit already, immediately tightening around nothing as you start to move yourself in time with his hands as they manipulate you. You feel the build up already of a quickly approaching orgasm, your breath shallowing and erratic now as you quietly moan his name. Your eyes roll back and flutter shut as you grind harder, and just as you feel yourself cresting that sweet cliff into pure bliss, Joel holds tightly to both sides of you, stopping you. You nearly gasp, a frustrated grunt flying past your lips before you can stop it, your hips wiggling but to no avail - you can’ get enough friction now, enough pressure to send you into the pleasurable oblivion you’re craving.

“P-please,” you whine, a sob threatening to break out of your throat as your cunt weeps and aches desperately for him.

“Now…” Joel starts, his lips brushing your neck, beard and mustache tickling you and sending another wave of arousal to your core. “If you’re good jus’ a little longer, do what I say, I’ll give you your reward, mkay?” He talks smoothly and slowly, his words hitting you deep inside as you whimper, trying to grind down on him again, barely able to listen to him through the needy fog clouding your mind.

“C’mon, little doll, know y’want more than jus’ this, comin’ on my leg, don’t you?” He pulls back from your neck and puts a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyebrows raise just slightly in expectation of your answer, and you purse your lips a little but nod. 

“I need it,” you whisper quietly, your face scrunched up slightly in need as you finally still on Joel’s lap. 

“I know y’can do it, doll,” Joel assures you, his hand curling around your face and to the side of your head, smoothing your hair back. 

“Okay… w-what do I need to do for my reward?”

“You’re gonna head on home, I’ll be maybe thirty minutes, an hour behind ya while I wrap up here and sneak out early.” Joel pauses and you watch his face intently, brows twitching to hear the next part of his plan. 

“You’re gonna put on that little blue set with the flowers, you know the one right?”

You nod quickly and mutely for him, lips pressed tightly together, enraptured by his words. You feel your heart fluttering, beating faster already.

“Words, darlin’,” he presses you, and you pop your mouth open. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Lay in bed an’ wait for me jus’ wearing that. No touchin’ yourself, no coming until I get to you, you understand?” Joel thumbs where he holds your chin before squeezing it possessively. 

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. You do all of that, and you get your reward,” Joel says, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards in satisfaction at the way you’re eating up his words, sitting with baited breath. 

You don’t even have to ask him what the reward might be, knowing Joel, knowing it will be well worth whatever short torture you’ll have to put yourself through while you wait for him. You can’t say some parts of your body seem on board, your pussy still fluttering, slick, and longing for Joel even as you try to accept that you won’t be able to do anything about it for a while yet.

“I can do it,” you tell Joel finally, trying to straighten yourself and exude confidence, rolling your shoulders back. 

“Okay, then. Home now, doll. And do as I said.” Joel gives your ass a firm spanking before releasing you from his lap, letting you slide off. The both of you, unable to help yourselves, quickly glance down to catch a glimpse of the spot on his pants where you’d just been seated, and Joel’s wry expression at the dark, slick stain from you makes you need to take a deep breath, remind yourself of your new mission.

“See you at home,” you say with a stern nod, pulling yourself together. When you leave the office, you have a renewed confidence, nothing like you felt when you’d walked in here earlier to those critical eyes following you. You feel an extra bounce in your step, passing by the secretary who has one of those particular pairs of eyes. You meet her stare as you walk up to where she’s seated, and you adjust your ponytail, knowing it’s quite obviously much more messy than when you’d arrived from Joel’s hands as he’d fucked into your face like it was his salvation.

“Have a great afternoon,” you chirp at her, a genuine smile shot her way as you pass by.

She gives you a faltering smile in return and her words trail after you as you don’t bother to stop on your way to the elevator. “You too…”

You’re patiently waiting, your whole body taut and anxious as you lay back against the pillows of the bed, sighing. You fiddle with the straps of your lingerie, glancing down to make sure everything is sitting just right on your body for Joel when you hear the front door opening in the distance. You smile to yourself devilishly, your heart thumping and skipping in your chest. You listen carefully, wanting to hear the exact moment Joel approaches you after this long, arduous wait. You’d ghosted your fingers over yourself too many times, always stopping yourself at the last minute before you took it too far, not wanting to disappoint Joel. You know that he’d know, somehow. He could tell the minute he walked in the house, you’d bet - your guilt would permeate every room in the house if you’d disobeyed what he’d asked of you.

It left you a nearly shaking mess, vibrating with excitement as you hear Joel milling around downstairs, the refrigerator opening and the familiar sound of a bottle of beer being opened. You frown slightly, wondering if he’s going to keep up your torturous wait for him until you hear him ascending the stairs. You prop one leg up and drape your hands along your thighs, spreading your baby pink manicured fingers across the skin there, cocking your head and glancing towards the door. The bed faces the door and Joel gets an eyeful of you the moment he appears in the frame, his gaze roaming hungrily over you. He leans one arm on the doorframe, beer in the other hand, observing you from afar.

“Were you good?” he asks, taking a long swig from the bottle.

You nod, whispering a yes to him.

“I know, can tell,” he says, not bothering to explain how he’d know, but you believe him.

“Wanted my reward,” you say meekly, shifting your legs restlessly on the bed.

Joel approaches the bed silently, feet moving purposefully lazily underneath him. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing the top of his chest, and your eyes linger there, catching his curls of hair now peeking out of the top. He takes one more swig before he sets the beer on top of your dresser. He shrugs his shirt off and climbs onto the bed, crawling towards you. His heavy, muscled form keeps you in place as he straddles you, bringing his face only inches from yours.

“You try to touch yourself?” he asks with a little more bite to his tone. His lips find the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose as he speaks. 

“A-almost. But I didn’t, I swear,” you say a little too quickly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Thas’ right,” Joel breathes, inching closer to your lips with softening eyes. “My good little wife.”

He brushes his lips against yours and you shudder and moan, the anticipation that’s been building for hours now nearly at a breaking point. Your hips lift off the bed and Joel moves his hands from where they were bracketing your head to your hips, tight and commanding as he stops you from grinding into him.

He slips away from your face, moving down your body towards your aching heat, observing the lingerie you’re wearing along the way. His mouth brushes along the swell of your breasts covered in the lacy, flowery, sheer fabric. 

“This looks perfect on ya, sweetheart.” He smirks against your skin and sucks, leaving a mark on each breast before he slides his lips down your stomach, stopping before he reaches the apex of your thighs.

You whine quietly to yourself, and Joel continues to take his time, a finger sliding under the strap of your panties. His eyes drift between your legs and his eyebrows raise.

“Babydoll, you’ve been makin’ a mess again,” Joel tuts, making a greedy little sound in the back of his throat. You can feel how wet you are for him, how you had been practically non stop since you’d left his office and somehow made it home, changed into this bra and panties, and laid down in bed, all of it in a strange fog, only able to focus on getting to this point, to Joel.

You crane your head to see what he’s looking at, the dark stain on your underwear, no doubt full of your slick arousal. Your face warms at him looking at it so intently, seeing just how wretchedly desperate you are for him, that this simple promise of a reward could have made you gush and gush for him.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, tracing his finger along the wet spot, leaving you to shudder again with a hitch of your breath. “Is it all for me, hm? All of this?” Joel’s finger slips underneath the fabric, running his finger along your slit and the inside fabric of your panties, gathering up your arousal.

“Mhm, mhm,” you nod eagerly at his teasing, completely intoxicated by him now.

“Tell me,” he demands, circling your clit a few times, and you cry out.

“It’s all yours.” Your eyes squeeze shut and you buck into his light touches, feeling like your entire being is on fire from the inside out, the intensity of need for Joel becoming nearly sickening, like you’d do anything to keep his attention right now. And you know at the end of the day, you would. 

“What is? What’s all mine, little doll?” He speaks so assuredly, so languidly, like he could tease you all day like this and not be bothered. You know he would, too, if that was what would get him off that day, and you shudder to think that could be the case today.

“M-me, my pussy, it’s all yours. Only yours, sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Joel sighs, moving his finger to his mouth and licking it clean in a slow, long stroke. He slowly, tantalizingly pulls your panties down your legs and you feel relief coursing through you that you’re getting that much closer to what you need from him.

Joel takes in the now bare bottom half of your body as he tosses your underwear on the floor. He moves swiftly, grabbing your sides and flipping your body so that you’re straddling his chest and he’s lying underneath you. He begins to pull you forward without a word, inching your aching heat closer to his mouth.

“Better soak my face, y’hear me?” he says before bringing you down and licking a flat, wide stripe up your slit and you cry out.

“Yes!” you call out suddenly, answering his question as you’re overtaken by the warm sensation of his mouth. He knows you so well, knows your body, what you respond to, and he dives right in, flicking his tongue perfectly over your clit a few times, drawing circles over it. You whine, your knees wobbling on either side of his head as you grip the sheets. You can tell you’re already doing exactly what Joel asked of you - there’s what feels like an impossible amount of slickness between your legs, and you can hear the lewd, pornographic sounds as he laps and sucks around your pussy. When his tongue pushes inside of you, you roll your eyes as your hips involuntarily thrust forward into it.

He pulls out for a moment, his breathing heavy against your cunt as he speaks. “What, you wanna fuck my tongue, d’ya, like a dirty little slut?” You nod, forgetting Joel can’t see it, and he tuts. “Answer me, little doll, use your words.”

“Yes, yes, please, let me fuck your face,” you practically sob, your lips going dry as you try to lick them back to life. It’s no use, your mouth drying all over again from the panting breaths Joel is bringing out of you.

“Fuck, dirty thing, such a whore for me, ain’t you?” You feel yourself fluttering around nothing, desperate for him to fill your aching, tightening little hole again.

“Yes, sir, I’m your whore. P-please…” you say, and Joel growls before his tongue pushes back into you, and he gathers your ass in his palms his fingers squeezing both globes tight enough to bruise, and he starts to lift you up and down, controlling the pace that you get to fuck his face. It’s dizzying as you feel him sliding in and out of you, your body bouncing on top of him, completely out of your control.

“F-ff-uck,” you moan, “My - my clit, Joel, I’m so close,” you cry feebly, barely able to get the words out. Joel pushes his nose inward, making sure it’s rubbing your clit each time he snaps your hips back down onto his face.

“Oh, right there, riiight there, yes!” you scream, and Joel goes harder as he senses you tensing up, your cunt pulsating and starting to quiver around his tongue. If anything, he starts to pull your hips down harder each time, and your eyes roll back as you squeeze them shut, your vision going bright white while your entire body responds to the pleasure. You feel your brain go fuzzy and your skin burning with the need for him finally releasing, his name falling from your lips over and over again. 

Joel slows the thrusts a bit at a time, letting you ride the heavenly aftershocks into his mouth until you can barely take it anymore and you find yourself squirming to throw yourself onto the bed next to him. Joel lets you go and you roll over onto your back, panting with your eyes shut.

Joel is instantly on you again, wrapping an arm around your chest and kissing the side of your face. Your body still craves more of him, so you turn to meet his lips, tasting yourself on them and feeling how wet his beard is while it rubs against your skin. It’s igniting something dirty and primal and feral inside of you to have your own arousal on your tongue as it dances into Joel’s mouth. 

His hand drifts to your breast, groping it and sliding a hand underneath your bra, running a thumb over your nipple. You whine when he tugs it harder and roll your body to lay on your side and get closer to him. Your hips start to grind on his leg, already seeking more friction from him again. 

“Need me to fuck this little pussy so bad, huh?” Joel says against your lips, the vibration of his low baritone tickling your bottom lip. 

“Mhm,” you practically whisper, a moan catching in your throat when he shoves a hand between your bodies directly to the apex of your thighs. He brushes his fingers along your overly sensitive clit and you twitch your hips into it. 

“I missed you…” you say quietly as you put your hands to his belt and start to unbuckle it. You don’t even realize how absurd the words are, how short a time you’ve been apart from Joel to be saying that, but it was true. You’d keep Joel in this bed all to yourself if you could, if he never had to leave the house for work. 

“My poor little doll, needin’ me to come fuck her senseless, waitin’ so patiently,” Joel says sympathetically while you work on freeing his cock, sending it slapping out and onto your belly as you press closer to him. He’s irritatingly calm and collected, knowing it’s driving you even madder with need and lust for him. 

He pulls your thigh up over his leg as you lay facing each other, and he presses his cock between your legs, rubbing through your oversensitive folds and enjoying how quickly he’s covered in slick arousal. Your eyes roll back and you whimper, your pussy aching and tender, but needing him inside of you all the same.

He rolls you flat on your back and presses his lips to your neck, sucking gently and flicking his tongue over the little sore spots he’s making. You squirm your hips in search of him, and he grabs under your legs, pulling them up by the knees to wrap around his hips. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, feeling him teasing your entrance, the bulbous head nearly bursting into you, giving you what you want. He retreats, looking down to see you purse your lips and huff out in frustration. 

When he finally pushes his length inside of you, inch by deliciously tortuous inch until you’re full of him and he’s pressing himself against your deepest parts you moan out shakily. 

He moves slowly, dragging his cock in and out of you as you clench and unclench around him. You’re sure that the fluttering you’re doing around his length is making Joel crazy, but he’s not showing it, and you both love and hate just how easily you fall apart for him while he can remain so composed for you. 

“Yeah, that good, baby? That what you wanted? Or you need to be drunk on this cock, have me fuck your tight little hole till it’s all used up?” He pushes down on your shoulders, sinking you down into the mattress as he keeps up his frustratingly slow pace.

“Shit, Joel, use me, please,” you cry out, grasping at the sheets and arching your body into him. He moves suddenly, with a gracefulness and speed you sometimes forget that he has as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and starts to jackhammer into you. 

It’s only then that you see it on his face, the way he falls apart for you, when you freely give yourself to him, tell him to use you. He contorts his face, sweat starting to gleam on his forehead as he ruts into you over and over, sending you bouncing towards the edge of the bed with his rough movements in and out of you. 

Use me use me use me you chant under your breath like a sacred prayer to him, feeling your head starting to go off the side of the bed, hanging down while you lose yourself to Joel’s cock, eyes glazing over and vision swimming. 

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” Joel snips, a hand shooting out to grab at your throat, pressing you further against the side of the bed. You choke out a moan as he squeezes and grunts, simultaneously taking and giving to you in hard, frenzied jerks of his hips. “Can’t b-be gettin’ away from me, gotta let me use this pussy up, ‘member?”

You can’t speak, can’t reply, can barely even think in full words as you feel him fold your body in half further, pressing on the spongy part inside of you every time he pushes inside of you, his balls slapping loudly against your ass with each movement. You can only croak out moaning sobs as the pressure inside of you builds to a burning, aching release. He squeezes your throat harder and you break, crying out in your strangled, little voice as you gush, your entire body shaking uncontrollably underneath him. 

Your cunt spasms so hard around him your hips start to arch, but he urges them back down with his free hand, using it to anchor himself and fuck into you harder, chasing his own high along with yours as your walls squeeze him. You can feel so much of him, every bit of his length fucking into you as you try to milk his orgasm out of him, fluttering repeatedly. 

“T-too much, f-fuck,” you cry out in a rasp, “Joel, fuck me, I’m g-gonna -“ you’re cut off by your own desperate, screeching moan as you soak everything, cumming hard around his cock and squirting, covering Joel’s jeans, the sheets, everything. You shudder as you come down and feel Joel still jacking himself off furiously inside your tight, spent cunt, grunting and cursing. 

“So fuckin’ messy, fuckin’ filthy ain’t you, doll,” Joel mumbles as he slams into you with a few hard thrusts. He groans long and low before shoving himself as deep as he can, releasing your throat and spilling himself, claiming you as he paints your walls with his cum. 

You’re gasping for air from the intensity of everything, slick with sweat all over and your combined spends between your legs as Joel pulls out and immediately gathers you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. 

“Sweet little doll,” he mumbles, his lips ghosting across your hairline. “You’re good?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out confidently, barely able to open your eyes except to peek at Joel’s concerned eyes settling back into satisfaction as he runs his fingers down your bare arm, goosebumps cropping up at his touch. You shiver a little as your sweat starts to dry and Joel pulls you in even tighter, nuzzling your neck. 

“You were such a good girl today, y’know that?” Joel says softly as he attaches his lips to the skin underneath your jawline. 

“I was?” you ask shyly, popping your eyes open to look at him in questioning. 

“Mm, of course, thank you for helpin’ me today.” Joel moves so the two of you are propped up on the pillows, legs stretched down the bed and intertwined together. “Never would take you for granted - the lunches, the sweet girl I got, y’know all that?”

“I know, I know,” you say soothingly, cupping your hand around his cheek. “You give me everything, Joel, it’s the least I could do.”

“I'm gonna have to argue and say you do that, do everythin’,” Joel says, a half smile tugging the corner of his lips as his eyes sparkle mischievously now. You pinch his nose and squeeze it, scrunching your face at him in disapproval.

“Agree to disagree?” you say, one of your phrases for when you know that it’ll be a completely fruitless faux argument, that neither one of you will admit that the other is the more perfect spouse. You know deep down that it isn’t even close to the point anyways, that the only thing that matters is how perfect you both feel being together. Your heart warms along with your body as you feel your husband so close, exhaustion overtaking you from the roller coaster of a day you’d had with him and your eyes flutter shut again. 

“Agree to disagree, darlin’.” Joel sighs, tilting your face up to his. 

He kisses you, and the thought flashes through your mind that you’d never choose it to be any other way, any other person in the entire world to make you feel this giddy, this desired, this… like yourself. 

taglist: @aphterthoughtt @bbyanarchist @amy172 @hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito @msmorningstaarr @kamcrazy123 @madhere @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups

(sorry i haven't been updating as much to everyone who reads my stories, i've been going through a lot of insecurity lately and it's been hard for me to be inspired when i'm comparing myself to others or just being an insecure mess so anyway ty for bearing with me)

[jobean12-blog]

The Road to Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 3,008

Summary: You work at the local bar and things are usally pretty boring and quiet until you get a new customer who appears to be a grump but when it comes to you it’s a whole different story...

Author’s Note: So Pedro’s new Esquire shoot nearly killed me but also inspired me and thanks to my lovely friends @beccablogsthings​ @laineyreads​ @justkinsey​ for sharing their amazing brains and thoughts I did my first AU with Joel. And thank you to my sweet Ali @flordeamatista​ for sharing some extra goodies with me to help! This one photo belong just screamed Biker AU, between the tight pants and leather jacket...I mean🥵Anyway, enough of my rambling! Thank you all so much for reading! Much lovel always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets🥰

Warnings: softness and fluff, lots of flirting and protective!Joel 

Thanks to Esquire for the photo below: 

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Why are biker dudes always so grumpy?”

You turn to your friend Jade and it takes you a moment to realize why she made her comment. You follow her line of sight to the small group of bikers that are playing pool at the back end of the bar.

“They look like they’re having fun,” you reply.

“Not that guy,” Jade says, discreetly motioning to the one sitting on the last stool closest to the pool tables.

His legs are spread wide under the bar top, his jeans clinging to his thick thighs like a second skin and his heavy black leather boots resting on the stool’s bottom bar. The leather jacket he’s wearing is tight along his broad shoulders and worn and soft looking in all the right places.

