#as log as your company is stupid

[thelaurenshippen]

I just think that if you pay a subscription for a service it should be illegal to then have pop-ups asking you to pay for more stuff. I want to kill intuit with hammers

[beewitch4]

im gonna killbitestab

[frantic-fiction]

Shattered Glass 18+

(Gif: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: Astarion finally makes do on a promise.

This is part 2 of Secluded Evening. (Could be read as a stand alone)

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, oral fem receiving, PnV sex, unprotected sex, biting (of course) Astarion being a lovesick fool

Word count: 2.6k

Astarion threw another log on the fire; a flurry of embers took flight, dancing in the cold night air. The rest of the camp had already settled in their tents. You were nestled between his knees about five feet away from the flames. A throw blanket cascaded down your shoulders—a notebook on your lap. 

He studies the rapid strokes of your hand from over your shoulder. The rough lines of charcoal were blooming into an identical copy of Laz'eal. Astarion pulled a strand of hair away from your eyes and began to weave your locks into a simple braid. He doesn't have a hair tie, and knowing you, you've lost yours. So, he twists the pieces, and once done let's go, kissing the crown of your head. 

You barely acknowledge him, and when you suddenly shove the pencil over your shoulder, Astarion chuckles, taking it from you. He watches you begin smudging the charcoal with the pad of your finger. You're adorable when your art consumes you. Every time, it captivates Astarion.

This was how most of your nights were spent. Not always precisely like this; sometimes Astarion brought a book, and sometimes your hand got too sore to draw, so Astarion read to you as you curled on his lap. But as long as it was spent in each other's company neither of you cared much for the activity.

Astarion adored these nights the most, primarily because he could feast his eyes on your beauty without you shying away or throwing a stupid joke at him to break the tension. You were perfect in every way, and when he opened his heart briefly and confessed the broken pieces of himself and the motivations that led him to you. All you did was look at him with unspoken love and hugged him. 

Your relationship became something more after that. Sex was not what drew the two of you together. For the first time in 200 years, Astarion had someone he trusted with his every sense of the word. Someone who wanted more than his body and showed their love for him without words. Someone he wanted to spend every moment of his life with despite the fear that thought causes him. 

Astarion thinks he loves you but can't find the words when his mouth opens. He's always struggled with expressing his true feelings, but he wants to try with you. He wants to bear his heart to you and show you all that you mean to him. And with all the trust you and Astarion have established, one thing has become a very big problem. 

You have begun to treat Astarion like glass, as if one sexual touch will break him. And frankly, it's pissing him off. Astarion finally has complete control over his body and a partner who he trusts. A partner that can bring him to his knees with a simple giggle and to put it bluntly, gods you were fucking sexy. 

He's frustrated, horny, and has no idea how to ask for anything he wants. And for fucks sake, if he wakes from a meditation to have you grinding against his erection again, he just might explode.

In his frustrated musing, he didn't notice that you had placed your sketch pad away. He only noticed when you cupped his jaw and moved his eyes to meet yours. "What are you thinking about, handsome?"

It takes a moment for Astarion to collect himself as he stares at your soft smile. "I was thinking it's about time we get you, my sweet, to bed," he pecks your lips before grabbing your wrist and entwining your fingers. You nod and press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

Astarion holds the flap open, and you duck inside. Kicking your pants off and into the corner, you unceremoniously plop down into the pile of cushions. You began sharing a tent in the shadow curse lands. Astarion found out pretty early on that nightmares of Cazador were less likely when you were in his arms. And thankfully, you slept better, too. 

You prop yourself on your elbows and silently watch Astarion move about the small space, removing his outer clothing. He seemed to be stalling, almost like he was silently debating with himself. Astarion is in his underwear when he seems to come to a conclusion. He takes a deep breath and moves towards you. Kneeling by your feet, you watch as Astarion hesitates, his hand resting softly on your shin. Hesitation is soon replaced with a devilish smirk that stretches across his lips.

"Whatcha thinking about pretty boy?" 

Astarion doesn't say anything, just slowly begins to crawl up your body before capturing you in a breathtaking kiss. His knee is between your legs; your hands are around his neck, pulling him flush against your body. You sigh softly into his mouth, moving your hands to caress his cheekbone.

He tongues the seam of your lips, and you are quick to gasp, giving him access to lick deeper. Astarion's hands are caressing up and down your curves, cupping your breast and tugging the metal bars of your nipple rings. His mouth moves to your throat, sucking hard at your jugular. 

"W-wait!" You choke out, causing the elf above you to freeze. He's quick to remove himself from you, putting some distance between your bodies. 

"Shit, did…did I do something wrong?" Astarion's voice cracks; you've never heard him so unsure of himself. You pant hard but are quick to sit up and fall into Astarion's lap, his arms instinctually wrapping around your waist.

"No, gods no," you sigh, cupping his jaw and pressing your forehead against his. The tension in Astarion's shoulders drops, and he squeezes you a bit harder.

"Then what is it, my sweet?"

That has you pausing to figure out the best way to say this. "What was your plan?" Shit, that didn't sound good

"My plan! Are you serious?" He's already pulling away, shutting off completely when you pull him back tightly.

"No! Th-that's fuck, that's not what I meant, Star," at least he's not trying to run, but he's as stiff as ever. "Astarion, I will be as blunt as possible because I care about you. Were you trying to have sex with me because you felt obligated?"

This isn't what Astarion expected you to say because he can't mask the look of surprise. He opens his mouth to speak before clamping it shut. He does this twice more, but you don't rush him, you push stray curls behind his ear and wait. 

"No." His voice is small. He clears his throat before speaking again, stronger this time. "No, I want this, and I would appreciate you stop treating me like fucking glass."

“What?”

You're flipped over, and suddenly, on your back, Astarion's body pressed closely against yours. He ruts against you. His cock was hard, feeling painfully constricted in his underwear. "I appreciate your patience with me, darling, but I need to clarify one thing to you right now."

Astarion licks a long stripe up your collarbone, ending just under your ear. You moan softly, trying desperately to roll your hips up into Astarion. "I have never wanted someone more than I wanted you. So, if it's okay with you, my sweet, I'm going to take the rest of our clothes off, and you're going to finally let me feast upon the sweetness between your legs."

You whine and buck, trying to get anything from Astarion's unmoving body. "Tsk, no, no, my sweet. Use your words." He purred, nipping your ear.

"Please! Yes! Oh gods, Astarion," 

Once the words leave your lips, you're tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. After you are both fully undressed, Astarion shoves you back onto the cushions. You expect him to pounce but he hovers staring down at your naked body.

Astarion's deft fingers grab your foot, and he presses a soft kiss to your inner ankle. A pang of heat flared through your lower abdomen. He kisses up to the top of your calf before giving a playful bite. You release a soft yelp, and Astarions lavishes the bite with his tongue. He slowly moves up to your inner thigh, leaving various bruises in his wake.

 You're gasping as he ghosted over the spot you wanted him most. His breath fans over your dripping cunt, and you swear he's about to give you what you want. Then he kisses you. Just one small peck on the public area just above your clit, before he retreats. You cry, and one of your hands card into Astarion's white locks. 

“No! Please!”

 He begins the same slow ascent up your other leg, paying just as much attention. "Now, as much as I love those beautiful noises you make for me. Remember that our camp members are trying to sleep; you can be a good girl for me, right?" He gazes up between your parted legs, and you nod and swear if he asked at this moment, you would have given him anything.

"I thought so," Astarion purred before licking up the entire length of your pussy. You moan out and swiftly clap your hand over your mouth. Then suddenly Astarion is a man starved.

His hand grips the underside of your thighs hard and pulls you down the bed as close as physically possible. He sucks, and licks, piercing his tongue sloppily at your dripping cunt, and you're a mess of pleasure. Your grind against Astarion's face, his nose rubbing beautifully against your clit. If it weren't for Astarion's hands keeping your thighs parted, you probably would be crushing his head in your desperation.

A low groan rumbles from Astarion's chest, and he focuses his attention, sucking tightly on the bundle of nerves. He slips his first and middle finger into your cunt and curls up, causing you to gasp for air. 

"S-star…oh gods!" You cried, and he was ruthless with his assault. Astarion pumped his fingers quickly, the sloppy sounds of his mouth mixed with your muffled moan. Your stomach was coiling with pleasure, and you were embarrassed with how fast Astarion was picking you apart. "I'm close." you whimper, rolling your hips against his face. 

Astarion, after a moment, releases your clit. Still pumping you with his fingers, he looks up at you, chin glistening with your arousal, a smug grin lazily plaster on his lips. "Come for me, love, be a good girl."

With the last few slips of his fingers, the coil snaps, and you're falling apart. Eyes unfocused, muscled tight, the silent gasp of ecstasy stuck in your throat. Astarion watches in amazement and arousal as you come apart so thoroughly with just his mouth and fingers. His cock is aching pre, now dribbling down the shaft. 

Once your orgasm slows, you feel the immense need for more. And with Astarion still nestled between your legs, it has you moving without thought. You push Astarion back and plant yourself on his lap. You mash your mouth against him, chasing the taste of yourself on his tongue. 

Astarion groans and cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your palms roam down his chest, smoothing down his abs until you come to his neglected cock. It's swollen and red, and when you grip it softly, Astarions hisses into your mouth, bucking into your palm. 

Smearing the pre-come around, you slowly work your hand up and down Astarion's dick in long, languid strokes. His eyes glaze over, and he moans, head dropping to your shoulder. Astarion's cold hands fondled your breast, and he leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulls the metal piercing softly with his teeth. 

You whine and tug on a fist full of Astarion's hair, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. "Fuck, darling." Astarion moans, moving to give your other breast equal attention. Your positive marks will be littering your body for days following. And the thought alone causes you to clench your thighs. 

You pump your hand faster, and Astarion meets everyone with thrusts of his hips. He claims your lips again in a sloppy dance of wet tongues. Then suddenly Astarion stills your hand.

"If you keep this up, I'm not going to last much longer." Astarion's pants, nudging your nose with his.

"Isn't that kinda the point, handsome?"

"Not if I want to come apart feeling you clenching around me," Astarion's voice is breathless, and you moan at the thought. He kisses your cheek, then your jaw. Trailing his way to your neck. "Would you like that, my sweet," 

Whatever power you had over Astarion had just turned to dust. You bite your lip and nod quickly, letting Astarion push you on to your back. You part your hips, and Astarion slots right in. 

"Words, my love. You do know how much I love your voice." Such a fucking tease.

Linking your arms around his neck, you pull him down, hitching one of your legs over Astarion's hips. "Please…I need you to fuck me." 

"Shit…" Astarion groans. Taking himself in hand, he smears his dick with your arousal before filling you agonizing inch by inch. 

The two of you let out a collective cry of pleasure, and you feel complete. Astarion pulls out and slams his hips back, ripping the oxygen from your lungs, and sets a steady pace. You clutch at his shoulders, digging your nails into exposed skin. The slick sounds of Astarions pumping in and out of you were depraved and did nothing but fill your lower abdomen with molten lava. Astarion wholly consumed your senses. 

The coolness of his lips left lingering kisses on your arched neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary flooded your nose with each shaky inhale. The saltiness of any skin you could taste. It was too much and not enough all at once. 

The scrape of Astarion's fangs graze his favorite feeding spot, and you grab the back of his head. "Yes! P-please…" and soon, the icy pierce of his teeth is followed by the cool tingle of pleasure that flows through your body. 

Astarion grunts as soon as the blood touches his tongue. He ruts faster against you, grinding you into the blankets. He has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep your voice from waking the whole camp. 

But what can you do? Nothing. Not when his other hand begins to roll your clit in tight circles matching his thrusts. Your hands trail down his back, legs hooking tightly around his torso. The angle of your hips changes, and Astarion is pounding into the spot that has you seeing stars. You're close, and you try to say so, but Astarion hand is still tight around your mouth. 

After a last mouthful of blood, Astarions peppers kisses over the bite. "I know, my sweet, I'm…fuck I'm close to." 

His fingers are rubbing your clit faster, and his hips aren't letting up the brutal pace. Your legs are quaking, and you feel like you might faint. You clench tightly around him, and then you fall apart. Suddenly, Astarion's hand is gone, and his tongue is in your mouth, capturing every whimper of pleasure you give. And with a few more swallow sloppy thrusts, Astarion falls over the edge with you, filling you with his spent.

Astarion continue to languidly kiss you, both hands cupping your face like you are the most precious creature on the plane. He barely grinds his hips, feeling the last of your orgasms fade until you are both too sensitive. 

And it's like someone cut the puppet strings. Astarion falls limply onto you, blanketing your body with his. You comb softly through his hair, gently pulling out any knots. Astarion kisses your shoulder before rolling off of you. 

It is silent for a while as you stare into each other's eyes. Astarions is the first to speak. "I love you," His words were barely above the whisper, and if you weren't staring intently at the man, you might have missed it. 

You're speechless. Were you dreaming?

"I still believe you deserve more than the broken man before you. But you've chosen me, and I have felt true happiness for the first time since waking up in my grave. And well-"

You don't give him a moment to finish before you're in his lap and tackling him into an embrace. "I love you, Astarion." 

The dopey grin on his face has you breaking into your own. You press your forehead to his, and he hugs you tightly. You don't know what tomorrow brings. But being here, seeing Astarion's smile, and knowing he loves you just as much as you love him. It feels like you can do anything. 

Okay, friends, this was just so fun to write. Let me know what ya thought. I swear all the love and support I've received from my last few posts have been so amazing. I'm so excited to show you more!!!

If you liked this, maybe you'll like one of these?

Happy Birthday (fluffy)

Reoccurring Nightmares (hurt/comfort)

Tag list?: @heartfully10

[skzdarlings]

02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.

-

pairing: lee know/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.

inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.

-

There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder.  Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing. 

The noise is not why you are still awake.   Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt. 

You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived.  You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone.  Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.

The argument you started. 

All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience.  Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry.  You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control.  You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him.  He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.

Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.      

You didn’t cry.  You didn’t let yourself cry.  Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that. 

Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain.  You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho.   The rain is coming down pretty hard.  You hope he gets back soon.   Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside.  He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour.  You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out.   The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following.  It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched. 

He turns abruptly, looking right at you.  There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back.   An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you.   I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think.  The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall.  Your heart pounds.   That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides.  You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.

He turns off the lights.  Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent. 

You exhale.  It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns.  You hear him moving about in the dark.  You lay straight as a board, your back to him. 

You stare through the dark at nothing.  You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak.   You just breathe. 

Minho climbs into the bed.  It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company.  He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt.  He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down.  It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe. 

The rain has slowed.  It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.  

The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense.  It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating.   You swallow. 

The argument was your fault.  Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault.  You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure.  You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry.  No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask.  Hug me, hold me, help me.   You don’t know how to ask for the things you want.   So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.  

It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over.  You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind.   He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second.  Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face.  You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I shouldn’t have said that shit.  I don’t even know why we were fighting.  Just call it my fault, okay?  I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”   

He is trying to joke with you.  His friendliness is what gets you.  Even after everything, he is still so good to you.   

You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying.  It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it.  Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back.  He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion.  “I was just kidding.  I’m sorry.  Take a free slap.”  He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it. 

It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears. 

“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.” 

Understanding fills his expression.  You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest.   He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt.   You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing.   You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.  

“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say.  Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now.  “I know it was stupid and it made you mad.  I just felt like I was gonna explode.” 

Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you.   That’s why you did it.  Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone.   His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.

He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back. 

“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute.  “I was just worried.  And…”

You peek up at him.  He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard. 

“I was jealous,” he says bitterly. 

“Jealous,” you say.  “Of me?”  

“Yes.”  He gives you a very sarcastic look.   “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no.  Obviously not of you.  Why do you always torture me like this?   Go cry on the floor.”  He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him. 

You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder.  Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying.  Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy.   It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks. 

“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly.  “We didn’t do anything.  He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”

“Keep stammering.  It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”   

“Minho.”  You slap his chest.  His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission.   You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth.  “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze.  You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”

Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.   

“No,” he says.  “No.   You’re just saying that to bully me.  I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”   

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet.  “Ahhhhhhh.  I should be shot!”  

You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.          

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Oh really?”  He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line. 

“Well.”  You burst into laughter all over again.  “Maybe just a little!” 

He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you.  Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin. 

“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail.  He just grins and continues his attack. 

Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed.  You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too.  Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you.   You are both out of breath, both smiling.  His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push. 

The room feels quiet, the silence again tense.  But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before.   It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.     

You do not push him away.  You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull.  His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head.  He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed.  Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them.  He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you. 

The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue.  He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard. 

“Wow,” you say softly.  You look at him.  His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke.   You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers.   “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”

He grins at that. 

“Oh,” he says.  “Really?” 

“Yeah.”  You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm.  He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist.  You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much.  “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say.  “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”

His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows. 

“Garlic?” he asks.  “The garlic got you hot?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting.  “You already made me cry once tonight…”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he says.  “Sure, okay, let’s play.  I made you cry.   I should make it up to you?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.”  He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips.   Then he abruptly pulls away.  He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.   

Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows.   He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“What is it?” you ask.   

“Hmm?”  He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one.  “What?  I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason.  Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”  

“Ahhh, I hate you!”  You flop back down, covering your face with your hands. 

Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs.  He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on.  He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.  

You hear the rustle of fabric.  Curious, you peek between your fingers.  Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips.  That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling.  Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off.   It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly.  “Your turn.”  He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers.  “Come on.  Hurry up.” 

Your brain has short-circuited.  It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it.  You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him.   You are checking each other out, looking up and down.   Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open. 

You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there. 

You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.

“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you. 

“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”

“You said everything I do turns you on.”  He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp.   Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours.  His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you.  “So,” he says.  “What else then?” 

“Oh.”  You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you.  “Um.  Well.  Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—” 

Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh.  He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.    

“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic and driving in reverse.  I’m learning so much.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

“That would be very rude,” he says.  “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.” 

“You—wha—ohhh—”

You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest.  You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho.  By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.   

You don’t even have time to overthink.  The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.  

You will figure things out.  You always do.  Right now, you let yourself lose control.   You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you.   You trust him completely.  Surrender is easy.   

The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor.  He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder.   He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs.  When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place. 

When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre.  Again, your fingers find his hair.  He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously.  Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task.  It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.  

When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back.  He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge.  Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite. 

He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.   

“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts. 

You playfully cuff the side of his head. 

“That good?” he continues to tease. 

You roll your eyes but smile.   You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked.   Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—

“Oh,” you say.  You look down at the same time as him.  A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants.  “You already—”

He flops down beside you and sighs.

“Sorry,” he says.  “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.” 

“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh.  You roll over to rest your head on his chest.  His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back.  You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass.  You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came.  “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.” 

Minho came from eating you out.  Of course you think it’s hot. 

And of course he has to be Minho about it. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic. Driving in reverse.  Premature ejaculation.  Uptight was definitely the wrong word.  I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”

“Ugh!”  You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke. 

He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind.  This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times.  All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it. 

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper. 

“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again. 

You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms. 

[jeneveuxrein]

needy (BLACKPINK Rosé)

word count: 3.3K

(i'm a bit rusty, lol)

You hear an exaggerated sigh behind you. You ignore it, choosing instead to smirk at your screen as your team continues with its quest. 

Your online friends would call you a complete idiot for not doing what you should be doing versus what you’re actually doing. 

It wasn’t intentional. 

At least on your end, it wasn’t. 

Well, to an extent. 

You shouldn’t be focused on finding this stupid shield Jungkook read about from a gaming article with this new update. 

You should, however, give all of your attention to the woman laying on your bed. 

But it’s not that simple. 

See, the thing is, when you meet someone as famous as Park Chaeyoung, or Rosé, or your favorite Rosie or Chaeng, there are rules you’ve established to make this relationship work.

Rule number one: no one can know unless it’s disclosed to her company. Privacy and all that, not only for her, but for you as well. 

Rule number two: you specifically aren’t allowed to date anyone else. The rule applies to her because you are officially together, like boyfriend-girlfriend kind of together, but she likes having so-called power over you. 

Rule number three: if you’re in each other’s presence, undivided attention is a must. Time is precious for the both of you after all. She has a hectic schedule that takes her all over the world while your line of work has you constantly troubleshooting to make sure everything runs smoothly. 

So it was a surprise when Rosie showed up at your apartment a little before midnight without a heads up. She knew what you were doing this evening, but you hadn’t heard from her since morning. You, being you, figured she had an event or a rehearsal or something that kept her occupied. Not that you weren’t involved in her life, but her schedule constantly changed. It was hard for you to keep up. 

Rosie lets out another exaggerated sigh that it actually distracts you, causing your character to die in this part of the quest. 

“Dude seriously?” Jungkook’s voice is in your headphones, chuckling. “You of all people dying to that?” 

“Shut up,” Is all you say, swiveling your chair around to your girlfriend dressed in more comfortable clothes than what she arrived in—your clothes specifically. She has a habit of rummaging through your drawers. Not that you minded, she looks hot in whatever she wears. There was just something about her wearing your clothes that had you feeling some type of way. You mute your mic, double checking it is in fact muted before asking, “Everything alright?” 

“I’m over and my boyfriend won’t spend time with me,” Rosie huffs out, crossing her arms. 

“If I knew you were coming over, I wouldn’t have logged on,” You roll your eyes, glancing at the screen to thirty seconds left before you respawned. 

“I called,” Rosie glares. Someone else might’ve folded under her gaze, but it doesn’t intimidate you. 

“And my phone was in the living room,” You say, slightly apologetic, but the respawn sound plays that has you turning back to the screen. 

“Yeah yeah, play your stupid game,” Rosie mutters, which you hear loud and clear while the rest of the guys talk about their day. 

See, meeting Rosie was pure chance, a deal of the hand you weren’t expecting. Your gaming company drove the development of her group’s mobile game and when it was time to launch, the members of BLACKPINK were there.

At the time, you were just one of the developers since you had more of a managerial role and took it last minute. You were overseeing the game’s development more than anything, giving your two cents as needed, but were hands off for the most part. 

According to Rosie, as she told you during your first date, you were indifferent to meeting them as opposed to everyone else on the team who brought merch for them to sign. She noticed you before the other three girls did, and made sure she personally introduced herself to you. 

Rosie’s beautiful. You’re not blind. You get the appeal. You guessed it was that you treated them like normal people instead of idols that had most of your coworkers swooning in their presence.  

