#but it was like. a glass of water but the glass was perfectly smooth and the water was perfectly flat and didn't ripple

[meatonfork]

Comfort in Company

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pairing: logan “wolverine” howlett x reader

warnings: nightmares, reader has longish hair, no pronouns used (i think) pls let me know. poc friendly! also, let me know if there are mistakes, im tired. and i think that’s it!

word count: roughly 3.7k

a/n: i have wolverine brain rot 😔 lord help me. i may be a lesbian, but he is a very pretty man

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It took three excruciatingly long months for Logan to stop looking at you with disdain in his eyes. The man in question was a lone wolf. He valued his alone time, often communicating in grunts and a roll of his eyes, or he’d simply just walk away. But, he never failed to do what you so kindly asked him to do. If you happened to lock eyes from across the room, his eyes would always hold a certain edge that basically screamed “I don’t like you; I don’t want you here.” But, you never took it to heart. 

Much to Logan's discontent, you were persistent. You saw him as a challenge. Someone to crack. The reward was far too enticing for you to back down. Any excuse to talk to him was ready at the tip of your tongue. To him, you were a never ending ray of sunshine. And, fuck. It annoyed him to no end. You constantly bounced around the mansion, never seeming to slow down. A seemingly permanent smile was etched onto your face. The kids adored you. Shortly after arriving, you became a fan favorite. Your maternal nature made the kids feel at home. A common theme amongst the young mutants being a lack of familial love and support, and you were more than happy to provide. 

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Three months passed before you had a normal conversation with the man, one that wasn’t him just grunting or a small comment that was nearly too quiet for you to hear. It was a late Tuesday night, and you happened to be in the kitchen preparing a new recipe for your class. Teaching kids to cook their own meals rather than relying on ramen or something that could be nuked in the microwave made you feel important. A purple, well loved apron adorned your frame. Green leaves, and pretty pink flowers were embroidered on the front pockets. Flour covered your front in small hand prints from where you had wiped your hands to flip through the pages in front of you. Your hair was pushed out of your face, the warm lighting forming a halo over the crown of your head.

Logan waltzed into the kitchen looking for a glass of water. Another sleepless night had taken over, and he couldn’t sit in bed restless any longer. His figure paused upon seeing you working. A tune poured past your lips as you hummed, a melody he wasn’t quite familiar with. He couldn’t quite get his feet to move any further. Yeah, the man could be brash (a dick, if you will), but he wasn’t blind. Anybody would have to be if they couldn’t see your beauty. Your nose sloped perfectly, and when you concentrated your brows furrowed just right. The apple of your cheeks were smooth, and in this lighting Logan couldn’t find a single flaw. The way your sweats fit just right, or the way your long sleeves were pushed up your forearms. Logan couldn’t deny you looked most at peace when you worked in the kitchen, almost like you were destined to cook and care for others. And, maybe you were. You were certainly good at it. 

He had been the subject of many of your affections. Coffee brewed and his favorite mug laid out for him when he gets up in the morning, even though you’re not there anymore. Leftovers often being set aside for him late at night, his name written on the foil with a little heart. Even his laundry would be folded in a basket and set outside his door on occasion. And every single time, he knew it was you. Your sweet smell often lingered, letting him know he had just barely missed you nearly every time. 

“Oh! Hi, Logan,” you turned your head to peek over your shoulder. A small patch of flour rested on your cheek, “Are you looking for something?” Your voice was soft, just like everything else about you.

Breaking out of his thoughts, he shuffled closer, reaching around you to grab a glass from the cupboard. A grunt escaped his lips, “Jus’ water.” 

The rumble of his gravely sleep voice traveled from his chest to your back where his slightly unzipped hoodie clad chest brushed your backside, causing your eyes to widen just slightly. His pajama pants were slightly too long, the shuffle of them on the floor being the only thing that indicated he stepped away from you aside from the warmth that left you. 

You hummed in reply, not pushing your luck with a forced conversation. Your hands went back to kneading the dough in front of you before you put it back in the bowl. 

“What.. what are you making? Smells good,” he leaned back against the counter, just to your right. Fatigue weighed heavy on his face, and his hair was sticking up in random tufts from what you assumed to be tossing and turning. He looked soft.

“Just prepping some dough for the tarts I’m having the kids make tomorrow. I figured it’d be easier to make the dough to avoid the inevitable flour fights,” a small chuckle escaped your lips, a fond smile taking over your features. 