You don’t answer her and keep your eyes on him, unabashedly letting your gaze wander down his body and back up again.

When you reach his face he’s staring back.

And he smirks.

“Ok never mind,” Jade giggles. “He smiles but apparently only at you.”

You give him a small wave and smile before turning to your friend. “What?”

“Exactly,” she answers with a grin. “Do you know him?”

“Oh she knows him,” you other friend Dan sings as he whizzes by, precariously balancing several drinks in his hands.

“Who?” you ask, still lost in your haze of lewd thoughts.

“The biker dude…the one that only smiles at you,” Jade repeats. “Dan says you know him.”

“Dan…?”

Dan runs by again. “You know…your biker boyfriend that’s been coming in every weekend for the last month. Poor Jade has been missing out on all the fun because she usually works weeknights.”

Dan’s gone again before you can add that the hot biker is not your boyfriend. Unfortunately.

“Oh,” you exclaim as you move down the bar and grab empty glasses. “That’s Joel…and he’s not a dude. That, my friends, is a man.”

“Mm you’re right,” Jade agrees, grinning harder. “And you clearly have the hots for him.”

“What?” you say again, the empty beer mugs clanking in your hands.

“She so does,” Dan says, blowing you a kiss before he starts helping a customer.

“Is it possible for you to form a coherent thought when he’s in the same room?” Jade teases.

You huff and blow a raspberry in her direction. “It’s Dan’s fault. He keeps doing fly bys!”

Both you and Jade cover your mouths to stifle your giggles and Dan looks over with his own mischievous smile.

After cleaning up the bar and collecting any stray tips you slide up next to Jade as she fills some mugs.

“I think the biker dudes,” and you laugh after saying it, “need some refills.”

“Great, that’s all you babe,” she says. “I have to see this.”

You roll your eyes and saunter over to the pool tables, making your rounds and asking who wants what. When you reach Joel he leans back on his stool, one large hand still curled around his glass of whiskey and the other now resting on his thigh.

“Hey sunshine,” he says.

“Hi Joel. Can I get you another?”

Your eyes slide to his empty glass before settling back on his face. He studies you, his eyes glittering.

“How much longer is your shift?” he asks.

“Another hour or so,” you answer, raising your brows at his seemingly random question.

“Then I’ll have another,” he says, nodding his head in thanks.

You reach for his empty glass, your fingers brushing along his rough knuckles and you suck in a breath at the sensation, your lips parted when you catch his knowing smile.

You hurry off and try to brush past Jade but she follows you all the way down the bar with Dan in tow.

“He’s still smiling,” she says with glee.

“HE IS!” Dan squeals.

“Is he?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yep,” Jade replies, popping the p.

With a new glass of whiskey you walk back to Joel, trying to ignore the feel of your friends eyes on your back and their distant chatter.

“Here you go, anything else?” you ask him.

“Thanks sunshine,” he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass as he takes a long sip.

His neck muscles flex with every swallow and you watch the chords shift as he tilts his head back, finishing it in one long gulp.

“I’ll take one more,” he winks and licks his lips.

“You got it,” you breathe out and practically run off, forgetting to take his empty glass.

After serving Joel his third drink you check on the other guys before making the rest of your rounds. Once everyone has a drink in hand you start to wipe down the bar.

“We need some music,” Jade says when she starts to help.

Dan agrees with enthusiasm and you say, “good idea. I’ll be right back.”  

You walk toward the old Juke Box and start to shuffle through the songs.

Just when you think you’ve decided on a song you feel a presence behind you and turn to see your ex smiling at you.

“Jeff?”

“Hey baby,” he croons, reaching for you.

You step out of his grasp and put some distance between the two of you.

He makes a face, his expression losing it’s smile and turning hard.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him, taking a step back for every step he takes toward you.

“Came to see you,” he drawls. “Missed you.”

“Jeff,” you warn. “It’s over. It’s been over. You need to leave.”

You don’t even notice that the bar’s gone quiet and everyone is watching the scene unfold. Jade and Dan rush out from behind the bar to go to you but Joel stands from his seat and motions for them to stay put.

Jeff reaches for you again, this time wrapping his large hand around your arm and yanking you closer.

“Don’t embarrass me baby,” he growls.

“Get your hands off of me,” you hiss, trying to pull away.

“You heard her,” a gruff voice says from bedside you. “Hands off.”

You turn to see Joel standing next to you, his expression cold and hard as he stares at Jeff.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jeff asks, looking Joel up and down.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joel answers, folding his large arms across his chest. “She doesn’t want you touchin’ her. Now get your hands off her before I break ‘em.”

Jeff’s grip loosens with his surprise and you rip yourself away.

Joel eyes shift to you.  “You ok darlin’?”

You nod and take a step toward Joel.

“This your new man?” Jeff snarls as he clenches his fists.

“That’s none of your business,” Joel answers for you. “Now get out.”

Without warning Jeff lunges at Joel but he’s not quick enough and before you can even figure out what happened, Jeff is laid out on the floor, holding his jaw and muttering curses. The rest of the bikers are now standing behind Joel, their expressions menacing as Joel bends down and gets into Jeff’s face.

“She doesn’t want you anymore. And when a lady tells you to get your hands off, you get your hands off…you understand me?”

Jeff just stares at Joel with hatred, his teeth gritted.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growls.

Jeff’s eyes move to the rest of the bikers and he sits up, spitting on the floor.

“Yea, I heard ya,” he grunts. “She ain’t worth it anyway.”

Jeff jumps to his feet and gives you one last disgusted look before striding out of the bar. Joel goes to follow him but you grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

His face softens and he closes his fingers around yours.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks again.

“Where are you going?”

“He can’t talk to you like that,” Joel grits out, taking a step away.

“Please,” you say quietly. “He’s the one that’s not worth it.”

Joel studies you for a long moment, his gaze intense and when he sees your eyes start to water he tilts his head in understanding and gently wraps an arm around your waist.

“Alright sunshine. I won’t. But if I ever see him come near you again…”

“I give you permission to totally kick his ass,” you say, trying to hide your face as you wipe away a stray tear.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, pulling you away from the Juke box toward a more secluded spot. “It’s ok darlin. He didn’t hurt you did he?”

Joel glances at your arm but thankfully there are no marks where Jeff grabbed you.

“No, just scared me more than anything.”

“Ok then,” Joel says softly. “You ok to finish your shift?”

“Yea definitely. It’s a good distraction.”

Joel smiles and you lean into him, the smell of spice and leather enveloping your senses, and kiss his scruffy cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime sunshine,” he says with a wink.

Once Dan and Jade are convinced you’re ok they both start swooning over how Joel stepped in and punched Jeff.

“I wish I could have seen it,” you say almost dreamily. “I was just so stunned by it all it never even registered.”

“Well, I saw it,” Dan says, “and let me tell you…it was HOT.”

You see Jade glance behind you and your eyes go wide.

“Will you two quit it! He’s going to think I’m crazy!” you chide.

The rest of your shift is uneventful and as you’re walking out of the back room, bag in hand, you search for Joel but much to your disappointment you don’t see him anywhere in the bar.

“He walked out while you were getting your things,” Jade says lightly, as if she can sense your disappointment. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

“Yea,” you answer vaguely. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”

You hug Dan and Jade before walking toward the door, your head down as you start to make your way down the street.

“Where are you runnin’ off to sunshine?”

At the sound of Joel’s voice you whirl around and find him leaning against his motorcycle.

“Home,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

His legs are crossed at the ankles and his hands are resting along his bike. His mussed hair moves gently in the light breeze and his jacket is unzipped to reveal his tight black tee beneath.

He’s making it hard to concentrate.

“Let me give you a ride,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen and he pushes off the bike, walking over and standing in your space.

He reaches up to take your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to gently press them against your palm. That’s when you see his knuckles, torn up and crusted with dried blood.

“Joel,” you gasp, flipping your hand to hold his and delicately grazing his knuckles.

He slowly follows your gaze, offering you a lopsided smirk before he assures you, “I’m fine sunshine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“But you need to clean it and wrap it,” you tell him closing your hand around his.

“Let me take ya home and then I’ll get it taken care of.”

“I’ve never ridden a bike before,” you admit.

Joel dips his head, brushing his lips along your jaw before they meet your ear.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, darlin.”

Your lips part with your inhale and when he brings his head back and meets your eyes you tremble at the heat you find simmering.

Joel tears his eyes away to grab his helmet from the handlebars and puts it on your head. He fixes the straps carefully and gently, like you’re precious, and it makes you feel warm all over.

“You’re gonna need a jacket too,” he says.

“I didn’t bring one. It’s usually warm when I walk home.”

“You can have mine.”

He shrugs off his leather jacket and rests it over your shoulders, the worn and soft leather molding to your body and wrapping you in his distinct scent.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or long-sleeved shirt and when you catch sight of the tattoos lining his sculpted arms it just about sends you reeling.

You breathe out a curse.

“You okay?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips.

“I like your ink,” you tell him, reaching out to trace your fingertips over one of the pieces that covers his bicep.

“You should see the rest of them,” he simpers.

His muscle flexes under your touch and you instinctively dig your fingers into his skin.

“I’d like that,” you hum.

This time he mutters a curse and starts to help you into his jacket, zipping it up slowly and stopping just below your collarbone.

“That should keep ya warm enough,” he muses, looking you over.

“I like you in my jacket,” he murmurs, letting his eyes linger before he checks the straps on your helmet one more time.

Then he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth before he turns and throws one long leg over his bike.

You tell him your address and get on behind him, having seen enough movies to know that much, and spread your legs wide to accommodate the large bike and his hips.

Unsure of where to put your arms you’re thankful when he grabs your hands and pulls them around his middle.

“Hold on tight, sunshine,” he says. “Tap my stomach if you need me to stop and watch the pipes, they get hot.”

He looks down at the large chrome pipes on the side of the bike.

“Okay,” you reply, your voice slightly shaky with nerves.

You bury your face against his back, the thin material of his tee shirt doing little to hide the muscles beneath but before you can really enjoy the feeling the bike roars to life and he pulls away from the sidewalk.

Your whole body vibrates with the action and the sensation makes you squeeze him tighter. You can feel his laughter just before he opens the throttle and takes off.

He takes the long way to your house and when he slows down and kills the engine you still don’t let go of him.

With a press of his palm to your hands you reluctantly let go, your legs wobbly as you try to hop off the bike. He quickly grabs your waist and helps you off, sliding one hand along your arm until he holds your hand in his.

“So?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“That was kinda fun…I’d do it again.”

At that, he gives you a real smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“That’s good sunshine. I’ll take you for a ride anytime you want.”

His last words come out like a purr and you’re glad for the hold he has on your hand to keep you standing upright.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and lower your lashes, tugging him toward your house. You stop at the door and pull your bag in front of you, searching for your keys.

“I can’t seem to find my damn…” you start to mutter, ready to turn your bag over and dump it out.

With a frustrated sigh you turn to face him, finding very little space between your bodies. You realize there is nowhere to go as you press yourself into the door, Joel’s body almost touching yours.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his hand around your bicep and the other wrapping around your neck as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.

Your bag drops to the floor and you cling to him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands on your body holding you against him and it all overpowers you and you make a throaty sound you can’t control.

His hand at the back of your neck tightens and he groans low, the sound of it skimming down your spine. His kiss grows deeper and more demanding, long enough to steal your breath and you slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His own are dark, his lashes lowered over them as he traces his lips with his tongue. His hands settle at your waist and he rests his forehead to yours.

“Joel?” you whisper.

When he lifts his head he gently releases you, his eyes washing over you with a slightly pained expression.  

“I’m a gentleman,” he says with a wry smile. “Let me at least take you out first.”

Everything about him screams that he wants to kiss you again but somehow he keeps his distance.

“Right, a date,” you says breathlessly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy hair.

Before you’ve fully recovered from the first kiss he has you pressed against the door again, his thumb tucked under your chin as his lips trail down the column of your neck. His hands slide lower, stroking your curves as his lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if I don’t go now…”

“Right…a gentleman…” you gasp, arching into him.

He pulls away, his eyes telling you everything he’s thinking.

Your knees are wobbly and you catch the doorframe with a sigh.

“Thank you again. For coming to my rescue.”

“Like I said, anytime sunshine,” he reminds you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow…”

It’s more of a question than a statement and for a brief moment you see a soft vulnerability flicker across his features.

“Of course,” you answer. “My shift starts at five.”

You lift your hand, brushing your fingers through his beard and then running them across the lines of his face, feeling the softness of his lips beneath your thumb. He reaches up and catches your hand, tugging it to his mouth and kissing across your knuckles.

“See you then sunshine and keep the jacket.”

@justkinsey @sstan-hoe​ @blackwidownat2814​

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 3: Handob & Fingering - Joel Miller

Summary: It was hard being single during the apocalypse so you craved those moments to yourself where you could find pleasure, but one day Joel finds you in your most intimate of situations.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, masturbation, caught, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, handjob

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

It started innocently enough but soon morphed into desperation, fueled by lust and need. The apocalypse had changed everything. Not knowing if loved ones would survive, and most of the time, they didn’t. Loneliness was writhe and soul-crushing.

But on the rare occasion, you’d find someone on the road. Someone who didn’t want to murder or steal what little belongings you’d collected over the previous months of travelling.

This was how you met the group that had allowed you the companionship and safety to travel with. Everyone most kept to themselves, but one in particular had caught your eye, even though neither one of you had spoken even a single sentence to the other. The man who’d caught your eye, Joel, seemed to spend all his time brooding in the corner, communicating with grunts and side eyes.

For months, you’d stayed with the group, and with the realisation that you didn’t need to be on guard 24 hours a day, other needs soon began to return to your body, which only increased with Joel around. 

It was just a harmless crush that fueled your quiet moments to yourself, thinking about the older man, his warm brown eyes that reminded you of large mugs of coffee, the shades of grey that faded throughout his hair and stubble over his handsome face. Even with his standoffish personality, you were drawn to him, finding his roguish behaviour and overprotective tendencies something you were drawn to.

Every other day, you’d give yourself the luxury of finding a quiet corner of wherever everyone was camping and slip your fingers into your underwear. It wasn’t that exciting, however, as you always had to keep a gun up and steady with your dominant hand, so getting off with the other took more time and didn’t hit the spot as you needed it.

It was challenging, to say the least. That is until Joel accidentally discovered you.

You’d tried to be discreet when you moved away from where the camp was situated within the forest, moving far away that you couldn’t hear anyone but close enough that if you screamed or called for help, they could hear. Finding a suitable tree, you sat on the forest floor, the chill already settling into your body from not moving around, but as your hand delved into your jeans, you soon began to warm.

Your lower lip was trapped between your teeth to try and keep any moans at a low volume. Two fingers were pushed deep into your warm hole when a tree branch snapped from being stepped on a few steps away. Instantly, you were on high alert, gun pointing in the direction to find Joel, who had decided to suddenly stumble into the hidden wooden area, worried that you had moved away from the group without backup.

The older man’s hands, including his gun, were raised to show that he was friendly and didn’t mean any harm. Those deep, honeyed eyes that you often thought of were flicking between your other hand and your face.

You didn’t know what to do. Embarrassed and wanting the ground to swallow you whole, even though some of you rationalised that this was a normal bodily function to do, you were sure he probably did the same thing to himself when he had a moment alone.

“Do you want me to keep watch?” Joel's voice was deeper than usual, husky and accent thick with his southern drawl. You blink up at him, confused and two fingers still deep inside of yourself as you open and close your mouth, unsure what to say.

“What?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“I could keep watch”, Joel continued, “You know, so you don’t have to hold the gun up; I’ll make sure nothing and no one interrupts” he nodded his head towards your still-raised gun as he spoke, his face neutral so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Blinking your gaze away from him, the hand holding the gun lowered, deeming him no longer a threat. How on earth was Joel casually standing there, offering to keep watch while you masturbated? Unable to think of a normal response, for example, saying no and walking away and never speaking of the event, was probably what most people would do. But for some reason, in the post-apocalyptic odd world, you confidently look him in the eyes and say, “Fine”.

Joel didn’t speak again; he held his gun tighter and turned away, walking away and out of your eye. You could still hear his thick leather boots scuffing along the floor, but even that was at a reasonable distance, and if you tried to concentrate and listen for something.

Slowly, your gun was dropped to the floor, with complete confidence that he could protect you from any interference. With your dominant hand free now, you could get yourself off significantly easier than the previous times, but also, it may have been to the fact that Joel fricking Miller was within earshot and knew precisely what you were doing. With your fingers curling inside of you and massaging your clit in firm quick circles, your underwear was soaked with slick juices as you came.

Your lip was slightly swollen from having bitten it, so hard to keep your moans quietened, and even your knees felt unsteady as you stood and attempted to clean yourself. However, it was the middle of the forest, so the best that could have been done was to wipe your fingers on your jeans and deal with the dampness of your underwear.

Even though your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest as it thumped violently with anxiety, you tried to remain bold as you walked past Joel and told him, “If you want me to do the same for you, just let me know”.

This was how it all started, almost daily. The two of you would usually be on guard duty together, but you had a sneaky suspicion that Joel asked for it to be this way, and the two of you would stop on your travels and separately masturbate whilst the other stood guard.

With the additional time together during the guarding, you became more comfortable with him, talking endlessly that your little crush had manifested into something more before long. Not that you’d ever tell him; it was like a secret game for yourself, especially as you both could spend hours upon hours together and knowing when he was masturbating sent joy and heat through your entire body.

This only meant that you wanted to see how far you could take it, especially with the strain disappearing as the friendship formed. Your teeth were no longer chewing your lip as you didn’t cover your moans. Not that you would scream through your orgasm; you weren’t willing to risk that with the dangers surrounding wherever you travelled. However, it was just enough that you knew Joel could hear, especially as he would let out his husky moans as he pleasured himself.

Eventually, it got to the point where if one of you masturbated, the other would have to do it immediately due to the arousal of listening to the other. It was becoming a cat-and-mouse game, hardly even waiting for the other to clean up before shoving them out of the room or area to go and keep watch. This only became more dangerous with being caught as you’d begun to entirely remove your jeans and underwear whilst masturbating.

When you kept them on, the trapped space would cause your hands to ache from being confided and trying to find your deep, pleasurable angles. You used the excuse of needing the freedom, but it was mostly to try and lure Joel closer, which mostly worked.

Guarding from a distance became increasingly shorter until the other person was just standing at the entrance to the room or only a step away. Guns still raised in preparation, eyes darting anywhere but the masturbating individual.

However, as the weeks passed, this soon turned into eye contact, fingers pumping or stroking until completion.

The next step in the relationship - friendship - whatever it was. You were unsure as to who made the decision, the one that had been lingering on the edge of being a step too far and never being able to recover from it. Now, you and Joel would sit together and masturbate.

This new development gave you new discoveries. 1. You would orgasm embarrassingly quickly when you were sat staring at Joel’s cock and face as he touched himself. And 2. You were utterly obsessed with Joel’s cock.

Of course, he had a handsome face, but his cock was perfect, in your opinion. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. It slightly curved up, giving you more lustful thoughts, knowing just how good it would feel rubbing against your g-spot. You were always mesmerised by his cock, especially seeing it throb as his big hand moved up and down it, squeezing especially as he approached the tip before relaxing on his way back down.