She’s also clingy, not that you minded. She’s slowly told you about her past relationships–lies, cheating, using her. It left wounds of insecurity that have made her feel unsure of who she could trust her heart with. 

One drunken night after spending it at Jennie’s, tangled in your sheets, Rosie told you she felt safe with you. 

Though, as of this moment, you sense the irritation rolling off of her. 

“What the fuck?” The controller falls into your lap when you see Rosie suddenly beside you. 

“You good over there?” Tae asks. 

“Yeah, I just gotta mute myself for a sec, my girlfriend’s calling me,” You mute the mic again, grabbing the controller before turning to Rosie. “What?” 

“I’m bored,” Rosie states simply. 

“And you want to watch me play?” 

“Can I?” You raise an eyebrow, knowing her too well that she’s up to something. 

“Did you want me to grab you a-” Rosie doesn’t let you finish, opting to sit in your lap. “Okay fine, no funny business.” 

Rosie shrugs, settling comfortably against you as you unmute yourself, “Sorry.”

“Are you in trouble?” Jungkook jokes. Your friends know of your girlfriend, but you have yet to give any information on her. Again, privacy and all that. 

“No, she’s just being needy,” That earns you a slap on the arm and a glare.

Your friends laugh, which Rosie hears, slapping your thigh this time. You squeeze her body with your arms before resting your chin on her shoulder as you continue playing. 

Time goes by, Rosie starts squirming in your hold. She was never one to sit still. You let go and she tilts her head back onto your shoulder before she relaxes against your chest. It’s nice being with her like this. She comes over often, but not often enough. 

You haven’t seen her in almost two weeks. The group just finished their last leg of their tour before their encore performances begin. They have a show in France in a couple weeks, which you’ll be joining them. She asked if you wanted to go with them to the states so you could visit your mother in San Francisco. You had to check with your boss, but it was likely you’d be going as well. 

Rosie mutes your mic, “Are you almost done?” 

“Not really,” She sighs against your body. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Rosie pouts, but she does something you were expecting. She slightly rolls her hips. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. 

“Chaeng,” You deadpan, eyes still focused on the screen. 

“What?” There it is. The tilt in her voice, that if it was anybody else, they’d fall for her feigned innocence. 

But it wasn’t anybody else. It was you. 

“Don’t,” Rosie rolls her hips against you again, this time, perfectly against your cock. “Chaeng.” 

“I’m just trying to get comfortable, you’re not exactly ergonomic,” Rosie shrugs, rocking her hips against you once again. 

Your cock stirs at the movement. You take a deep breath, refocusing yourself as your team continues the quest. 

Tae asks you a question, forcing you to reach around Rosie to unmute yourself. “Yeah I’ll check that.” 

When you mute once again, Rosie asks, “How quiet can you be?”

“What?” The question catches you off guard because Rosie’s standing up and unmutes you. She turns to smirk and drops to her knees in between your legs. Your eyes widen, shocked at her boldness. You’re about to say something when she holds a finger to her lips. 

“Fuck,” You groan into the mic when Rosie slips her hand underneath your sweats, wrapping her hand around your half-hard cock. 

“What happened?” You barely hear someone ask. 

“Nothing,” You grit out, eyes watching Rosie push your sweats down just enough to free your cock. You let out a hiss as the cool air of your apartment hits your skin. “I’m good.” 

She starts off slow, moving a loose fist up and down your length as the blood in your body rushes south. By the time you’re fully erect, she lets go, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

Rosie’s face lights up, and you know that look. It spells trouble with a capital T, and when she stands up in between your legs, pulling her (your) boxers down, you have a clear picture of what’s going to come next. 

It was meant to be a joke when you mentioned it on FaceTime while they were touring in Australia. You had this fantasy of her keeping your cock warm while you gamed. She asked if you actually wanted that, knowing how much you took gaming with your friends seriously. You shrugged, off-handedly commenting that you thought it would be hot. 

You didn’t go into much detail of how you envisioned it. It was just a fantasy, but when Rosie turns around, her shapely bottom waving in your face, this was so much better than what you imagined. 

Rosie mutes you again, her face slightly turned to you, “Still want to play your game?” 

It’s a challenge. A very dangerous one that you don’t know the outcome of, but you’d bet everything to find out. Even if that meant you have to fuck Rosie against your desk for being this needy. 

“Yeah,” Your voice comes out hoarse, hardly recognizable in your ears. 

“Fine.” One hand rests on your desk as the other reaches for your cock, angling it as she takes all of you in one smooth move. 

“Jesus Chaeng,” You nearly drop your controller as one hand shoots to her hip, gripping tightly as her walls squeeze around your cock. It knocks the wind out of you, feeling just how wet and warm she is.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Rosie slightly pants, leaning on your desk as you feel her walls stretch to accommodate your size.

“I don’t know,” You pathetically moan out as she sits up straight against your chest. 

“Keep playing,” Rosie unmutes you before slowly rocking her hips. 

You don’t know how the fuck you were supposed to focus when she feels so fucking good wrapped around you, but you push through. 

You tune in to what your friends are talking about, ignoring the small mewls Rosie lets out as her hips move in a circle on top of you. You try to be engaged, commenting here and there, but it’s hard to care what they’re saying. 

You close your eyes, dropping your head against the chair when Rosie lifts her hips along your length before dropping her weight against you. 

“Fuck,” You mutter, but it’s loud enough for your friends to hear. They ask if everything’s alright and you immediately snap back to the screen as Rosie repeats the movement again and again and again. “Yeah, I’m fine,” You grit out after she lands on a particularly hard thrust, walls tightening as she takes a breath. 

You’d give yourself a pat on a back for how far you’ve made it. The amount of self-control you have when it comes to your girlfriend is usually very low. You don’t need much convincing when it comes to having sex, but you want to hold out as much as possible to see where it takes you. 

It’s not everyday Rosie uses your cock to fuck herself. She has, but that’s usually on a bed or in your car, where she has your full, undivided attention.

Rosie brings your hands against her lower stomach, resting the controller against her as she undulates her hips. Any vibration from the game has her body reacting, which by default, you reap the benefits. 

Rosie reaches forward, the mic turning off once again, “I’m going to cum,” She moans out. 

You didn’t think she’d get there that fast, but it is hot to get fucked while your friends are oblivious to what’s going on. She loves performing for thousands of people at a time, but you know her favorite performances are for you and you alone. 

“Go ahead baby,” You murmur, eyes watching where you’re connected, her hips hypnotizing you as they move. “Make yourself cum since you couldn’t wait for me.” 

The words set her off as her body quivers, shaking on your lap as her orgasm hits. Her head snaps back and she holds onto the arm rests as she tries to shut her thighs at the pressure inside her body. The only obstacle is your hands and controller dropping, keeping her spread open as you feel a sudden wetness cover your sweats. 

“Did you just squirt baby?” Your lips ghost over her skin, sweetly kissing her behind the ear. 

“No,” Rosie mumbles weakly, resting her head on your shoulder as she catches her breath. 

“No? Then why are my clothes soaked?” You thrust up from your chair, knocking the wind out of her as she lets out a filthy moan. 

“You came,” She moans as you rock up again, enjoying the sensation. 

You click your tongue, shaking your head as you decide you can’t hold back any longer. Keeping her on top of you, her walls snug and hot, you unmute for the last time, “Ayo, I gotta go.”

Rosie tries to stand, but your arms around her keep her still, filled. 

“Dude what? We’re nowhere near done,” Jungkook whines and you roll your eyes. 

“I realized I didn’t finish something. I can pass on the shield. I’ll log on again sometime this weekend,” You say curtly without giving them a chance to respond, quickly exiting the program before tossing your controller on the desk. 

You stand, easily taking your girlfriend with you as you push her forward, folding her against your desk as she rests on her elbows, back perfectly arched, keeping your bodies connected. 

“Baby,” Rosie whines, your cock still nestled deep inside her.

“Jesus fuck Chaeng,” You pull your hips back, looking at your cock covered in her slick. “You’re a fucking menace.” 

You snap your hips forward, groaning as your cock fills her.

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” Rosie moans, pushing her ass towards you to take you even deeper. “You chose a game over me.” 

Your hands grip her waist, stopping any movement from her as you just breathe since both of you know what’s coming next. You lean forward, kissing her head, “Don’t act like that. You know you still have all of my attention.” 

You draw your hips backwards, but before you thrust, Rosie speaks, “Then fuck me like I do.”

Never one to not obey Rosie, you do just that. 

You thrust into her experimentally, getting your bearings before you completely lose it since it has been two weeks too long and the amount of dirty texts and pictures you’ve exchanged is never enough. 

“Baby please,” Rosie begs, head slightly turning before nodding. 

The control snaps and you’re thrusting wildly, her hips slamming against the desk, before she could react. 

One of the best parts, aside from you care deeply for and can genuinely share your thoughts and feelings with, is that Rosie always welcomes being fucked hard. Sure you’ve had sex at a much tamer, slower pace, which is just as great, but it’s the best when it’s been a while and the only thing either of you could focus on is tearing each other apart together. 

“Missed you so much,” Rosie whines, doing what she can to meet your thrusts. It isn’t much since you’re practically nailing her against the furniture. 

“Missed you too baby,” You groan as her walls start to clamp down to keep you inside. 

One hand lets go of her waist, raising it slightly before your palm makes contact with her ass cheek. She lets out a moan, pressing her face into her arms, slightly embarrassed by how her body reacts to the pain. You watch her skin slowly turn red, spurring you on even more. 

You feel your peaks coming soon just based on how much easier it is. Her pussy’s slickness lets you slide in and out with ease, but there’s another thing that Rosie loves and it’s how vocal you can get. 

Praise is all around her, but the praise she adores the most is when you tell her yourself. 

Your hand grips her waist again before you let your thoughts fall freely from your mouth. 

Fuck you feel so good baby. 

Couldn’t wait for me huh? Needed my cock so badly.

You look so pretty, letting me fuck this pussy.

You were so hot taking me while I played. 

Bounce on my cock next time, let my friends hear what a good little slut you are. 

Rosie screams as her orgasm rips through her body taking you with her. Your hips stutter into her and your vision goes white as you hit your climax. You couldn’t pull out since she was doing everything to keep you in. 

“Holy shit,” She moans out, back tensing as you feel her release over your cock, making a filthy mess as you paint her insides with your cum. 

You immediately wrap your arms around her stomach, pulling her into your chest as you groan out the remainder of your orgasm. 

It takes you a minute, but you collapse on your chair, the wheels slightly rolling backwards while Rosie falls flat on top of your desk. 

The sight of your girlfriend, fucked out, panting, has you questioning why you didn’t give your attention in the first place. You feel a second wind coming as the smallest bit of cum dribbles out in between her lower lips. 

“Can you go again?” You ask after a few minutes, staring as more of your cum falls out. You almost reach out to push it back in, but you spare her the overstimulation.

Rosie stands straight before turning to you. She bends to kiss you softly on the lips, sitting on your lap, and circling her arms around your neck. 

“Quick nap?” Rosie offers, peppering kisses over your jawline, which of course, immediately gets you worked up. 

“Fine,” You pout like a petulant child. 

You swoop your arms underneath her body, making sure you have a strong grip before standing. You literally have BLACKPINK’s lead singer in your arms, and any physical damage to her would automatically fall on you. 

Rosie giggles as she holds on, telling you not to drop her or the girls would come after you. You roll your eyes, knowing it’s an empty—sort of. The only member you’re actually scared of is Jisoo, while the other two are like the little sisters you never wanted. 

Once you gently lay your girlfriend down, you reach for the bottoms she was wearing, tossing it to her. You change into a different pair of sweats, noticing how much of a mess was actually made before joining her back in bed. 

“Hi,” You whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips as you stare at your girlfriend. You still couldn’t believe she chose you to date out of everyone else.

“Hi yourself,” Rosie smiles, burying her face into your chest. “I missed you.” It comes out soft, shy even, because feelings are still hard for her to put into words. 

“I missed you too,” You bring your lips to her forehead. 

There’s something else you want to tell her, something you’ve been holding in for a couple months at this point. You want to say it now, but when you hear light snores, you know it’s not the time. 

You say it anyway, “I love you.” 

--

--

--

[whoyacallinyellow]

To The Fallen

Charles Smith x F! reader

Spoilers: major RDR2 events Content: 18+ mdni, m/f smut, drunk sex, angst, tension, possessive, canon typical events / violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes Type: second pov (wc - 3693) / pc: pinterest

Summary: After the gang’s downfall, you join Charles on his endeavors. While roughing it in the woods, you convince him to share a drink with you…

“C’mon Charles, live a little.” 

You encouraged the man, sat upon a log as he tended to the small campfire you shared. He sighed at your relentless begging, gazing at you over the orange flames. Truly torn, he hated to turn you down, but your safety was more important than your idea of a good time. 

“What if something happens?— besides, someone needs to take care of you.” 

The man reasoned with your buzzed mind, gesturing towards the half empty glass you cradled on your knee. 

Your eyes followed him as he joined you, carefully studying his every step before he sat next to you, tobacco leeching off his clothes and filling the air. 

“It’ll be fine.” You reassured softly, watching him glance longingly into the flames once again. His eyes carried a certain sorrow that did not leave since Beaver Hollow. Apathy had stuck to Charles like a ball and chain, burying his friends was a pastime he did not favor, with Arthur being the final nail in the coffin. 

After the fallout of the gang, the two of you spent your time roughing it in sticks, you reckoned somewhere between Canada and northern United States. You felt as if it were the smartest move to be as far away as possible, while Charles was a man who did not like running. He was fully aware the severity of his actions came with a big price— but he was willing to compromise for you. 

Charles always seemed to know what to do, and where to go. He found refuge in your company and trust, the close bond you shared only flourished after being by your lonesome. The man wouldn’t want it any other way, sometimes pondering where he would be, or what he would be doing without you. The doubts he kept quiet and buried deep often resurfaced the moments he was reminded how sweet on you he was. 

“You could use one.” You continued, placing a small hand on his knee with the attempt to break his trance. You so desperately wished to lend him a penny for a thought, but your attempts usually went nowhere. 

The man huffed in defeat, encapsulating his hand over yours tenderly. 

“Maybe just one.” 

Charles reluctantly agreed, his words barely finished before you filled his unused glass with a much needed relaxation aid. 

You scooted closer as a Canadian breeze whipped past, which made his grasp slip politely around you. The man’s arm alone somehow carried more warmth than any blanket could give you. Or perhaps it was the security he offered with each touch.  

“Uh— to the fallen.” 

You propose awkwardly, raising your glass lazily to the man who met you with a stupid smirk. 

With your tipsy state being more than amusing to the outlaw, your words would be teased and mocked in the morning, in addition to gentle kisses as compensation— if you were lucky. 

“To good health, my girl.”  

He compromised huskily, his words presenting a much more giddy side which had been long erased with time. Charles lounged in the moment, the drink would allow a disconnect from his thoughts, unwilling to think about the gang under the grip of a bottle. 

You took his offer with a small clink, the contents of his glass sloshing and spilling into yours. 

Charles always knew you had his best interest in mind, the same he held for you. And with everything that happened in the past year, maybe he’s been too uptight and miserable. He reasoned that self reflection would come after a night of fun, maybe he did need this. 

The night seemed to slip from his grasp after that point. His incoherent banter blew through the trees and vacant wilderness, undoubtedly scaring any animal or man for miles. Charles would often lean against you for temporary support, his hand sneaking through your inner thigh, and lingering for a moment to prop himself upright before continuing his casual slurs. The bottle loosened his tongue more than you expected, allowing him to exaggerate a memory or two. 

You have not seen the man wear such a toothy grin since Sean was rescued, a celebration where he took the liberty of more than one drink. As you walked past the rowdy group by the fire, he would match Sean and Karen by pulling you onto his lap. A drunken stunt he would never dare pull sober in front of the others, denying every bit of the scandal once teased the day after. His leg would bounce effortlessly to the music beneath you, wobbling you tightly to his chest. All you could think about was the stubble of his chin digging into your shoulder, the way his fingertips treaded dangerously close to your waist—as if he was taunting you. His hard bulge you rested on would go unacknowledged by the man as he bounced his leg, but not you.

It was a sick game he played and perhaps enjoyed a little too much, testing your willpower for him every moment available.  

Charles’ one ended up being your three, his glass being long retired in favor of the bottle, swaying between his fingers as he nursed it sporadically. 

As the man went over the deep end you just spectated, you figured the least you could do was take care of him for one night, as he does for you every other. One night off was the very least he deserved. 

“S’enough now, reckon you oughta sleep.” 

Your words interrupted Charles, an unmistakable hum rattling through his chest. It hurts you how much the gang lived within the man, even while blackout drunk, Javier’s rhythms that played years ago flowed through him. 

You arose stiffly to your feet, which the man unsteadily followed, his arms swaying and outstretched to recoup some balance. 

The fire had died down along with his energy, Charles’ half-lidded eyes wandered, barely illuminating off the flame. 

Your unexpected touch at the man’s nether region triggered his reflex with a stagger as you unclasped his taut gun belt. Relieving him of today's responsibilities. 

“Oh hush,” 

You murmured, your concentration ignoring his sudden silence. 

Glancing up at the man who towered over you was now stiff as a board, arms hung by his sides as he stared back directly into your soul. 

His lips parted ever so slightly, but nothing came out besides a sigh, the bottle dulling his expression, but emphasizing fervency. 

All Charles could do was stare, his mind clouding over his better judgment— the thought of you seemed to do that often. 

He remembered a particularly sunny day at Clemons Point, a job gone not to plan. You tended to the man’s wounds as he recovered in a cot. Your eyes heavy and looming over each part of his injured body, a sense of worship you held for his temple he simply did not. White bandages decorated his torso and bicep, a familiarity with his body and scars that only you held. The sacredness and safety your touch gave him made his pride not allow anyone else to see him in such a way, not that he would ever tell you. 

You would not speak while focusing on him, not even to ask for an explanation of the wounds. But your vibrant presence would keep him company in the midst of your silence. 

The feeling would eventually leave him as you wandered off, he would watch your figure lingering in the distance, pondering while gazing off the beautiful lands camp offered you. Your apprehensive mannerisms worried the man, which he mistook as forlornness. Charles would justify the scenarios, a double edged sword he deemed to be second nature— you knew what type of man he was. 

You would bide your time against a nearby tree in eyeshot of the cot, ensuring his peace. But would return before too long, your eyes slightly uplifted in spirit. Once again presenting Charles with the same feeling he had before you left the tent. 

Perched up on the barrel level with the cot, the back of your delicate hand would linger on his forehead before caressing down his scuffed cheek, the same touches his mother would give him as a boy. 

Your silence was louder than any words you could have said, you loved him and he always knew.

—

“M’sorry.”

The man uttered after a needy kiss. Insincerity snuck upon his lips, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for— was it to you? Or was it guilt of the broken man he’s become?— when exactly did he dismiss the morals he subscribed to? 

Now laying in the tent you shared, your lust for him kept him far from his drunken mind, his pants you had undone tempted his desires over redemption. Charles somehow held no recollection of your hands working down there.

Once again your silence was louder than words, fingertips tracing gingerly over his bulge. Subtly begging him to give into his desires, give into you. Charles always had different plans for your first time together, but the past years haven’t been kind, making the time never right— he never once considered taking you while a drunken idiot. 

But your body would soon be consumed by that very same desire, he would only leave your lips momentarily while clothes were kicked off. 

The unsuitable lighting made the man rely on his hands, touches that were a test of how well he knew your body, by now considering it an extension of himself. 

“Charles,” 

His name deliciously exhaled from your lips at the slightest feel of him. Your voice saying his name in such a manner forever burnt a mark into his mind. You molded into every touch of his, which only encouraged his high. His calloused fingertips ran from your hip bones to your breasts, touching the off guard parts of you to everyone but him. 

“Yeah?” 

Charles eventually answered, his gruff voice lowly exiting his chest with an unforeseen force. 

Stroking himself, the man positioned at your entrance, his tip preparing you extensively. Charles’ neck craned back as pleasure began to soar through him, a sharp sigh being exerted at the slightest feel of himself in you. 

“Think you can take me?”

Less of a question, the man wondered out loud through a slur. The syllables lazily slid off his tongue as he teased his head back and forth through your heat. His jaw had gone slack from a combination of ecstasy and concentration, your wetness and anticipation only grew with each of his strokes. 

He hoped to get more noise from you. So desperately wanting you to be loud for him, no camp, no one to worry about— just you. You were his one and only focus, as it should have been from the start. 

Your silence was temporary, captivated by your lover teasing you between your legs. 

“Go on then,” 

Your voice came out as a pitiful whine, a beg of yours he would not take lightly. 

The large man hummed through his amusement and pleasure, his hands covering every area of skin he could on you. Scooting you closer to his preference came with ease, his pull on your hips united your thighs to his. With how light and sweet Charles’ casual touches were, you sometimes forgot how strong the man really was. 

“Charles!”

Your frustrated moan was music to his ears, it broke through the man’s clouded brain like the sound of a gunshot. A distracted hand was still placed on the base of his cock, threading it through your lips in awe. 

“Okay— ok, sweet girl, don’t know if I’ll fit s’all.”

He contemplated out loud, his voice remained low and primal, glossed over drunken eyes lustfully staring into yours, a hint of playfulness being held within the brown wells.

It was the same look they held the day of your hunting trip for Mr. Pearson. You insisted on joining Charles, less to assist and more to loiter and encourage the man. A simple and innocent request he would never refuse. You held onto his torso as he rode Taima, to his dismay your hands would wander further, and further down, until resting prettily on either side of his groin. You would see the man headbob towards the saddle, infatuated with both your boldness and touch— needless to say, you both returned to camp empty handed that day. 

—

The wind that rippled through the tent canvas sent chills through your bones, your naked frame being consumed by goosebumps which the man took humor in. His rough fingertips wasted no time fiddling with your nipples before covering you with his body. Finally exchanging his body heat with yours that would not be needed for long. 

Now fixated on your upper body, it did not take him long to cover you in his hungry mouth, his shaft still grinding against your lips as he eagerly thrusted, barely touching your entrance with each movement. 

Taking matters into your own hands, your patience grew thin, reaching down and directing the man where you needed him. 