Logan tilted his head, “Probably the smartest move.”

“I like to think so. Hey, I can save some for you, if you’d like of course. You don’t have to if you d-” Your voice became timid. The idea of having an actual conversation with Logan was starting to hit you, and your nervousness moved to the forefront of your mind.

Logan cut you off with a chuckle, “That’d be nice, sweetheart. Thanks.”

Your face heated up at his words, and that fucker definitely noticed. And, boy oh boy, did he find it amusing.

“Okay, yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure the kids don’t eat them all.” You gave a little nod, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. The only sounds were coming from you moving about, putting ingredients away and putting the dough in bowls. 

Your voice broke the silence, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.” His voice held amusement, a small quirk of his eyebrow.

“You know what I mean, smartass.” You quipped back, a small smile tugging on your lips. He grunted with a nod, his hands moving to rest on either side of his hips upon the counter. His eyes followed your movements back and forth from the counter to the fridge.

“I think I’m a little confused. And, please, don’t take this the wrong way. But, why are you sitting with me? I got the impression you were never particularly fond of me.” You pursed your lips, eyes drifting up to his. Your voice was soft, almost as if you were trying to avoid scaring him off. 

A sigh left his lips, “Thought it was time to stop bein’ a dick and talk to ya. I notice, you know?” 

Your head tilted, “What do you mean?” A curious glint flashed over your eyes. Your hands slowly wiped the rest of the flour off onto your apron. Logan couldn’t help but think you looked so small. So pretty. 

“The things you do f’me. I notice them.. Thank you.” His eyes cast downward, suddenly finding the kitchen floor interesting. 

A small flicker of recognition passed over your face. You smiled and reached for the small kitchen towel that rested on your shoulder, hands ringing the small material, “Well, you’re welcome. Honestly, I thought it would be a while longer before I got any thanks out of you.” 

Logan scoffed, “Fuck off. The smell of the dough helped more than anything.” 

“Sure, buddy.” You teased. You turned back to the counter, wiping it down.

He moved to put his cup in the sink, “You should head to bed soon. You could definitely use some beauty sleep, sweetheart.” No you couldn’t. If Logan was forced at gunpoint to tell the truth, he’d say he’d never seen anything so beautiful. But, Logan doesn’t say those things. He barely let himself think them.

“Pot? Kettle? Black? You’re one to talk, do you see your hair?” A loud laugh echoed in the kitchen. Logan’s heart skipped a beat. How had he never noticed how lovely your laugh was? 

“Whatever. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget to save me some, yeah?” He moved towards the hall, a small smile cast your way. 

“Goodnight, Logan. I’ll see you in the morning.” Your sweet voice trailed behind him.

Logan made his way back upstairs and to his room, three doors down from yours. As he passed your room, he could smell your sweet perfume leaking from under the door. Just like every other time he passed by. Sleep seemed to come much easier for him that night. 

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Since that small interaction, Logan had slowly warmed up to you. After discovering your laugh was his new favorite sound, he’d find any and all ways to make you produce the sound. He didn’t care if you were laughing at or with him. Although, it was more often the former. He started paying more attention to when you’d do small favors for him, finding you later and being sure to thank you. Small touches to your lower back, your shoulder, your elbow. Tying your apron on late nights when your hands were covered in goo from dough, or sauce for some other dish. He became the person you’d have taste test whatever new recipe you wanted to try out. 

“Needs more salt, bub.” He put the spoon back in the saucepan, taking a step back to let you work your magic. 

“Okay, thanks. Do you think it needs anything else?” You moved to the side just a bit to grab the salt, your arm brushing his as you stretched. 

He gave a small shake of his head, “Nah.” He moved to the cupboards to grab plates for the table. Small, casual conversation flowed easily between you two.

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When you weren’t in the kitchen, or your classroom, you could be found in the greenhouse. Your mutation helped largely with producing thriving fruits and vegetables. Beautiful flowers and vines practically overtaking the outside of the building. You made your way through the courtyard, a basket of freshly picked fruits and vegetables sat on your hip. The sounds of the children’s laughter echoing in the air. You raised your free hand to wave at Storm and Rogue, a beaming smile taking over your face when they yelled a hello your way. Dirt covered your hands, your boots not much better off. Your gloves stuck out the front pockets of your gardening apron, cheeks speckled with dirt from when you tugged on the small leaves of the precious foods and they gave way easier than expected. 