Over time, you began to understand the areas that he liked to be touched, specifically the underside of his shaft and occasionally squeezing his balls would have his left knee shaking as he tried to keep composed. Your composure was thoroughly out of the window the second you both began doing it in the same room; your movements were desperate, sporadic, body trembling, eyes wide, lips parted, and moans flowing from you like one of those porn videos that circulated the internet pre-apocalypse.

You weren’t worried about it, though, because he never complained and would always cum at what he was watching, even sometimes he would react to your noises by making his own or hips jerking to meet his hand's movements. It made you feel powerful, in a way, to see him in a vulnerable state like this and trust him with being in a similar situation yourself.

However, like everything else, it wasn’t enough sometimes. You’d almost drooling over his cock, having stared at it for weeks, wishing to touch it. Did it feel as hot to the touch as your pussy? Did it feel as velvety as you imagined it to be? As downright nasty as it was, you could smell his cock, but that was given with how close you would both sit without any jeans on, but then you were obsessed with smelling him, that musky, manly scent.

So, one day, you decided to bite the bullet and ask, “Can I touch you?”

Joel's eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, his fist stopping its movements as he just stared at you like he hadn’t heard what you had asked or didn’t understand the question. You both stood there awkwardly, the group having found an abandoned mall. During your security checks, the two of you had stumbled into the women’s toilets, locking yourselves into a cubicle, jeans and underwear dropped to knees, and masturbation commenced. You were both so close, almost sharing the same air, and you were so overcome with arousal that you couldn’t help but ask that question.

The worst he could say was no; for a second, it looked as if he was heading in that direction, but then he licked his lips and agreed, but under one condition. “Only if I can touch you as well”, he drawled, eyes darting back and forth between your own.

There you were, in the middle, god knows where, potentially in imminent danger with the threats lying outside the cubicle space. But you didn’t care, nor did Joel, as he leaned his weight on an arm over your head, pushing himself closer.

The two of you were still holding back, not wanting to be the first to touch the other, but you finally gave in and lifted your palm beneath his hardened cock, wrapping your fingers around the shaft. The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you had to bite your tongue and not moan just from finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

Joel shuddered as you thumbed over his slit, gathering the bubble of precum that had formed and wiped it on the underside. His breath was warm against your face; he was so close that you could see tiny flecks of gold in his iris’. Not that you were concentrating on that, as all thoughts drifted to the fingers you’d daydreamed about for months as they moved towards your pussy.

Those delicious fingers pressed between your folds, immediately finding your aching clit and the beginning of where your wetness had already seeped. Joel was watching his fingers, and as he pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves, his eyes were suddenly drawn to your mouth as you released a quiet gasp. Moving further down, exploring your labia, he spread his fingers, allowing the cool air to swipe over your now exposed hole.

Joel was stimulating and exploring between your legs, wanting to feel every part of you, especially the juices, thoroughly coating his index and middle finger. You both tried to work together to pleasure the other, but you were both on the verge of snapping and losing control; having not been touched this intimately by another person in years, you needed this, wanted this, and already craving to be touched again.

Slowly pumping his cock, you squeezed in the areas you’d seen him do plenty of times before and were rewarded with a firm circle of your clit and a gruff grunt from Joel.

You were trying not to panic with excitement, you hadn’t even kissed yet, and here you were, giving him a handjob as he fingered you. It was like an out-of-body experience.

Joel’s fingers dipped low, leaving your clit behind, but only because he was desperate to be inside of you, feel your warmth, your texture, and wetness straight from the source. Your knees bucked as he penetrated with his middle finger. He had much wider fingers than you, so you already welcomed the slight burn from being stretched, but then he added his ring finger alongside the other, and you finally knew what true pleasure felt like.

Your head tipped back against the decaying cubicle wall, needing to use it as support as all your thoughts were directed between your legs. Your hand continued to pump his cock, but it was almost on instinct that you were doing as, only really remembering that you were getting him off because he suddenly thrust his hips as you’d squeezed harder around his tip.

This broke the tough exterior Joel was latching onto as his forehead dipped until it was resting against yours. Sharing the same air, eyes delving into the others as hands pleasured the other, moans drifting from one person's moist lips to the next.

Your cunt was tightening around his fingers, mainly as he rested his palm against your clit and pressed, adding more stimulation and fire blooming in your abdomen. Drawing your eyes away from his, you watched the tendons in his wrist twitching as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of your hole, curling into that spot within that had you lingering on the edge of euphoria.

It seemed he had been studying your movements just as much as you’d been doing with him. Everything was becoming too much, needing everything, like you would explode right there on the spot.

“Im gonna cum”, you say under your breath; not sure why you were admitting this as neither of you had spoken up to this point, and he for sure already knew this with how your body was reacting.

“Then cum for baby girl”.

Those words, the nickname, were your undoing as your thighs and hands squeezed and trembled with the pulses of your cunt as you orgasmed into his palm. Your eyes forcefully shut to try and gain some composure so you couldn’t see the lust and darkness that filled Joel’s eyes as he took in every twitch and noise you admitted.

Your fist kept moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock, and without any warning, he stepped away, allowing air to gather between your sweat-coated bodies. With your hand still moving and both of you now looking at his dick, Joel awkwardly held out his hand underneath his tip, his thighs tensing and cock becoming impossibly hard in your palm as he came. His moans were more profound than usual, lips wet from where he kept repeatedly licking them and eyes so dark they now seemed black.

You watched as his hand, which was still wet from where it had been inside of you was now catching the spurts of white seed, the glooping juice gathering in the centre of his palm until only drips from the tip remained.

Awkwardly, he poured the cum into the broken toilet as he explained his actions, “Didn’t want it to ruin our clothes”. You almost joked that you could have caught it with your mouth, but any words were merely stuck on the tip of your tongue as you had to take a minute to compose yourself.

The air was thick with scents of sweat and sexual activities, musky and dirty. Staring at the man in front of you as he tightened his jean belt, you had the overwhelming urge to kiss him, hold him, stroke his cheek as you fucked him on the disgusting floor. But you were also a coward today and made no such move. Instead, you allowed him to open the cubicle door, ensuring there wasn’t any danger before you both returned to the group like nothing had happened.

[undercoverpena]

ii. sync up our calendars

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. smut. frankie gets a blowjob.

an: thank you to my smut specialist, @psychedelic-ink for giving me the belief that my writing wasn't trash.

wordcount: 3.5k

You wake to still-warm sheets, but an empty bed.

Lashes fluttering, fingers sliding over soft cotton as your nose is immediately greeted with the scent of him, last night and your washing powder. A concoction, you realise (very quickly) that you want to bottle.

So much so, it makes your heart heavy, but also full.

A contrast you're not sure how to feel about.

Your mind trying to process it—the entanglement of feelings you’ve managed to keep stuffed down inside of you, that are now free, floating, fluttering.

Deep down, you know you should try and unpiece, but you’re not sure what you’ll find when you do. What will be left. What will happen if you pull on the earth-green thread that’s woven itself around every part of your life since the moment he shyly introduced himself.

Instead, your fingers just trace where he was the last time when your eyes were open. Something working itself into in your bones, digging, spreading. Unsure if it’s best labelled as disappointment or as realisation, because—

He wouldn’t just leave, surely?

Eyes stinging, burning. Blinking them away as you close your fingers into a fist. Rolling your eyes, sighing if only to yourself—hand coming across your forehead.

Because, of course, he would. Last night was…An arrangement.

An excuse.

A stress relief.

Yet, deep down, you’d hoped that for all the tests your friendship had undertaken, it wouldn’t be this thing that had him leaving before you woke. Not after the things the two of you have lived through, coped through—worked through layer by layer until movie nights and being close was all easy again, no lingering worries and knotted, balled-up unspoken secrets.

Sitting up, you pull the sheets up, staring at the doorway—hopelessly wishing. Imagining, sliding yourself into a fairytale where he walks back through the door, something in hand—a coffee, maybe?—wearing a smile, hair all at odd ends, curls still prevalent (even after all the tugging you had done). Your heart sinking, descending, falling.

Because all you’ve done is hopelessly wish.

Then, it happens. The fairytale becomes reality, flowing out, as if it’s painting itself in real time—a living, moving, walking tapestry coming to life that you realise isn’t manufactured or dreamt. But real.

“Made you coffee.”

You shouldn’t let it, but your heart skips a beat.

The sight of him alone conjuring it because Frankie’s found one of his tees in your drawer—likely from the collection of his clothing slotted between all of yours. The sweats you’d been wearing last night now on his hips, all loose, hanging, all untied and easy to drag down his thick thighs and—

The memory of last night hits you. Makes your throat dry and heat floods through you.

For a moment, you just sit in it, staring—the moment. Desperately trying to ignore the way your heart does a lurch, even if it knows it shouldn’t; your body settling, calming, even if you know this isn’t what your mind is concocting and running away with.

He’s your friend—with added stress relief. That’s it.

An agreement between kisses and exploration. A promise made between naked bodies and gentle moans.

“Hey?”

You drag your eyes up, finding brown—watching him placing the mug in your hand, wrapping his index and thumb around your wrist as he lifts it. It’s then that the bubble bursts, the one you’d begun stitching together at the idea of having him, having him call you his all over again.

His touch spreading sparks down your wrist, along your fingers, the pads of them pulsing, twitching—

“We should… talk.”

Blinking, you shift your face—rearranging emotions, haphazardly placing a smirk, smearing your lips in coffee before you know your throat can say the words that are needed to be spoken.

“About what?”

Frankie tilts his head. Gives you a look—one that says ‘don’t be like that’—one that makes you almost splutter coffee all over him, and the bed, as he sits down next to you. The mattress dipping, his thigh close to your knee, body twisting to you, fully focused, tenacious.

He takes a breath. So you begin—wanting to put him at ease. A thing inside of you that always thrums, a need to calm, to make it better.

“I had fun, Frankie.”

His eyes widen, words quick to follow: “Me too! Yeah, me too.”

Swallowing, you take a look at him.

He’s so handsome. To the point, you’re not even sure he sees it—has ever seen it. He doesn’t realise how beautiful his eyes are, how much you want to fall into them, coat yourself in the distinct Frankie-brown that you had pictured when he didn’t respond to your messages. The eyes you worried you’d never see when the trip lasted longer than he’d said.

“I would like… I’d want to..”

Smiling, you place a hand on his knee. “Me too. But, I just… I don’t want us to, I don’t—“

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

A part of you relaxes, while the rest of you sighs. Something beating normally, everything settling—not quite sure when the anxiousness had bled in, or it had tried to cling to you until it lessens and fades away.

“You’re… you’re the best thing about my life.” He says it in a tone that’s far more commanding than you’re used to—as though attempting to stamp it in. Ensure you know it, understand it, believe it. “Which is why when it begins to change *us—*what the two of us have—we stop. Alright?”

It’s easy to agree, to let the okay slip out when still holding his knee.

“So, we don’t tell anyone, alright? Not Ben. Not Will.”

He spits the latter with intent. Something there. A prickling, a loose tile of sorts on an otherwise perfect roof.

“Agreed,” you say.

Because it’s not the time or the place.

Your skin is bare under the sheets, not wanting to get into whatever the tone was when you couldn’t comfortably cage him in somewhere to tell you the truth. Because he does that—Frankie—he protects, also likes to make things easy, simple. To the point sometimes he hides himself from you, fearing he’s making things worse, complicating your otherwise normal life.

A rehash of the rules is evidence of it. A verbal contract, an assurance there’s no regret.

As if you could ever regret him; ever regret last night. The two of you.

“And you don’t want me buying you wine?” You shake your head. “You can’t cook me food—if we need it, we order.”

“Agreed. And… I’m not staying over at yours.”

His eyes narrow, but the rest of his face remains unreadable. “Okay?”

Shrugging, you take another sip, coffee spurring you on. It corrodes away any shyness, giving you the confidence, the strength. “It just gets complicated. Like I end up with things at yours, and then y’know, where does this,” you gesture between you, “end, and our friendship begins.”

If he disagrees, he doesn’t show it. Although, the air around him thickens, tightening quickly around the two of you as his head tilts, processing it—your words. His hand reaches up, scratching at his beard before he flicks his eyes up at you—warming your skin and making your ears burn.

“Okay, yeah. I get you.”

“Good.”

Then, the air dissolves, relaxed. Him reaching forward as he takes your mug, playfully winking as he takes a sip—not cowering under your gaze as he places it back, wrapping your fingers around it. Fingers lingering, desperately clutching you, as though needing you for one last time.

“Guess for this to work, y’need to give me your phone—so we can sync calendars.”

Arching your brow, you move, grabbing it from the bedside table, taking a sip as you hand it to him. Noticing how his eyes drag over you, forcing your hand to shift the sheet.

“Didn’t think you’d know how to do that, Morales.”

Snorting, he quickly smirks. “Don’t sound so surprised, querida.”

That name—it shoots fire through you. Something from last night, a thing he’s only ever let slip when he’s more booze than brains. It has the same effect then, as it does now. If not more.

Your skin warms, almost scorching against your bones. Even as his eyes drop to your phone, unlocking it, trying to fight it widening as he asks if yours is up to date—whether there’s anything missing from it.

“Looks like we’re both free in a week.”

Rolling your lips, you drip feed the heavy breath. Disguise it in your mug, a poor attempt at settling the effects he has on you.

“In a week it is.”

Then his eyes are back on you, attentive, all full of focus, as though he needs to snap a photo of you like this. Keep you framed somewhere on a ledge in his mind.

“I should get… you know, going.”

Nodding. Even though a part of you wants to pull him back down to the sheets. Tire yourself out, fuck out the worries over whether fucking him in scheduled appointments is a bad idea. Especially when…

It’s him.

It’s Frankie.

His lips find your cheek, fingers searing on your shoulder as he lingers. The scent of the two of you enveloping—almost smothering in a way you hope it never leaves.

“I’m… I’m glad it’s you.”

“What? Being your fuck buddy?”

Shaking his head, he drags his hand down his face. “I don’t like the term, but yeah.”

Smirking, you lick your lips, unable to fight a grin. “Do you prefer best friend with an unlocked benefit, Morales?”

Laughing, he shakes his head—taking your mug, draining the last bit. “Need it for the road.”

“Oh, how come? Heavy night?”

Shaking his head, he stands. “Stress relieving, I’ll say that. Text me—still. Like…”

“Normal?” you offer, earning a nod. “I will. Don’t worry, this is a perk to our friendship. Not all that it is.”

Frankie has to give it to you, you’re punctual.

Knuckles on his door, thudding away—even if you have a key.

The reason was blurred as to why the two of you swapped them, to begin with. It having been more a requirement from him to have yours, than for you to have his. But, he had been more than happy you had one when he stepped through the door that day after landing from the events in Colombia. His body having been heavy, grief hanging from every part of him that it could, the flight not easing it, the drive not soothing it, but the sight of you stepping out of his bedroom—face puffy from crying, his clothes adorning your body—

“Took you long enough to answer.”

Not a hello, not a greeting of any kind.

Frankie flexes his hand at his side.

“You could’ve used your key,” he retorts.

But, you’re smirking. Stepping in, him allowing you entry into his place as though you’ve never been here before—as though you haven’t slept on his sofa or on his bed. As though you haven’t rocked up with a thousand things to share, only to ask if you can stay just for the night.

“Do you… want a drink?”

He watches as your hands come across your front, fingers playing with fingers, nerves swirling with his.

It was easier last time. All unplanned. Almost uncoordinated—even if your bodies moved as though they knew the dance the entire time.

This was new. Unchartered waters—a high risk of drowning, spluttering, making a mess—

“Water. Please,” you say, a slight clear of your voice you try to bury, shrugging yourself from your jacket.

Frankie takes the chance to admire you.

You’re in a T-shirt, jeans. A normal outfit—one he sees you in all the time. It’s one you wear to the bar when the group is together; one you’ve picked him up in when the two of you went to run errands. But, none of those times has he been able to peel the layers from you—to unwrap you, have you splayed out on a surface in his home.

“You’re gawking.”

“Well, you’re a sight to look at.”

You just smirk. Face shifting, hiding any—if there is any—effect his words have. “Shut up, Morales. Get me my drink.”

It’s there, the semblance of normal. It thrummed, all intact, not yet ruined.

He wonders if this is a thing.

Briefly remembering that you were getting water when he’d caged you in the kitchen. Suddenly aware he can feel you close, a risk of turning around and being blocked in—an UNO-reverse.

“So,” you say, voice shaky, “H-how’s your week been?”

He swallows, filling the glass. Turning to find you loitering, hanging at the end of the counter—two steps, not quite three, away from him.

“S’alright. Just had to do a few intense lessons for a trip this couple has coming up,” he explains, your hand brushing his, sparks shooting up his arms as you take the glass.

“Do you prefer giving lessons now or?”

Frankie isn’t such what he prefers.

His mind addled, broken. It crumbles at the edges and works its way in—because he’s not sure if he can see the peaks of your nipples through your shirt. Not sure if the water droplets on your lips will ever dry without his tongue brushing over them.

A want in him to kiss you, to test if your lips are as soft a second time, a third. Whether you make the same noises, or if he can unlock more from you this time—whether there are levels to you, achievements.

You’ve always been a puzzle, an unexplainable thing. Not there one second, then there forever another. The best part of his days, the thing he thinks of when he’s knees deep in mud, sand in his eyes and coated in so much rain he isn’t sure whether he begins and the weather starts. A person he craves being close to, taking whatever he’ll get. Grateful for the thigh against thigh in small booths, that you grip his arm when you laugh at his sarcasm—when you curl into him on the sofa during a movie you’d rather stop watching.

Then there’s the times he’s made your eyes fill with water. The time he made your eyes mist up, filling with a different kind of tears when you’d collided into him after Colombia, murmuring into his shoulder that you’d been worried, oh so worried—but, neither of you had unpacked that. Never daring, never wishing to.

There’s a lot the two of you don’t unpack. Stuffing it down silently, placing it in a box the two of you tape up together and pretend to ignore.

Now, you’re standing next to him, eyes glazed over, sparkling—inviting. Your lips curling into your cheek, all mischievous, unreadable.

“What’re you thinking, querida?”

“That I’ve had a shit day—week, actually—and I want you to fuck my throat.”

He’s stunned. Feeling his eyes widen, his throat dry, chest tighten. All at once. The time to think on it doesn’t arrive, not when your hand is dragging his lips to yours—not that he wants to protest. His hold tightening to say as much, driving you on—your kisses growing more intense, bolder. The pressure increases as Frankie willingly parts his lips, mouth doused with mint—that same taste he knows from the gum you always have in your car.

Your name escapes his lips, more of a moan—whispered, swallowed. Smothered quickly by your smiling mouth as you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip.

“Let me taste you, Frankie.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. The request flowing from your mouth all easy, silky, almost velvety.

You repeat the sentiment as you stare up at him, getting down onto your knees—but this time you ask. Falling like silk: Can I taste you, Frankie? Will you fill my throat?

A part of him is distinctly aware of his legs being exposed to the air, fabric falling down to his calves. The rest of him is focused on the way you’re looking at him—like he moves mountains for you, like he’s everything. A look he’s sure he’s seen in glimpses, but now is swallowing him whole. 