The abrupt contact caused spots to flood in vision, Charles’ pleasure and whiskey filling his palette in a way he did not know possible. A part of him wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop after taking you, afraid he would accidentally hurt you in his drunken stupor. His lack of control over his dire state only showed the desperateness Charles usually hid from you. 

Your fingers laced around the man’s bare chest, little nothings you would mumble as you took his length. Charles still doesn’t know what got into him, all the pent up desire for you finally being spent with a slow and powerful thrust that swooped to your core. Despite his eagerness and your moans, he somehow mustered up enough composure to allow you to get used to his size. 

“So tight for me,”

Was all the man grunted through his drunken lust, he thought you took his size so well for him, almost as if you were made for him as a lover. 

Your fingernails that dragged along his back earned you some groans and abrupt movements that were particularly passionate.  

Hearing him in such a worked up manner only made you tighter around him. It was enough to nearly make the man lightheaded as pleasure roamed throughout the tent. 

Words weren’t needed for Charles to understand that your desperation was mutual to his. Your walls continued to grow wet and clench around him with every adjustment and word of his, making a mess of the bedrolls beneath you both. 

“You should’ve took me that night— at Shady Belle.”

Your unsteady words momentarily stopped the man in his tracks. His body frozen atop of yours as he mentally mapped out just how long you’ve been wanting him this way. 

Charles remembered the look you gave him as he peeled off the layers of his bank heist clothing, gun belt falling to his ankles with a clank. He was the only man to return from Saint Denis that night. You followed him around camp like a lost dog, eyes glued to him, silently begging for an ounce of him. You always knew if any man were to return from a botched heist, it would be Charles Smith. 

Your need for him then would go unfulfilled, his large hands lingered lovingly on your waist everytime he rushed past you to assist what was left of the gang, as if he silently acknowledged your desperation. Charles always carried that sense of urgency and composure you did not— he was the last man with a lick of leadership, afterall. 

You wore a similar look now, needy and willing.  

A lazy chuckle filled the tent before he planted a sloppy kiss on your lips, feeling your breath quiver against him was a reminder to continue. 

“Should’ve said, my girl.” 

Charles rebutted simply, allowing your moans to once again fill his ears as he moved swiftly but rhythmically. 

After all this time Charles knew what kind of lover he wanted to be for you, in his mind he earned you and your desire to be with him in such a way. Which meant you deserved to experience your importance and much more. 

Sensual and with purpose—at least for the first time. Each of his actions would show how much you meant to him. Charles thought about it more than he would like to admit, the days you would patch him up only encouraged the back door thoughts of showering your body in his devotion, your lingering touch merely drove those thoughts further. 

But the whiskey consumed his prior plans of reverence, only to reveal how badly he needed this— how badly he needed you. 

Every last bit of his self-control was thrown out the tent along with your clothes, discarded in the dirt by the fire.  

His hands gripping whatever skin of yours he could, small marks of his fingertips peppered on you, further demonstrating the long overdue tension he held prior to taking you. 

Lips and tongue that traveled on your breasts occasionally came with teeth, his excitement winning and the principals he usually held washed away with the prior drinks you shared. 

These marks the man would notice in the morning, guilt and embarrassment surging through him while planting soft kisses upon the possessive marks— Did he hurt you? Was he too rough?— Was he foolish?— he doesn’t remember, his head hurts. Your words of praise would feel just as genuine as it did the night prior, reassuring the man you enjoyed him just fine.

Your touch ghosted down his chest and to his bucking hips, tracing the muscles that flexed with each thrust. Both of your thighs now sopping, Charles let out a low moan, his stomach knotting and quivering under your spell. He guided your hands back up, not wanting to reach his peak quite yet, and your excessive touch would overstimulate him to that point. 

“Easy now.” 

Charles whispered, his voice gravelly and hoarse, a vague warning which slipped from his lips as smooth as the booze went down. The man knew you were close under his control, and how malleable you were only drove him closer to the edge. 

His braided hair had gracefully come undone from the intimacy, loose strands both dangling over your bare skin and sticking to his shoulders. 

Your body quivered beneath him, sensing your climax was near with excessive moans and breaths you gave him. Hearing you moan his name fully unleashed would replay in his mind for days to come, your pretty lips trembling was a sight for sore eyes. Hoisting himself back to his knees, his bottom lip slid between his teeth, rubbing your clit while he admired how you gripped his cock. So trusting, so excited, so wet, and it was all for him? 

His thrusts became more attentive, each one pressing and lingering deep within you, his back arching to meet your pelvis, ensuring no part of his length went neglected. 

If Charles didn’t know any better, he would have lingered in you a moment longer before finishing, basking in the pleasure your high presented him with. The same high he has been subconsciously chasing since Clemons Point. But instead his shaft planted onto your stomach as he climaxed, animalistic groans exiting the man as he marked you. 

Your lover’s chest heaved, lingering momentarily as he finished. Both soaked and relieved, he weakly lowered for yet another soft kiss. His necklace and hair tickling your collarbone as he recovered from his high. 

The mind fog prevented any sort of disruption of his focus on you. Charles studied your torso as you recovered yourself, the small faded scar he stitched up for you back in Colter now glistened under his love for you, it seemed so long ago to the man. He never once thought in this lifetime the girl he saved from a seemingly fatal stomach wound would be the same stomach covered in his seed. 

“‘Look real sweet like that.” 

He hummed, pride and satisfaction littering his tone. His voice rumbled in his chest, presenting signs of sobering up after his chase. 

“Oh?” Your lips formed into an amused grin, staring at your tired lover laying beside you, his toned figure barely visible in the tent besides the glossy formations of sweat beading down his chest. His dark eyes still hooked onto the mess he created on you.  

“Real sweet.” 

The man affirmed gently, figuring he would put you out of your misery and clean you off. 

How whipped was Charles? He could not tell. Every kiss you would give him later that night threw him over the moon. Your fingertips soothingly outlined the scar on his jaw as he held you tightly, your frame curled within his, thighs that pressed against him unknowingly gave him a certain friction that begged him for another round. 

But he decided you needed the rest, as he felt there would be more where tonight came from. He would make it up to you then. 

The embers cracked in front of your tent, with the trees swaying the distance, the white noise was enough to lull you to a slumber. But the man forced himself awake just moments longer to experience you. Relishing in a feeling he never wanted to leave him. Charles wished the night lasted a little longer, as he did with most good things he was fortunate enough to have come his way. He always wondered what he did to deserve those things, especially with all the sins under his belt. 

He felt as if he were sinking, or spinning, maybe it was spinning, his fingertips tapped rhythmically down your spine in his subconscious state, gaining your attention. 

“Sleep with me.” 

You cooed against his chest, words he could barely make out from your state of delirium. 

The man kissed your forehead in response, his mind that tried running off into the night was anchored back to you. Like most things were.  

Your wish was Charles' command, and he knew it would be the beginning of many more.   

~

[weixuldo]

Tinder and Tequila

Linecook/Roommate! Anakin x F!Reader

a/n: ngl this really has nothing to do with linecook ani- it’s more just tinder shenanigans lol- there’s more abt the context of the universe in the notes at the end- also to the anon who asked abt not putting padme in fics…. don’t read this one lol (i have nothing against padme, she’s one of my fav characters) this one’s v long

NSFW mdni!

After a night out with some friends, you decide to swipe on tinder…what happens when you see your very attractive roommate pop up on the screen?

Warnings: gn!reader, cursing, banter, past relationships mentioned, female anatomy, hand job, oral sex (f!receiving), blow job

________________________

You turned the knob on your shared apartment open and thrusted the wooden door open. Good thing Anakin was staying at a friend’s because you were completely wasted from a night out with your friends. One too many shots of a particularly strong tequila. 

You giggled at yourself as you stumbled your way through the living room. You flopped onto the couch before pulling out your beloved phone so you could mindlessly scroll. 

Before long your inebriated brain started to wander.

It was definitely good that Anakin was gone, because if he were here… You may not have been able to contain yourself. 

You licked your plump lips as you eyed his door… What if he were home though?

You hoisted yourself up and creeped towards his shut door. He had a woven piece of decor on his door; he told you his mom had made it for him before she passed unexpectedly in his last year of school. 

Nosily, you knocked before prying the white door open. 

Nothing.

You exhaled a shaky breath, it would have been so embarrassing if he caught you sneaking. Though, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he wasn’t here to keep you company.

You headed back to your spot on the couch and pulled out your phone again. Time to play your favorite game- Tinder. 

You knew it was a toxic mentality to have a stream of people constantly at your fingertips; judging them off only a glimpse of who they were. But it was so amusing to quietly scroll through people who potentially wanted to take you out. 

The first few people were average; bad angles, boring bios, and conflicting views. 

Whatever. 

Soon you were getting bored with the whole thing and were about to log off when your heart stopped. 

Anakin, 24

9 miles away

Hobbies: cars, cooking, movies, nature, travel

His initial photo was an amazing pic of him at a rooftop bar in NYC from the trip you guys took with some friends. His black shirt was unbuttoned enough to see his strong chest and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows to show off his muscular arms. 

He knew he was fine. 

Your eye twitched- his hair fell perfectly in front of his angular face and his smile was simply radiant. 

God really had his favorites, huh?

You swiped through his pictures with laser focus; gym pic, him on the couch, him shirtless…. him with his damn backwards cap on, and finally one that you took of him sitting in your shop.

You were really conflicted, you wanted to swipe right, obviously- but what if he didn’t reciprocate? What if he thought it was weird?

And he's on tinder! He probably just wants a hook up.

You sighed and prepared to swipe left when another thought popped into your hazy mind. 

Maybe he “played'' tinder like you did? He’d never brought anyone back to the apartment… and his bio does suggest he would cook for you (something he would rather do in his own kitchen). 

Ya know what? If he asked- you could just say you thought it would be funny! Yea, sounded like a great idea to your stupid drunk brain. 

With a deep breath you swiped right. 

A subconscious part of your mind was praying for the screen to pause and “match” to light up your phone- but sadly that didn't happen… oh well, maybe he just hadn’t seen it yet? 

You sighed and headed off to shower and go to bed. 

________________________

Anakin sat on his friend Ahsoka's couch with a chilled beer in hand. It had been awhile since his whole friend group had had time for a night and he was excited to catch up with them all. 

The living room was lit up with a neon LED strip that Ahoska had gotten back in her party days. The den had one large sofa, a few bean bags, some fluffy chairs, and her flatscreen that was currently showcasing the ROKU city with her music playing in the background. 

On the couch sat Anakin, his closest friend Obi-Wan (or “Ben” for short), and his girlfriend Satine. Ahsoka sat on the beanbags with Cody as they shared his new bong. And on the chairs sat Rex and their other friend Padme. 

“So when are you gonna get cuffed Skyguy?” Ahsoka asked with a smile after taking a rip from the blue tinted device. 

Anakin took a swig from the bud light he had in his hand and sighed, “Ya’ know? I’m not quite sure myself, Snipps” he lamented. 

Obviously he knew he wanted to- and he knew with who. But how to get there was a puzzle he hadn't quite solved yet. 

Padme’s eyes darted towards Anakin as he spoke. Throughout highschool Padme and Anakin had been flirty but nothing much happened between the two- nothing serious at least.

A few make-outs here and there at house parties, that one time after senior prom, and a couple late night hook ups when she was back in town from school, but nothing really since she graduated.

Anakin knew she wasn’t for him but she didn’t seem to get the hint. 

There was absolutely nothing wrong with Padme, she was a lively woman but Anakin just wanted something else- Maybe it was because she always made him feel inadequate, dumb even.

He knew it wasn’t her fault, but she had gone to law school and he always felt lesser when she would talk to him. Everything about her spoke class and refinery and he was… well, he was him. 

He spent his younger years wondering what a relationship with her would be like but as he got older he realized he only fantasized about her status- not really her. And that was fucked up. 

Another factor that got her off of his mind was when you started coming into his restaurant- The first time you ordered your wild combo he just had to sneak out of the kitchen to see what kind of person ordered cinnamon instead of butter on their mashed potatoes. He never in a million years guessed such a beautiful person would be sitting at booth 5. 

And when he found out you were his new roommate- he completely stopped flirting with Padme, how could he when you were right there?

He remembered when you first started living with him, Padme had called drunkenly to come over; of course Anakin usually would have said yes but tonight you had invited him to watch your favorite movie with him and he couldn’t pass up an opportunity with you. 

“Well everyone seems to have someone, we need to get you cuffed!” Ahsoka laughed. 

“Yea, get my bro a partner” Cody joined in. 

“Doesn’t seem like Anakin’s really into anyone- maybe he wants it that way” Padme chimed in, playing with a strand of her brown hair. 

“I never said that,” Anakin responded quickly. 

“Well- do tell then Ani” Padme’s voice lilted with passive aggression. 

He absolutely hated when she used that tone. 

“Well honestly it’s none of your business M’lady” Anakin shot back using a nickname she hated. 

“You’re such a child Anakin” she rolled her eyes before taking a swig of her martini. 

“Nothing you haven’t said before,” he remarked under his breath. 

She was about to fire back when Ben spoke up, “Guys, let's take a step back- Anakin, how’s the new roommate? Well, I guess she isn’t that new anymore-how long has it been?”.

Padme leaned back and crossed her arms as Anakin began to answer. 

“Oh, um it’s been a little over three months?” he said, even though he knew exactly how long it had been- three months and eighteen days. 

“And how is it? Will we meet her sometime?” Satine chimed in with a smile.

Anakin felt his mood lighten once he got the chance to talk about you, “Oh, it’s been really nice- She works in the cafe near my restaurant so we always have good food around” he smiled, playing with the rim of his bottle. 

“Well now you really have to have us over,” Rex laughed. 

“Soon guys, just gotta clean up a bit”.

“But you guys get along?” Ahsoka asked, “because you're not the easiest guy to deal with in a small space” she laughed. 

“We get along just fine- She happens to enjoy my company” he boasted. 

“Sure” Padme scoffed.

Anakin tried to ignore her but she spoke up again.

“Well if she can deal with you, why don’t you try to date her?” Padme said, trying to provoke him. 

“Maybe I will” he snapped back, making Padme’s face go white. 

“Good luck- once she finds out what an immature asshole you are, she’l leave just like everyone else does” she huffed before excusing herself to the bathroom. 

She definitely had one too many drinks- she was getting emotional. 

Anakin was annoyed at Padme’s outburst, but he also felt bad- he knew she fell for him back in the day and she never really let go of it. But life changed and so did he- he hadn’t flirted with her in over a year so it wasn’t his fault if she was still hung up, he hadn’t led her on in the slightest. 

“I’m gonna go check on her- I’ll be right back” Satine said, excusing herself to tend to her very drunk friend. 

Anakin sighed.

_______________________

It was around two in the morning and everyone except Ahsoka, Ben, and Anakin had gone home. Ben offered to go home with Satine but she insisted she took Padme back to her apartment alone. 

Ahsoka had fallen asleep on her bean bags, Ben retired to the guest room and Anakin was lying on the couch; he was drowsy but not quite ready for bed.

With a belly full of warm alcohol he decided scrolling on Tinder might be fun. 

He tapped on the flame icon that was buried in the deepest depths of his phone and waited for the app to open. Anakin wasn’t a big fan of dating apps or social media in general, but every once in a while he logged on. Some people crave cigarettes when they drink- he liked to swipe on tinder. 

Most of the girls on there were people he’d never actually go out with or were bots. He yawned after he had swiped for a few minutes and got ready to log off for the night when he saw a familiar face…. You. 

There you were, in all your glory; a radiant smile plastered on your face as you ran a hand through your hair. 

Fuck. 

He physically sat up and brought the device closer to his face; he scanned every detail of your profile as if he had a test on it in the morning. 

He slowly tapped through your photos, lingering on each one longer than the last. Maker, how were you real?!

His heart raced as he analyzed a photo you took in your shared living room. What he wouldn’t give to be able to get pics like these directly from you. 

He saw your profile said “short-term fun, open to long-term”. Damn. 

But then the thought… you never brought anyone home and you rarely went out… so, you wouldn’t have time to see other people.

Maybe this was his chance. 

With a shaky finger he swiped right and held his phone close to his chest to conceal the screen (like a stupid lovesick teenager). 

He shut his eyes and slowly peeked them open to see the bright pink lettering flash across the screen “Match”.

No fucking way. 

No. FUCKING. Way.

He stared at the chat box and thought about what to say for what seemed like hours; he didn’t want to come on too strong but also didn’t want to be forgettable (he could never be forgettable). 

He decided to go with a sarcastic but teasing line. 

“Hey sweetheart, don’t see me enough at home? I know I’m irresistible, but if you wanted me that bad, you could've just asked”. 

And send. 

Anakin snapped off his phone quicker than he ever had and slumped back onto the couch- now he definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

_______________________________________

You woke up with a big yawn accompanied by a long stretch. Last night was fun, but you did have things to do today. After a few minutes of lying around you finally hauled your ass up to start preppring for your closing shift. 

It probably wasn’t the best idea for you to have drank so much, since you had a terrible headache now… but at least you had fun last night.

After showering, getting dressed, and eating a light breakfast, it was already quarter after one and you were suposed to be at work by two. You threw on your jacket and rushed out the door. 

As you hurried to work you mentally checked off everything.

Brushed teeth? Check. 

Showered? Check.

Cleaned dishes in the sink? Check.

Turned off the toaster oven? Check.

Grabbed employee card for the bakery? Check. 

Seemed like everything was in line! 

But there was something you hadn’t checked, something sitting snugly in your back pocket, something in a little app with a red flame. 

A new message from Anakin. 

To be fair, you never took tinder seriously and never had notifications on so you wouldn’t have seen it. But also you were pretty drunk last night so there was a big possibility that you didn’t even remember seeing him. 

Either way, you would receive a pleasant surprise when you finally did open your app. 

_______________

Anakin’s heart raced as he reached your shared apartment- you never responded to his message. 

Was this going to be awkward now? Were you going to have an uncomfortable boundary talk with him? How would you react to seeing him? Had you even seen the message? What if you were making fun of him with your friends?!

He legitimately could not turn his brain off.

But regardless of his restless mind, he opened the door. 

Nothing.

Anakin leaned against the doorframe and sighed when he realized that you had work today. Good. He got to avoid you for a few more hours as he sat around overthinking everything-wonderful. 

Being the hyperfixating overthinker he was, Anakin couldn’t help but check your status on tinder every so often

His stomach dropped when he saw you were active five minutes ago…

You hadn’t responded to his message, not even a “like”.

Fuck. 

Anakin had never felt so embarrassed in his whole life; should he just delete the message?

On the other side of town you were closing the shop when you pulled out your phone to check the time just to see your phone was already unlocked and on the tinder home screen.

No way your ass was scrolling through matches. 

You closed the app with a laugh; it didn’t really matter who you matched with you never really did anything serious on tinder. 

You finished your tasks and finally headed to your car. Once you got in you pulled out your phone again to see what matches your butt chose. 

Once you opened the app you could tell it had been open in your pocket for a while with the amount of people you wouldn’t have chosen yourself.

You scrolled and deleted profiles you weren’t interested in when you came across…Anakin?

Holy shit, you did see him last night. 

Anakin: [New Message]

A tiny rectangle holding only his circular profile picture and his name indicated he had swiped right on you too… and sent a message. 

You audibly gasped as you scanned the notif- was this real?? 

“Hey sweetheart, don’t see me enough at home? I know I’m irresistible, but if you wanted me that bad, you could've just asked”.

Home?

Electricity coarse through your veins; you secretly loved when he would refer to your shared apartment as home, it implied the two of you shared the space in a more intimate way than it really was.

His text was purely Anakin, every word just carried his personality. You were still stunned you were even in this position; never would you have thought he was actually interested in you.

The message was sent early this morning- you had left him on delivered for hours… 

Before you could think of the implications you jumped to respond; you wanted him to know you were very interested. 

“Road goes both ways Skywalker, obviously u like what u see too haha- yk I’m just one wall away ;)”

And send. 

After you sent it your stomach dropped again once you realized… you just sent your crush (and roommate?!) basically an open invite to come into your room whenever. 

You sat in the parking lot behind your bakery for a good 15 more minutes before finally heading home. 

___________________________________

Anakin usually didn’t have tinder notifs on, but he put them on today just in case you replied. So when his phone dinged while he was in the middle of making spaghetti for dinner he dropped the noodles into the pot and ran to the small device. 

It was you.

“Road goes both ways Skywalker, obviously u like what u see too haha- yk I’m just one wall away ;)”

A large smile plastered itself on his face- he was worrying for nothing!

He laughed and set the phone back down; just wait til he told the guys at work tomorrow morning!

Sooner than he anticipated, he heard the familiar sound of your keys jingling to open the door- he debated opening the door for you to save the hassle, but he stopped himself because he was worried he’d come off too desperate if he did so (you woulda been just fine if he did). 

You opened the door and were met with the savory aroma of marinara sauce and boiling noodles. After breathing in the scent you sighed, “someone’s been busy today, huh?” you smiled. 

“Well when you leave me home all alone…” Anakin trailed off with a stupid grin. 

Maker, you loved that look.

“Someone has to be the breadwinner in this house” you joked before setting your bags down. 

“And speaking of bread… I brought this back today- guess great minds think alike” you winked holding up a baguette from the bakery. 

Anakin’s face lit up and he eagerly received the bread, “Great! I was actually going to have to disappoint you since we’re out of garlic bread, but now we can just make it”. 

You nodded and went back to your room to change. It was pretty hard not to squeal at every little thing Anakin said, but you thought you were holding your own pretty well too.

Unintentionally, you changed into a rather enticing outfit- it was just a white tank with a lace trim and some flannel shorts (well, they were rather short). 

Anakin’s eyes observed your figure as you pranced out of your room and into the kitchen. 

“Why so fancy Ani?” you teased, batting your lashes. 

Both of you knew there was an obvious elephant in the room but neither of you wanted to address it. 

“Just ‘cause I wanted to, don’t get too excited princess” he laughed making you roll your eyes. 

“I’d never get excited over you” 

He arched an inquisitive brow and turned towards you, “oh really? Then why’d you swipe on me?”. 

There it was. 

You felt your face heating up quickly. Fuck. 

“Why’d you swipe on me?” you retorted back. 

“Uh Uh” he scolded, shaking his head while slowly walking towards you. 

“We both know you swiped first” he said, closing the space between you quickly. 

“I-I thought-” you stuttered, trying to come up with a witty response. 

He shook his head with a smile, “No sense trying to come up with a lie, pretty girl- you can tell me”. 