“Good bunch today?” Logan asked as he pushed off the brick wall near the entrance of the large school, cigar between his lips. 

“No smoking in the courtyard, Lo.” You slapped his hand away from the strawberries he set his sight on, “And don’t touch the fruit, it’s for the kids.” 

He tsked a little before bringing his hand up to the cigar, “Ah, c’mon, bub. They look so good. You really know what you’re doin’ in there.”

“Okay, fine. Just one. I mean it, Logan.” You give him a pointed look, letting it be known you mean business. But, Logan catches the amusement in your eyes, letting him know he could probably get away with having two. So he does. Popping one in his mouth as you both go up the steps, he holds one in front of your mouth, letting you take it between your teeth. 

“Mmm. You’re right, I do know what I’m doing.” You hum, savoring the sweet taste. Logan watches as your tongue darts from your mouth, licking the sweet juice that stained your lips a light shade of red. 

“Yeah you do,” he mumbles out, eyes captivated by the swift movement. 

“What?” Your eyes move to his.

“Nothin’. Come on, let’s get these washed up.” He opens the door, allowing you to duck under his arm as he follows you into the kitchen. 

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A storm raged outside. Loud booms of thunder echoed through the school, and lightning flashed and illuminated the dimly lit common room you were sat in. A small fire was lit in the fireplace as a large blanket covered your pajama clad legs. Logan found you curled up on the couch, windows slightly open letting a small breeze in, and nose deep in a book. 

“Hey,” you jumped at the sound of his voice, swiftly turning your head to see him leaning against the doorframe, “Sorry, bub, didn’t mean to scare ya. Mind if I join you?” You took in his attire. The usual white tank covered with a slightly unzipped hoodie, and a pair of grey sweats resting deliciously on his hips.

“Yeah, of course you can, Lo.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the soft atmosphere blanketing you both. Your hand patted the space right beside you as you shifted your legs so your feet rested on the ground. The larger man pushed off the doorframe and made his way to you. He lowered himself to sit next to you, and grabbed your legs to shift them over his lap. You settled yourself against him, splaying the blanket to cover the both of you while your back leaned on the armrest of the couch. 

He ran his hands up and down your calves through the blanket, “What’re you readin’?”

“What the River Knows. It’s really good,” You blinked up at him. 

“Tell me about it, bub.” Hands pulling you closer as you shiver at the slight breeze. As you explained the plot up to the point you’ve read, talking animatedly with your hands, Logan can’t help but to soften his eyes. You get so excited when you talk about things you love. Teaching, cooking and baking, working in the greenhouse or gardening, and now reading. Your voice was still hushed to keep the peace, but the enthusiasm was there all the same. He finds his eyes drifting over your face, lingering on your lips. Soft and plump, still etched in that permanent smile despite him knowing how tired you truly were. He nodded along as you spew, your love for the book coming out like a waterfall. He feigned shock when you revealed plot twists, or anger when you explained how pissed one of the main characters made you. 

Logan’s fingers slightly dug into your flesh as you sat against him. He provided input where he saw fit, fingers dancing along your legs before holding you closer. His features totally relaxed as you rambled, “Sounds like a good book, sweetheart.” 

You finally notice how close you two are, and your heartbeat slightly picks up while your breath hitches. He notices, of course he does. He can hear it thanks to his mutation. He quickly quirks his lips into a small smile seeing your flustered state. His fingers reach up to push some hair behind your ear, and your eyes move straight to his lips. 

You don’t know who moved first, you or him. But the moment your lips touched, you find it didn’t matter. It was slow and languid, eyes falling closed. His hands slowly moved from your calves to your hips, encouraging you to straddle his lap. Your own hands slowly slid up his abdomen, one settling on his chest while the other traveled to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly on the hair at the base. Logan lets out a low groan at the tug, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. You fought for dominance, but in the end he won. Heavy breathing filled the air as you pulled back, his hands ran up and down your back as he pulled you a little closer. You gained the courage to look him in the eyes, finding him already looking at you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous.” He whispered, eyes filled with warmth as he ducked his head to kiss the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, his hair tickled your cheek. 

“I really like you, Lo.” Your whisper met his ear as you leaned your head forward to rest on his chest, cheeks warm.  

Logan squeezed you softly in response, “Me too, hon.”

You slowly sat up, fingers toying with the hair on his cheeks, making his face nuzzle into your palm, “Can you read to me?”