And he likes it, almost lo—

“Never got to tell you,” you whisper, dragging his attention to you, fingers hooked in his underwear, dragging it down, freeing him, “You have such a pretty cock, Frankie. So big.” 

Your fingers digging into his thighs, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against the throbbing vein on the side of his length. 

He hisses when you finally wrap your lips around him, your mouth warm, all inviting. Tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the tip sliding over the slit as his hand cups the back of your head firmer, seeing your eyes flick up—a glimmer in your eyes that makes his heart do a double take. More so when you swallow to take more of him, jaw slack, prepared, ready.

“Shit, querida.”

You keep him pinned, feet planted, hand on the wall to the side of him and the other on the back of your neck. Taking him, as much as you can, your hand working the part you can’t yet fit. All heat, your tongue dragging along, swirling—and fuck he feels good, warmth stretching out through his thighs, embers biting at his lower stomach, all frantic to dance up his spine.

Then, your lips—all plush, slick with spit and him—glide down him, teeth lightly grazing down his shaft as you do.

And the moan he emits rips from him so quickly, he’s sure it leaves a mark in his throat. One which only further deepens when he hears you moaning around him, seeing you trying to shift on the floor, desperate for friction, for something, anything.

It makes his hips move, shifting with you, trying not to—not wanting to push, to have you spluttering, not when you look so good, so perfect, all mouth stretched around him.

“Y’so good, baby. Tan perfecta.”

You whimper at the praise. A thing he’s learnt about you—a thing he wants nothing more than to continue giving to you until nothing else lives in your head except his praise. His fingers sliding down the neck of your t-shirt, lightly massaging, gripping—

It forces itself out, another groan. Punching the air, yanking itself up from his throat as he wipes a tear from your cheek—him aiding, guiding himself down your throat, taking him much easier, better. It’s clear you’ve gone past your limits, swallowing him—desperately so—all enveloped and welcomed by the expanse of your throat.

“Doing so well,” he tells you, watching you, not able to take his fucking eyes from you.

How could he? When you’re such a vision.

Frankie admires the way you look up at him, lashes all tacky, cheeks shimmering with how much you want to do this. It makes a part of him want to pull you up from the floor, place you on any given surface and ruin you. The thought pushing him on, the noises you’d made under him, on top of him, in front of him, all coming back, immersing him.

Nothing exists, nothing mattering.

“So good—so good for me, baby.”

All he can feel is how he twitches against your tongue, how good your mouth is, how close he is—how much he wants nothing more than to coat your throat. Somehow claim you, even if you’re not his.

A thought he has to banish. Rid himself off.

Reminding himself that the small slot in your two’s calendar says otherwise, as he bucks into your mouth.

Your name falls feverishly from his lips, over and over until it’s swallowed by a groan—your tongue lapping up everything he’s giving you. The sight of you like this forces the fire to do more than dance or lick up his spine, it twists, it climbs—all purposeful in its ascent. Coating him in flames only you seem to make grow, an inferno, an intoxicating concoction he wants to bottle and brand in your name.

The sounds hitting the air are a mix of moans, groans and a wet sound as you work him, as you own him, consume him—trace your name into his cock. Something which makes him smug, pulling a smirk half-heartedly over his parted mouth. His whole body lit up, illuminated, so close, so near to filling your throat with him.

Another swirl. Another graze. The feel of him hitting the back of your throat—it’s too much, unable to stop himself, to hold himself in this moment, too close, so close—

Gone.

Pleasure floods him. Scratches its way through him. Bursts from somewhere deep and flows out, ripples—distantly aware he’s flooding your mouth, twitching in your throat, pulsing.

Opening his eyes, Frankie immediately casts his sight down to see his spend leaking from the edges of your mouth as you try to swallow as much of him as you can. Your name leaves his mouth raw, scratchy, gravelly, just as the warm space of your mouth is gone, thumb tracing your bottom lip, staring up at him as you swipe any remnants away with your tongue.

Still on your knees, eyes wide, dutifully waiting for further instruction—all for him.

He banishes away what a bad idea it is, helping you up off the floor, crashing his lips to yours—tasting salt mixed with mint. Fingers spreading over your lower back, balling up fabric, keeping you flush against him.

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” you agree.

And he smirks, right against your mouth, before sliding his tongue in—hoping he can earn another moan, hoping it’ll be enough to blanket the thought that he doesn’t want this to end.

CHAPTER THREE ->

[bimbobaggins69]

Gamer boy (part two)

Modern gamer!eddie munson x baby sitter fem!reader

Part one

summary: you’re propositioned to baby sit by your father, but it’s for Eddie “the freak” Munsons niece. You had history, but now you can’t even stand being near him. Will you both be able to put aside your distain? Or will a little gaming bet, bring you closer than ever before?

⚠️warnings: eventual smut 18+ mdni, angst, friends to enemies to lovers, mutual pining, mean!eddie, slight fuck!boy eddie, cocky eddie, perv eddie, panty stealing, gaming bets in exchange for sexual acts, giving hickeys, finger sucking, suggestive cliffhanger.

wc: 4.2k

note: thank you to @corrodedcorpses for lending me her genius brain <3 (don’t forget to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

eddie photo edit: @themunsonator5000

You woke up Saturday morning, feeling a little more optimistic. You knew for the sake of the remaining time there was left to babysit Layla, you had to suck up your feelings for Eddie. Play nice is what you kept repeating to yourself. No matter how much Eddie aggravated you, you were here for Layla and to help Wayne. They did nothing to you, whatever is going on between you and Eddie or isn’t going on, it’s not their fault.

Luckily, when you awake, everyone else is still asleep. As you move into the kitchen, body still adorning the black little onesie, Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes off of last night, but he’s a boy, of course he’s gonna look if tits and ass are in his face, in a twisted sorta way, it gave you the confidence to not break down right in front of Eddie. You were confused and hurt, you thought your feelings for him were long gone and instead placed with disgust, but now you know your feelings never left, but they did manifest into resentment for him. Maybe for ignoring you over a rumor, or even believing a rumor to begin with. That was so out of character for Eddie at that time, so the hurt never left you it just snowballed into something that felt like hatred.

Once in the kitchen, you turn on the old 80s looking coffee pot, and search around for a mug that hasn’t been hanging up collecting dust, you find one in the top cupboard, it’s a dark blue with ‘# 1 dad’ etched on it. You assume it’s Wayne’s everyday cup and begin pouring the steaming coffee into the mug. You look around in the fridge for some creamer but you have no such luck. You pull out the milk and search around for some sugar or sugar packets, finally finding some sweet and lows in a junk drawer.

Once your coffee is to your liking, you lean up against the counter and sip on it as you contemplate whether or not you want to make some breakfast, finally deciding on a yes, you raid the refrigerator and pantry for anything that looked appealing. You decide on bagel sandwiches, one of your favorite things to make and luckily you have all the ingredients.

Once you’re done with the eggs and adding the cream cheese to the bagels you hear little footsteps making their way into the kitchen.

“Good morning, y/n!” Layla chirps with excitement

“Well, hello little miss Layla, how did you sleep?” You say as you bend down to get eye level with the toddler

“Good, no bad dreams.” She says as she eyes the food behind you.

“Are you hungry? I’m making one of my favorites.” You say as you stand back up, going back to spreading the cream cheese and flipping the eggs.

“What is it?” She looks at the eggs almost skeptical

“It’s bagel Sandwiches. They’re really good, I promise.”

“Mmm, can I have cereal instead?” Her little face flashing you a look of sympathy, like she didn’t wanna hurt your feelings.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her, while you find a bowl and spoon for her cereal. Once it’s made, you sit her down in her seat and start to put the finishing touches on breakfast. As you pour Eddie a cup of coffee and get his plate together, music begins seeping out of the crack under his door, it’s surprisingly low. You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing that for you. ‘Yeah right, don’t be delusional.’ You think to yourself.

You walk down the hall with his plate and coffee in hand. Maybe you’re doing too much, maybe you shouldn’t be being this nice after last night, but another part of you, the part that has now realized your true feelings, wants to somehow get back into Eddie’s good graces, or at least for the sake of being cordial while you’re here.

You placed the coffee cup on the plate so you could give the door a couple knocks,

“Uh, yeah? Come in.” The voice on the other side rings out

You hesitantly open the door, pushing it wider with your elbow as you now separate the coffee cup from the plate, holding it up with a smile.

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up at your presence, swiveling around in his gaming chair to face you.

“Is that for me?” He asks suspiciously

“Yup, hope you like it—” you sat the plate down and glanced to your right, seeing a pair of white panties hanging from the knob on his dresser, your breath hitched. Wait, those weren’t any panties those were your panties.

Eddie followed your line of vision, as he visibly gulped, the look on your face was between anger and curiosity.

“Are those my panties?” You turn back to him, gaging his reaction.

“Oh, are those yours? Sorry I thought uh, never mind.” He says shaking his head

“You thought they were your girlfriends?” You push, of course you wanted to know if the girl from yesterday was serious or just a quick fuck.

“My girlfriend?” He says as he scrunches his face, “I don’t have a girlfriend, sweetheart.”

“Mmm, so you just invite random girls over to your place to fuck them? Good ta know.” You turn to walk away

“Hey, hey! Am I sensing some jealousy, princess?” He gently grabs your arm, now towering over you.

“Pfft, jealous? You wish, pal.” You spit, but your rosy cheeks give you away.

Eddie gives you a few “tsks” while shaking his head, “there’s no need to lie, it’s just you and me here.” He smirks, dimples on display.

‘God, he’d be so hot if he wasn’t such a smug jerk.’

“Just give them back, Eddie.” You say as you hold out your hand to him, raising your eyebrows as a challenge.

“Mmm, I have a better idea.” He rubs his chin, as if he was deep in thought, “how bout we make a deal?”

“A deal? For my panties back? You’ve lost your mind, Munson.” Retracting your hand back down to your side, you scoff as you roll your eyes.

“Just listen, would you?” He shifts on his feet, you could tell he was losing his patience but you didn’t care, this power play between you two was too fun.

“Well go on, I’m listening.” You’re still standing awkwardly by his door, as you begin shifting on your feet.

“Here sit down.” He gestures to his bed while he takes a seat in his chair.

Before you can think about it, you turn around and walk out of his room back to the kitchen.

A couple minutes passed and Eddie’s still sitting in the same position, his once smug face now dropped into a look of despair. Once you come back into the room, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I had to get Layla situated, now what is this deal?” You say as you sit down on his bed, one leg crossed underneath you while the other hangs off the side.

The smug smirk makes its way back, as he rubs his hands together. That probably should’ve been a telltale sign to get out of there, but apparently you have no thought process in the presence of Eddie, because you sat there curious and intrigued as he excitedly spit out his next words.

“So I’ve been thinking…” he says, leg bouncing as he swivels side to side in his chair. “Uh oh!” You say with sarcasm, making him roll his eyes and huff, dropping his shoulders a bit, as his confidence thinned. “Shut up, and listen” He says back as his knee begins bouncing faster. “I was thinking, maybe we could do a series of bets? Ya know, make your time here more interesting.”

“A series of bets?” Your eyebrows almost shoot to the sky, while your arms fold over your chest, making your tits spill out more between the low cut black fabric. Eddie, eyes them shamelessly as he licks his lips. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to be more specific before I agree to anything.” The knowing giggle you let out, alerting Eddie that he’s been caught ogling your chest, makes him clear his throat and his eyes shoot back up to yours.

He licks his lips again before he begins, “if you can beat me at this game I’m playing then you can have whatever you want from me, whether it be for me to be nice to you the rest of your stay, or maybe even something a little more risqué if you know what I mean.” He says with a waggle of his eyebrows, the insinuation lighting a fire in your belly, and causing your panties to dampen a little. But you were playing a role and he couldn’t know the effects he has on you. “Pffft, you wish Munson.” You say with a swat to the air with your hand. It was suppose to come out way cooler than it did, making Eddie cackle, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“Alright, alright,” he says putting his hands up in surrender. “Then whatever you want, princess.” He nods as he bites his lower lip, staring you down like a predator. “I can just be extra nice for you.” He says with a smirk.

“Well what do you get if you win?” You ask as you begin gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“Whatever I want.” He says with an almost domineering tone and look in his eyes, making your body shiver. Now it’s your turn to clear your throat, “yeah but what do you want?” Your palms were getting clammier by the second. “Oh, I want a lot of things from you, sweet thing.” The nickname made you squeeze your thighs together, the action not going unnoticed by Eddie. Oh he was already winning.

“Okay, deal.” Your mouth and brain were clearly not synced because that came out without you giving it too much thought, you let out a deep breath as you stand up and walk over to his dresser, snatching your white panties off of the knob.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could take those.” Eddie says as he gets up to snatch them back, “they’re mine!” You say back as you try to dodge him, you almost make it around his lengthy body before he snatches you by your waist and pulls you over to his bed, you fall on top of him with your butt up against a very clear hard on, as you both maniacally laugh at the whole situation, once you realize what the hard thing digging into your ass is, you slide off of him but your body freezes as you’re now laid side to side, shoulders touching. Eddie turns his face to yours first, you follow. You both sit there for what feels like minutes just looking over each others features, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, yours doing the same.

He hums and then quickly sits up, “well, I think when you put little one down for a nap you should come back and we can get this game started.” He heads back to his chair, turning his back toward you, as he puts his head set on, and immerses himself back into his game.

You walk out of Eddie’s room with mixed feelings. He was so close to kissing you or at least it seemed like it, maybe you were overthinking it, you’ll figure it out once you put Layla to bed. The thought of having Eddie do whatever you asked had you unbelievably giddy, but being at Eddie’s mercy had you down right flustered, butterflies bursting through your torso, hands a little shaky as you did some cleaning up, you couldn’t help glancing over to the clock on the microwave every couple minutes. To say you were excited for this little “bet” was an understatement.

Layla went down with ease, she was such a great toddler it almost made you feel like having kids some day wouldn’t be so bad, all she needed was Mr. Floppy, her pink black out curtains shut, and her sound machine turned on, she was out like a light.

You decided to take a quick shower, throwing your hair in a claw clip, just a quick body wash. When you got out you dried your body, putting on some lotion and spraying a bit of perfume on your wrists and each side of your neck, before slipping on a black thong some black cotton shorts that you rolled up twice just enough to have it cling to your curves perfectly and a cropped deftones shirt you thrifted years back, you decided to keep your hair in the clip, pulling some hair out to perfectly frame your face. Once you were dressed and felt ready, you knocked on Eddie’s door.

“Come in.” He mused, all of his focus was on the game as you walked in, shutting the door behind you. Once he lost, he turned in his chair to look at you, his eyes scanning over your body, but mostly your legs and the way you rolled your shorts up to be even shorter, giving him the perfect outline of your pussy. His breath hitched when he noticed, making him swallow the excess saliva building in his mouth at the sight of you.

“So what’s this game I’m gonna kick your ass at?” You say playfully as you walked closer towards him, “yeah, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” He says as his hungry eyes meet yours.

“I was g’na have you play the game I’m playing now, ‘Elden ring’ but I decided to go easy on you and pick something for beginners.” His cocky smug smirk makes you roll your eyes. “You don’t have to go easy on me Eddie, I’m up for the challenge.” You reply back, “alright, have a seat.” He pats the gray fold up chair that was leaning against his dresser earlier, he must’ve gotten it ready for you before you came in. The thought makes your heart flutter, surely you shouldn't be getting gooey over something so minuscule. Eddie begins to go into depth about the game, it’s fantasy, you’re not surprised about that, from what you can tell and the way he’s excitedly explaining it to you, it seems pretty fun. You definitely have zero confidence in being able to beat him, but you weren’t really sure you even wanted to, you were too curious about what he was going to ask you to do for him.

You spent about ten minutes on the first round before your character was obliterated by the dragon. You were being a bit of a sore loser, but you knew you wouldn’t win, you really weren’t even trying to beat him but you had to act the part.

He whooped at your loss as he beamed over at you, smug as ever. “Well, well, well looks like I get whatever I want from you, sweetness.” The pet name made you scrunch your face up in disgust, but it had the complete opposite effect on your insides, your heart sped up, your tummy fluttered and you clenched around nothing. “What do you want?” You rolled your eyes as the words flatly left your mouth. He began rubbing his chin as if he didn’t already know what he wanted. He's probably been thinking about it since he proposed the whole plan to you. “Okay, I got it!” He says too overly excited. “You have to let me give you a hickey.” He says smirking as he leans back in his chair, head laid against the headrest. “A hickey?! Out of everything I could do to you, you want to give me a hickey?” You tease, Eddie’s smug smirk didn’t break at your words, instead his eyes went a little wide and his brows disappeared under his bangs at the mention of “out of everything I could do to you.” Now he wishes he could change it to something more sexual but he also wants to work his way up to that. For now a hickey will do, and everything after that will gradually get more and more filthy.

“Lay on the bed, sweetheart.” He motions behind him with his thumb, so you slowly get up and walk over, taking a seat at the edge of his messy bed. You can hear the “good girl” leave his lips as you sit down, you were so close to saying to hell with this game and asking him to fuck you right here on his bed, but you couldn’t be the one to instantly give in, you needed to play his game of getting him hot a bothered so he could cave first.

He stood up and walked over to you, there was something predatory in his movements, the way he looked you up and down, licking his lips. He sat down next to you, but scooted more towards the middle of his bed, “come here.” He says gently putting his arm around your waist to help you scoot closer to him, you turn your body so your chest is almost up against his, but not quite. “You ready?” He whispers in your ear making a shiver run down your spine, you nod your head yes, not looking him in the eyes, apparently for Eddie that was not a good enough confirmation. He grabbed your chin and turned your face towards his, he was a little more rough with you this time. “Be a big girl and use your words for me.” You took a deep breath in and let it of out of your nose before speaking up, “yes, I’m ready.” You whisper, “that’s what I like to hear.” He suggestively says. Your hands felt a bit shaky being in such close proximity to him, you never thought you’d be this close to Eddie Munson again, at least not the way you were the summer before freshman year, he had been everything to you at that time, he was your first kiss and you swore you’d lose your virginities to each other but life had other plans, and now here you both are, it almost felt like no time had passed and all the bullshit you both went through never even happened. You’re quickly knocked out of your thoughts when Eddie’s mouth meets your neck, at first it’s just a little peck before it becomes an open mouthed kiss, then a light suck before it progressively gets harder and sloppier, it felt so good, but you didn’t want him to know that, until he reached your sweet spot right below your ear, ‘fuck, how does he remember the spot that drives you crazy?’ You try not to dwell on the thought of him still remembering information about you.

You knew he’s been with multiple girls from school and not to mention the hook ups he’s probably had at the bar he plays at, so the fact that he remembers your sweet spot is driving you crazy, you can’t help the moans that leave your mouth at his onslaught, he always knew how to make you submit to him in just the little intricate ways he treats your body.

“Fuck” you whimpered, at a pirticularly harsh suck. Eddie removes his face from your neck after one last gentle kiss to the spot he had been assaulting, you feel all the air sucked from you as Eddie’s face inches closer to yours, but he stops to stare into your eyes. You feel stuck for a moment almost frozen in time, before you’re leaning in closer and kissing his lips, they’re so soft and pillowy, just like you remember. Eddie lets out a low groan before you pull away, “I’m sorry.” You softly say as you sit up moving closer to the edge of his bed, “um, how about we keep playing?” You suggest with a tight lipped smile, you stand up and head back to your seat in front of Eddie’s desk, you miss the way Eddie’s face fell in disappointment, he gets up nonetheless and trudges back over to you, plopping down into his obnoxious chair.