His tone was playful yet commanding- you felt compelled to confess everything to him right then and there. The burn of his striking blue eyes seemed to cut through all of your defenses. 

“Because I wanted to,” you admitted. 

A smile spread across his face as he leaned in, impossibly closer to you. 

“atta girl”

His confidence gave you goosebumps and you felt yourself leaning in to graze his lips with yours when he backed away abruptly to stir his pot of noodles- right. 

This was Anakin Skywalker we were talking about- the annoyingly charming linecook who could get anyone he set his sights on.

Maybe your intuition was right, he was just a playboy- how could you have been so stupid to think he actually wanted you?

With shame, you retreated to the couch as he strained his noodles and finished dinner. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anakin actually chickened out. He cursed himself as he stirred his famous spaghetti sauce; he was so close… and he blew it. 

Your sweet perfume flooded his senses and suddenly all of his charm just vanished. He felt like the awkward teenager Ben had to introduce to people because he was too shy to speak for himself. 

So in his moment of panic he went back to something he was comfortable with- cooking. 

Once he was finished he made two plates: one for him and one for you. Gingerly, he walked towards the couch with the plates in hand. 

“Here ya go princess” he attempted to sound normal. 

You didn’t meet his gaze as you took the plate and mumbled a “thank you”. 

He couldn’t blame you; from your perspective it probably seemed like he had just been leading you on- that’s not how he wanted to make you feel…at all. 

He set his food on the coffee table next to yours and sat beside you with a heavy thud, making the cushions deposit you next to his side. You were about to move away when he lightly grabbed your upper arm. 

You met his gaze in surprise, “Anakin, what-”.

You were silenced by his lips crashing into yours; your hand quickly found its way into his sandy hair just as he gently held the side of your face. 

Synapses were firing and you felt warm. With an unspoken agreement, he laid you down on the couch and continued to passionately kiss up and down your neck. 

“Anakin-” you said breathlessly, “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing that hasn’t already been there for weeks” he responded through sloppy kisses. 

His touch was somehow better than what you’d imagined all those lonely nights in your room. How was this real?

You sat up and placed a hand on his chest; he sat on his heels with a worried expression, “What’s wrong?” he asked (did he do something wrong?).

“Weeks?” you parroted back to him. 

He huffed out a laugh and relaxed his tense posture before tenderly holding your face in his strong hands. 

“Yes, weeks. Don’t you know you drive me absolutely insane?” he asked in a playful tone. 

You shook your head in confusion. A lopsided smile settled on his beautiful face before he drew you closer for a soft kiss. 

“I thought- I thought you swiped on me as a joke… I had no idea” you admitted. 

His blue eyes scanned your face before shaking his head lightly, “No, no I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you ''. 

Your confused expression slowly turned into a full blown grin before you pushed him into a seated position and straddled his lap. 

“Good to know, ‘cause so have I”. 

He let out a soft groan before resting his large hands around the bottom of your waist, his fingers gripping onto your flesh. His eyes were completely focused on you- they were hungry.

As you straddled him you felt his hardening member against your aching core. You wanted nothing more than to rip off his pants.

Just as you had wrestled his tight shirt off, his phone began to buzz. He rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed “fuck” when he saw it was his work. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta answer this” he said picking up the phone. 

“No worries” you said with a mischievous smile. 

What were you up to?

He ignored your tone and answered the call; just as he pressed the device to his ear you unzipped his pants. His eyes widened once he realized what you were so smug about. 

You were looking up at him through batted lashes as you freed his aching cock from the constrains of his boxers.

He was big- bigger than you expected; you licked your lips in anticipation, hypnotizing him with your ambition. 

You there Skywalker?

Anakin blinked himself back into reality, “Y-yes sir, I’m here”. 

Sorry to have to ask, but two of the other cooks just called in sick and we have abunch of parties booked tonight…would there be any possible way you could come in tonight

Anakin groaned loudly as you took his large member into your mouth, he had to cover his mouth with his free hand as you skillfully bobbed up and down on his dick. 

Now, I know it’s your day off, but I can offer you double time if you can just cover this one shift

His employer had no idea his head cook was getting the best head of his life on the other side of the line. 

He stifled a moan as you applied pressure with your tounge, thankfully he was able to disguise it as him thinking. 

“I-I guess I could swing it if there’s overtime-”

You’re a lifesaver! That’s why you’re my favorite linecook, when could you be in?

Anakin shuddered as you worked his tip. 

“I-It’ll have to be a lit-” 

He was cut off by the feeling of your moans sending vibrations up his shaft. 

“Have to be a little later, I’m a bit caught up at the moment”

No problem, how late we talking though?

“Just an hour, maybe hour twenty”

Done, see you then! And thanks again Skywalker. 

He hung up the phone as fast as he could and threw it against the recliner beside him. You laughed once he met your gaze again. 

“You’re wrong for that” he huffed out breathlessly. 

“For what?” you played dumb. 

He laughed bafore grabbing a handfull of you hair. 

“You know exactly what- now, I have work in an hour and I think you should finish what you started” he said with a playful yet demanding tone. 

“Yes chef” you said before taking him in your mouth once more. 

“FFuck” he groaned as your throat squeezed around his weeping cock. 

Without thinking he began to move his hips back and fourth to chase his high. You gagged around his length and clawed at his thighs. 

“Fuck baby, this what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck your throat raw? Better hope you don’t have to work the register tomorrow” he said with a smirk as he thrusted in and out of your mouth. 

You moaned around him and your tears began to spill over. This is exactly what you wanted- you wanted him. 

“God- You feel so damn good, I’m close” he said in a strained voice. 

In a moment of boldness, you removed yourself completely from his cock and began to vigorously pump his length, making his legs shake. 

“Ah- I’m gonna- I’m cumming! F-fuck I’m cumming” he babbled as his abs twitched with every rope that spurt out of his red, swollen tip. 

Once he finally settled down and caught his breath he sat up and wiped his mess off of his chest with the tissues from the end table. 

You wiped your mouth and smiled before nodding to the spaghetti, “You should probably eat, you’ve got work in a few”.

It was his turn to lick his lips, “Yea, I should eat”.

His eyes traveled down your body, “But I don’t think I’m really feeling spaghetti right now”. 

“Oh?” you said with a curious grin, before he pulled you into his lap. 

You kissed him passionately once more before asking “how hungry are you, Ani?”

Maker, you already had a nickname for him- you were perfect. 

“Absolutely ravenous” he responded before laying you on the couch. 

“Show me”.

He smiled and quickly slipped off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. You could already tell this was going to be a top three experience. 

Before you could register the feeling, he was already buried in your pussy. He lapped up your arousal and all you could do was toss your head back in bliss. 

“Oh Anakin” you moaned as he kneaded his large hands at the fat of your ass and your thighs. 

“Fuck, you taste so good- you’re so wet for me” he panted through licks. 

Once his tongue swiped over your swollen clit your back began to arch. You clenched your thighs around his head and tangled your fingers into his hair; this was heaven. 

His mouth worked on your pussy as his hands roamed your body, he seemed to just know what would drive you absolutely insane. 

“Maker- Oh my god Ani!” your breath hitched as his long fingers skillfully pushed into your aching core. 

The combination of his tongue and fingers alone, made you see stars (imagine what his dick would do). 

Embarrassingly, you felt your high coming; usually you lasted longer, but damn did Anakin know how to use his talents. 

“Wanna cum for me sweetheart?” He asked through hooded lashes. 

You nodded vigorously and with another curl of his fingers, you were coming undone in his grasp. 

_______________________________

Anakin threw on one of his work shirts and zipped up his pants; once you came, he gave you the most aftercare he could until he knew he had to leave (Luckily the two of you had time to get cleaned up). 

“Fuck, ‘m so sorry I gotta go, I’ll be back though” he said as he rushed around looking for his keys. 

“I’d imagine so, you live here” you laughed as you stretched on the couch. 

He sighed and walked up to you again, “You know what I mean, I don’t want you to think this was a one time thing- we will be discussing this later”. 

You nodded with a small smile before he leaned down and ran his fingers through your hair; he drew you in for a soft kiss, “I really don’t wanna leave you right now, I look like an asshole”. 

“Don’t you always?” you joked, nipping at his lower lip.

“I’m serious, I don’t want you to think that is all I want from you…”

“I don't” you assured him.

“Alright” he smiled before kissing your forehead once more before leaving. 

_________________________

“Someone’s in a good mood, what’s got you so happy, playboy?” one of the cooks asked after Anakin didn’t immediately get annoyed when one of the servers rang in an order wrong. 

Anakin smirked and shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m always in a good mood-”.

“Bullshit! You were just skulking around the kitchen the other day ‘casue you saw someone flirting with your little roommate” another butted in. 

“Yea, are you ever gonna ask her out? You’re supposed to be a player, ain’t ‘cha?”

“Nah, man- I’m retired, i’ve been retired for awhile” Anakin said, cringing at his past flings. 

“What made you change?”

Anakin smiled and turned towards his co-workers, “this”.

He pulled out his phone and on the lockscreen were a few texts from you, the top one saying, “Can’t wait til you get back home ;)”.

The chef’s eyes all widened before the kitchen became loud with their excitement. 

“Skywalker’s actually tied down?!”

“Ya finally asked her out!?!”

“When are you bringing her ‘round here?” 

“We wanna meet this little roommate”

Anakin slipped his phone back into his pocket with a smile, “hold on, hold on- we’re not official yet, but i’m pretty sure by tonight we will be- I really like her”.

“No shit, Skywalker! We could all tell you had a crush ever since you moved in with her” one of them laughed to which the rest agreed. 

Anakin smirked before going back to work, “Whatever guys” he said, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't shake the warm blush that was climbing up his cheeks.

***

a/n: so this is taking a point from the linecook headcannons (matching on tinder) but it’s in the universe of pancakes and pastries (roommates- cook ani and bakery reader). i’m not acc sure if i’ll end up writing anything with server reader and cook ani that work in the same restaurant- but we’ll see haha

[thewritergremlin-rae]

Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall - Who's the Most Alien of Them All?

Pairing: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki, Thor, Brock Rumlow, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Frigga, Heimdall Rating: T Words: 3229 Content: 2nd person, kidnapping, chloroform, manipulation, soulmate AU, Hydra!SHIELD at work, set during/post Avengers 1 Summary: You'd never thought there was anything strange about your soulmate in the mirror, apart from how handsome he was, but as fate would have it - he's trying to invade New York. Ao3: HERE Notes: I am an absolute sucker for Soulmate AUs so here we are! I'm thinking of using this same AU for some others (Bucky and Steve) but I'm not sure if it'll be in same universe

In this AU, you see your soulmates face as your own reflection~ THIS IS A REPOST OF MY OWN WORK I accidentally deleted the original post so the read more doesn't work on my own blog 😭

Banners by cafekitsune

Something considered normal would rarely be considered wrong. 

So, registering your soulmate’s image via looking in a mirror at 18 and having a photo snapped had never worried you.

Everyone did it.

It was normal.

It was safe. 

It was how most people found their soulmates, and even then some just didn’t.

This early spring day started as every day usually did. You got up and ready for work, took public transport to the office, and logged in at 9 a.m. 

Lunch came and went, spent with the coworkers you got along with best, all venting about the small annoyances of the morning. You all returned to the office and the afternoon crawled by.

Last minute, your boss asked you to finish a report now rather than tomorrow morning and you waved goodbye to your co-workers with a shrug and a put-upon smile. They’d all been in your position at one time or another. No-one found it strange.

The report dragged on for a few hours and you had no idea why it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, but your boss was hardly known for his patience. He at least had the decency to stay behind too. 

You sighed and printed a quick copy before knocking on the door to your boss’s office. 

He called out and told you to come in, taking the report when you handed it over. His eyes barely scanned it before he spoke again; “Hey, I know it’s late, but we have a visitor in the conference room. Go keep them company, will you? It will just take a couple of minutes.” 

You bit back the sigh and the roll of your eyes, knowing both could lose you your job. Stupid, tight ass boss. “No problem, boss,” were the words that came out of your mouth, a false smile before you turned and left - heading to the conference room.

You took the liberty of rolling your eyes hard before you plastered the smile back on and pushed the door open. “Hello.” You stepped into the room and held out your hand as you gave your name. “Mr. Dickson is sorry to keep you waiting, but how can I help you?” 

Not the normal sort of client, if a client he was. Most clients showed up in suits or some sort of business attire, but this man wore a black T-shirt, combats, and a jacket certainly not of the suit kind. 

“Brock Rumlow.” He smirked over at you and you saw the way his eyes gave you a once over. Slowly. Urgh. Double ugh when he continued with; “No problem at all, sweetheart. Don’t suppose you could get me a coffee?”  He nodded over to the machine as he eased back into his seat. 

“Of course, sir,” you answered with a smile.

“Feel free to grab yourself one, too. Your boss sent you in here to keep me company, huh?” 

“Something like that, Mr. Rumlow.” The pot only needed warming before you poured two cups and offered him one, taking a seat opposite the man.

“I hope he doesn’t make you stay this late all the time, I hate it when my boss makes me work overtime.” He snorted and rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. “Do this, do that, clean up some mess, collect an alien’s soulmate, kill that politician, clean up more mess. Not a day’s rest I tell ya.” 

You nodded politely, staring down at your cup as you fully processed his words. Aliens, soulmates… killing politicians? You didn’t know which was the most out there. “I-’m sorry I’m not sure I follow…” 

He only looked more delighted at your confusion and the way your body had stiffened. “Well, you see, sweetheart, there’s this guy, Loki, who showed up outta nowhere and, see, he talks a big game about taking over the Earth and we figured, seeing as you’re his soulmate, that he might rethink those big ideas if we offer you up instead.” Brock shrugged as if this was just casual conversation and didn’t have you frozen in your seat. “’Course, if that doesn’t work, maybe threatening to harm ya will change his tune. But what do I know about aliens? I’m just part of the STRIKE team.” 

Brock smiled, as though he hadn’t just threatened you or spouted what sounded like absolute bullshit. A beat passed as you stared into the cup in your hands, eyes unseeing. “So why don’t we-” 

He growled angrily as you threw the coffee and the cup containing it at him and jolted to your feet, running for the door, pulling it open-

Your short-lived escape attempt ended when another similarly dressed and built man stepped into view. His hands clamped down on your arms and the panic really set in as you protested and tried to escape. “Let me go!” You kicked and thrashed, hoping the noise might cause your boss to call the cops, but that small slice of hope was soon ripped from you. He appeared from his office, face like thunder. 

“You said this would be quick, hurry up before someone hears this racket.” 

Brock huffed from behind you, fingers sliding into your hair and tugging hard to drag your head back. “We coulda done this the nice way, bitch, but that’s off the table.” He pressed a cloth to your mouth, harder than necessary.

The thought of not breathing hadn’t even crossed your mind before the fumes entered your body and you soon slumped into unconsciousness.

You woke already knowing you weren’t at home. Everything felt off and you hadn’t even opened your eyes yet as you laid on what felt like a bed. You took a shallow breath, trying to remember, but everything before falling asleep stayed fuzzy at the edges. 

You had been to work and… right, your boss had made you stay late and there had been coffee and…

Your eyes snapped open but so far it seemed like you were alone. The edge of the bed wasn’t far from the wall and you hesitated before rolling over. Good. No-one there either and this side of the wall had windows.

You shuffled over to them, eyebrows furrowing at their size. Small and curved at the edges. you slid the blind up to be met with the sight of clouds and uninterrupted sky. 

You scrambled to the edge of the bed and the one door that led in and out of the room. “Hey! Hey!” you yelled, banging on the door, fear skittering through you. How long ago had last night been? What time was it now? Where were you now?

“Quit ya banging!” A stern thump that made the door rattle had you stumbling back and falling down to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re nearly there, no need to get your panties in a twist, bitch.” It sounded like the man you’d met in the office… Brock if you remembered correctly.

He’d certainly changed his tune, but you had thrown coffee at him. Bastard deserved it. 

“Where are we going?!” You had no idea if he would answer, if anyone would. Did it even really matter?

You were to be offered up as some consolation prize to an alien invader in the hopes he might go away. 

You weren’t convinced of the plan; who would change their plans for the mere idea and appearance of their soulmate. You probably wouldn’t if you were in Loki’s position. 

“New York,” came the answer before you heard footsteps leave the door. 

You sank to the bed and flopped back on it, unsure what to do with yourself or for the rest of the flight.

You sat in what had to be some kind of interrogation room, a bit rich considering these guys had kidnapped you. A window made up much of the wall in front of you; the blank expanse of glass left you with nothing to look at but the reflection of your soulmate. It hadn’t changed for several years, but you’d noticed recently his hair had grown longer and it didn’t seem as well kept as before.

The sharp lines of his face had always left you flustered, but now they left you worried at the gaunt paleness that clung to him. What had happened? You couldn’t possibly know, you didn’t even know his name. Well, you hadn’t.

Loki. An alien. An invader. 

You continued to sit silently in the chair, not knowing that an agent and your soulmate’s brother were busy deciding your fate.

“Father will not be pleased. Midgardians are not welcome to our realm and Loki is likely to remain in prison the remainder of her short life.” Thor spoke calmly but firmly. “Besides which, you tell me she is dangerous? A criminal? Why should Asgard take a criminal of Midgard to the golden realm? I do not think our prison is the best place to introduce them.” Thor couldn’t be certain, but he doubted the two would get along from what SHIELD had told him. 

His brother would likely perceive another criminal as a threat or he would keep his guard up. Loki was not one for letting people in so easily. Especially not now. Whether she deserved kindness or not, he doubted Loki would afford her any.

“What if your brother wants to bring her?” 

Thor’s eyes narrowed, giving the agent a sidelong glance. Hardly normal to accept a prisoner’s request… but he did love his brother fiercely - despite his recent tricks. “If,” Thor stressed, “Loki wants to bring her… I may agree,” Thor conceded. But he doubted such a thing would happen. “I will speak with him.” 

Neither you or Thor knew the thin thread by which your fate hung.

The car rumbled through central park, you seated in the back wearing handcuffs and some gag like thing over your mouth that stopped you speaking. You still wore the bright orange scrubs and white shirt as though they’d plucked you from a prison somewhere.

You were free of Rumlow at least, you didn’t even know if the agent driving knew that you hadn’t been picked up from a penitentiary. This new one aligned more with what you imagined an ‘agent’ to be. Black suit, white shirt, sunglasses. Very Men In Black, which, ironic, since you were about to meet two aliens. 

The car came to a stop and you looked out at the people milling around. You only recognised two for sure - one of them being your soulmate. Tony Stark confused you, for a moment, before you recalled his shift into heroism the last few years. 

An equally tall, blond man held your soulmate's arm just above his elbow, so you had to assume this was the brother you’d heard murmurs about. 

Your car door opened and a hand grabbed similarly below your elbow to help you out. Curious eyes turned on you and all you could do was silently, desperately, plead for someone to step in. Someone to take the gag off. You just needed one of them to be curious. 

“Er… I don’t remember any plus ones going out to this little party.” Tony Stark gave the agent at your side a look over the top of his sunglasses, his gaze briefly sliding to you. 

“She’s Loki’s soulmate,” the agent replied, no judgement but not much other emotion in his voice. He turned and marched you towards the pair of aliens. 

“Now, hang on a minute.” A different voice objecting this time and you craned your head behind you to see a blond dressed in a check shirt and a brown jacket. You thought you might have seen his face somewhere before, but you weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders and you couldn’t place him. “She might be a criminal of some kind, but you’re going to send her to another planet?” 

“I’m sorry, Captain, but it seems she may be more dangerous than a Midgardian prison could handle,” Thor answered. “My brother told me he has made many a visit to her on Earth.” Fucking news to you! Your eyes flicked to Loki, brows furrowed, but he didn’t meet your gaze. “I do not think he could have taught her many of the tricks he uses, but SHIELD assures me that they have indeed met before.” 

Now you understood the reason for the gag. Can’t contradict made up bullshit if you can’t speak. You were about to turn a furious gaze on the agent that brought you out of the car when the soft clinking of a chain drew your attention.

Loki curled a chained arm around your waist, grip firm, and tugged your back flush against him. The action forestalled anything you had been about to do or say and you attempted to catch his eye. He ducked his head and you felt the cool press of his own gag to the top of your head. 

The gesture had you stilling in surprise and seemed to only cement the story that Thor had been spun.

You felt eyes on the two of you, studying intently, before Loki’s little stunt seemed to be accepted as proof and preparations began again. You assumed for travel to this Asgard, but how exactly? There weren’t any space ships nearby and you were fairly certain the car you’d arrived in wasn’t about to escape Earth’s atmosphere.

Something with Loki here?

Thor reappeared in your line of sight holding one of two handles of some canister. A blue cube glowed inside, but it didn’t make any more sense than it had a few minutes ago. He caught your eye, his look intense and serious. “Make sure you do not let go or you will be lost to space as Loki was before he came here.” 

You felt like meaning lay beneath the words, something you were supposed to glean from them, but still struggling to process what had happened the last few days you simply nodded and took hold of the other handle. Loki’s hand settled beside yours, overlapping slightly. Unsure if this stemmed from kindness, or an attempt to be sure you didn’t let go. or something else to drag you further into the fiction and lies that had been created around you... Well, you had no way to protest, anyway.

You hoped nobody would spend too long looking for you. Maybe the local police had already told everyone you were dead, covering up the act that you still couldn’t quite understand. 

You wondered if you would ever see Earth again after this.

Your hand unknowingly reached for Loki’s at your waist, gripping tightly in fear of what was to come and in sorrow that you didn’t know what mess you were leaving behind. 

Silence as Thor turned the handle, anticlimactic, but you felt it as your stomach dropped similarly to when an elevator descends too quickly and you were pulled upwards. The blur of colours was almost too much for your eyes to bear as your vision blurred, but soon enough your feet settled on solid ground once more. 

You desperately blinked back the blurring at the edges of your vision to take in the bright gold that lined the room you had landed in. Or maybe an observatory of some kind.

“Welcome home,” a deep but firm voice greeted, your eyes drawn to a man in gold armour whose eyes glowed just as brightly as the metal. He sheathed the sword into the metal stand in front of him and approached the three of you.

You thought you could see something sad in his gaze as he touched the metal on your face, drawing it easily away from you and returning your ability to speak. “I am sorry you were dragged into this mess, miss.” 