He let out a soft chuckle, “‘Course I can.”

You settled back into his lap, arms wrapped around one of his as he picked up where you left off. The rumble of his voice vibrated through his chest into your ear as your head rested on him. Your eyes flitted up to look at him every so often, and he’d look back at you, ready to press a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead. 

Twenty minutes more of listening to his hushed reading, and you were out cold.

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When it came to Logan, most everyone knew he had burdens he kept under a tight lock. You saw the scars that ran over his skin. Sheets and mattresses with puncture wounds, and small tears in them. You’d seen them first hand folding his laundry when he forgot it in the dryer. You never pried, it wasn’t your business and if he wanted to talk to you about the horrors that kept him awake into the ungodly hours of the night, he would. In your mind (and pretty much everyone else's), his gruff exterior was a way of deflecting just how broken he really was. You admired his strong will and the way he was able to keep it under wraps in front of people. Most times. 

For you it was a little harder. Logan could hear you on the nights where nighterrors plagued your dreams. The sniffles echoing down the hall and the way you'd shuffle about. Lamps being turned on, and books being moved until you found the one that would keep you company until dawn. In the morning, he’d ask you how you slept. You’d always reply with some sort of answer most people expect to hear, but the small bags under your eyes and the tired smile you’d give him were always a dead giveaway. But, just like you, he wouldn’t pry until you were ready. Luckily for the both of you, those nights happened to be far and few between. 

Things were going good for you and Logan. Not much had changed in routine aside from a few more lingering stares, shared kisses, and naps thrown in here and there. You were in tune to each other, more communication when it came to feelings. That was exciting; hearing Logan express his love for you was something you thought you’d never get tired of and Logan felt the exact same. And, you didn’t get tired of hearing it. But, damn were you tired in general. 

It was late. Classes long over, and kids in bed hours ago. Too scared to go to bed, you sat in your warm classroom, forcing yourself to find something to do. Your eyes were hazy as they reread the lesson plans for the next two weeks. Nightmares had been taking over the last few nights. Forcing you to find something to do rather than sleep comfortably. You rubbed at your eyes, debating on getting up and making yourself a cup of coffee, late hour be damned. Your limbs ached and your head felt as if it was damn near ready to explode. With your elbows propped on your desk, you let your head plop into your hands with a heavy sigh. 

A soft knock lightly echoed through the room, causing you to slowly lift your head up. Logan stood by the door, a concerned frown and drawn eyebrows looked back at you. A sigh left his lips upon seeing the dark circles under your bloodshot eyes. 

He promptly made his way to you with hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, “You’re exhausted, honey.” Logan wasn’t dumb, he knew you weren’t sleeping well. But, he was tired of waiting for you to come to him. 

“I’m too scared to sleep,” Your voice barely a whisper. Tears welled in your eyes at the thought of sleeping only to awake alone. Logan lowered himself onto the edge of your desk, letting your head rest on his thigh. He put a hand on your head, and brushed your hair back. “Why didn’t you come to me, bub?” He all but cooed at you, voice soft yet firm.

“I don’t want to be a burden. You have your own problems too, Lo.” Your voice was muffled by the flesh of his thigh. 

“A burden?” He tsked, “No, no, no, honey. I want you to come find me. No matter the time, or if I’m asleep. Wake me, okay?” His hand continued to work its way through your hair, a content sigh left your lips. 

You whispered out, “Okay, but only if you find me too. Okay?”

“Okay,” he patted your head, “Time for bed, sleepyhead. Come on, I’ve got you.” He gently moved his hand from your head to your arm, giving a light tug to help you to your feet. The moment you stood, his hands found your cheeks forcing you to look up at him. A small pout was on your lips, tears still in your eyes. He cooed and moved his face closer to yours to give you a light kiss. His thumbs worked the tears off the apple of your cheeks, and he pulled back, “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” you nod. “I love you too.”

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a/n: thank you so much for reading <3

[tiktaaliker]

i have this thing where sometimes i see a smooth surface (cgi is specifically bad for this) and some part of my brain goes. hey wouldnt it be fucked up if that was Flawlessly and Perfectly Smooth. and i go yeah that would be fucked up and proceed to have an anxiety attack over the concept of a really really really flat rock face or some shit like that

[luvgam3]

Summary: Nanami seeing you in a wet sundress has him seeing stars (and hearing wedding bells)

Cw: MDNI, semi public (in a car), reader on top, (Nanami has on glasses cause I said so) afab reader

Kento Nanami had your day planned out so perfectly. The location (a beautifully secluded park with lush foliage and a wonderful view), the food (all of your favorites packed neatly in a wicker basket), and the small bouquet of roses he’d bought for you.