He looks over at you giving you a side smile, you see his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment before he turns back to the screen, “okay, if I beat this round you have to do something for me again, if I lose you name your price, got it?” His tone is a little harsh, but you don’t take much offense to it, so you nod as you say “got it.”

As Eddie plays his round, you look over his body, you’re no longer focused on the screen. You couldn’t care less about the game anymore, you notice how his right leg is bouncing up and down, he’s in black sweats that were cut into shorts just above his knees, he had wire fencing tattoos on each knee with a hole where his knee caps were, his white municipal waste shirt clings to his body so perfectly. The print on it is a little disturbing; a corpse with its face being melted off, you slightly wince at it, as your eyes continue to roam, but your sights set on his hands on the keyboard and mouse, the rings adorning both hands almost make you reach out to touch them, but you don’t.

You’ve sat there for at least 15 minutes staring at his hands as you bite your lip. You hadn’t even realized he lost, even after all the “fuck, fuck, fucks.” And “nooooo’s”. Not until his right hand was being waved in front of your face. Your cheeks were a deep red, it descended all the way down your neck. Eddie eyed you knowingly with a shit eating grin, there’s no way you were gonna be able to talk yourself out of this one.

“So I lost, what do you want, princess?” He says with a deep tone, almost dark. You stammer over your words as you’ve spent so much time looking at his hands, you didn’t even have time to think of what you wanted from him, there were so many options you couldn’t just pick one, so you sat there stumbling over your words. “Uh, mmm, I-I uh.” Eddie barked a laugh, he knew it was because of him that you weren’t able to form words, it made his dick twitch in his shorts, knowing he had that power over you, he never thought he’d get it again. It’s something he craved for so long.

The truth is Eddie felt such strong feelings for you, you had gone from best friends to a fucked up kind of friends with benefits way before you should’ve. You were both way too young and he did stupid shit to try and make you jealous, bringing up other girls to get a reaction out of you, being one. But he didn’t want anyone other than you.

And you had to go on that date with Josh, even after Eddie basically hinted at him not wanting you to, he felt betrayed. He didn’t give a fuck about those rumors, well okay that’s a lie, he did believe them at first but after seeing the way Josh and his friends were, it wasn’t hard to tell he was a slimey pig. Eddie knew he overreacted about the whole situation by ignoring you, but he was young and his pride was bigger than him at that time, before he knew it, too much time had passed to apologize, you moved on and he tried to.

As you still stammered, racking your brain at the possibilities. Feeling tiny under Eddie’s gaze, he speaks up, saving you from making a bigger fool out of yourself. “Can I make a suggestion?” He asks, leaning in closer to you, same cocky smile.

“Mmhm, sure.” You breathe out, wishing a hole would open up underneath you and swallow you up, you’d never been so embarrassed.

He brings his heavily ringed finger up to your mouth, “suck.” He says with a chuckle, his eyes were blown black as he began rubbing his two fingers against your bottom lip. “C’mon, I’ve seen you starin’ at them, baby. I know that’s what you’ve been thinking.” You both stare at each other for a couple seconds longer before you give in, opening your mouth and wrapping them around his fingers, you bob your head up and down slightly before you take them further back into your mouth, almost hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, I knew it.” He groans “mmm, such a good little slut.” His words make your thighs snap together, trying to attain an ounce of friction. You continue to lick and suck at his fingers, making eye contact the whole time. Eddie smiles at you deviously, “I bet you’d suck my cock even better.” He says mockingly, while his other hand is placed right over the very obvious, hard bulge in his shorts. You give one last suck before you’re pulling off with a pop, “wanna find out?”

Thank you for reading 💚

Taglist:

@emma77645 @local-stoner-bitch @starrthemushroom @ballsacksnumber1fan @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @solar-strikes @daniajeyertt @hllfrclb @ummmmbye3 @lolalanaie @mattefic @tlclick73 @lovelylittlemetalhead @dylpicklesblog @corrodedcoffincumslut @steveharringtonswife @miarosso @blue-eyed-lion @fantasticmacaroni @daddyavesxx @chloe-6123 @aol19 @kristinjayjay @cutiecusp @abigailh-a @mrsarellan0 @aysheashea @sinczir @perfectlymellowthing @luna-munson83 @steveharringtonswifey09 @ijustwanttoreadsmutttt @your-nightmaredoll @sashaphantomhive @mandyjo8719 @briasnow-blog @bestofme1996 @darknesseddiem @bisoca @micheledawn1975 @81rain @chelebelletx @bbyhargrove @wormm-mom @xladyluna15x @lfaewrites @1paire2vans @tiannamortis @tecitodementaa @shotgunhallelujah @joantje @myrcellavonswartzschild @asukaslefteye @thepinkluvr @supernatural-1983

[dorotheataylor]

Lover

Pairing- Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Summary- Listen to Lover by Taylor Swift

Warnings- FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFF, established relationship, really really small adult talk, this is really cliché, no curses!au, modern!au, my poor english, reader and satoru are so in love :( (i wanna cry) Based on Lover by Taylor Swift <3

Word Count- 2.7k words (excluding lyrics)

A/N- The amount of love I have for this man is insane. Gege when I catch you Gege!! Anyways this is something I imagine everyday with this man and decided why not share this with y’all? Hope y’all like this!

"Good morning Toru," you said in a sleepy voice as you rubbed your eyes.

Satoru smiled and said, "Good morning, my love," placing the coffee mugs on the nightstand nearby and leaning down to kiss you. You kissed him back for a moment but then immediately pulled away.

He looked at you with a frown and you spoke, "you know I have a very bad breath in the morning."

His frown suddenly turned into the grin you adored so much. "And you know that I don't care," he said before leaning down once more and kissing you. And this time you didn't resist.

You snuggled up into him to cuddle. He wrapped his hands around you as he laid beside you.

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘till January

This is our place, we make the rules

"Happy new year," you beamed before moving even closer (if possible) to him. His body was warm- the body heat you’d always miss when you woke up in bed without him engulfing you.

"Well there's still some couple of hours left," he chuckled before kissing your forehead, "but happy new year."

Although the Christmas tree was gone by now- from the holiday a week ago- multiple strings of Christmas lights remained hung up on the living room walls. Turned off, the fluorescent lights were more gloomy than cheerful due to the festivities being over.

It being the first Christmas with Satoru in the new apartment, the one you both collectively bought together just over six months ago, the holiday was a milestone for your relationship. Decorating the small apartment was fun, placing ornaments carefully on the tree with Satoru while he broke over half of them; accidentally of course.

And now the lights remained, hung up on the walls of the open living room. While you took the first sip of the coffee- the caffeine sliding down your throat and almost scorching your tongue- it was as if Satoru read your mind.

“The Christmas lights are still up, we forgot about them.” There had always been a mysterious way about him, always seeming to know what you were thinking or feeling at any given time.

You'd heard of him in your university days. The uni heartthrob, star basketball player and the guy of every girl's dreams studying with you. Your friend would go on about him every now and then until she found her 'the one' as she called it.

You had to admit that you'd grown a crush on him too but you were too scared. He was the popular guy every girl swooned over, and then there was you, just managing to get through the uni. You doubted if he even knew about your existence. So you never worked on your feelings and just continued the way you lived.

The first time you officially met and talked with him was on the annual prom night. You were sitting alone, trying to get a shot as you watched everyone, including your best friend, dance on the slow song playing in the background.

You'd come there without a date as no one had asked you. You were slightly upset but your friend cheered you up, ditching her own boyfriend to go with you. But after a few hours of having fun, she wanted to spend time with him and of course you didn't mind.

So here you were, deep in thoughts and didn't notice someone coming up to you until the person spoke.

"Hey."

You immediately knew who's voice it was. You turned your head to look at them. And there he stood, dressed up in a black tuxedo, his white hair perfectly styled and faint blush on his cheeks as he showed his smile. Your heart started to pick up its pace as your cheeks heated up. Why would they not? Satoru Gojo, the popular guy of the whole campus and your long time crush, was talking to you.

"Hey," you replied, surprised and internally relieved you didn't stutter.

"Mind if I join you?" he said gesturing over the empty seat besides you.

"Not at all." You said and handed him a drink as he took the seat.

You were surprised, that 'The Gojo Satoru' would be so sweet and awkward at the same time. Still you two talked and got to know each other. Apparently, his date ditched him when he refused for PDA, and he claimed to enjoy your company more.

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

He almost got shy when he asked you for a dance. But you still accepted nevertheless. And let's just say it was the best time of your life. Neither of you two knew how to dance and all the time you were just stepping on each other's foot or just laughing your asses off. You knew you'd just met him but it felt like you'd known him for years.

The night ended with him asking you out. You gladly accepted. And with that, started a beautiful love story one could only ask for.

“I think we should leave them up,” a quizzing look you gave him with your eyebrows prompted him to explain, “you know, ‘cause why not? We’re adults, we don’t have to listen to any rules anymore, right?”

You laughed. “I guess I see your point... but it’s already New Year’s Day, and Christmas was a week ago. If others come around, what will they say?”

"Who cares, this is our place. Meaning," he held you tighter and continued, "we make the rules here. We could live it 'til the next January."

"You're crazy, Gojo." You said playfully and he rolled his eyes.

"Well sorry to break it to you sweetheart but you're stuck with me," he said with a little smirk.

"Wouldn't have it another way." You said giggling and giving him a quick peck on lips before getting out of the bed. As you were about to leave, he held your wrist and pulled you back. You landed back on the bed as he held you tightly once again.

"Let's just stay like this for the whole day." He said as he closed his eyes.

You giggled, "’Toru, if you don't let me go then we won't be getting any breakfast today."

"I don't care." He said as he buried his face in your chest, "you're warm and I want cuddles." You laughed at his childish behaviour and cuddled back with him. You slowly ran your fingers in his hair just the way he liked. He groaned at the feeling and hugged you even tighter.

There was a comfortable and peaceful silence until he said, "by the way I already made us breakfast."

You widened your eyes when you heard him. "Really? I'm surprised the house is not on fire yet."

He sat up and rolled his eyes. "You know I'm a better cook than you."

You hit him playfully on his chest as he laughed. He got out of the bed and went into the kitchen and you went to the bathroom and quickly brushed your teeth, excited to see what he had prepared for both of you.

He came back with two plates of honey-drizzled pancakes. You were sitting on the bed by then and your mouth immediately started watering after seeing the pancakes.

"Tell me how it is." He said after putting down the plates. You took a bite before widening your eyes and looking at him proudly.

"I see you've gotten my recipe perfectly." You said wiggling your eyebrows making him chuckle.

He chuckled, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "I wanted to do something different this time. You're always the one making breakfast, so I thought I'd give it a try and show you that I can make your recipes too. Consider it my New Year's resolution. Plus I know how much you hate to get out of the bed in the morning, so breakfast is now my duty."

Your heart melted at his thoughtful gesture. He had gone out of his way to make you happy, to bring a change to their routine. It was a small act, but it spoke volumes about his love and dedication. You couldn't help but fall in love with him even more if possible.

Moved by his sincerity, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, feeling the warmth of his embrace. In that moment, your connection deepened, your love reaffirmed. Your lips gently parted, and your foreheads touched as you locked eyes, sharing an unspoken language of love and understanding.

You’re my my my my Lover.

"You don't have to do anything special to make me happy." You whispered, "as long as you're with me, I'm content."

A smile graced his lips, and he spoke softly, "I love you."

"I love you too. More than words can express." You said before attaching your lips with his once again.

-

"Cheers to the New Year!" echoed throughout the room as everyone joyously raised their glasses and took hearty sips of their drinks. The lively party was in full swing, with conversations overlapping and laughter filling the air. To your right, was a group engaged in a spirited drinking game, while in a quieter corner, a few couples were making out while Satoru and Suguru shared jokes and laughter near the balcony, relishing their drinks.

I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

You tried to focus on the conversation you were having with your friends but failed miserably. All you could see was the unfamiliar girl who was now flirting with Satoru. He looked like he had no clue about it. Beside him, was his friend Suguru. Unlike your boyfriend, he noticed the dirty glances you were throwing at the girl.

You see him nudge Satoru with his elbow and point your way. Your eyes met his blue ones for a moment when you instantly looked away. You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous but god you couldn’t help it.

I’ve loved you three summer now honey but I want ‘em all

He was so gorgeous with his soft white hair and cold blue eyes that any girl would fall for him. But those cold eyes only showed warmth and love when they looked at you. You were the only one Satoru loved and will continue to do so till the end of time.

You looked at him again only to see him smirk. Can’t able to bear the sight of it, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You excused yourself from your friends and walked over to where Satoru was standing. “Darling, It’s getting late. We should head home.” You said in a saccharine voice with a forced smile. Not waiting for his reply, you pulled him by his arm. The last thing you heard before exiting the venue was some words of 'good luck' directed towards Satoru by Suguru.

When you got into the car, you immediately turned towards the windows, not in the mood to talk. Satoru got inside and smiled at your behaviour.

When you got home, you both had to run inside because it had started raining. You immediately went to the bathroom to get dressed for bed, without sparing Satoru a look. After you were done, you laid on your bed and pretended to fall asleep.

Satoru, very well knowing that you were awake, gave your shoulder a nudge. “Y/N?”

"Go away, I'm trying to sleep."

“I highly doubt that. Is it something I said?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well, I wasn’t the one who was totally oblivious to a girl hitting on me when my girlfriend stood just a few steps away.” You scoffed as you sat up.

“You can’t be serious.” He chuckled.

“Of course, I am.”

“Baby, look at me.” He said. When you didn’t listen to him, he cupped your face and made you look at him. He looked straight into your eyes and said, “You know you’re the only one for me, right? You’re the one who I’m deeply in love with.”

When you didn't say anything, he sighed and stood up. "Come with me." He said giving you his hand.

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my Loverr

You looked at him confused but took it nevertheless. "Why are we going outside? It's raining." You said when you noticed you were being led outside the house.

Satoru knew how much you loved the rain. That’s why if he was going to do this, he’ll do this with the things you loved.

You were still trying to comprehend as to why you were in the rain but you didn’t complain. You loved rain. It helped you calm down and helped relaxing your mind.

Satoru led you in your small house garden. You had already started getting soaked from the rain as you asked, “Why are we here?”

And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

“Why? Getting wet already?” he said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. He smiled at you. He swore his heart swells every time he hears you laugh or sees you smile, especially when he is the reason behind it.

“Let’s dance.” He said and spun you around. You laughed when he pulled you towards him and tried to waltz.

“You’re still a terrible dancer.” You said jokingly.

“Well you’re the only one who gets to dance with me so I suggest you get used to it.” He said, trying his best not to mess up the steps.

“Did you learn the basics of waltzing?” you asked when you saw him doing correct steps.

“Well, I know you love to dance and I’m a terrible dancer. So I tried learning just so you can have, not excellent but at least an average dance partner.” He said, scratching his neck sheepishly.

And at every table, I’ll save you a seat Loverr

You didn’t know that you could fall for him even more. He learned to dance, just for you. He knew you loved to dance so he tried to become better at it, just for you. You knew how hectic his schedule can get but still he took some time off it to learn how to dance, just for you. You loved this man so much and you’ll never get tired of admitting this.

Can I go where you go?

“There’s still something I need to do.” He said, now sounding somewhat nervous.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him in suspicion, “what is it?”

You didn’t want to think the worse but with the way he was behaving, you couldn’t help it. Is this it? Is he going to break things off? You didn’t know how you will survive if your thoughts came true.

Can we always be this close?

He took a deep breath before reaching for his pocket and taking out a small box. He bent down on his knees and held open the box in front of you. You widened your eyes at sight before you and gasped when you realised what was happening.

“Y/N, I never knew I could love someone as much as I love you. You’re the ride and die for me, the one who is everything to me, the one who’s laugh and smiles makes my day, the one who’s tears break my heart, the one who will always own my heart. And I can’t believe that you love an idiot like me. I want you to be the first and only love for me. I want you to be the one who lights up my day with just a smile, who makes my nights beautiful with just a touch.”

Forever and ever and Ah

“I want to be the one for you who you’ll spend forever with just like you have always dreamed of. I don’t want to spend another minute without you being by my side.”

You’re my my my my

“So Y/N L/N, will you marry me?” he finished, tears falling from his eyes. You didn’t know when you started crying but this moment was the best moment of your entire life. You practically jumped on Satoru as you hugged him.

Oh you’re my my my my

“Yes, yes a million times yes!” you said in between your tears as Satoru hugged you back. When you pulled away, he slowly slipped the ring onto your ring finger.

You immediately leaned in and kissed him, pouring all your unsaid love into this kiss. He kissed you back with the same passion as you. You felt like you fell for him all over again. The love story that started long back when you were in university, when you never thought he even knew your existence, when you never thought he’ll notice you, when you never thought he would even speak yet alone dance with you. And you definitely didn’t think that out of everyone, Gojo Satoru was ‘The One’ for you. But even after everything, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy new year, Gojo.”

“Happy new year to you too, soon-to-be Mrs Gojo.”

Darling you’re my my my my

Loverrr <3

________________________________________

ever blushed while reading your own writing? I just did lmao. Hope y’all liked this!