“How did you…?” 

“My name is Heimdall and my duty is to watch over the Nine Realms. While I cannot see all at once, and some have managed to evade my sight in the past,” At this he gave Loki a look before returning his gaze to you - eyes softening once more, “I have kept an eye on your journey these past few days.” 

“Heimdall, of what do you speak?” Thor asked in utter confusion. 

But you found the words and breath to speak first. “They lied to you, I’m not an inmate! I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket!” you protested, courage mounting with every word you got out. “I was just doing my job like always and a couple of thugs came to the office and kidnapped me.” A squeeze at your waist reminded you of Loki’s presence and you pulled out of his grip, turning your annoyance on him. “And we have never met! I’ve only ever seen his reflection.” 

“Loki-” Thor growled at his brother, but received only a simple shrug and a look that lacked all remorse in reply. “Why did you-?”

Warm hands took your wrists and distracted you, your gaze drawn by watching Heimdall break the cuffs on your wrists as easily as if they were made of paper. “My apologies, miss. I had no way of letting anyone on Earth know of the misconception.” He didn’t smile, per se, but he seemed genuine and his greeting kind. 

He took a step back and you breathed with relief to finally be free of all your chains. “At least someone knows what’s going on.” Though Loki had to have known too, so why had he lied to Thor and SHIELD? “How exactly am I supposed to get home?” you asked, looking between the two brothers as if scolding children. 

“Heimdall is to use the Tesseract to restore the Bifrost and once it’s fixed, he will be able to send you home. If I can, I will return with you and explain the situation to the Avengers - they’ll be sure to help,” Thor rushed to assure you.

To be fair, they had tried, but Thor had been so convinced by SHIELD… Well, he just seemed to have gotten all mixed up in all of this so you nodded. “So, I’ll just have to wait until the bridge is fixed?” 

Thor smiled brightly this time, like the sun bursting through on a cloudy day. “Yes, just until it is fixed. I’m sure Mother will be happy to provide hospitality.” 

“I see my son is already volunteering me.” Her voice sounded light and happy despite the situation, drifting over from some as yet unseen doorway off to the side. 

“Your Majesty.” Heimdall bowed to her and you quickly followed suit - you didn’t want to end up in the dungeons for however long it would take to fix the Bifrost. 

You straightened up to find her gentle smile turned your way, her beauty and motherly face stealing your breath. “I’m glad to finally meet you, though you are such a familiar sight that I feel as though I know you already.” Her arm settled softly around your shoulders and she started to steer you along the beautiful bridge you stood on. 

Loki huffed behind you and you wondered if he might be embarrassed? No, probably not.

“I’m sorry you were brought here under such circumstances, but welcome to Asgard.” Weird space travel and spy stories coming to life aside, maybe spending some time in the golden city laid out before you wouldn’t be so bad. 

Want to be tagged in future parts or future Loki fic? Go here

[billthedrake]

Note: This is a hypnosis story co-written with @josmith1718

THE PROTOCOL (CHAPTER TWO)

The next day, Dad and I had a lazy Saturday. I usually woke up early, but I slept like a log especially after dad's insatiable appetite after being under. I woke up and saw I was in bed alone. I stretched and made my way downstairs. I was wearing only boxer briefs when I came to the kitchen and saw dad making a whole breakfast spread, "Morning, bud. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Morning dad, what time did you wake up?"

"I've been up for a while. Woke up so refreshed." He smiled and gave me a kiss before asking me again, "Drink?"

"Uh, I'll have some orange juice."

"Okay bud, sit down, I'll get it for you."

Dad was very happy this morning. He was wearing an old baseball tee and shorts that were being eaten by his ass. I was spent from last night but seeing the sex god in this kitchen making me breakfast was giving me a second wind.

"Here you go son. What do you say we have a nice cookout today? Weather should be good; we can put some steaks on the grill and have some beers."

"Sure dad, but you are in the sun all day, I thought you would want to spend some time in the A/C."

"Well, we could do something else if you want." He smirked as he saw my hardon.

I reached down and tugged at my loose shorts, playfully showing off my endowment to Dad, but also pinching the base a little bit to tame the beast.

"It'll probably be better if I wait." I said.

"Waiting isn't your strong suit, buddy," Dad smirked.

"Nah it isn't," I admitted. I was about to ask whose fault that was but I reflected at how great my father was. I was the luckiest guy in the world. "So... cookout?" I asked. I knew if we stayed in that kitchen, I'd be initiating sex. And last Saturday we didn't leave the house till after noon...

Dad went to get dressed to run his errands to the grocery store. I offered to hit the hardware store for charcoal and some other stuff we needed. Surprisingly, bagged ice is cheaper there, too, so Dad asked me to get a bag or two so we could set up the cooler for the beer.

I was in and out of the big box store pretty quick. I don't know if it was the hypnosis, but I was in a weird mood that morning. Almost giddy with excitement of seeing if Dad was gonna put out for me later, really put out. Maybe I had some misgivings, too. I mean, Dad had brought up the hypnosis route and found the Company, but maybe I was too excited by the idea of reprogramming my loving father.

As I tossed the stuff in the back seat and as I started the car, I wondered about maybe my approach with fucking Dad was wrong. Maybe it wasn't just mental. Hypnosis was one thing, but he would need to get used to having something in his hole.

I took a little detour home, to where one of the adult sex stores was. Hopefully the ice wouldn't melt too much. I'd only been to this store a couple of times, the first time when I turned 18 and a buddy dared me to go as some sort of stupid high school ritual. The other was soon after that, when I heard a rumor you could get a no-strings blowjob in one of the booths. I went in, but chickened out.

Now, I went in and made a beeline for the vibrators and butt plugs. I was not a small fry and Dad would need some practice, even if he was under when I used the toys on him.

I found a beginner sized dildo and picked up an enema bag. I looked for a smaller sized butt plug. Even the smallest looked like it might be a challenge for a newbie at bottoming, but I picked it up too. With a naughty thought I eyed one of the bigger plugs. It would take a hell of a lot of hypnosis to get my tight virgin father to fit that inside him. But the idea turned me on like mad so I bought it too.

I made my purchases and headed back home. Dad was already putting away the groceries in the kitchen, as I went upstairs with my toys and hid them until I needed them.

I'd barely stashed them in the back of my sweaters in the closet when Dad walked into our bedroom. "I'm gonna hit the gym, Kyle," he said, peeling off that baseball shirt. God, here comes my hardon again. But Dad seemed oblivious to that as he went to root through his drawer for his workout gear. "I'll fire up the grill when I get back, OK?"

"Yeah, Dad," I said.

He grabbed his stuff and then paused to look at me. Maybe he wasn't so oblivious to my excitement after all. With a grin he sauntered over and stepped up to me, leaning forward to kiss me gently. It was hot, a lot of soft tongue as Dad and I made out in our bedroom.

His free hand was on my flank, feeling up my muscle beneath my T-shirt. "Nice, son," he grinned. "I can tell you've been hitting the gym too, buddy," he smirked. I worked out during my lunch hour at a corporate gym near my office. I usually enjoyed taking Saturday off.

"Gotta keep up with my old man," I smirked back. I reached down to undo my shorts, but Dad stopped me.

"Save it, buddy... it'll be worth your while, I promise." With that, dad pulled my shorts up and gave me a parting kiss, “Try to keep your hand away from that dick.” He said as he left the room. I did not know it was possible but I was even harder at that comment.

***

The food smelled great as dad sat next to me to let the meat cook on the grill. He had continued to wear the same workout clothes except for the sweaty shirt. He was showing off a good pump, I'd say, his perky nipples saluted me and his calves looked exceptionally delectable. If I was not so hungry, I probably would have tackled him as soon as he walked through the door.

"So how do you feel about the hypnosis, son?" Dad asked as he took a sip of his beer and sat next to me.

"I was hesitant at first but if it makes you happy, Dad, I'm game but, how about you? Did you feel different when you were under?" I asked. I kept putting the old man under and never even thought of asking if it was enjoyable.

"Not just me, son. Remember what you told me, if we're both not into it, we don't have to do it." He held his gaze on mine, "But I will be honest, if it'll help us... me... I want it."

I nodded and smiled at him. He reached and patted my thigh before answering the second half of my question.

"And to answer your question, I didn't feel anything. It felt like I fell asleep and when I ‘woke up' I felt refreshed. I hope it can help me to be able to give you what you want but if not, it's helping me to feel relaxed at least."

"Did you remember what you did when the man from the Company put you under?"

"No. We were talking and then he was telling me we were done. Whatever I did, I don't think it was embarrassing but I did feel good afterwards."

We ate, we tanned, and we had some more beers. It was a nice relaxed way to spend the weekend. Dad worked hard and in my own white collar way, I worked hard too. It was nice to lie in the backyard and think about nothing.

I had my eyes closed and tried to keep everything out of my mind. I just heard the sizzling of the grill, dad whistling, the light chirping of the birds. Suddenly, I began to think about the hypnosis and started throwing wood. It was a hot idea, having my dad do anything I wanted, bend over, and let me rim him or ask me to fuck him as matter-of-factly as he did when providing me with his oral services. I was maybe hoping it was a one session kind of deal and then Dad would be lifting his legs for me. Yet, he'd put off sex, even more than normal. I wondered if he needed more reinforcement or if I needed to expedite the process.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided I'd put him under again and take dad back to the white hallway. As soon as we went inside, I was determined I'd be putting him under again. I wanted to get in his ass but didn't want to do it prematurely. As I went through the motions of helping him clean and put away things, I was formulating a script in my mind of what I was going to say and do. I had to think of the Protocol the Company provided, and how reinforcement could help tap into Dad's inner psyche.

"That was great." Dad said as we were putting away the last of the leftovers in containers. I admired his hairy frame now that he had gotten a tan on his chest and back. A shame he didn't go shirtless at work, I'm sure he'd get more contracts showing his body off and he'd had an overall tan.

"You are the grill master, dad."

"You flatter me buddy." Dad rubbed my shoulder, as he stepped by me. I watched him walk down the hall, and even as he was out of my sight, the sound of the door closing suggested to me he was taking a piss.

It seemed the perfect chance to catch him unaware. That approach seemed to work the first time and if he was easily put under then, it should be no issue now. I put the food away as quickly as I could and then I walked down the hall to wait outside the bathroom for him to come out. I heard the flushing of the toilet followed by the start of dad washing his hands and whistling as he cleaned up.

"Hey buddy... you gotta go...?" Dad began as he opened the door but at the sound of me saying “power down” he stopped mid-sentence. He went from animated to emotionless in one swoop. His face was drained of emotion, his arms fell to his sides, and he looked past me, as though there was a point behind me, he needed to concentrate on.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Relaxed..." Was dad's monotone response.

"Remember what I told you about Kyle?"

Dad nodded and said "Yes..."

"Repeat to me what you learned about Kyle and what you need to do."

"Kyle does the fucking, to show him I love him, I have to let go and give him what he wants..." He responded. Once again, I smiled, "What does he want?"

"To fuck me." Dad responded, determined. As he finished his thought, I saw how he began to breathe a bit faster, and his cock began to swell up. The shorts he was wearing were flimsy and nothing hid what was happening down there.

"That's right. When this finally happens, you will give him happiness and he, in turn, will bring you pleasure. Your son will be happy, and you want to make your son happy right?"

"That's all I want, my boy to be happy." He was more determined with his response.

"Extend your hands and hold on to me, we are going back to the door in the white hallway." He extended his hands and I reached with mine. I held on, feeling the dampness on his skin.

"Walk with me as I count to five. Once I reach five, we'll be at the door."

"One... we're walking down the corridor," I slowly walked us to the bedroom where I had stashed the toys I would be needing, "Two... you are feeling relaxed and calm knowing your son will never cause you pain or hurt you," I passed a couple of framed pictures of us at a camping trip and from both of my graduations, "Three... you are closer to the door, remembering what you saw there, getting you excited..." At the threshold of the bedroom, I said, "Four... the door is at arm's reach, you want to open the door, right?"

"Yes, I want to open the door." Dad responded a bit breathlessly.

"Good... five, reach for the doorknob and open the door. What do you see?" I let go of his hand momentarily and saw him reach to the imaginary door to open it.

"I'm in bed with my boy... He is on top of me, getting ready to fuck me... My son looks happy..." Dad began to smile warmly as he saw the scene.

"He is very happy, but you can't bottom for him yet, why?" I caressed his hand.

"Men don't get fucked." Again, determined. I knew we would need to work on this now if we were going to get anywhere.

"Look at yourself, Brian. You are a man. Look at your muscles, your hairy torso, strong legs, are you not a man?"

"Yes, I'm a man."

"Keep looking at the scene in front of you, is your son inside you, fucking you, making you feel good?"

"God... yes, he is fucking me, making me feel pleasure." He tightened his grip on my hand and his breathing increased. He wanted to be able to give his boy this, the pleasure that he would experience was secondary at this point. All he wanted was to be a good daddy and take care of his boy's needs. He wanted what he saw.

"And as he is doing this... are you changing at all?" I asked, looking at dad's face to see if there was any resistance to what I was inferring.

Dad looked confused at this. I continued to caress his hand and pushed on, "Did you become less of a man?"

Again, confusion, his brow creased as he thought of it. I answered for him, "No you didn't. Look, Kyle is still fucking you, bringing you pleasure. He is fucking a man, not a woman. Say it, Kyle fucks men."

"Kyle fucks men..."

"Again, with conviction."

"Kyle fucks men." I moved his hand to my cock, and I moved my free hand to his, "Hold Kyle's cock and ask him who he fucks."

Dad looked at me as though trying to look through a fog and asked, "Who do you fuck?", his hand lightly gripping my cock like he did when he was ready to give me a handjob. I fished out his cock and began to match his grip and stroking motions as I answered.

"I fuck men, dad, not women, just men. Hairy, muscular, masculine men. Men that work construction, that have a tan from being in the sun working hard, muscles from moving heavy things all day." I said this as I stroked him.

"God, son..." he whispered to himself.

"Brian, who is getting fucked on the bed?" I asked, getting a thrill calling him by his name.

"I am..."

"Are you a man?"

"Yes..."

"So, say it, I'm a man that gets fucked."

Dad's voice was direct and unwavering. A pure expression of his unconscious. "Men don't get fucked."

Jesus Christ. Back to square one.

I let go of his dick and thought for a second. What would the Protocol suggest? I don't even remember where the idea came from, but I remembered something about triangulation. Shifting the focus. "Brian.... Listen carefully to my voice.”

Dad looked at me with unwavering concentration.

"You are past the white door now... where only my voice matters."

"Your voice."

I felt his grip on my cock get tighter, now playing with it, then stroking it. Fuck, this felt good.

"When you are awake, Brian, and you worry about not being a man, you can listen to my voice and it'll relax you, helping you let go for your son."

I spread my legs and let Dad openly stroke me. The more I talked the more eagerly he tugged at my dick. "You know what that voice will be telling you?"

He shook his head no. Like an eager student studying for a test. Aww God, his hand felt amazing. This man, even under, only had one mission and it was to bring me pleasure. I had to bite my lip and take a deep breath before I continued because I didn't want to shoot yet, I needed to see this through.

"That voice will be telling you that anytime you don't feel like a man, to think instead about Kyle. Your son—" God, Dad's hand was driving me crazy. I wasn't normally a hand job guy, but this head fuck was messing with mine in its own way. "—and how manly he is." I finished my train of thought in a raspy voice.

"Yes, Kyle is a man." Dad responded determined, proud even. The same way he would when bragging to his buddies about me for something.

"Good," I said. "And because Kyle is a man, you do not have to worry about yourself. Just listen to that voice...Dad." My breath was getting shorter. I reached out and began stroking Dad's cock as he did mine.

"What does that voice say, Dad?" I stopped calling him by his name and reverted back to ‘Dad.' I wanted him badly and calling him Brian, while naughty at first, was not as personable as ‘Dad.' The man raised me, taught me so much. Now it was my turn to return the favor, as it were, and teach him new things. Things that would bring him pleasure.

"That voice is saying Kyle is a man." He was sweating a bit, his nipples were perky and his cock throbbed in my hand.

"What do men do?"

"Men fuck.”

"What is going to help you be able to be your son's bottom daddy?” I was stroking dad hard, and he was too, we were both lost in the moment. I don't even know when it was the last time, I called dad ‘daddy' but I had just said it and if I was not in the edge of shooting, I was when dad responded.

"Listen to the voice... allow Kyle to make me his bottom daddy." The combination of seeing dad zonked out, his words and his hand on my cock, I shot my load, some of it landing on his hand and floor. Dad, in turn, shot all over my hand. Like father like son, both shooting our loads at the idea that I needed to fuck him, and he was going to allow me to.

We were both breathing hard and as we both caught our breath, I looked at dad and with some clarity instructed him to close the door. Dad used his free hand and simulated closing the imaginary door. I continued, "You are a man that gets fucked, keep that in mind. You still can't bottom for Kyle, but you want to, desperately. You want to get pleasure, you want to make Kyle happy, but you need to prepare for it. You will ask Kyle to help you. It'll be scary but put your trust in your son, he loves you, he is here for you, he is going to make sure everything you do for him, is returned with pleasure tenfold."

"I trust my son." No hesitation at all. That made me really happy that dad have trust in me.

"And he trusts you. He loves you very much." I kissed his cheek and felt the stubble, it was the weekend he hadn't shaved since Friday.

Dad smiled and continued to stroke my spent cock, bringing it back to life, "Once you come out of this state of relaxation, at some point tonight you will ask your son to help you. You will ask him what you need to do, what can you do to get ready. You will only feel pleasure once it happens. This pleasure will make you feel comfortable getting played with and fucked by your son, Kyle. Understood?"

"Yes... I want that... I want Kyle to play with me..."

"He wants to play with you too. Now, you are going to wake up when I count to three. When you wake, you will not realize you were under but will retain all instructions and suggestions. You will also not find it weird that we are here covered in cum. You will find it hot and want to shower off the remnants of it before we head downstairs, and watch T.V. Understood?"

"I understand."

"Good, let's wake up. One... Two... Three..."

Life came back to dad's eyes, and he smiled when he saw the mess we had made, "Shame I didn't get that load in my mouth but can't cry over spilled milk, right buddy?"

I smiled and he closed the gap and gave me a kiss, "Let's hit the showers, son." I nodded and followed him as he dragged me to the bathroom without letting go of my cock.

We showered, made out under the running water, and then saw a bit of T.V. before we called it a night. As we were getting ready for bed, dad looked at me intently, "I love you so much, buddy."

"I love you too dad." I smiled and threw a pillow at him. He caught it and then stroked it a bit, almost as if he was arming himself with courage.

"I really want to give you everything I can, son. I'm a man and I shouldn't be scared to ask for help so here it is.” He took a deep breath, “Help me."

"Dad, anything you need, you know I'm here for you." I responded. I sat on the edge of the bed and dad came to my side and sat next to me.

"I want to be your bottom and I need to know how to do that. I don't know if hypnosis will help but in case it does, I need to prepare myself... but I don't know what I should even do first." He sounded determined but innocent all at once. I bit my lip as he said that, damn, I was once again throwing wood.

I moved a bit, trying to hide what was growing between my legs and at first, I was not sure if dad noticed but he definitely did when he got up and used my name, "Come on Kyle, I need your help. Tell me what I need to do to prep for when I finally give it up." He sounded annoyed that I would choose his vulnerable moment to be a horndog.

"Sorry dad...” I grabbed a pillow and put it over my crotch, “You need to clean yourself out and then practice. It's not much to it. Here..." I got up, covering my crotch making dad more annoyed.

“Take the pillow off, I already know you're horny,” he growled softly.

I blushed and nodded and went to get the toys. I pretended to take a while to look for them as though they were there for a long time and brought out the enema bag, "Here you go dad, this is an enema bag, you use this to clean yourself out."

"So...I fill this with water and then..." He mimed it not wanting to say it, blushing as I nodded my head.

"I can help you if that would—"

"I'll do it alone buddy. We may shower together but I draw the line with you watching me shit out poop water."

"Alright, I'll be here dad. Take your time, it's not a race."

"How long do I do it for?" He asked as he walked towards the bathroom.

"Until the water you push out is clear."

Dad was gone for a while. My cock deflated as soon as he left. Dad's mere presence had that effect on me. He could be standing perfectly still and I'd want to jump his bones. As he cleaned himself, I ended up working on emails and getting them scheduled to be sent out Monday morning. I even folded some laundry as he stayed in the bathroom. I didn't hear much other than the occasional flushing. After a little over half an hour, I heard the toilet flush again and dad come back to the room as I was putting away some clothes.

"If we were to do the deed, I'd have to do that every time?" He was red and sweating. God only knows what he did in that bathroom, but I didn't think it would take that long.

"We can get a bidet and a proper douche, you know, to be cleaner down there." I smiled at dad.

"Fuck, buddy... I have never been in the bathroom this long ever but honestly, I never felt so clean." I couldn't deny my need to be with dad. I grabbed the folded clothes still on the bed and put them on the chair in the corner of the room and ran towards dad. He held me and we began to make out. He held me tight, his shirtless frame on my clothed one. He pulled the shirt off and I began to play with his hairy chest.

As the kisses became more needy, my hands began traveling slowly down towards his ass, something he would not let me do before. The man had his hangups and one of those things was not getting near his hole. I kissed, sucked, touched, caressed and loved every part of my dad's body but his ass... that was something I wanted to explore at length but never could.

"Son..." He began as my hand caressed his ass.

"Dad please, I won't go in, I just want to touch it." I said, going back to kissing him deeply. Dad moaned into my mouth and let me explore. Fuck, that furry ass was making me bone something bad. Dad slowly lowered my shorts and began to play with my cock, "Fat executive cock..." he hissed.

We were both enthralled by what we loved on each other's bodies. I scooted up in bed and let Dad suck my dick some. I had to urge him to go slow at times and finally pulled him off. I didn't want to cum in his mouth, though I could read Dad's desire to get off that way. He loved having my dick in his mouth and loved swallowing my cum.

I got back down so we were face to face, naked in bed together. But as I got on top of him, almost a classic missionary position, I felt Dad's body jerk and shiver beneath mine. Like he got a cold spell.

"You OK, Dad?" I asked.

He nodded, gulping. "Yeah, son... it's just... fuck!"

He got another shiver. I realized it was the hypnotic suggestion, giving him that excitement when I was on top of him. I humped his cock and we made out. Dad was moaning into my mouth and clutching at my back and then my arms. Pulling me in, wanting nothing more than my weight on top of his.

"You're such a fucking stud, son," he whispered as we finally broke that kiss and looked into each other's eyes. Dad was vulnerable and yet totally alive. Turned on. Fuck, this was gonna happen. Maybe I wouldn't even need the toys.

I kissed my way down, feeling my father shiver as I enjoyed the feel of his fur and his aged brawn. I went further, pushing Dad's legs back. That didn't get resistance but almost immediately his hand was on my head, stopping me.

"Can't son," he said. Not apologetic. Like, freaked out just from the fact I was gonna rim him.

Goddamnit.

"Power down," I said.

Dad's body relaxed, almost to the point of going limp. I even had to hold his legs in place, splayed back. I could see his squeaky clean pucker. Maybe this wasn't the Protocol, but I wasn't gonna waste a clean dad hole like this. Not after dreaming about it all day.

"When you were awake, how did you feel Brian?"

"Horny... then nervous."

"I understand... but, I'm going to share a secret with you that'll make the nerves fade away. You want that, right? You can speak freely”

“Yes, I don't want to be nervous for my boy.” I smiled. It must be hard for him. A man that has lived so long with this notion and wanting to get rid of it, knowing that it'll be a pleasure for him and his lover but unable to.

“Can you keep a secret?" I whispered, looking up from his hole. Damn, I wish I didn't have to do this right now. I was ready to rock his world. Nevertheless, I persisted.

"Yes." His voice was quiet, obedient, determined.

Damn, I was rock hard. This whole thing with dad recharged me in a way that I was ready to shoot again if dad helped me out. "You are a special man, Brian. Some men only have one pleasure spot. Their cocks. You have four."

"Four?" he said, a bit surprised with a hint of confusion.

"Yes, four. You've already found two. Your cock, and the back of your throat." I reached and caressed his cock a bit.

Dad's dick surged hard again when he felt my hand and my voice, the words and their meanings sinking in.

"You like when Kyle tickles the spot in your throat, don't you Brian?"

"I do," Dad answered.

"It's pure pleasure for you."

"Yes," he said.

I ran my fingers along his leg hair as I scooted in. Dropping my voice to an even more suggestive register, I continued, "You have a spot like that deep inside you, Brian. Deep in your ass."

His face grew questioning, but he nodded.

"So deep only your son can reach it. Kyle is the only man who has the key to unlock that spot for you."

"Kyle is a man." No hesitation.

Fuck, my cock just spurted some pre on to dad's furry belly.

"You know why he has that key?"

"Because Kyle loves me." His smile grew with his response. I loved this man.

"Yes, Kyle loves you and he wants you to feel that intense pleasure deep inside you."

"I am a lucky father."

"You are a lucky man, Brian. Because you have one more pleasure spot. Your asshole craves stimulation."

"Stimulation."

"You want Kyle to make that spot feel good, too."

"Yes."

We'd see if this works.

"Ok Brian, continue to listen to my voice. I am going to count to three. You will not realize you were under, but you will continue to follow all suggestions and instructions while you were in this state. Once you wake, you'll feel alive and happy and allow your boy do what he wants, you trust him. You want this. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Let's wake up, handsome. One... two... three...”

Dad's body tensed beneath mine and he let out a breath. It took him a half second to refocus, but he smirked at me.

"You're hard as a rock, buddy," Without missing a beat he responded as though he hadn't been under.

I nodded. "You get me that way, Dad." I attacked his chest again with my lips then started the process of kissing lower. We'd see if this worked. I slowly got to his cock, kissing it before I went lower.

Dad was hesitant, I could feel his body stiffen but then I pulled his legs back again and he let me.

I saw my prize, that beautiful daddy hole winking at me, inviting me to love it. God, I wanted that more than anything, to show how good my tongue could feel in there... before something bigger went in.

"Son please..." He whispered. He knew it was going to happen and was nervous.

"I'm here dad, please trust me, let me make you feel good just like you make me feel good."

"I trust you son... I trust you completely." He bit his lip before reaching for his legs and raising them on his own.

"Aww fuck, dad..." I said and before he changed his mind, I dove into his ass and began to kiss it. I was in heaven, after so many years, I was rimming him, and it was amazing.

"My fucking God!" Dad cried. Unprepared for the sensations, he let out a moan and spread his legs wider. "Kyle! Buddy!"

"Yeah? Like your son eating this ass?" I asked as I pulled back to look up his furry beef and into his handsome face.

"I think so..." He opened his eyes, then watched as I dipped back in again to lick his entrance. "Yeah... that's it.... I love it, son. Keep going, eat your dad's ass, buddy."

"Thank you, dad, thank you," I muttered into his hole. I responded enthusiastically and began to really eat him out. Dad was moaning, his nipples were hard, his cock throbbing. The man had denied himself this feeling for too long, and I was happy and lucky to be the one giving him this pleasure.

"Eat me out, son, God your tongue is slithering in there." He was now bucking his hole against my face, almost riding my mouth. I still didn't know how much of this was the hypnotic suggestion or his body naturally feeling good from my hitting his spot but either way, I was not going to question it. Right now, I was going to enjoy myself and really give dad the full experience.

I moaned and nodded, really pushing my tongue into that nice, clean hole, wiggling it around before retreating to tease the pucker.

"My executive stud," Dad grunted, "Showing his dad how good it is to have him playing with his ass."

‘His ass,' fuck that made me double my efforts before I reached for his cock and began to play with it.

"Yeah buddy, play with it, that ass is yours, all yours stud. Fuck, you got me so hard, son." Goddamn, my father was contracting his abs and thrusting that vulnerable cherry hole up against my munching mouth. This was out of control in the best way.

Thank you, Tech Bro, I was getting everything I ever wanted. Never would Dad have let me do this before, and now he was encouraging me to play with his amazing dad hole. This guy at the Company knew what he was doing, and Dad and I were proof of it. I would recommend the service to however many people I could and leave a great Google review.

My man was now a moaning mess, sweating profusely, his nipples hard, his cock dripping precum, I wanted to concentrate on his pleasure and not mine. My cock would explode in my shorts for all I care if it meant that dad would love this enough to let me play in there whenever I wanted.

I pushed my tongue deeper in there as I felt his hole begin to open and suck on my tongue.

"I'm on the edge, buddy... ready to cum for my executive stud... shoot for my boy..." That was hot, I got off his ass and crawled until I was on top of him, "I love you dad, so damn much."

"I want to shoot my load for you, I want to give you my load, buddy."

"Shoot for your son, dad, shoot for your man." I kissed him again. He didn't object to tasting my lips fresh from his ass. I slipped Dad some tongue before pulling back. I wanted to rim him more.

Going back to his ass, I doubled my efforts, just as my hand gripped his cock as I began to stroke him.

"Give me that load, dad, shoot for your stud, show him what a good dad you are."

"Fuck son, fuck, fuck, eat me out.... You're working my spot, son," Dad grunted.

I nodded and increased the speed of my strokes. A combination of my tongue work and my hand on his cock, Dad moaned and then I felt his cock expand and shoot his load. I continued to stroke until I felt dad's hand on mine.

"Fuck, son...fuck..." He was shaking. I kissed his ass one last time before I let him lower his legs. Scooting up, I lay next to him, my cock hard as steel. We were both catching our breath. Dad had his arm over his eyes, like he was recovering from a marathon.

"Fuck..."

"How do you feel dad?" I asked as I laid my hand on his chest. His hairy chest was damp from the sweat, and I could feel his heart beating hard.

"Damn..." He responded before he laughed, "That was... amazing. So intense, I never... All I can say is.... fuck..."

I smiled and grabbed his head. He lifted his arm and looked at me, "Was it everything you hoped for?" He asked in a sultry voice.

"And more, dad, c'mere." He smiled and we kissed. We stayed kissing until he realized I had not shot, "You didn't cum?" He asked concerned.

"This was about your pleasure dad." I responded honestly.

"I'm such a lucky bastard. Let's get in the shower, son, I'll take care of you there."

***

Before bed, I pulled out the dildo I'd purchased.

"What's this?" He asked, chuckling, nervous as he saw me bring the thing out of the packaging.

"You washed yourself, now, we need to train your ass to get used to having something up there."

I was undeterred and I looked at him before saying, "Trust me, dad."

He bit his lip and nodded, "How do you want me?"

It was difficult but after rimming him again, to calm his nerves though it was more for me, I lubed him up and ran the dildo along his ass lips.

"Oh!" he grunted. I grinned and gave him a determined look as I ran the toy over his sensitive spot. The more I ran it over his ring, the more he seemed into it, and I watched him get a boner again. I took the cue to push it in. It wasn't too big, but it was enough.

"Easy son, I'm cherry back there." He urged, reaching down to grip my forearm. Dad has a strong grip.

I nodded and concentrated on just the inner part of his sphincter, eventually working an inch in and out, giving my old man time to get used to it. All in all, we both worked to get this next step completed. A compromise between my desire to see Dad penetrated and his desire to focus on the pleasures in his anus itself. We would both get a good night's sleep after our efforts this evening.

I was getting hard, and I stroked my cock in one hand while I used the other to diddle his hole.

Dad let out a grunt and another inch of that fake cock slid inside him. The suddenness tripped my wires.

"Fuck!" I gasped as a load shot out. Since Dad had sucked me off an hour before, it wasn't the heaviest cum, but it was bigger than I expected.

I thanked him with a kiss and pulled out the dildo, laying it on the nightstand.

"That was incredible, Dad," I muttered as he pulled my body to his, “I'm glad bud... and it was good for me too.” We fell asleep soon after, dad holding me in his arms.

[infrared135-36]

the zoomers playing gachas now get so defensive and aggressive over them compared to what I remember from the early to mid 2010s. I see so many people saying “well Y is a gacha but you totally don’t need to spend like Z gacha! It’s more like a live service!”, or “X gacha fans try playing a gacha that actually respects you like Y!” I see this all the time for people shilling shit like Arknights or Limbus Company. Please for the love of god can we get back to the point where everyone can recognize creating a game in the gacha genre is inherently exploitive. I’m not saying this to shame anyone who plays them because I don’t really give a shit, of course there’s pedo-pandering heavy games like blue archive and increasingly FGO that I wish would EoS but that’s a different discussion. If these “nice” gachas wanted to be “buy an update a month” or whatever live service games, they would have been. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re nice about it, they made these games specifically to be gachas because they make a shit ton of money. In one single “dead” month for Limbus Company they basically made the same amount of money that the entire Pathologic 2 kickstarter made for example. And this is even after alienating half their fanbase pulling that incel shenanigans shit.

You don’t need to defend their money grubbing asses even if idk you see the game as an inherent aspect of who you are and your identity so anyone criticizing the game itself is as if they’re criticizing you as a person, which, because of the growth of SNS sites especially since covid, I think a chunk of this is. I don’t think that makes these games unable to tell interesting and moving stories or have lovable characters - on the contrary, they have to make sure gacha-original characters will be pulled for, so they invest a lot of time into their appeal, even embarrassingly having them break the 4th wall and directly say this is the case like in FGO. However every single character design and story has to be created under the gacha framework and the unrelenting need to appeal to their userbase. Why do you think there’s a lot of “badass old men” designs in FGO but after 8 years there’s not one single woman with even the whisper a wrinkle? Why did they change Frankenstein’s berserker screams to be a cute anime girl voice? Why do many of the male Arknights characters have detailed, shaded and distinguished facial features while most of the female cast has the classic anime bug eyes, dot nose and line mouth, especially with the full animal-faced characters?

It’s like many entertainment industries where the characters must have mass appeal but on steroids because you’re not paying to buy the game, you’re paying for the 1% chance of getting the character, so the game lives or dies based on their appeal. I don’t even mean this in a sanctimonious “therefore don’t play them” way, there are “traditional” video game companies pulling stupid, damaging and illegal shit all the time, gacha is not the one single evil thing within the industry. I would just like to see recognition about what you’re playing. It’s a gacha game. Yes even Limbus Company is made to have you gamble, that’s literally the reason there’s daily log in incentives and a gacha currency…. It doesn’t matter if you think these games are nice or fair to you. They’re gacha games, they were made to make money from you first and foremost. Keep skeptical about what they do, you don’t need to jump in and defend their practices just because you like the game.

[inez-winchester-cameron]

Exile

Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Rafe and you have always had a toxic and rocky relationship, so it wasn’t a shock when you two separated. But you two just can’t seem to live without thinking of eachother

Cw: toxic relationships, quickly moving on, fighting, accusations, lots of angst

Note:  based on exile by Taylor Swift obviously, fun fact I love Taylor shes so pookie

You stand on the HMS pogue, JJ’s arms wrapped tightly around you from behind. His head resting on your shoulder. You two stare out over the water, just enjoying each other's company. In perfect timing, you spy the Druthers approaching. Your heart stops, knowing that boat better than anyone else. As it passes, you make eye contact with Rafe. JJ is rambling, not making the connection, and not realizing you’re not truly paying attention. You half-heartedly laugh at a little joke he made, mostly to put on a show for Rafe.

Rafe frowns and sips on the glass of alcohol in his hand. He glares daggers at JJ, but when you make eye contact with him, his expression noticeably softens. His eyes fall back on JJ and you know that look anywhere. It’s the look he gives people when he wants to beat the fuck out of you. With time, the boat passes and the Druthers is gone, along with Rafe.

You and Rafe had broken up a week prior to this incident. You and Rafe had been together since freshman year of high school, up until the fall after graduation. You two always walked a very thin line, your relationship filled with many disagreements. But you two understood each other and made a home in each other. He loved you and you loved him, “no superficial bullshit” as Rafe always said. But you had given Rafe more chances than you can count to improve himself and although he was noticeably better around you, it was exhausting and after one particularly bad fight, you cut him off.

“You’re being ridiculous!” You yelled at Rafe, both of you still tipsy after a big party, “We did not do anything!”

“He was eyefucking you!” Rafe argued back, referring to you and JJ talking at the party earlier that night, “You’re just too damn stupid to notice!”

“Oh yeah, tell me how you really feel!”

“You’re a naive little bitch and I don’t know why the fuck I’m even here anymore! You’re probably fucking that Maybank bitch anyway!” Rafe shot back, backing you into a wall. and you froze.

Tears stung your eyes as you made your next move. You didn’t intend to but your hand raises and Rafe received a slap across his smug face.

“Did- did you just hit me?” He said, disbelief apparent in his voice. His eyes darken, obviously more pissed as he processes it. 

“Fuck you, Rafe Cameron. I hate you. Don’t talk to me ever again and I mean that.”

“Y/n wait-” But you’re gone.

Your next encounter with Rafe occurs at the Boneyard during a party. You sit, tucked into JJ’s side on a log. You turn to him, kissing his cheek and ask, sweetly, “Do you want another drink, love?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks babe.”

You smile in return and stand, going to get two more drinks. As you do so, a man takes notice of you. You start to get drinks for you and JJ as he speaks to you.

“Hey pretty lady, what’s your name?” He asks, and you internally sigh.

“Not interested,” you reply.

“Oh come on, you don’t even know-”

“She said she’s not interested.” A gruff voice comes from behind the man. The voice doesn’t belong to your boyfriend though, it belongs to none other than your protector, Rafe Cameron. 

No longer than a minute later, the man is on the ground and Rafe is approaching you.

“You gotta be more careful, I-”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You speak up, getting pissed, remembering your prior fight.

“I was trying to help,” Rafe replies, his eyes darkening, “Don’t be a bitch.”

“I’m not your problem anymore!” You snap, “So who am I offending now?” Emotions run wild throughout the both of you, the intensity of the situation getting to you.

“You stepped out the side door! You didn’t even hear me out! You never gave a warning sign!” Rafe yells, your conversation getting a bit of attention from the people on the beach.

“I gave so many signs! I saw my opportunity to leave and took it, don’t give me metaphorical bullshit!”

You had given many signs, subtly pulling away from Rafe over the years, trusting him less and less.

“I can’t read your mind, I never learned to read your mind!” Rafe yells back, “I love you so much! You know that!”

“We’ve done this so many times, Rafe..” You mutter, your voice tired, “We’ve had this same fight a million times over in different words. I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending.”

“Please..just one more chance. Y/n please..I’m begging you. There is no amount of crying that I can do for you.”

“I love you, but you’re in exile, Rafe. Maybe in the future.” You simply reply and move past him, going to look for JJ.

You gave so many signs.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

104/150 with lethal company?

104) I can hear it calling my name

.........

[Y/n], January 29th, [Log 001]

---I'm afraid this will be my last log. So I'm keeping this encrypted.

Everyone's gone, but I'm still here. And I'm terrified. We started on this job as strangers, and we became family. Now I'm all alone because of a stupid mask. A piece of scrap we should've just sold off.

But he thought it would be funny to wear. I don't blame him. He was always a jokester, willing to do anything to turn a frown upside down and make light of our dreary trips. I know he didn't mean to hurt us. He thought it was harmless. Honest to god we thought so too.

Until he started vomiting blood and tried grabbing me. He tore off my helmet, along with my tracker, but I managed to get away. I still don't know how. But I wish I was smarter about it, because I got lost.

Then I heard the ship's engines.

They must've thought I was dead. Or maybe they all died and the autopilot kicked in. I'm not sure. I don't even know the current time. But what I do know is that I'm stuck here now. Possibly forever. I could make an SOS but that monster is still outside. I had to barricade myself in this storage room and wait until it goes away.

It keeps knocking. I can hear it calling my name. But I know it's not him.

To anyone who reads this, don't pick up the porcelain masks. They aren't worth shit. It'll tempt you to put it on. Don't. You'll find better loot elsewhere. If you see anyone already wearing it, kill them. Stun them. Run. Whatever. Just don't let it take you.

And if you see me wearing it, put me out of my misery. I promise I'll understand---

Finishing what would likely be your final log, you sighed and slumped back against the wall, letting the tablet slip from your hands.

You don't know how long you've been stuck here--whether it's been hours or days.

But all you know is that the Masked on the other side of the door hasn't left. It was using your coworker's corpse, mimicking his voice as it pounded on the steel and tried convincing you to let it in, even shattering the window. For some reason it refused to leave you alone, and kept begging and begging until it began screaming unintelligently...

That would go on and on until eventually it would cease, weakly clawing at the door, only to rinse and repeat once it rested its voice.

You were starving, trying your best to ration the jar of pickles you were luckily able to find in this storage room.

Unfortunately, that's as far as your luck will go at this point. They were sour and made you want to vomit every time you ate one. But while you didn't want starvation to take your life, you weren't exactly sure how you really wanted to go out instead.

It sure as hell wasn't gonna be from that bastard who took away your friends.

"It's clear....all clear......come on out....the ship is leaving..leave....out.....COME OUT..!! COME OUT!! COMEOUTCOMEOUT-!!"

With your heart hammering in your chest, you curled up and covered your ears, squeezing both eyes shut. 'Fuck, it's losing its mind again...this is a nightmare..why did I ever take this job?' You tried not to focus on the screams so much, and instead prayed for some kind of miracle.

But in space, would anyone really hear your prayers?

Yet somebody must have, because the screaming abruptly stopped a minute later, being replaced by the sounds of heavy thumping and growling drawing near.

You only knew one other alien creature that made those.

And you knew it was pissed off.

Getting up and backing away from the door, you fearfully clutched a stop sign as you heard a series of terrified shrieks, roars, slamming and crashing sounds....before silence followed, save for the low growls you heard earlier and chewing noises.

Cautiously, you went back over and pushed aside one of the things covering up the window, and the sight on the other side was quite nauseating:

The Thumper was hovering over the Masked's body, teeth covered in blood and flesh as it tore into it, clearly wanting to savor this midnight snack.. But eventually it decided to drag the rest of the corpse away and to another part of the facility, only leaving behind a few shattered fragments of white dirty porcelain.

You couldn't believe it.

You were actually happy that a Thumper, of all things, saved your skin.

But you sure as hell didn't want it coming back for a second lunch. Now was your window of opportunity to get out of here. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only reason you were able to grab your loot and book it out of that storage room, being careful not to run into that Thumper again.

At least now you could go outside and (hopefully) send an S.O.S.

[jimpagne]

the worst thing v gets is being called a leech and attention seeker which is what tkkers had been calling jm FOR YEARS. while disliking v because of shippers is petty it’s incredibly interesting how many jikookers had been defending v in the last few weeks while it’s complete silence within tkkers, youll never catch any of them defend jm

That's because a lot of Jikookers don't need to falsify reality in order to represent a certain agenda. Jikookers can be the bigger person if they need to be.

As someone who is truthfully OT7, I don't sit here hoping that hate trains form around someone that I see to be a "threat" to my ship. If I'm being completely honest, I think trying to consume Are You Sure?! from purely a shipping point of view is entirely counterproductive and not a good way to enjoy content. I think it's fun to gush over certain moments, but if you're only parked outside Disney+ or whatever streaming you're allegedly pirating it from just to see your ship in action... you're opening yourself to form biases and bitter feelings toward things that might not be directly encompassed within your ship's boundaries.

This is why I made a call out post whenever certain jikookers resorted to bullying Taehyung whenever they saw that he was going to be a guest on the show. Though I already hear people coming, saying "Oh, but taekookers are bullying Jimin to hell and back, so why can't we?"

Well maybe you shouldn't because it shows that you have the representative IQ of a toad. So let me get this straight, people who are NOT Taehyung bully Jimin... your first course of action is to... bully Taehyung? I think reciprocal hate is incredibly stupid and unwarranted. If I'm going to shit on the behavior of taekookers, guess who I'm gonna take it out on? That's right, I'm going to take it out on taekookers -- not Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung is currently serving in the military, so I doubt he's logging onto Twitter or Tumblr or whatever to say nasty things about his BEST FRIEND. I think people tend to forget that Jimin and Taehyung are tied at the hip and have an entire song where they wax poetry about how much they care about one another...

Anyways.