[subbyalbedo]

Kinktober Day 24 - LACTATION with Eijiro Kirishima

Dom!reader x sub!Kirishima

~~~

I had a little too much fun with this one...

As a pro hero, it wasn't often you got breaks. But after preventing a couple of muggings, you got to go home and relax, have some alone time, before Eijiro got home.

You thought you'd have a few hours to chill, so you got some snacks and turned on a show to binge, but just as you were settling down, the door swung open and Kirishima barged in.

"Eijiro! Are...you alright?"

He was stumbling slightly, quickly coming towards you before collapsing into your arms.

"Got~got hit with a quirk." He mumbled, and gestured to his chest.

Since his hero suit left little to imagination, you immediately saw what had happened.

Kirishima already had a nice chest, but it was definitely...bigger than when you last saw it.

As you carefully reached out to feel the flesh, it was surprisingly soft and you could hear Eijiro biting back a moan as you gently rubbed the skin. "Please, please I need~" he cut off with a whine.

"Aww, are your tits sensitive?"

Flushing at your words, he turned away. "They're not...tits."

Turning back to his tits chest, you lightly pinched the nipple, and he let out a whine. If you weren't so enthralled, you wouldn't have noticed what happened next.

A pearly white bead formed at the peak of his nipple, and slowly dribbled down.

"Are you sure they're not tits? They even squirt milk!"

He cringed away. "Stop- talking about them like that!"

"Fucking hell, so pretty for me, aren't you, princess? You gonna give me all your milk?"

He shuddered as you thumbed his nipple, taking it between your fingers to pinch, and his back arched.

You thought he was just enjoying it, but you felt something wet seeping onto your leg, and you looked down to see that he had cum in his pants.

Smirking deviously at his fucking out face, you were surprised when he gripped you, muttering out 'more', before pulling you to the bedroom.

You pushed him onto the bed, and made sure he was confortable, because this was gonna be a long night.

He gulped as you climbed over him, but he needily shoved his titties into your face.

"You need me to milk you? Want me to drain all your milk like a good little cow?"

He let out a wanton moan at your words, but it quickly grew into a loud yelp when you leaned down and took it into your mouth.

Lightly brushing your teeth along, you made sure to suck it into your mouth.

As the milk started leaking down your throat, you swallowed greedily. It didn't have much of a taste, but you groaned lowly so he knew you enjoyed it.

And fuck, it turned him on so much, he felt every brush against his chest in his dick, and when you sucked~

It didn't take long for him to cum again, rutting through the orgasm, bucking his hips along your thigh.

As you moved your mouth to the other tit, your hand massaged the first one, making sure he felt stimulation coming from everywhere.

He was letting out screams, it felt so good, but overstimulation was starting to set in, and he didn't know if he could take it, but he needed you to stop but he just couldn't stop...

And the milk just kept on pouring, you wondered how much he had stored in there, you wanted to collect it, to-

Suddenly, you had an idea.

"Be right back."

Standing up and quickly walking away from him, he yelped at you, he wanted you to come back!

But you just ignored him, going into the kitchen and grabbing a normal cup.

"I'm baaaack!" You sang, and my goodness, he looked utterly delicious.

His nipples and the surrounding areas were swollen and bruised, and he was panting, a lustful look in his eyes. He had a dark spot on his pants from where he had cum twice, and he was gazing at you with pure need.

You crawled back on top of him, and held the cup right up to his swollen left nipple.

Squeezing the flesh around it gently, he let out a little 'ah' as liquid poured into the cup in a constant little stream. He mumbled little "too much"s, but still bucked into you, so you continued.

Switching to the other side when it stopped, you were entranced with the sight.

As Kirishima saw the way you were looking at him with dark eyes, fixated in the way his tit leaked, he couldn't help but cum for a third time, and he was close to his fourth when the milk stopped, and he cried out in despair.

"Open up, Eiji!"

He broke out of his stupor to look at you, holding the cup up to his lips.

He was so deep in his headspace that he didn't hesitate to part his plush lips, red from biting, and take small sips of his tit milk.

He let out little sighs, and relaxed into the pillow as the last of the milk was sipped up.

Once he was down, and you were cuddling, you leaned to whisper in his ear.

"You should get hit with quirks more often."

He was almost asleep, and you don't know if he even heard you, but he nodded slightly at your words before drifting off to sleep.

~~~~~~~

eheheh

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 19.

Summary: We follow Oliver Quick in the aftermath of that night in the bathtub. In the days that follow, however, and the Arts Collective dinner drawing ever closer, you seem unusually upset. However, once he meets your mother at the party, a lot of things start to make an unfortunate amount of sense.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; masturbation, fantasies and memories of bathtub activities, pervert/enabler dynamics. Also reader's mum is in this chapter so we have warnings for implied child neglect & family trauma, as well as reader talking negatively about themselves a lot.

A/N: 8997 words. OLIVER POV and a huge chapter to sink your teeth into. goes many places, and we finally get to meet at least one of the reader's parents. i believe this is what the kids call 'conflict' in a narrative. Also the reader's parents now officially have names; Pearl & Andreas. Also nana's name is Bijou. let me know what you guys think ! <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Every time Oliver closes his eyes, one of about seventeen million different, lewd images pops into his head of either you or Felix. It seems his mind literally will not allow him to think of anything else, which is fine when he's alone in his room - your room, your bed - but less than ideal when he's sitting across from the two of you over breakfast. Nothing about the way either of you interacted with him was at all different from any other morning. Part of him feels like he's going crazy when you give him a sleepy smile and drop a kiss onto the top of his head in passing on the way to get yourself breakfast.

"Morning Ollie," mumbled affectionately, like it always was from you.

Though it should be noted that Oliver isn't often at breakfast before you and Felix. Both of you are reasonably punctual, and usually seem far less tired than you both seemed to be, so that at least pointed to what happened last night not being a dream. That, and Felix grinning at him as he sat down, placing a mug in front of your setting at the table, and held his own.

"How'd you sleep, mate?" With mirth shining in his eyes; he knows. What he knows and how much, Oliver isn't sure, but there's no way he'd be smiling like that otherwise. What does it mean for him if Felix knows? Where do they go from here?

"Bit restless," Oliver hears himself saying, and trains his eyes on his breakfast, feeling the heat creeping up his cheeks already. Felix makes an apology that sounds completely insincere, and punctuates it with a loud yawn, stretch, and groan. Eyes drawn to Felix, the response almost Pavlovian, and most certainly desperate, all Oliver sees is the pleased little smile Felix wears, still watching him. In the next moment it's gone, turned on you as you place a plate of food in front of him and then at your own place, settling down beside him, as you always do.

The talk over breakfast seems to be the same as it ever was. Plans for the day, with you sighing and declaring that after spend the day before in the garden, you'd be doing quite the opposite, and leisuring in the library, watching something yet to be decided if anyone wanted to join you. He could have sworn there was something pointed in your eyes as your gaze swept over the whole table, landing on his briefly. But then the conversation was moving on, and Oliver had to act like he had any room for decent thoughts in his head at that moment.

Breakfast has become unappealing. He already misses the taste of your blood.

He has to excuse himself, despite having barely eaten half of what he'd served himself. Everyone else enquires after him, asking if he's okay, and he hopes the smile he wears is good enough to stave off further questions.

"Just not hungry this morning is all."

He wishes he'd been as lucky as you, wishes you'd drawn blood; a scab he'd pick forever, a reminder of how thoroughly you'd gotten under his skin. Something in him burns to be scarred by you, marked by you both, a want so violent that you're reduced only to instincts. Bite and touch can be one in the same.

Oliver wasn't stupid. He knew what had been happening. It had been hard enough before last night with this game you'd been playing, the show you'd been putting on. A thrilling chase, tension stretched thin, waiting for Felix to finally make a move to prove that he wasn't just stringing Oliver along. The things he's seen you and Felix doing, the noises he'd been hearing -

Back in his room, he doesn't even realise how hard he's breathing until he slams his door shut, slumping against it, his heart racing.

He never thought it would have been you who broke the rules of this game you've been playing. But now Oliver's left picking up the pieces of his understanding, trying to figure out what the fuck it all meant. He locks his door frantically as he recalls something Venetia had once said to him on one of the few nights he's joined her for a cigarette outside before he would head up to the study -

"Felix hasn't needed since he was ten years old," Venetia's eyes flash with something more than amusement in the moonlight, "he was a desperately needy little brother growing up, clinging to me if mother wasn't clinging to him." The two fingers not holding her cigarette curl into a half fist. With a sly smile, she cocks her hip and leans against Oliver, "he wants, though."

A strange spark of desire arks through Oliver at her words, her knowing, teasing tone, like the flare of a starting gun, a confirmation of what he knew he'd already been working towards. It was nice to hear nonetheless. He tries to act like it doesn't effect him.

"Don't you all?" He glances at Venetia out of the corner of his eyes, tone smooth and unwavering, "you Cattons are the kind of creatures who all seem to want." Then, wetting his lips, "that's what that butler is for after all, and Y/N?" Venetia smiles broader, faint laughter escaping between her teeth.

"Oh, we all want, Ollie," with unrestrained condescension, "but so does most everyone; I know you want, I've seen your eyes. But we Cattons always get what we want, that's the difference you can sense."

"I get what I want, Venetia, I just have to work for it," he says eyes flashing as he looks at her through his lashes. Charming Felix's sister was more habit than actual desire, but he wasn't above using underhanded tactics to win over the Cattons as a whole. Even in the moonlight, he catches sight of Venetia's faint blush. Again she laughs, but her gaze drifts over the grounds.

"Then my brother's mutt must not like you that well," she mused, and takes another drag from her cigarette, "if you still have to work for what you want." The remark catches Oliver off guard for several reasons. After a moment he has to confirm that it's you that she's talking about; Venetia's look says obviously, "haven't you noticed that they can't want for themselves?"

Curled up on his your bed, hand wrapped around his own cock in what's become something of a ritual since he'd arrived and you'd begun playing this game with him, he wonders, not for the first time, if Venetia was right. It seemed as though you'd confirmed as much the other night, that you simply loved him, perhaps even wanted him, because Felix was so fond of him. Even when you'd first slept together you'd danced around the idea of what you'd really wanted, even as he pressed, insisted.

He picked up early on - and told you as much - that you want to be wanted, but Venetia's words had shaken even that belief, or at least, it's origins. At times it seemed like Felix was the kind of creature who fed on the adoration of others, who's to say that you simply wanted to draw people into his orbit, to feed his ego, rather than for your own satisfaction. After all, Oliver couldn't imagine you without Felix, anyone who was drawn into your warmth would find themselves eventually in Felix's light.

And Felix was impossible not to love.

Did that explain last night? Were you afraid you were losing Oliver? Was it simply to keep that spark of desire in his chest burning bright? Except if you knew why he'd been in that bathroom in the first place, surely you could have intuited that his desperation for Felix hadn't waned.

His free hand goes to his own throat, fingers catching in the metal chain that rest there, tangling up the same way yours had last night. Cold, sharp pressure against his throat, he squeezes his eyes closed and sees Felix's head tipped back, steam curling, sweat and water clinging to his gorgeous skin as he gasps and moans and -

"Good boy," the memory of your voice in his ear. A mess of memories from the night before, of the lewd sloshing of Felix's bathwater caught up in the eroticism of the moment, leaving Oliver's imagination to run wild. The memory of how your breathing became stuttered, the way you'd shuddered, getting off to Oliver whimpering your best friend's name in your ear as he came. Were you too thinking of Felix, or getting off believing that Oliver was?

Can't want for themselves.

Except there had been a look in your eyes, in your smile, that dangerous, thrilling thing that lit you up as you licked his spend from your fingers like you were relishing the taste of him. Self satisfaction, a kind he'd never seen on you before.

Perhaps Venetia was wrong. Perhaps he could make you want him for your own sake. Perhaps you had already started.

The fantasy warps again, this time to something entirely new, flickering back and forth between debauched depictions of you and Felix, both coveting him for your own.

"My Ollie," possessive echoes of what he hopes to one day hear, until he's conjured an image of you both, lavishing him with affection without sparing each other a second glance. Wanted by both in your own right, "our Ollie," but still wanted as a collective. Loved by your shared love, not just by extension.

Then the fantasy returns to just last night. The fantasy returns to watching Felix and desperately hoping the man was thinking about him while making those noises. The fantasy returns to you, pressed against him, hand slick with Felix's bath water and both getting off to the idea of him. The fantasy returns to the taste of your blood on his tongue knowing his cum was on yours.

The fantasy returns to you both getting off to him.

Oliver finishes embarrassingly quickly. Again. As he does most days here; there's no shortage of memories to pull from, you and Felix have made sure of that. It's also why he finds very little shame in the act anymore; surely you both know that his mind wanders to you like this, why else would you continue to put on such a show when he still hasn't made a move. After cleaning himself up, and still not quite sure what to make of your intentions last night, he decides to put that from his mind for the time being, and enjoy the day he has with you at least.

In the library, it's you, and Felix, and a box set of Classic Doctor Who; the fourth one, Oliver's pretty sure, judging by the scarf. The smile you both give him is nothing but warm and completely innocent. Oliver grins back easily, and takes a seat. It feels the same as it always has. Like nothing has changed.

But Oliver learns quickly that they have.

That night, he finds you in the lilac study in only your underwear. Underwear too nice to be worn by pure chance. Feigning innocence you tell him you can change if you're making him uncomfortable, but that it's a warm night. It's no warmer than any other night has been thus far.

"Does Felix know you're in here with me, dressed like this?" Oliver leans in the doorframe, arms crossed, unashamedly gazing over your body. Instead of a real answer, all you do is grin, raising your eyebrows at him, as if in challenge. So this is for Felix's benefit too, Oliver thinks, perhaps showing off his willingness to share you, trying to coax Oliver into making the first move on the man as a way to continue using his most beloved toy? Wanting you, and by extension, wanting Felix.

For a moment, Oliver marvels about how easily you're able to catch and manipulate his focus according to your every whim, it seems. Who are you outside of the showmanship? Is there a real person under there? Maybe he should walk away, ponder this on his own or ask you in the light of day when you still at least pretend around the others and each other.

"I thought they were cute," is what you finally say, sitting forward, "I'm quite fond of blue," you add, snapping the waistband of your underwear against your hip. Blue like Oliver's always wearing, blue like his damn eyes, blue like he once told Felix was his favourite colour. Fuck. Fine, he's just a man after all, and a lesser man probably couldn't even hold out as long as he has against you and your gorgeous fucking body in the lamplight, and that look in your eyes.

It's not as intense as it was the night before, but he still gets you off through your underwear, and at his foolish encouragement, you leave a bruising hickey on his neck. Before you part ways for the night, you walk with him to his door, which rather unnecessary, just to let him know there's concealer in his shade in the top drawer on his side of the bathroom.

"You planned this all then?" He smirks at your nerve to be so casual about this all, pressing you against his door.

"You give me too much credit," you teased, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, "call it wishful thinking on my part," and you both know he doesn't believe you, but he still kisses you, grinning.

He tries to use this shift in the dynamic to find out more. Perhaps the physical intimacy meant you would be more open to emotional intimacy, even even he hears Felix in the back of his mind.

The day after he'd enquired about your father's work, the day after he'd pressed his ear to Felix's door from the bathroom and heard you sobbing about your parents, Felix himself had pulled Oliver aside with a tight smile shortly after breakfast.

"Ollie, I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier mate, but about yesterday; we try not to bring up Y/N's mum and dad much around here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't -" Oliver tried, but Felix waved him off easily.

"No, I know you didn't know, you didn't mean anything by it," he assured warmly, but as he went to leave, Oliver couldn't help himself.

"Why?"

Felix stops. For a very long moment there is absolute silence. Stillness. Felix's smile doesn't reach his eyes when he turns back. There's a practiced easiness to him, something about it rehearsed and unfamiliar compared to the levity with which he usually carried himself.

"Because they don't have a kid."

And Oliver has no idea what to say to that, what he could possibly mean by that, so he lets Felix leave.

So when he starts to ask more questions, he careful about them. But he can't seem to catch a break. He gets confirmation that you and Felix have known each other since you were ten, and you're more than forthcoming about your life since then, but for all intents and purposes, you didn't seem to exist before then.

Tensions are running high the day before the first event, for you especially it seemed, even though you'd made it clear you wouldn't be in attendance. When he overhears you speaking with Elspeth, he hears something in your voice he'd never thought possible; despair.

"Do you have to host them in my garden, Elspeth?" You sounded like you were on the verge of tears. The matron of the house's voice is soothing as she reminds you that it's one of the most beautiful spots in the Estate. Your garden? "But every time she's in there she breaks my statue -"

"No she doesn't," Elspeth tries to dismiss, but you huff a surprisingly petulant whine.

"She does! Twice now! The seeds, there should be six, and I know it's her, Farleigh told me -"

"I won't let it happen again, pet, I promise."

"She knows it's mine, I know it, she's doing it on purpose -"

"It won't happen again."

Oliver doesn't know enough about your issue with the Arts Collective that is coming over, or whoever this specific member is that has you so upset, so he has to bide his time to get the answers he wants.

And he's not getting them from you. Clearly.

You're withdrawn during dinner. No-one else comments on it; it's like they all understand whatever it is you're going through, and only Oliver's left out of the loop. Not even Felix seems particularly worried, and that's the bit that surprised Oliver.

In the lilac study, much later, Oliver finds you in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill. When he asks if you're okay, you bark a humourless laugh.

"By all accounts," you give a thin-lipped smile, fidgeting with the unlit cigarette between your fingers, "I should be completely fine." It's not even close to being believable. When he sits, chin gently coming to rest on your knee as it hung down the back of the sofa, you sighed, dropping the act and lighting your cigarette. 'It's nothing," you mumbled after a moment, dropping his gaze and taking a draft of your cigarette.

"It's not nothing," Oliver assured softly. Looking up at him, the barest frown creased your brow.

"I never went through the kinds of things you had to," you admit softly, unaware of the cogs suddenly turning in Oliver's mind, "my life is," you laughed without even a hint of humour, "blessed," but the word comes out bitterly. With your free hand, you reach out to run your hand through Oliver's hair, pushing it back off of his forehead, "you don't need to worry about me, Ollie." Shame pulses through Oliver all at once, his lie weighing heavily on his consciousness. He leans into your touch, lets his eyes closed, terrified you'll see the guilt there.

"I do worry 'bout you," he pushes, voice faint and demure, his eyes still closed. He lets the words hang in the air, lets you turn them over in your mind, won't overplay his hand. There's the sound of the cigarette sizzling, then a long, deep sigh from you.

"You don't know me, Ollie."

It's strange to hear you say it, hear you finally admit it. Oliver hasn't been imagining things, you've managed to evade his attempts to genuinely get close to you. Part of him wants to scream, wants to shout well whose fucking fault is that, wants to holler with some kind of vindication. Instead, he kisses your knee, and whispers that he'd like to.

"You'll get there, I'm sure," you tell him with what he's sure is an attempt at warmth, once more carding your fingers through his hair, "spend enough time with Fi and you won't have a choice." It comes as a surprise to hear the forlorn notes in your voice. But then, as quickly as they were there, they'd disappeared, and you start telling him about the guests that would be in attendance at the dinner the following night.

"Why do you know all this if you aren't going?" He's struggling to retain any of the information you've dumped on him - whose married to who, who are the artists and who are the appreciators, the scandals each have been attached to - but it seems to come so easily to you. You're on your third cigarette when there finally comes a lull in the conversation.

"So I can tell you?" You gave him a confused little smile, but he still doesn't understand.

"But what if I wasn't going?"

"But you are," you frowned a little, confused smile becoming more forced, as if his lack of comprehension almost pains you, "why wouldn't you be?" Oliver blinks, "I always knew I wasn't going, but I always knew you would, and I -" you shrugged a little helplessly, "I know things. Now you know things." This time your grin is genuine, as if pleased to be able to help him in your own way.

"Does any of this really matter?" He doesn't mean for it to sound as blunt as it comes across, but thankfully you don't seem offended. Instead you bark a laugh, leaning back against the windowsill and casting your gaze to the navy sky outside.

"They seem to think so," you groaned, as if you'd been subjected to these people and their egos one too many times, "and they love to feel like they matter. Taking the time to know people makes them feel like they matter, at least that's how I was raised." It's a crack, the barest hint to your past that Oliver will ruminate on for days to come. He remembers very sharply how you'd blurted out that you weren't meant to matter. Slowly but surely he's piecing together a picture of your past. So far, he's not liking the image it's coming to form.

So he steers from dangerous conversational territories.

"'s that why you let Venetia talk to you the way she does?" It's not hostile or judgemental, he makes himself sound as genuine as he's able. A thoughtful hum escapes you while you keep looking out across the Estate's gardens, "like you don't mind if she's mean because you know that at least she feels good about herself around you?"

"I adore Venetia despite her sharp edges," you say softly, "and she and I both know this, but she's..." looking back to Oliver, your smile is sad as your mind drifts to Felix's sister, "insecure," voice low, you give a tired shake of your head, "if I knew how to draw lines in the sand, I'm sure she would have crossed it long before now."

"All these Cattons need to be wanted, don't they?" Oliver grins widely, leaning back and reclining on the sofa, watching you crack a genuine smile.

"Why do you think they keep me around?" You joke, but Oliver takes this moment and locks it away in his mind for further pondering, along with all the other revelations you'd afforded him. At least you look brighter when you leave then when he'd walked in. The last thing you tell him is to be punctual to the garden the following night; Elspeth thinks highly of punctuality.

"Am I not going to see you before dinner tomorrow?" Oliver frowns, also standing.

"Oh," you stall by the door, something awkward in your tone, "I'll be around at breakfast, and maybe lunch, but I'm probably not going to be much company or conversation."

The next morning, Oliver finds your words to be true. At breakfast, your gaze is glassy, your movements robotic. Pamela appears to have overslept, but Oliver seems to be the only one who even notices. There's a strange air in the house. Farleigh's more terse than usual, while Felix and Venetia seem to have glued themselves to your sides, the two of them chattering quietly between each other despite how you don't even appear to be aware of their presence.

Over lunch, you too are missing from attendance, as is Pamela once more. Elspeth spends a good portion of the meal trying to encourage her children to adopt a lighter mood. Neither cooperate with her request.

"This might be the best you get from them," Farleigh glanced at Felix and Venetia wearing near identical pouts, both focusing entirely on their lunch, "unless you're planning to surprise us all with dropping a house on the wicked bitch of the -"

"Farleigh, please," Elspeth cut him off sharply, "don't call her that." Farleigh's sharp gaze flicks to his aunt, but his mouth stays shut, "it's one night, can you please just be civil?"

"One night for her," Felix says pointedly under his breath.

Oliver is at a complete loss. Trying to think back on all the guests you'd told him about, he can't for the life of him recall which they might all be referring to. It bothers him enough that once lunch is finished, he looks for you; he'd like a little more warning if he really was to be walking into some kind of lion's den that evening. When he asks Felix, all he gets is a sighed 'study' and little else.

The study door is locked, so he knocks. On the other side, he hears a sigh.

"Go away, Ollie."

How had you known it was him? But that was a question for another time.

"I have a question about tonight -"

"I don't want to think about tonight, just go away, enjoy yourself -"

"I need to know more about the guest list; there's someone who seems to really bother Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh, but I can't remember who it could be that you told me about." He lets himself sound desperate, sound a little helpless and lost; you'd gone so far out of your way to make him feel at home here, he knew you'd -

"Um," after a moment, the door creaks open. Barely. Peering out, you don't look quite right, "it's- um, I think -"

"'re you alright?" Genuine concern wells up in him, but you pull back when he reaches out for you.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine, I'm just- fuck, Ollie, I'm high; what are you, my -" but you cut yourself off with a soft, angry swear, as if mad at yourself for reasons well beyond Oliver's understanding. Gaze unfocused, you frown deeply as you lean heavily against the doorframe. Oliver bit back further concern, taken aback by your relative hostility, "there's this curator that really gets under their skin," you recall after a moment, unable to meet his gaze, "last I checked she was about Elspeth's age; Pearl L/N."

Oliver doesn't remember you even mentioning a Pearl last night amongst all the rest of the guests.

"What's she done that's so bad?" But his words curiously cause your expression to scrunch, "do you not like her either?" You shook your head so hard you almost lost your balance; this time you don't shy away from Oliver when he holds your shoulder steady, "what'd she do?"

"She's just vapid," your voice is so small; there's so much you're not telling him in this moment, Oliver can tell, "you don't need to make her feel like she matters, she knows she does," you swallow thickly, looking at the doorframe, "but if you compliment the work of Bijou L/N in her general area I'm sure she'll jump at the chance to tell you how she sold her Aurora triptych for the same amount that her mother's first house cost." You advised bitterly, lip curling, "she loves hearing herself speak," you spat as an afterthought, immediately trying to slam the door as if you'd forgotten Oliver was even there.

Catching the door, he asks once more if you're okay, and you finally look at him, pain in your eyes like he's never seen before, tears, unspilled, turning your gaze glassy.

"I do hope you have a good night," despite the sadness in your voice, you sound sincere, and Oliver lets you close the door once more.

As he's getting himself ready for the event, Oliver finds himself musing over the information he'd gotten from you. It's no surprise the Catton siblings aren't a fan of this woman; he can't imagine they enjoy being in the presence of someone who craves the spotlight even more than either of them do.

Your advice about an early arrival paid off at least, as Oliver finds himself in the fairy garden with Elspeth in her lavender gown, as always being an incorrigible gossip. With very little genuine care for her own daughter, Elspeth's gossip finds a home amid disparaging remarks. If he carefully files Venetia's insecurities and less noticeable flaws away in the back of his mind, he does so only in case of emergency. Despite their disagreements, Felix clearly loved his sister too; how Oliver would use the information Elspeth gives him to his advantage would remain to be seen, but he reasoned it was good to have.

When finally he's given the chance to comment on Pamela - indirectly, every possibly sharp remark was wrapped in layers of silk at Saltburn - Elspeth's guilt is unmistakable. So Oliver does what he does best; he tells Elspeth exactly what she needed to hear. He drives a wedge in her memories of the woman she'd kicked out, shut the door on the guilt and the thought of return, soothing the Catton matriarch in the process. Sometimes it really was shockingly easy to make the Catton Family Players dance.

"You know it's very good of you taking Y/N the way you did," Oliver adds for good measure, "eleven years I think they said?"

"Oh," Elspeth's brow creases for just a moment as she thinks back, "I suppose it has been that long, hasn't it?" There's a faraway look in her eyes, but Oliver sees an opportunity for information you and Felix were always rather evasive about.

"I would have thought it would be strange," Oliver offers, his tone carefully neutral, but of course light, "having so many people here all the time; Y/N, Farleigh, Pamela, me. You're very generous, very kind." Elspeth gives a gracious smile at the compliment, eyes shining in the twilight. The same grace with which Felix accepts Oliver's soft spoken compliments when it's just the two of them.

"Saltburn was built for company, Oliver dear, nothing strange at all," she tells him in earnest, "James and I have always welcomed our loved ones with open arms, and I am proud to have passed that sentiment on to my darling children."

"Venetia certainly seems fond of Y/N."

Something about Elspeth's expression tightens for the barest moment, and she takes a sip of her wine with a hum that almost sounds like an agreement.

"Y/N seems to believe as much," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, "and I suppose she hasn't run them off yet, though I suspect their loyalty to Felix has far more to do with that than whatever apparent kindness my daughter has afforded them."

"I'm sorry...?" Oliver tips his head to the side, confusion masking his intrigue.

"Lord knows I try not to judge my darling children and their friends, so I of course would turn a blind eye to their youthful trysts and experimentation, but really Venetia's been using the poor pet in bad taste for years now, treating them like a dog; you've seen the way she antagonises them, I can't imagine what she's like behind closed doors, nor why Y/N puts up with it!"

"You haven't tried to stop it?"

"Felix has come to me about some of the things Venetia's apparently said, but he seemed more miffed than anything, said Y/N wasn't at all bothered," Elspeth sighed, shaking her head, "I think they pity her, honestly."

"Sounds like Felix and Y/N have pretty inseperable, and you obviously care about them a lot too."

"Felix has always been wonderful at making friends," Elspeth gives a sweet smile, casting her fond gaze at Oliver for a moment, "but Y/N was this tragic, little thing; the first time they met us their parents enquired about whether James and I would like to host them for the Summer, of course I wasn't even aware I was talking to their parents when the offer was made, but Felix had taken quite a shine to them so of course we were more than happy to agree. Then," she gives such a dainty shrug, expression fond and blithe, "they called again as schools were breaking for Christmas, something about how fond Y/N had grown of us all; after that they didn't even have to call."

"So they've been coming back here all this time?"

"Oh the children would often holiday elsewhere during the break, but Y/N was almost always with Felix, wherever he was," she smiled wide, mind alight with memories of your shared youth, "their parents have always afforded us a generous stipend for allowing them to remain with us and Felix so consistently through the years, so it was never any trouble or burden to take care of them."

A long pause follows, and Oliver lets himself mull over all he'd learned, fascinated by it all. But he keeps coming back to one thought;

"You didn't know you were talking to their parents?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You said back when you and Felix first met Y/N, you hadn't known you were talking to their parents?"

"Well, no," Elspeth says, and takes a moment to think carefully about the past, about her next words, "but we were at a business event, I suppose they wanted to remain somewhat professional." Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. There's something there, something more. Something about these memories has softened the matriarch, even more than discussing her own daughter.

"Well I know they love you," Oliver tells her, though he's only rarely heard you and Felix talking about the family, "and I know they're grateful to you, and your husband, and all you've done for them, the care you've shown." And there it is, that faraway softness, that hint of maternal love that almost looks foreign on her.

"We haven't done all that much," Elspeth admits gently, soft smile gracing her features, "just what anyone would do, I think."

"More than what their own parents did, it sounds like."

Elspeth's expression falls, her gaze dropping to her hands. She takes a long sip of her wine.

"They're lovely people, really, please don't take what I've said as any kind of inducement on them as people, I think you'd actually find them quite charming," she says, almost forcibly cheerful, "they're exuberant, fascinating people; they've been wonderful friends to myself and James for quite some time, long before we welcomed Y/N into our home, actually," she laughs a little, looking back up, apparently having shaken her just moments ago, "I will say it was quite the surprise to find out they had a child just the same age as Felix." It's an evasive answer, one Oliver doesn't want to let her get out of but doesn't quite know how to turn the conversation back. The silence is not uncomfortable, but Oliver is still grateful that it's Elspeth that breaks it once more.

"He's never been particularly fond of them," Elspeth somehow gives him an in without Oliver even needing to pry further. Her tone is dismissive, like her son's distaste is simply childish, "but Felix has always been loyal," she smiles warmly once more after shaking her head, "I really do think you'll like them; so much of Y/N comes from them."

"I'll like them?" Oliver frowned with confusion, to which Elspeth nodded, reiterating the sentiment, "you think I'll meet them?"

"Of course, darling, they're coming to dinner tonight," she shakes her head after a beat, seemingly correcting herself, "well, their darling mother. She was at Oxford with James, studying Art History, if I do recall -" but she's cut short as Duncan announces the arrival of the first guests, and Elspeth stands, smiles, slipping comfortably into the role of the perfect hostess.

Oliver feels like he almost understands. Like he's right on the edge of putting all the pieces together. There's too much new information, too many social rules he still doesn't know; part of your discomfort was almost definitely related to your mother being here, and that vapid curator Felix hated -

"You are going to need this," Farleigh presses a glass of champagne into Oliver's hands. He seems more irate than usual, but unusually, it doesn't seem to be directed at Oliver. As the guests begin to filter in, they stand side-by-side at the edge of the garden. Farleigh looks like he belongs there, long and elegant, hand in his pocket and his own champagne glass poised delicately in his grip as he glowered at the others.

"Not a fan of the Arts Collective either?" Oliver enquires, carefully taking a sip.

"Tell me that isn't Fredrika's boy!" Comes a call from across the garden, and Farleigh plasters on a smile as he nods and tips his glass to the gentleman who'd gleefully identified him. They both hear him exclaim to some others he was with, "look how tall he's gotten!" But thankfully the man makes no move towards them, choosing instead to blatantly discuss Farleigh, and-or his mother, with little regard for the man himself.

"They've always been kind to my mother," it's the most diplomatic and genuine Oliver's pretty sure Farleigh's ever been while speaking to him. Still, his discomfort does not seem to ease.

"So I suppose there's just a few bad apples then," Oliver muses, "Y/N warned me about Pearl." It takes several seconds of silence for Oliver to finally give Farleigh his full attention. There's a curious look in his eyes, one Oliver hadn't quite been expecting.

"Did they?" He says very carefully.

"The woman sounds like a pain," Oliver says easily, trying his best to ignore the sudden strange vibe that has picked up around them, "but I assumed all these rich folks have an ego on them, so she must be some kind of something since they barely mentioned their own mother and I know they're not fond of her either."

"You are an idiot," Farleigh looks like he can't even believe the words coming out of Oliver's mouth. There's that lost feeling again, like everyone knows some kind of secret that he's not allowed to, like they all want to keep dancing around the truth, afraid of giving him real answers. Farleigh shakes his head in disbelief, an unsettling, quiet anger in his eyes, "you are a fucking idiot -"

"Oh my god, wow!" Comes a bright voice from far closer than Oliver had been expecting, "I'm getting flashbacks, Elle, are you getting flashbacks? Doesn't he look just like Freddie making that face?" Farleigh, beside Oliver, freezes.

When Oliver turns, he sees Elspeth approaching him with a painfully familiar woman on her arm, saying that this is the one I was telling you about; Oliver -

Oliver recognises your mother by her smile. It lights up her whole face, so comforting, so warm and full of affection as her gaze lingers on him.

"Oh, Oliver, I'm sure you're darling, but I must say hello to Freddie's youngling," she enthuses with a laugh. Farleigh looks like his body is three seconds away from engaging in some kind of fight or flight response.

"I see you remember Farleigh, my nephew," Elspeth points out, and the woman wraps Farleigh up in a hug that he does not reciprocate.

"Of course," she gleefully identifies, and Farleigh makes an uncomfortable noise to the affirmative. When she lets him go, she doesn't do so entirely, holding him at arm's length for a moment as she looks him over, "you are such a marvel, darling, every time I see you!" Glancing over her shoulder at Elspeth, she wears a charmingly teasing smile, "never tell James that his sister got all the good genes," and Elspeth, despite the backhanded compliment, seems only endeared by this woman's antics. Finally she lets Farleigh go, stepping back and continuing to size him up, sparkle of mirth in her eyes, "how is your mother, darling?"

"Elsewhere," Farleigh answers shortly.

"Of course, is she still in New York?"

"For the time being," it seems to be enough for her for now, letting him go. Then, she turns her attention onto Oliver, letting Elspeth make the introduction.

"And this is Oliver, a dear friend of my Felix's who's staying with us for the Summer," Elspeth rests a warm hand on Oliver's shoulder, but the woman forgoes propriety to also hug Oliver tightly.

"Oh wonderful to meet you, Oliver - Ollie, can I call you Ollie? Do they call you Ollie?" She says as he awkwardly hugs her back, running on autopilot. Oliver makes some kind of noise, he's sure, but apparently your mother takes that as an affirmative. Pulling back, she smiles with such genuine warmth it's almost jarring to think about what he knows of her, "oh Ollie, so lovely to have you here, it's so good to see beautiful, bright, fresh faces as fans of the arts; you are a fan of the arts, I take it?"

"I suppose," he offers awkwardly, to which your mother gives a laugh. It doesn't sound like laughter should, there's something a little mean about it, something condescending.

"Darling boy you're with the Arts Collective, at Saltburn of all places; one would think to do their research before attending an event such as this -"

"Wine and cheese in the garden were we get high -?" Farleigh's snide aside that hopefully only Oliver hears as he mutters it under his breath is cut off by Oliver's quick apology.

"It's my first Summer here; I'm a fan of the arts but I thought it would be best to set expectations low considering the calibre of guest. I'm not much of an artist but that doesn't hinder my appreciation," he bullshits quickly, and your mother's eyes light up, taking the bait entirely.

"Nice save," Farleigh mutters under his breath while your mother all but swooned at Oliver's humility.

"Oh! Then I do apologise, dear, I'm glad to have you here, glad to see not all hope is lost for the youth," she shook her head with a fond exasperation, "your friend Felix has never taken much interest unfortunately," she chuckles, "one of his very few flaws, I'm afraid."

"I'm also friends with Y/N," Oliver adds quickly, and immediately feels Farleigh's hand on the small of his back, voice in his ear - don't.

"Sorry darling, I don't know who that is," your mother sounds completely and utterly sincere; nothing in her smile or her body language betrays it as a lie. Despite Farleigh's warning, Oliver pushes.

"Your kid, Y/N," he can feel Farleigh actually grabbing onto the hem of his jacket, voice a snarl now - stop.

"Ollie, dear, I don't have any children," she says with what appears to be complete earnestness. Oliver blinks quickly, stepping back, faintly apologising.

"Sorry, I must have gotten some wires crossed," he says weakly.

"Are you feeling alright?" She puts her hand to his forehead, sweet concern written all over her face. God, she looks so much like you, he really thought - "can we get darling Ollie some water?" She snaps her fingers at one of the servers insistently, rudely, directing Oliver to sit down. He did so, and Farleigh took a seat next to him, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Oliver hears himself speak almost automatically, "I don't think I caught your name." Immediately the woman's expression morphs into a pantomime of apology, offering her hand.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so used to being known at these things - god, listen to me I must sound like I have such an ego, sorry, Ollie, darling," the woman's smile reeks of practiced perfection, "I'm Pearl L/N." Everything stops for a very long few moments as Oliver shakes her hand and processes this news. He blinks a few times, and Pearl laughs airily in the twilight, "oh, maybe he does know me; look," she tips her head to Elspeth, "the boy's starstruck." He's liking her less and less and the moments go on; he can see exactly what the others' problem is with her.

"Sorry, Pearl L/N?" Quickly retracting his hand, he tries to remember what you'd told him mere hours ago, "are you the same Pearl L/N who managed to sell Bijou L/N's Aurora's to..." he trails off, having no actual idea of where the paintings had gone, but banking on what you told him about Peal enjoying the sound of her own voice. As anticipated, she looks frankly delighted, throwing her head back as an uncannily familiar laugh echoes from her. In his peripheries, he sees the approving look Elspeth is giving him.

"My word, yes, they're still up at The Met," she tells him, "I suspect it will be a cold day in hell before they're taken down; they paid more than my mother paid for the house she painted them in."

"Your mother -?"

"I'll take care of him," Farleigh cuts him off with a cold smile to Pearl. It's enough to distract the woman, who coos fondly.

"Oh you really are Freddie's, she must be so proud of the man you are, Farleigh."

Farleigh gives a jerky nod, robotically thanking her for the compliment, and she swans away to greet some of the others who've just arrived.

"Sorry, I thought... she just reminded me so much of Y/N," Oliver mumbled. Farleigh extracts his arm from around Oliver's shoulders, something dangerous in his eyes as he watches the woman, now talking and laughing and socialising with such exuberance and ease.

"You are a fucking idiot," Farleigh bites out venomously, not even looking at Oliver. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. They both watch for a moment as Pearl takes the arm of another guest, coaxing them and the group they're with to sit over on the picnic bench.

"Can you stop calling me that if you're not going to tell explain to me why?" Oliver finally snaps back, turning to level a glare at the tall gentleman beside him. Farleigh meets his unimpressed look with one of his own, gazing into his eyes as if his next words were of the utmost importance.

"Why exactly do you think that Y/N L/N has a problem with Pearl L/N?"

Oliver feels like a fucking idiot. All the pieces are finally in place, and the picture, Oliver realises, is much bleaker than he'd realised.

Farleigh looks back at the picnic table. The general chatter has died down now, and it seemed that catching up between members of the collective was in order. But his focus was captivated by the woman with your smile. Your mother. Everything familiar about her started to make his skin itch. Everything about you started to make a lot more sense.