A lot of Taekookers live in another facet of reality, so in order to make half of their agenda true, Jungkook has to dislike Jimin, the company has to be forcing their fanservice, Jungkook's mother had to have been sent a script beforehand to ask about Jimin, Taehyung was lying about only seeing the trip details a few days before departure, Jungkook was holding Taehyung's waist in this screenshot (but don't look at the footage where it shows otherwise!), Jungkook only acts "cold" (if being humorously bratty is considered cold) toward him in certain scenes because the producers want Jikook to appear more real, HYBE has some joint contract with the South Korean military to put Jimin and Jungkook together in order to hide the real gay couple that is Taekook--

The more you dive into their rhetoric, the less it makes sense. Taekookers also argue with LITERAL KOREAN PEOPLE about translations in the show. Also it's super funny to see them shift from the narrative that she show is scripted to suddenly saying -- no, it's not scripted, to then saying this part is scripted, to then saying, no the whole thing is scripted again, to then saying, actually at this time stamp they went off the script and--

Fucking crazy.

I think what I noticed the most about a lot of taekooker's rhetoric is that in order for something to be true, they need to create a lie or insult the intelligence of both Taehyung and Jungkook.

So you're telling me that two grown men have to lie about who they're with and what they're doing in order to make your ship real? You're telling me that Jungkook and Taehyung are not intelligent enough to negotiate their contracts or what type of "fanservice" they have to engage with on the regular? You're telling me that Jungkook lied about who he saw on his birthday in order to protect Taehyung? You're telling me that after ten years of being in the same group, Jungkook is actually uncomfortable with Jimin but still decided to get a matching tattoo with him and all the other members? You're telling me that the homophobic country of South Korea is willing to hide a gay couple by endorsing a manufactured gay couple? In the military? Where gay people are famously treated well?

That's sarcasm, for anyone who might lack reading comprehension.

Taekookers are the literal embodiment of that one post where the person is like "source(s): trust me bro" because half of what they spit out makes no fucking sense and is actually insulting to Taehyung and Jungkook. Like y'all constantly insult their intelligence and their free will and make it seem like they're trapped behind bars and don't have enough money or power to negotiate what THEY want. I've even seen certain taekookers become Jungkook antis after Are You Sure?! came out because they think he's being mean to or bullying Taehyung.

God, the lights are on but nobody is home.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

A Weight Off Your Shoulders ║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| A WEIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 7.0k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), cheating, negative body image, negative self-talk, discussions of body image struggles, the savagery of puberty, but mostly just indulgent pussy worship lmao, etc.

| SYNOPSIS: [AU no outbreak] After finding out your fiance was cheating on you with the younger, skinnier intern at his work, you pack up and head home to Texas where you meet your friendly DILF neighbor Joel. He doesn’t seem to mind your fuller physique, but you’re still plagued with insecurities that have followed you for most of your life. Can he make you forget about all that for just a moment or will you stay wracked with self-conscious, negative thoughts? Spoiler: We all know Joel is a smooth talker and is down to do whatever it takes to convince you that you’re perfect just the way you are.

✧this is the first installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

The moving van’s AC went out about 75 miles ago, and you can’t bother getting too upset about it. It goes right along with the absolute dogshit spectacle your life has become. The sweat trickles down your back as you keep your eyes focused on the road. The GPS says it’s not too much longer. Your ass is sore from sitting and driving all day, for the past three days. 

It should’ve been two at most - more like one and a half at even a leisurely pace - but the engine had started smoking and making an awful clicking sound somewhere in between Colorado and Oklahoma. You waited 6 hours for the moving truck company to meet you and switch out vehicles. At least the van hadn’t gone up in flames and destroyed all your messily packed cardboard boxes.

The string of down-on-your-luck events provided you with some sort of distraction from the reason you were cooped up in this incinerator of a vehicle and heading home to Texas where your parents still lived, a far cry from the life you had carved out with your fiance - ex-fiance, you correct yourself – in Colorado. 

Ah, yes. Mike. Michael, you think to yourself bitterly. He always hated whenever anyone used his full name instead of his nickname. You were at that level of petty, insulting him in any way that you could. You knew you’d never get close to matching his efforts at hurting you, though.

It had been a great relationship for the first few years. You had met him at his job where you were logging unpaid internship hours so you’d have something to put on your resume when you graduated with your finance degree. Math and economics had always been easy and interesting to you, although it didn’t make you very popular at parties. 

Mike– No, MICHAEL, had been sweet and teased you about how you were “too cute” to be an accountant. You had thought to yourself on numerous occasions that accountants could really use a PR overhaul. Most of your coworkers were nerdy introverts with a dark sense of humor and a penchant for getting ripshit wasted after The Hellfire Summit was over. (That’s what you all called Tax Day.)

But you weren’t “too cute” to be an accountant. Too cute for Michael, maybe, but definitely not some knockout. You had always been on the heavier side starting in middle school. You were vertically challenged, which meant there was a lot less real estate for any additional poundage you racked up through puberty. Your mom had done her best to not give you a complex, but you weren’t stupid and it wasn’t hard to figure out why she was so insistent on you being in sports throughout most of the year. You had taken to soccer pretty quickly, and the endless running kept your weight from climbing into absolute fat pig territory. Not that you didn’t think of yourself that way regardless.

While all your other teammates cried about their boobs not growing - something you had absolutely no way of relating to - you cursed the puberty gods for not giving you a growth spurt of 6” so you could be tall and lean like your friends. By the time college rolled around, you just stuck to running as a stress reliever, but it wasn’t the same level of activity that had kept you smaller throughout high school. The bathtub jungle juice frat parties and 2 am pizza slices didn’t really help matters, either. You put on a respectable “freshman 8,” but your hips and ass delivered it as more of a “freshman 23.”

Michael always talked about how he liked “somebody that didn’t just order a salad,” whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. You didn’t pay it much mind, though, when your sex life was pretty good together. He made you come more than other guys you’d been with, but it wasn’t hard to exceed expectations when the bar was so low it was in hell. And yet, Michael had found a way to sink it down ever farther.

You should’ve seen it coming. In hindsight it was so painfully obvious that something had changed for the worse. You had chalked it up to him getting nerves after FINALLY proposing to you. You were so happy when he finally asked you to marry him. Even his 15 year old son from a previous relationship had made a remark about his dad “finally growing some balls” and proposing.

A wash of sadness rolled over you at the thought of Ethan. He was such a good kid, and you had become attached to him after being with Michael for so many years. You’d moved in together, and Ethan thoughtfully cleared off a shelf of his video game things so that you’d have a nice spot in the living room for some of your DVDs and books. How on earth that was the child of the piece of shit cheating scumbag Michael was beyond you. Ethan must have taken after his mother more than you previously knew.

Michael had been married before and had Ethan with his ex-wife Patty. They had just “grown apart” as he’d put it. They got together when they were young, and it wasn’t until his 38th birthday party that he realized they just weren’t meant for each other anymore. 

You’d been upset at first to learn that Michael had started seeing you before he had “made it official” with Patty that things were over. You weren’t into the idea of being the other woman, and you didn’t blame Patty for hating your guts. Of course she would assume that you knew they were still married and that they had a young son together. You were the homewrecker whore, and it was humiliating to tag along to family events where Patty and some of their mutual friends gave you a not-so-subtle stink eye.

The friends that did readily accept you weren’t exactly top of the line human beings. Luke had clapped you on the back once after having three too many beers and cackled about how he knew Michael wasn’t crazy for switching things up and breaking things off with Patty “for you.” When you shrugged his sloppy hand off your shoulder and asked what the fuck he was on about, his shit eating grin was the icing on the cake when he slurred, “Well’ya knowwwwww what’hey say, dontcha?” You shook your head, nonplussed and not really interested in learning “what they say.” He giggled and leaned in close when he revealed that “gotta be takin’ care’uhhh him ‘cause they say thah big girls give’thuh bes head ‘cuz they’re al-huways hungry.”

Trevor had intervened before you slammed your mojito into Luke’s Neanderthal brain. “Hey man, fuck off. Don’t  be saying shit like that. Fuckin’ rude, dude.” Luke had made a fuss about how he was “jusss jok-eeen,” but Trevor wasn’t having it. “Whatever, man. Everybody knows you don’t go around talking about girl’s bodies, you fucking idiot. And you’re watching too much porn if you think she’s fat. She’s normal, man. Real women aren’t walking around like stick figures with tits and ass glued on.”

You groaned while Luke howled with laughter at Trevor’s defense of you. Calling you fat was somehow worse than big girl. Luke hadn’t said fat. Trevor hadn’t either, but his off the cuff remark that clarified what “type of big” you obviously were only drove home the idea that you took up too much space, one way or another.

Michael had taken a while to propose, and he always claimed that, while he loved you with his whole entire heart, he was nervous about getting married a second time. He started getting snippier with you and not wanting to have sex as often. His job was stressful, and he had been working tons of overtime to help pay for his part of the wedding. Thank god you kept your finances separate and never actually did walk down that aisle.

His late nights at the office were verified by his bigger paychecks, and you didn’t have a reason to be suspicious. You did think it was a little strange when he started getting up early to go to the gym so he’d “look nice for the wedding.” But hey, what a breath of fresh air, right? A man being the one concerned about how he was going to look in his wedding photos? Hitting the gym at an ungodly hour just to shed a few pounds? It was kinda like some weird form of feminist allyship, subverting societal body expectations. Right?

When you popped in to surprise him with a late dinner at work one night - you still had your keycard from your unpaid internship that nobody had remembered to disable – you found him balls deep in the tiny little blonde you later learned was the daughter of some higher up in the company that was “following in his footsteps at the company with an internship.”

Michael was such an uncreative asshole that he couldn’t even come up with a different meetcute for the leggy, fit blowup doll he’d replaced you with. At first you were enraged, but that quickly dissolved into despair. You were supposed to be getting married in 8 months. He was supposed to be the love of your life. You had wasted your 20s on this piece of shit, waiting around like a moron for him to decide he wanted to spend his life with you. 

So here you were, sweating your ass off, moving your shit several states away, and starting at square one. The dark, moody sky made you roll your eyes. You figuratively and literally had a little black cloud over your head that followed you everywhere. If the impending bad turn of weather could just hold off for a little bit, you could get your “FIRST NIGHT IN NEW PLACE” box unpacked and inside unscathed.

Of course it started pouring buckets about 5 minutes after you’d parked the van in the driveway of your rental. Your new home. Where you lived by yourself. Alone. That’s all you were now. Alone. You dragged in your soggy cardboard box of necessities, only unpacking your phone charger before plopping down on the bare mattress your parents had been nice enough to drop off before your arrival.

You spend the first night at your place crying yourself to sleep.

Texas had gotten hotter since you’d left. No way was it always this hot. You used to play outdoor sports here, for chrissakes. There was no way on earth it had always been the same temperature as Satan’s ballsack in a pair of wool underwear. Maybe it’s hotter because you’re fatter than before your inner voice suggested. You were drenched in sweat by the time 11am rolled around and you’d finished unpacking your small collection of belongings. You never realized how much of your Colorado apartment was mainly Michael’s stuff until you had to clear all your shit out for the move. Humble beginnings, I guess you think to yourself.

Your tank top stuck to your drenched back, and your thighs were slightly chaffed from the hard rub of denim over and over while you moved in. Your stupid, fat thighs and the stupid, fat chubrub they gave you. That unfortunately was something that hadn’t changed about Texas. You always carried your weight in your hips and butt, and your thighs came to join the party shortly thereafter. You had gained a few pounds after dating Michael for a year or so, settling into that comfortable couple space where you sometimes go for donuts when you know you shouldn’t or indulge in breweries too many weekends in a row. 

You were fat and happy together, though. Now you were just fat and sad all by yourself.

You stared at the lawnmower and imagined it bursting into a ball of flames. Your landlord had agreed to knock $100 off your rent if you mowed the lawn once a month. It was a no brainer, even if you had never mowed a lawn before. How hard could it be? Turns out, very.

You gave yourself a pep talk through figuring out how to put the gas into the stupid thing, but it had petered out into an irritated chant of “you piece of shit” and “fucking work, goddamit” when you couldn’t get it to start. You’d pulled and pulled and PULLED the stupid chord, but it wouldn’t start up. You wanted nothing more than to finish your chore and head inside before it got way too hot. You’d planned on already being finished by now. Michael had always made quick work of it, and if that room temperature IQ fuckwit could figure this out then so could you. Maybe.

When you pulled back again and nothing happened, something sort of cave woman happened in your brain, and you started kicking the mower in a fit of frustration. “FUCKING-PIECE-OF-SHIT!” you yell, accentuating each kick to the machine with a malice-laden word. When you propped your hands on your hips and took a step back to really give it a good, solid glare, you saw a man the next house over watching you with an amused look at the edge of his property.

“Need some help?” he called out, his smile growing.

“EVERYTHING’S GOING REAL FUCKING GOOD OVER HERE, BUT THANKS FOR THE OFFER,” you quip with way more acidity than this man deserved.

He took your stinging remark in stride and just smirked more. If he wasn’t so good looking you probably would’ve yelled at him for real. You needed a break and didn’t really care for your handsome neighbor to watch you fail at life, so you wordlessly stomped inside and plopped down with a bottle of water in hand. Was it too early for this water to turn into a beer? 11 am. Damn. You were pretty low these days, but you weren’t sure you wanted to take a trip down “drinking by yourself before noon” lane.

You sigh and play with the bottle cap as you try to ignore your growing embarrassment of being so rude to your hot neighbor. The sound of a lawn mower finally registers in your brain, and you scramble to the window to confirm your suspicions. Yep, there was your fine as fuck neighbor pushing your broken lawnmower around your backyard. It was definitely broken. He must have fixed it. It definitely wasn’t that you were entirely clueless about all this.

You groan and muster up some resolve before heading back outside. You wave at the absolute DILF-iest of DILFs you’ve ever seen in your life to get his attention. As though he was expecting you, he calmly turns off the engine and jerks his head up once in your direction.

“What are you doing?” you blurt out.

There’s that smile again. Damn, he must practice that in the mirror because holy shit it is very hard to think right now with him looking at you with it.

“Bein’ friendly to my new sailor-mouthed neighbor,” he drawled casually.

Goddamit. His voice was smooth and deep up close. And his hair, oh my god his hair. Peppery brown and slightly disheveled and wavy in all the right spots. And his eyes? Those puppy dog brown eyes that you thought just gave you a quick once over? You were kicking yourself for not being nicer earlier.

“Look, you don’t have to–”

“Name’s Joel Miller. What’s yours, sweetheart? And tell me quick, ‘cause I really think it might turn into Popeye if you don’t give me an alternative,” he teased.

Popeye? What on earth– Oh. Christ almighty. Right. Popeye. The “sailor man.” Because you have a “sailor mouth.” Okay, now the DILF was knocking out some dad jokes? You needed to find the box you’d packed your vibrator in that plugs into the wall after this little interaction.

“Kinda wanna tell you that you can call me whatever you want if you’ll just teach me how to turn that stupid thing on,” you say, motioning toward the traitor of a lawn mower.

“Hm, anything I want, huh? Temptin’. Maybe next time I’ll give ya a 101, but lemme just finish this up right quick.” Without giving you the chance to argue, he ripped the chord with a salivating flex of his bicep and resumed his task.

You awkwardly walked back up to your porch and tried to busy yourself with something. You didn’t want to go back inside and wait for him to finish. That’d be rude, him out in the sun doing your chores while you cooled off in the AC inside. You gave enough “lazy slob” vibes as it was. Luckily it didn’t take him much time at all to finish, and his sweaty brow was very distracting as he clambered up your steps. You had to keep your jaw shut when he pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe it across his forehead, revealing a respectably toned middle. He was fitter than you by far. Not that that was a hard feat.

This DILF to end all DILFs had a toned body that shouldn’t have been such a surprise to you after seeing his muscular arms as they maneuvered the lawn mower. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your tank top and denim shorts. You were sure you were bulging out all over the place and looked like a sweaty pig. You hated how easy it was these days to get down on yourself, but seeing the blonde bombshell Michael had traded you for was all you could compare yourself to. The phrase “you can’t compete where you don’t compare” turned over and over in your head.

“See? Easy. Now about that name…” he trailed off, smiling now with a mischievous, friendly look.

“Oh. Yeah, um. Roxanne. But Roxy is fine,” you say.

Joel tilted his head as though he was considering how your name stacked up to how you looked, to see if it fit you or not. Heat crept up your cheeks under his gaze, and a fresh wave of insecurity engulfed you.

“Pretty,” he remarked.

“Huh?” you ask, sounding dumber by the minute.

Joel just keeps smiling at you, no matter how braindead you sound. “I said pretty. Your name’s pretty. Fits you,” he said.

You really wanted to believe this man was flirting with you, but it was wishful thinking.

“Hmm. Th-thanks. Um. Do you want money or?” you clumsily offer. You didn’t want to send him off empty handed after he just did you such a big favor.

“Two beers,” he posed.

You went inside and grabbed two cold beers from the fridge and loped back outside, extending them to Joel. He opened them both and made himself comfortable in one of your patio chairs. He set the second bottle on the arm of the chair next to him and pulled a long swig from his bottle. You watched the bob of his adams apple as he swallowed, and you knew your panties were gonna be absolutely wrecked by the time you finished your beer.

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.” He tipped his bottle towards you and leaned back, comfortable as ever as if this was his porch and not yours. “Didn’t see ya movin’ in. Musta been in the middle of the night to unpack a whole house without anybody knowin’.”

“Eh, not hard to move when you’ve got less than 20 boxes of shit,” you shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. He clearly hadn’t been thinking you’d come into your new place with bare bones belongings. Someone your age would have at least a few pieces of bigger furniture and a couple of boxes of niche hobbies.

“Rest of it comin’ later, or…?”

“Nope. That’s it. Just me and my less than 20 boxes and a piece of shit lawnmower.”

Joel chuckled, and you found yourself giving him a small, shy smile.

“So you the neighborhood watch captain? Keep tabs on all the fresh meat?”

He laughed like heading up a community group was as likely for him as you figuring out that lawn mower by yourself.

“No quite. Just didn’t realize I had a new neighbor, is all. No car in the driveway. House has been up for rent for a few months,” he explained.

“Oh, yeah. I had a moving van, but I had to turn it back in to them a few days ago unless I wanted to pay for more days. They gave me a ride back. My parents are supposed to let me use one of their cars.”

You and Joel chatted back and forth about the neighborhood, how you’d grown up here and were now back - although you dutifully omitted the reason why - and what you did for work. When he told you he worked in construction with his brother in their small family business, it made a lot of sense. No wonder he was so toned.

Joel actually laughed when you told him you were an accountant. He didn’t believe you at first. When you started citing federal tax law addendums, he held his hands up in mock surrender. You laughed at his teasing. It felt nice to just interact with somebody without having to talk about your recent breakup and all the hard changes you’d been navigating.

“Should make you the poster girl for accountants because damn if I don’t imagine a blue haired lady sportin’ a big pink cardigan and goofy lookin’ glasses whenever I hear the word ‘accountant.’ You’d be the perfect brand image overhaul, sweetheart.” He chuckled, and you did your best to not think about how Michael had once told you that you were “too cute to be an accountant.”

“So, you got an accountant helping with your family business? Or are you just cookin’ the books?” you joke.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Nah, we got some somebody at H&R whatever, but the bigger we get the more it seems they wanna charge. Lots of confusin’ shit with all kinds of tax laws. Wouldn’t know if we were gettin’ ripped off by ‘em, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You weren’t sure why you offered. Maybe because he had been kind enough to offer you help and then mow your lawn for you even though you had been an ass. Regardless, you offered to look over some documents and paperwork if he really wanted another set of eyes on it. You dismissed him with the wave of a hand when he started talking about paying you for it.

“Two beers is my rate, Joel,” you say with feigned solemnity.

“Two beers? You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. I know you’re worth it, though. You free this weekend? Saturday mornin’?”

And that’s how you ended up with plans to help Joel go over his company’s financial information in two days time when Saturday rolled around.

Joel was singing your praises when you’d already found two instances where they could save some money by changing a few boxes on their taxes and getting things more streamlined with a different organization method for W2’s. You had applied for a few jobs in the area, but most of your pending applications were for virtual jobs that you could work from home. It was good to keep up practice in the meantime.

Joel made you lunch - a nice turkey sandwich with cheddar cheese. He’d mistakenly offered provolone, which you’d chosen, only to find that he had run out and could only offer cheddar instead. You teased him about being an awful host, but really you were glad to not have your favorite cheese on the sandwich because it would help you not eat as fast in front of him. 

You hated feeling like this. You’d spent so many years of puberty pacing your bites with those around you, afraid to eat faster than everyone else. Nobody even gave a shit. You were just so terrified of being humiliated for being the plus sized girl who got that way in the first place because she inhales her food.

“You always eat like a baby bird?” Joel questioned through a large bite of his own sandwich.

“Only when I’m trying to concentrate on taxes and finances,” you lied with a fake giggle. You felt like Joel clocked your put-on nonchalance, but he thankfully didn’t say anything even if he had.

You tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it away from your stomach. You caught Joel watching you do this, but again, he didn’t comment.

He did, however, raise a brow when you insisted you were “too full” to finish the entire sandwich. He played it off with a “damn, you really wanted provolone, huh?” You stuck your tongue out at him but dropped the playful demeanor the second he took the plates to the kitchen. Of course you were still hungry, but you weren’t going to gorge yourself in front of your super attractive neighbor. It wouldn’t kill you to cut a few calories here and there anyway, that familiar voice in your head points out.

Stupid, fat thighs the voice adds quickly, helpful as always.

You’re quick to adopt a smile when Joel comes back, but you aren’t sure you were quick enough for him to have missed the sad, fat, and alone girl’s real expression before flipping the switch.

It’s Saturday number two of your pro bono accounting skills. Well, it was actually a Thursday since Joel had some construction something or other this Saturday, but every day was a weekend when you were unemployed. 

You had already hung out with Joel three times this past week and shared a few celebratory beers over your work from home job offer that you’d accepted and would be starting next week. Conversation came easy with Joel. He talked about his daughter, who was away at school for the semester, and you realized he must feel very lonely without her home. At least you could relate to him on that level.

You tell him the reason for your move back to your home town. He actually seemed genuinely pissed off when you told him Michael was cheating on you with a pretty little blonde thing and had been for months. You scoffed when Joel said it was Michael’s loss to have fumbled a girl like you.

“Hey,” he asserted, making you pause from the sip of beer you were about to have. “I’m serious. He’s a dumbass for havin’ let you slip through his fingers. You’re funny and smart and got a good head on your shoulders. Sure, you can’t figure out a lawn mower, but we can’t all be perfect.” His goofy grin was a sweet little addition to his playful teasing.

Maybe it was the beer talking, but you couldn’t hold back. “Yeah, well. There’s something you left out of that list there, and it’s probably the reason he did cheat on me.”