There was an effortlessness to how she dazzled the collective, pouring affectionate praise onto the artists as they shared their creativity and triumph, offering support and suggestion to other curators and appreciators like herself who found themselves looking for advice.

Charming, exuberant, fascinating, just as Elspeth had told him she's be. Oliver just remembers hearing you weep about how, in the eleven years since you'd been welcomed into Saltburn, she'd never once asked about you.

"I'm in talks with the Vatican about doing a documentary on the Sistine Chapel," Pearl tell the collective airily when it's finally her turn to share. Chin in one hand, the other picking at the statue at the back of the table that's just behind her, Oliver remembers the argument you'd had with Elspeth just yesterday, "but it's been such a runaround," she groaned, reaching up for one of the stone seeds the sculpture was trying to eat, "so many legal meetings and all this red tape; I've got a meeting with the pope and several high ranking members of the clergy to see if I can get their blessing and bypass all this nonsense. I swear Michaelangelo would be rolling in his grave if he knew the effort one must put in nowadays to appreciate his work." A meeting with the fucking pope?

"Pope Benedict the Sixteenth?" Elspeth says with disbelief, the gaggle of women scattered around the garden echoing the sentiment.

"Has there been another one instated while I wasn't looking?" Pearl smiles, teasing edge to her tone that's uncomfortably familiar, but then there's a faint crack, and she looks up guiltily. Or at least, she looks exactly the way a guilty person should look.

"Darling, you do that every time," Elspeth laughs lightly, while the woman puts the stone seed down on the table before her.

"Surely it hasn't been that many times," she responded, though Farleigh's voice is in Oliver's ear.

"That's the third."

"Fine, let me get you another one," the woman offers, "a proper nymph for this darling little fairy garden, something pretty and fitting, not this..." She looks up at the statue, at the myth of Persephone gleefully eating what seeds are left, at the figure with your unmistakable likeness, "strange, sad little thing," she laughs, before adding that the garden itself was beautiful, and that Elspeth had to get her in contact with the landscape artist. Elspeth, surprisingly, suggests that they should head inside since it was swiftly approaching dinner.

Felix and Venetia are already sitting at the table, a mostly empty bottle of wine on the table between them, both cups far less than full. Farleigh takes the seat opposite Felix, and pulls Oliver down to sit across from Venetia. Neither of the siblings speak, but both are looking at Farleigh as if they can divine some secret message from his wordless expression alone.

"No, I take it back," Pearl's voice fills the dining room, drawing all attention as the others filled in around her. The way she's looking at Felix and Venetia is so painfully endeared; if Oliver didn't know any better, he'd say their glares in her direction were cruel, "Elle, I think Cattons are just cursed to have beautiful children," sighing with a teasing, faux disappointment to Elspeth as she passes behind the siblings to take her seat, she greets them both warmly.

"Children," Elspeth prompts, sharp look in her eyes like she's embarrassed by their lack of grace, both Venetia and Felix nod in greeting, her name coming out as a robotic mumble.

"How lovely are they," Pearl sits, fawning over the Catton siblings to the other guests, who all chatter in faint agreement. As expected, however, Oliver finds he can hear Pearl's voice over all the others, even though she sat herself across from Elspeth, at the other end of the table, "Elle, really I'm in endless awe of you and James, Saltburn has never looked so spectacular as it does under your care, I'm sure my home would go to ruin if Andreas and I ever attempted having a child, let alone raising one half as lovely as you've managed; twice!"

"Pearl," Elspeth told her, voice loud enough that it too carried, "I'm sure that if you had a child, they would be -"

"Oh you're just being kind, Elle, don't waste your breath on hypotheticals."

Across the table, Felix looks like he's about to cry.

Oliver feels... unexpectedly hollow. Every word Pearl speaks reminds him of the state he'd seen you in that afternoon.

"I hate her," Venetia snarls, loud enough for only the four at the end to have heard. There's something about this moment, looking at the siblings and their cousin so completely united against this common enemy, that finally makes Oliver realise and believe just how deeply they all cared for you. Even Farleigh was regarding him in solidarity.

Somehow Pearl still hadn't noticed the black cloud that hung over the other end of the table, or perhaps after eleven years she was used to ignoring it. At least the rest of the collective didn't seem too bothered by it, making bright conversation amongst themselves and leaving the furious youth to stew in their collective anger.

"Why didn't you tell me Pearl was your mum?" Oliver heads immediately to the lilac study. The door opens right as he's about to knock, like you'd heard him coming; you look better than you had that afternoon, but his words have your expression falling.

"I'm sure she didn't see it necessary to tell you I'm her child either," you snapped back, hostile. Oliver goes quiet. You crossed your arms, gaze dropping to the ground, "exactly."

"I don't know you," voice faint, Oliver steps back. Finally it starts to hit him, everything that's happened, everything he'd learned and witnessed and heard. The ache begins in his chest and blooms as he looks at you and tries to reconcile all he now knows. How had he not realised that in all the time you'd spent together, you'd never even given him your last fucking name? "I don't know who you are."

"I don't owe anyone anything -"

"Especially not yourself, right?" Oliver cuts you off, at war with himself when he sees the hurt in your eyes. Still, he can't stand by and let you talk like this, let you become a secondary character in your own damn life, "don't owe yourself the chance to believe that someone cares about you, wants to know you, to make you feel like you matter? I want to know you, I want to I love you," the words sound so raw, and he aches, shudders with each deep breath in, "but there is something wrong with you."

There was no anger in your eyes when you'd closed the door, nor any kind of betrayal. Oliver wonders if that would have been easier to stomach than the guilt, the look of apology. You agreed; you believed he was right. Regret begins to claw at his gut the moment he stumbles back, towards his room; he should have waited, given himself time to think, to process before going to you. Fuck, he really shouldn't have gone to you knowing the state you were in.

Oliver is hollow with want, despite his outburst, desperate to be close to you. But there's no way he can come back from this tonight. All he has is the people who care about you. If Oliver had learned one thing tonight, it was the Catton children and their cousin all did love you, each in their own way.

And Venetia Catton was smoking outside his window in a see-through nightgown.

[cavity-exe]

Kiss me Animal

This has been in my drafts way too long with me very slowly updating it. I haven't written in a long time and this is honestly super self indulgent. I just need more plus size readers with Brian in my life

Warnings- Reader is described to have tits and cunt and is called pretty girl. P in V, praise kink, Brian definitely being ooc and a simp for soft chubby girls, fight me. I think that's it, I tried to make it friendly for all the plus sized girlies to read so if I missed any warnings or unfriendlies just lemme know :3

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It'd been a long day

A really long fucking day, anything that could have went wrong absolutely did. Brian sighed as he kicked off his boots, the soles making a heavy thunk as they hit the wooden floor. He flopped back onto their old couch, arms resting on top of it as his head leaned back. A hand wiped down over his face as he let out a groan recalling all the events that had occurred today.

It was supposed to be a simple mission really, take out two people and wipe up any evidence the two had gathered. This sort of thing shouldn't have even required all three of them, and yet it was the messiest job they'd done in a long while. Tim triggered the back door alarm which could have worked in their favor if they had known where in the house the victims were, they didn't. A chair got taken to the back of Tim's head collectively knocking him out for a bit. Of all things Toby had to be threatened with was a blow torch, the fire of course freaking him out and causing him to stumble into Brian.

Another groan left the man as he shook his head, cringing at just how clumsy all three of them had been. Of course they did what needed to be done, but the drive back was tense as fuck with the other two being royally pissed off about how everything had gone down.

Brian was over the whole thing, wanting to just let it roll off his back and move on with his day. The blonde lazily sat up, throwing his hoodie off and onto a chair as he walked into the cabins little kitchenette. It was almost a surprise to see someone else there, forgetting for a quick moment that it wasn't just him and the other two men in the cabin anymore. He eyed you as you didn't seem to notice his presence, which wouldn't be the first time for Brian anyways. You'd been here for a few months, the operator unfortunately having taken a liking to you and directing you to their cabin of all areas.

Brian's eyes washed over your plump form, it looked like you had just rolled out of bed, hair unkempt and a loose t-shirt falling off your shoulder. His eyes went lower, a tight lil pair of black shorts were hugging your ass and chubby thighs. He hated those tiny little shorts, though you obviously seemed to love them since you wore them so God damn often. Maybe if you hadn't Brian would have talked to you more, no excuses for his mind or eyes to start wandering, though even he knew that was a lie. The man still couldn't hold conversation with you even when out doing work, and you wore cargo pants for fucks sake.

Brian looked off to the side, not wanting to be a creep as he cleared his throat to get your attention. It seemed like that was always his goal though, not wanting to appear as some sort of creep to you. It annoyed him to no end, he was the smooth talker out of their group, if they had to talk to a victim he was the first to go without a problem.

"Hey, how'd it go?". You didn't turn to face him as he walked up to the counter, pouring himself a mug of coffee. Glancing at your face, you almost looked annoyed with the slight pout and furrowed eyebrows.

"It uh, definitely could've gone better, the other two went out to go cool off from it actually". You looked over to him amused, sipping at your own mug with a nod, eyes slipping down him for a brief second before quickly looking away.

"You alright? Look like you been sleeping all day, and doesn't look like it was a good sleep". He let out a soft chuckle, at the grimace that came over your face with a shake of your head.

"Yeah I'm alright, though sleeping would've been much more accomplishing honestly". You sighed out while setting your mug in the sink. Brian raised an eyebrow at that, more accomplishing?

Watching you walk out of the kitchen, his eyes trailed down once again, before letting out a cough to himself and looking away.

This was usually how it went since you started staying with the three of them. Sure the two of you had held a few conversations late at night on the couch, but you just seemed to hold much longer talks with Tim and Toby, Tim of all people? Brian felt like he was honestly losing his touch. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, thick comforter shifting underneath him as he stared at the ceiling. His body shifted as his mind easily wandered to past images of your body, his hand going over his face at how easily worked up he seemed to be lately. Maybe he just needed a good fuck?

Though, when even was the last time he got laid? Too long apparantly as he groaned trying to remember before slipping a hand down his sweats. He let out a huff as he wrapped a fist around his half hard cock, immediately an image of those tiny black shorts coming to mind.

He swallowed thickly as he slowly pumped up and down, wetting his bottom lip as he imagined your soft thighs spilling out of fabric. How they dug into your flesh when you sat on the couch across from him. He loved how when you sat down the soft skin of your tummy bunched up over your hip and spilled out of whatever bottoms you had on. He let out a low groan, imagining how soft you'd feel against him, thumb running over the head of his cock, smearing the drip of precum over his member.

His head tilts back against the pillow, a soft wet slap being heard around the room. He let's out a grunt, imagining the jiggle of your ass as you ran in front of him, fuck if only co-

Knock, knock knock

Eyes snapped open at the light rap on his door, an annoyed low grunt leaving him as he tucked himself back into his sweats. Trudging to the door and opening it, about to give whoever it was a fuck off.

"H-hey, um sorry I know it's late."

The annoyed look on Brian's face quickly fell, suddenly aware of how his sweats hugged around his crotch he leaned himself away from the door frame as best as he could.

"Oh no don't worry about it, I wasn't asleep anyways. Did you need something?" He smiled down at you as calmly as he could trying to appear as relaxed as he could. He scanned your body as quickly as he could, fuck you had another pair of those damn shorts? Another color but it didn't matter, you were at his door in those tight lil things with a snug tank top on. He gulped slightly as he watched your chest rise and fall, watching how your flesh threatened to spill out over the fabric. How it hugged your soft sides and hips and waist and holy fuck he could see your hard nipples clearly through it.

"You have a bad staring problem, yknow that Brian?."

Hazel eyes snapped back up to your face that held a small smile. Brian felt his face heat up as he coughed into his fist.

"Fuck sorry, could you repeat yourself? Maybe I'm more tired than I thought". Playing it off with a chuckle as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

You looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, stepping closer to him and into the door frame.

"I'm not that oblivious, you know that right?" Your hand came up to rest on his chest with a playful smile. Brian had to stare at you for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of your hand on his bare skin had his head reeling.

The next few moments were a blur of you getting tugged into the bedroom, big hands gripping at the soft flesh on your hips. Your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss had Brian almost melting, pushing you against his door as he felt you up. Surprised as soft lips moved against his own excitedly.

It felt like Brian couldn't touch enough of you, wanting more of your soft flesh to squish between his fingers. A low groan left him as you tugged at his bottom lip, his hand pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hips. A shudder went through him as you ground yourself against his lap.

Lips trailed down your soft jaw and neck, his hands going lower to squeeze at your ass while he sucked just above your collar. The soft whimpers leaving your parted lips every time he sucked on your skin had him grinding himself back against you.

"Fuck pretty girl, don't know how long I've wanted to feel you like this." He pulled away from your marked neck. A hand was brought up to your face and he let out an amused hum at the warmth coming from your cheeks. You let out a little pant before smiling at him.

"I should've shown up at your door late at night a lot sooner then huh? I guess I just didn't ever wanna interrupt your lil one on one times with yourself." You had a sly smile as you scrunched your nose up at him. Brian dropped his head with a slight chuckle, quickly gripping your other thigh and hoisting you up. He let out a laugh at the the yelp that came out of you.

"What a fucking tease, you knew all this time and didn't even wanna help a guy out? Maybe I should just leave you high and dry tonight then." He gave you a serious stare but it was a fucking lie. There was no way Brian was gonna choose not to sink into your soft form and watch you come undone. Annoyingly you seemed to already know that as you smiled at him.

"Just take me to the bed already, we both know thats not happening".

Brian could have said something sarcastic but did as told anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed so you were perched on his lap all pretty. His hands couldn't help but find place on your soft hips, thick fingers sinking into the doughy skin. His fingers found the fabric of your shorts, tugging them down and off of you, a small smirk forming on his lips at the sight of the pretty little thong you had on underneath.

You rested your hands on his chest, gliding them up and down the bare skin before dragging down to the top of his sweatpants.

Brian had to hold back a groan as you shifted against him. A sigh leaving him as you held onto his shoulders, his own hands tugging you closer as you ground into him. Half lidded eyes glanced up to your face, lips parted and your eyes downcast as you watched yourself move against him.

He felt like he was a in a haze as he watched you, hands gripping onto you like they never wanted to let go. He brought a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss your lips. Brian guided your hand back to his sweats, letting you tug them down to let his cock out. A sigh left him through his nose as you got right back to grinding against him, his cock catching on your damp panties every so often. A low chuckle goes through his chest at the sound of your whines, reaching a finger down to tug your panties aside. Rough hands gripped tightly onto your hips, beginning to guide your movements as his cock slid back and forth between your wet folds, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit every so often.

You found yourself on your back suddenly, head sinking down into a pillow as you blinked up at the blonde. It almost seemed predatory how he hovered over you, flushed lips panting as his eyes raked over your form. His hand almost smacks down onto your thigh with how rough he grips it, watching the fat squeeze through his fingers before moving your thighs apart and moving himself inbetween them.

Brian gulped as he watched your chest rise and fall underneath him, the way you looked laying there had his head racing with too many scenarios of everything he wanted to do to you.

"Please?". Just one word had him almost losing it, he'd imagined himself teasing you until you couldn't take it anymore countless times, but right now he couldn't seem to find the patience. Brian has to almost hold back a groan as he grips his cock, pushing it against your wet hole a few times before finally sinking in. The whine that leaves you has him huffing out a laugh as he catches his breath, grip tight on your hips as he lets you adjust.

It's truly a sight to see for Brian, thighs spread open around him, tank top bunched up on top of your soft tummy, the fabric stretched to the side and letting your tits almost spill out. He watched as your hands came up to paw at his chest, a lopsided grin forming on his lips as you mouthed his name. He didn't need anymore than that to start quickly putting into you, a grunt and a pant leaving him every few thrusts.

"Feel so soft under me pretty girl, fuck, just like I imagined." Rough hands squeezed at your thighs and hips, trailing up to your tummy despite the whines leaving you.

"Really don't understand how many times I've thought about fucking this soft cunt, so fuckin warm and tight and so god damn wet. Do you hear the filthy sounds your little cunt is making for me?." One of his hands left your thighs, coming up to grip your jaw in his hand so you could look up at him, smiling down at you like the cocky fuck he is. It felt like words were stuck in the back of your throat as he fucked you, your mouth opening a few times but no more than a moan leaving you. He grins with a harsh pant, hand leaving your jaw as it reaches down to suddenly tug at your nipple, a yelp leaving you.

"Oh I knew you could still talk, come on pumpkin, wanna hear you. Gotta use your big girl words for me."

The way he was talking to you was certainly doing something to you, talking in that sweet loving tone, his words drawn out, and yet it felt like he was mocking you. A louder moan leaves you as he moves to grip one of your thighs, holding it up against his hip so he can fuck into you deeper.

"Come on, tell me how it feels won't you baby?."

Fast pants and whimpers are leaving you before you can finally get your words to work. "S'feels good! Feels good Brian!."

He can't help but almost laugh at how whiny it comes out, rutting into you faster as he leans down against you.

"Aw atta girl, I knew you could do it pumpkin." The whine that leaves you before hiding your face into his shoulder is enough to make him finally laugh. Still gripping onto your thigh he slows down his pace, feeling himself getting worked up just a little too fast. He leans down just a bit more next to your ear, breathy voice the only other thing you can focus on other than his cock.

"You like when I call you sweet lil names huh sweetheart? Can't hide it with the cute sounds you make everytime I call you something. Is that all I need to do to get you to listen and talk to me hm? Call you baby, pumpkin or tell you just how good you are for me?."

Brian was really just rambling at this point, the slow drag of his cock slipping in and out of your warm cunt had his head feeling hazy. He was barely registering the way your nails slowly dug into his shoulders the more he talked.

"Don't worry baby, you can be my good girl every night." Finally leaning back up, he holds your cheek in his hand, taking a deep breath as he picks his pace back up again. He watches tears well up in your eyes, how warm your cheek is against his hand from embarrassment was going straight to his cock. His lips were on yours suddenly, the kiss messy and wet with drool seeping down your lips. Eyes were half lidded, watching the other before Brian pulled away, thumb coming up to swipe the drool back into your mouth. A heavy pant left him as he sunk his thumb into your mouth, resting it on your tongue as he groaned. He kept it there as his thrusts became short and quick.

"Need to feel you cum around me pretty girl, wanna watch you make a complete mess of yourself." Fingers slipped down in-between the both of you, two fingers coming down to your clit and rubbing in slow small circles. The arch in your back had him speeding up his fingers, grin never leaving his face as he watched your eyes screw shut.

"Fu-fuck, I-."

"Go ahead sweetheart, lemme feel you." Just one more sweet little name was all you needed apparently as you let out a whiny moan, thighs shuddering in his grasp. Both hands came to grip your waist as he grunted, quick curses leaving him before he was spilling into you.

Your hand ran over your forehead and layed above you as you panted, staring up at the ceiling as you listened to the blonde pant beside you. You glanced over at him, arm laying over his chest as he seemed to also be in a daze. Watching his Adams apple bob as he swallowed before glancing over at you too. The boyish smile that formed on his lips was enough for you as you smiled back.

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Comments super appreciated cause I really wanna get back into writing, especially for marble hornets. Also yes this is set in an AU where they work for the operator, I'm sorry but it's easy and I'm dumb for them