Joel shook his head in confusion. He wasn’t sure what he had left out.

You laughed hollowly to yourself, swirling your beer mindlessly as you spoke. “Funny. Smart. Good head on my shoulders. But not pretty, right? Not attractive. Not skinny enough.”

Joel’s expression shifted into something sympathetic and warm, and you hated yourself for having just let that word vomit happen. 

“To be honest, sweetheart, I didn’t wanna say anythin’ that might make you uncomfortable. But I can give you a list a mile long with all the things that are beautiful about you. Inside and out.”

You flush at his appeal to your assets, but you know he’s just being nice. You were pathetic. You were going through a breakup from a relationship that had ended because your fiance was shoving his dick into his coworker. Of course Joel was going to try to boost your self-esteem and give you compliments.

When you didn’t respond, Joel placed his large, warm hand over yours. You looked at it and up to him. He grazed his other hand, a ghost of a curve against your cheek, like he wanted nothing more than to stroke your face and cradle your neck while he drew you into a long kiss and grabbed at your—

No. No he wasn’t. He was just being nice.

“I mean it. That prick is gonna look back and regret losin’ you.”

You wished you could believe him.

When Joel brought you a turkey sandwich for lunch on your second day of helping him, he made sure to point out the provolone. “Got it special for my girl, huh?”

Your tummy flipped at the way he called you his girl, but it was just another one of his terms of endearment that he probably used with everyone. He’d called you angel, sugar, honey, sweetheart, and even Popeye a couple of times. It didn’t mean anything. You weren’t special.

When you pushed your half eaten sandwich away, Joel set his down and waited for you to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“No, it’s great. Thanks for the provolone, by the way. You didn’t have to do that. Really. I’ll um, I’ll just save the rest for later. I’m good for right now.”

Joel’s jaw clenched from side to side before he leaned over in the chair next to you.

“Darlin’, you should eat somethin’. Half a sandwich ain’t shit.”

You shrugged and insisted you weren’t hungry. Joel chewed his cheeks against his molars for a moment before adjusting in his chair and leaning in even closer than before.

“This about that asshole? Messin’ with that blonde?”

You froze at his words. You heart was about to leap out of your chest.

“N-No,” you lie. “I, um, I’m not sure what you mean, Joel.”

“What I mean is you got the idea that you’re not beautiful. That you can’t compare.”

You took a deep swallow to clear the lump in your throat. Your eyes were getting a little blurry. Dammit, you really didn’t want to cry in front of Joel. Not over this stupid bullshit.

“Just leave it, Joel,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the papers on the table.

“Not gonna do that, sweetheart,” he said firmly.

When you looked back at him, there was a dark hunger in his eyes. His usually lax, friendly features were drawn into a stony scowl.

“I meant what I said the other day. You’re beautiful. Everythin’. Everythin’ about you is beautiful.”

“Look, I appreciate you being nice and trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to–”

“You think I’m lyin’?” he challenged. You swallow hard at his commanding tone, and his words went straight to your pussy. You shook your head, feeling a little more convinced Joel might not be embellishing his opinion of you.

“Jus’ … Hard to think of myself that way, after…” You want to tell Joel every last detail of your life. Every time someone made you feel like you were eating too fast. Every time your friends got flirted with in the mall while you quietly hung at the back of the group. Every time you put something back on the rack after seeing how it accentuated the shape of your body too much to be a cute garment anymore.

Joel turned and was now angled directly at you with a knee tucking itself between your legs. His sinewy, large arm crossed your chest, his hand firmly planting onto the arm of your chair. He dipped his mouth right next to your ear. “You give me the word, sweetheart. Gimme the green light, and I’ll show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”

You’d been here before. The guy begging to show you a good time but only ever ending as a hookup. You were never girlfriend material, but you were a warm, round body for them to get their rocks off for the night. You knew Joel was different. He wasn’t like that. But you still can’t bring yourself to say yes.

“Tell me,” you whisper. Joel pulled back to look at your face. “Just your words.”

“After you let me kiss those sweet lips of yours?” he countered. You nod yes. It was only a kiss.

Joel stood and grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch. He tried to pull you onto his lap, but you knew he’d change his mind about all of this the second your too heavy body crushed his.

He tilts your chin for you to look at him after you sit. His eyes searched for any hesitation or unease. You can’t handle another rejection, so you lean forward. Joel meets you halfway and presses the gentlest of kisses against your mouth. It was feather light in a way that conveyed an intent to go slow rather than a hesitant partner.

His tongue gently flicks against your bottom lip, and you swallow a moan as you let him in. The kiss is agonizing in its slow, mindful pace as Joel makes no rush of exploring every part of your mouth. You suddenly feel very needy. You haven’t been kissed like this in a very long time. You pull at Joel’s shirt, dragging him on top of you as you lay back on the couch. His broad chest easily envelops you, and his large hands twitch with restraint to not smooth over every inch of you.

His grip tightens around your waist as he delves into a hungrier kiss. When he pulls back to adjust his body parallel to yours, the sight of your reddened mouth and blown out pupils almost have him crumbling into you.

“Tell me,” you breathe. “I just-I just want to feel pretty.” You curse the goblin part of your brain that tacked that pathetic sounding plea onto the end of your comment.

“Want me to start slow or you want me to tell you exactly what comes to mind?” he questioned with a flick of his tongue against your earlobe before drawing it into his mouth and sucking.

“Ohhh–ssh-shit– the s-second one,” you manage.

Joel’s deep chuckle sends goosebumps all over your body.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout the first time we met. Wanted you even then. Kept thinkin’ about us sittin’ on your porch. The way you were holdin’ onto that beer bottle? All I could do was imagine how your pretty fingers would look wrapped around my cock,” he murmured into the shell of your ear. “Bringin’ it to those pouty little lips of yours. Goddamn I thought about your tongue on me, baby. Takin’ me in real good in your mouth. Lickin’ this cock that gets hard just for you. That wet, warm mouth just for me.”

Your breath hitches in between Joel’s incredibly specific and detailed account.

“And when you were havin’ that little spitfire spell’uh yours, kickin’ the lawn mower?” he continued, earning a moan from you in half arousal and half embarrassment remembering your temper tantrum that day. “When you kicked it, your tits jiggled all in that little tank top you had on. Had to stop myself from marchin’ over right then and there and shovin’ my dick right in between ‘em and fuckin’ ‘em.”

You would’ve rubbed your thighs together just for the friction right now, but Joel had slotted himself in between your legs and was pushing his hard-on against your clothed pussy in a teasing grind that was driving you insane. Your hips canted at the hint of contact.

“Sittin’ in those cute little cutoffs,” he groaned low. “Your thighs spreadin’ on the seat. Wanted to grab you up and make my face your new seat, baby. Wanted those thighs on either side of my face while you rubbed your pretty little cunt all over my mouth.”

“J-Jesus christ,” you whimper. This man was giving  you the dirtiest play by play of all the ways he’d envisioned himself exploring your body. Your pussy had already bottomed out by the time he got to the part about the lawn mower.

“‘N I jus’ know, baby, I just know it. Know your pussy is made to take this cock, baby. I know it’s perfect. Know it tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Know I’d fuck you ‘til you couldn’t think straight. Make you come on my cock over and over.”

Okay, maybe you could let him do more than just describe how much he wants you.

“‘N then after I work my tongue over you, ‘n after you take this cock so good, I’d grab you up, all to myself. Soft skin against mine. So soft, baby. Pull you in close and never let go. Press you right against me, hold you all night, cuddle up real close. Then wake you up with my dick hard against your perfect ass and fuck into that sweet little hole all over again.”

“Joel,” you whine. 

“Hhmmm?” he drawled innocently, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

“I-I think I changed my mind. About telling me and not showing me. I think that, um, I think I’d really like for you to show me h-how much you want me,” you mumble against his cheek.

“S’that right, honey? You want a little show n tell now?” he teased. For good measure he rocked himself against the apex of your thighs, causing your hips to jerk up involuntarily to meet the movement. He chuckled at your eager change of heart.

Joel wasted no time nibbling and sucking your neck and his hands snaked up your shirt and under your bralette. The pads of his thumbs circle your pebbled nubs, and you let out a choked sigh. He shoved your clothing off with a few tugs and stopped to marvel at your bare top half. “God, even better than I imagined.” 

His greedy eyes raked over every inch of you, a reverential gaze at your curvy figure. Heat spread between your legs when he dipped his mouth to your chest, leaving a wet trail with his tongue and lips in a freeform pattern before drawing your erect nipples between his teeth. Your back curved off the couch in a jerk at the delightful tease.

His hands covered large swaths of your abdomen where he enthusiastically massaged and kneaded into your flesh like he couldn’t grab enough of it at once. You lifted your hips when he pulled your shorts and panties off, and you would’ve been self-conscious about being completely nude while Joel was still fully dressed if you hadn’t seen the way his eyes glazed over with want as he absorbed the sight of you.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “So pretty. Been wantin’ to drink this pussy from the first time I saw you.” His eyes flitted up to your face with a degree of effort as though he had to tear his gaze away from your heavenly body. He searched your features, checking in and making sure you still wanted this. You nod in consent, and no sooner is his tongue lapping between your folds.

You fist a handful of his hair at the overwhelming feeling of wet heat against you, and Joel groans in a deliciously lewd way that takes you even closer to the limit. He lathes against your heat with the fervor of a devout addict, and you come with a slamming jolt when he simultaneously slips two large fingers into you and sucks your clit.

“There’s my girl,” he coos, working you with a steady drag and push of his fingers as you come down from your high. “Knew you’d look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone, baby.” Your first orgasm quickly rolled into a second when Joel drove a third finger into you with a steady thrust. You cry out, clenching around the painfully sweet stinging stretch of his fingers. 

You grab desperately at the tent in his pants. “S’about you today, baby,” he murmured into your thigh where he’s planting slow, sweet kisses. 

“Please, Joel. Want to see you. Taste you,” you rasp out, still pulsing weakly around his digits. You groan when he pulls his fingers from you and laps all the glistening slick from them before standing in front of you. You sit up in a rush, eager to see more of him. He obliges and unfastens his jeans. His impressively thick

length made you gasp when he sprang it free from his underwear. You don’t hesitate to fit as much of him into your mouth as you can, and he lets out a satisfied hum when his tip nudges the back of your throat.

“Shit, I’m gonna come, baby,” he croaked. Apparently working you over had done a number on him already, and it made you want him even more. You wordlessly released him in a sloppy, wet pop from your mouth and tilt your head back, stroking his length with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. When his breathing picks up and he’s on the edge, you stick your tongue out expectantly and continue to fist him until his hips stutter and jerk, his spend cascading onto your cheeks, lips, and tongue.

You both just sprawled out on the couch like two chalk outlines haphazardly jutting into odd angles on pavement. You giggled when Joel asked you if you believed him now, and you said he had indeed made a believer out of you. 

That was the first night you stayed over his place, and just like he had told you earlier that day, he scooped you in close to him, cuddling and shamelessly grabbing at your belly, thighs, and anywhere else he could reach while he peppered the back of your neck with kisses. It was the first time in a very long time that you didn’t once think about how much space you took up.

This one’s for all my baddie thickies out there!

I have hope that one day Miss Thickums® will come to love on herself a bit more because she deserves it, dammit. Also that and the fact that I get down bad for a lil Rubenesque cutie ha ha. 

I hope y’all liked this little pairing! I have been working on Endless Night and Feral Woman but couldn’t get this idea out of my head so I just churned it out. I’m a sucker for fluff and praise, so this was a nice detour from my heavier series (but you should def go check those out too lmao). 

I have so many more ideas for this pairing. I just know that AU friendly DILF neighbor Joel Miller has always been a “more cushion for the pushin” kinda guy and would love to nibble every pudgy roll on your body. His favorite spot is your lil muffin top. That’s my headcannon, and I won’t hear any differing opinions.

Let me know if y’all want more from these two. :)

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

[daedalusdavinci]

24. superbat. this motherfucker JUST got to bed if any of u assholes wake him UP

24. Protecting your lover’s sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you. thinking about.... jlas superbat. i may not have followed this prompt to the letter but its very long so you get what you get at this point

It was just one of those days- one of those nights- one of those weeks- where one problem shifted right into the next without break, and they all found themselves running more ragged than usual. In the tower, heroes everywhere seemed sluggish and exhausted, running low on sleep and worn out from the last battle. Diana had tipped onto a couch and hadn't gotten back up again, and Wally had nearly passed out in the cafeteria, starting awake and drifting off again in the middle of a burger. After being pried away from the monitors, J'onn had gone straight to his room to sleep, and there were countless others who had followed his example.

Bruce was too stubborn. Clark was reasonably sure he'd been awake longer than anyone, but Clark could still see him typing away, doing god even knew what.

"I'll sleep when I finish," he said, before Clark had even said anything.

"I wasn't going to tell you to sleep," Clark said, taking that as his cue to approach.

"Yes, you were."

"I know better." Clark set a hand on the back of Bruce's chair, glancing briefly over the monitors. Logs, security feed, news reports- all of it a huge mess of information to sort through. Someone had to do it, but that someone didn't need to be Bruce.

Bruce looked tired. His shoulders sagged and his fingers hesitated, slow on the keys. He'd been drooping all day, attacking everything with the energy of a man on his very last leg. He'd sustained too many injuries during the fight. He'd been slow, and sloppy. He needed to sleep, but he'd never let Clark talk him into it if Clark let on that that was what he was doing.

"Can you do all this from anywhere?" Clark asked.

Bruce blinked slowly. "Not from anywhere."

"But from another computer."

"Yes. I have others."

"A laptop?"

"Yes." Bruce was eyeing him with suspicion, now, leaning back in his chair.

"Then you're doing it from there," Clark decided. "You can burn your retinas to your heart's content- I won't stop you. But I need company."

For a long moment, Bruce looked at him. Clark could practically hear the gears turning as he thought it over, taking longer to consider it than he usually would in his exhaustion. Then, finally, his gaze softened. He sighed, slumping back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his face. "Just don't watch one of your stupid cooking shows while I work."

"They're not stupid," Clark protested.

"Whatever." Bruce waved a hand, pushing himself up out of the chair. He hit a few more buttons, and the monitors condensed into the smallest screen, allowing Bruce to pull it off of its docking station. "Lead the way."

The tower had grown quiet and still with sleeping heroes. With his hearing, Clark could hear Booster and Ted's laughter from the cafeteria, but everywhere else had turned muffled and heavy with the air of sleep. People murmured back and forth to avoid waking up sleeping heroes in the commons, and most of the sleeping quarters were occupied. Somewhere, Wally got ready to portal home, while somewhere else, Oliver snored loudly. No one passed them on their way to Clark's room.

It was easy to get stuck on the fringes of his senses, listening to everything instead of whatever was closest. The need to keep an ear out for danger hadn't quite abided yet, and it left Clark feeling unmoored and anxious. Normally, it was a nuisance, but maybe this time it'd keep him awake long enough that Bruce would sleep first.

It was almost too easy to pile on his couch with Bruce. Normally, any attempt at getting Bruce to accept even a mediocrum of comfort resulted in a fight, but he sat without prompting, eyes never leaving his tablet. He didn't complain when Clark flopped down with a heap of blankets, even when Clark twisted to lean against the arm, swinging his legs across Bruce's lap. Somehow, they settled in like that; Bruce, on his tablet, and Clark, half-watching some nature show that was interesting enough, but not so interesting that it offended Bruce's sensibilities.

As the narrator droned on, Clark struggled to narrow in his focus. The lights from the TV flickered colors across the dark room, and it felt so quiet, surrounded by the suffocating vacuum of space. If he strained hard enough, he knew he could hear Earth, but he tried not to. He could feel each individual fiber of each blanket, and each snore in the building. The tap of Bruce's finger against the screen of his tablet felt obscenely loud. The constant shifting of his attention and the overwhelming amount of stimulus was exhausting, and he could feel himself sagging under it, so worn out that it was hard to hear the words coming from the TV. He rubbed his face, running through grounding exercises in his head to no avail. He wasn't sleeping, at least.

Bruce's hand came to rest on his knee. The pressure of it was enough to shock Clark out of his thoughts, but light, and gentle. Bruce hadn't looked up from his tablet, but his thumb tracked back and forth absently.

Slowly, Clark relaxed back into the couch again. His eyes fixed on the TV, but without really registering the pictures. He couldn't feel every fiber in the blankets, or hear every snore, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of that weight on his knee- a single point of focus that he locked on helplessly. It wasn't constant- every now and again, Bruce lifted his hand to tap the screen- but it always returned. Somehow, that caught Clark's attention more, leaving him waiting, expectant, caught on every detail of Bruce. The bracing warmth of Bruce's legs under his own, the vaguely ticklish stroke of his thumb, his breathing, steady and slow. Out of habit more than anything, he found Bruce's heartbeat, listening to the low thump of it until it felt like his own had slowed in turn. The familiarity of it was soothing, safe, protected, the reliability of the Batman unexpectedly grounding after so long.

His head slipped off his hand, and he started, eyes opening. He hadn't realized he'd closed them.

"Seems like I'm not the only one trying to stay up," Bruce commented.

"I'm not," Clark said. Although, maybe he was. He frowned through the haze of exhaustion, trying to focus on the TV.

"The life and death of a sea star are just that riveting," Bruce said, teasing under the deadpan.

"Shut up," Clark muttered, and shifted again, re-propping up his elbow on the arm of the couch.

It was difficult to understand how Bruce stayed awake. Without the cowl, the bags under his eyes were dark and deep, his expression something beyond exhausted. And yet, even now, wrapped up in blankets and secluded in the quiet comfort of Clark's room, listening to the soothing drone of a documentary, he tapped at that stupid tablet. Clark was beginning to doubt his ability to outlast him. The restless discomfort that had kept him awake earlier- his ace in the hole against Bruce's stubbornness- was fading into a sleepy warmth all too quickly.

And then, Bruce started to hum.

Clark could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he'd heard Bruce sing. Diana had once told him that Bruce had a voice so beautiful it could make a villain weep, but Clark had only ever heard it rarely, and never meant for him. It was a quiet lullaby, murmured to a baby that wouldn't stop crying as Clark searched for the mother, or a hum, pressed against Robin's hair in the aftermath of fear toxin. It had always felt like something he wasn't meant to hear. Now, through the ridiculous fog of exhaustion, Clark thought of sirens, calling soothingly to sailors from a distance.

Bruce's humming was soft and low, just under his breath. The tune was impossible to place, but haunting, and mournful. The sound of it seemed to vibrate through Clark, blanketing his senses until all he could focus on was just Bruce. Bruce was warm. He was safe, and close, and so confusingly present, as reliable as the tide. Time seemed to turn fluid, listening to that soft song, and Clark's eyes closed without his permission, just listening.

When Clark next opened his eyes, it was dark. The TV was off, Bruce's tablet forgotten somewhere in the tangle of blankets. His neck should've ached from the arm of the couch, but his head was on the cushions, propped up by a pillow. How Bruce had pulled that off without waking him, he had no idea.

Bruce was a warm weight against his chest, breathing slow. Judging by the awkward positioning, Clark doubted he'd meant to fall asleep, knees still jammed under Clark's own and cape still on. One of his hands was tucked against Clark's side, his face hidden between his own shoulder and Clark's sternum. It was... sweet, really. To have Bruce feel comfortable enough to sleep was a unique privilege, and one rarely afforded.

Clark hadn't outlasted him, in the end. But Bruce was sleeping, and as Clark let his eyes drift shut again, he allowed himself to consider it a win.

[emi-simps]

some kenma headcanons i have

tw; none that i can think of but am open to changing if necessary just send me an ask. :)

a/n: not edited definitely grammatical errors but i'm lazy and don't care :D

kenmas main love language is gift giving.

he definitely gets you your own gaming setup that’s the same as his, but it’s themed after your favorite things and colors.

Do you need one with that much top-of-the-line equipment if you’re just a casual gamer? no absolutely not, and he knows this, but he knows it’s some of the best equipment and that’s why he got it

he also gifts you new games on things like steam without even asking, you’ll just get on and see an inbox full of games or add on's he gifted you.

kuroo jokingly calls him your sugar daddy

if you ever ask why or express that you don’t think you’re worthy of all of his gifts he’s actually so confused cause he’s just so in love with you that the idea that you don’t deserve the best is actually impossible to him 

he also expresses how he’s so thankful for you cause he’s not stupid, he knows being with him can’t be easy cause he’s always so busy and there’s times where he has no time to spend with you even though he always does his best to give you as much time or attention as he can

he’s always ready to drop whatever he’s doing if you need him though, no matter if he’s streaming or in a meeting for his company he’ll always come when you need him.

he’s definitely the type to remember everything, even if you don’t think he’s listening.

if you come to tell him something while he’s gaming, he’ll specifically turn the volume down so he can hear you better, he’d even go as far as to mute who he’s playing with if they get too loud or distracting. 

definitely the type of boyfriend where he thinks you look beautiful/handsome no matter what, even when you first wake up with bed head, morning breath and the lines from the pillowcase on your cheek.

takes off your birthday/anniversary every year, no matter what, if it falls on one of his streaming days, he’ll tweet to his fans that the stream is being moved, he mentions why and won’t even apologize cause his fans know by know that you come first always, and its fine cause they love you. if there’s a meeting that way, he has them either reschedule it or leaves it up to someone he trusts to act in his place.

has a bunch of candid photos of you, ones where you know he’s taking pictures of you as well but there’s just something about candid pictures that make his heart clench, and when i say a bunch, i mean a bunch, if anyone sends him any they're being saved.

his lock-screen and home screen are both photos of you, his password is either your birthday or your anniversary. 

his lap is always open to you if you want to sit and cuddle or chat, even if he’s streaming, he’ll gently kiss your temple and whisper asking if you’d like him to log off, and he knows when your no is genuine and when you’re just saying no because you don’t want to upset anyone.

he’s quick to shut down rumors that you’re controlling, manipulating or abusing him in any way, assuring his fans that everything he does for you he does of his own volition. 

“Kodzuken is a simp” starts trending after that, you and kuroo make jokes about it cause, people just now realized? he doesn’t care though, he’s so i love with you he’d do anything for you.

if he’s ever drained, he’ll absolutely just find you and either plop down next to you and cuddle up if you’re sitting or lying down or if you’re standing just come and hug you before nuzzling his face into you.