He had everything planned to perfection- what he hadn’t accounted for was the way your little yellow sundress clung to your rain slicked skin. Or the way your breathing was shallow and rushed from running to the car.

His eyes rake over you as your head tilts back, welcoming more air into your lungs- and he watches the rise and fall of your chest. Your rapidly beating heart matching his own for an entirely different reason.

Your cheeks are flushed and rosy as your head lulls to the side, soft eyes meeting his as a gentle smile spreads across your face. It makes his heart melt as you laugh, the sound of rain pattering against the windshield. His hand sneaks across the seats before it finds the plump fat of your thigh giving it a loving little squeeze like he always does when you’re next to him.

“Ken?”

His eyes flick back to yours, not realizing he was looking everywhere but.

He was too focused on the way the white parts of your dress all but disappeared with the water soaked into it, showing your supple skin underneath. He was too focused on your chest, the way small droplets tumbled down your shoulders and between your cleavage.

He was so highly aware of your clothing, the way he could just manhandle you into his lap and slip aside that layer of fabric so easily. Dresses and skirts made such easy access, access he didn’t notice till now.

“Ken what’s wrong?” You ask, your voice full of concern. Your hand finds his cheek, smoothing soft circles into his flushed skin.

Your touch is so sweet, so full of kindness and concern.

It’s so sinful what it does to him.

The pit of his stomach twists as his fingers close around your wrist, his head turning so his lips brush against your warm palm, breathing you in, savoring the heat of your touch.

“Nothing, darling.”

Your bottom lip finds its place between your teeth as you anxiously look him over. His freshly washed hair sticking to his forehead, his glasses foggy with droplets of water clinging to the lenses.

The pit in the bottom of your stomach pulls, something is wrong, something is eating him up inside. You know your boyfriend better than anyone could ever dream, and as you watch the way his mouth stay attached to your damp palm, ragged breaths slipping through his parted lips as his eyes meet yours, you just know he has something to say.

“You’re not lying to me?” You ask, your voice dips with worry.

Nanami feels a small shiver slither up his spine as you quickly bring your other hand to his forehead, slicking back his wet hair and pressing firmly to his exposed skin.

“We need to get you home and dried off—“ you mumble to yourself. He doesn’t notice. Just like you don’t notice as his other hand reaches out to you, finding purchase on your jaw.

“Honey-“ He whispers, his usual calm demeanor slipping through his fingers as you look up at him through dewy lashes,

“I’m fine.”

“But your face is on fire.” You tsk, your palm going from one cheek to the other seeking answers.

You’re oblivious, he thinks.

Nanami only ever feels this way after those late night dates where you’ve both had too much to drink, your skin flushed the most amazing shade of pink he’d ever seen, when your hair is disheveled from running your fingers through it aimlessly all through dinner. Or after business trips when he’s finally alone in his hotel room, his once neat button up shirt crinkled and damp with sweat as his hand clutches his phone listening to you coo through the speaker and into his reddened ear.

His lips pull back, his eyes creasing as a small chuckle sneaks out of him and into the humid car.

“Ken, this isn’t funny! What if you get sick?” You pull your hands back, sitting closer to look at his face, he watches your eyes glaze over in fear.

His doting little girlfriend, sick with worry.

Another gritty chuckle fills the car as he turns away from you, and before you can speak the soft click of his seat fills the silence for you.

The line between concern and annoyance slowly breaks as you watch him lean his seat back.

“Kento—“

His large hands quickly, slide under you, biting into the fat of your ass as he slings you over his lap. The action knocking the air out of your lungs, your nose inches from his as you stare wide eyed into his foggy frames.

You’ve been in this position before, on his expensive leather couch, in your plush homey bed, in his deep marbled bathtub. Every piece of furniture you both own has seen you on top of him.

The tips of your ears burn as his rough hands run apologetically over the mounds of your backside— you get it now, as your weight sits fully on his lap you feel the tent in his trousers.

Nanami’s lips curl softly, a smile only you’ll ever see, his voice comes out husky as you slightly wiggle in his grasp. “I’m fine.”

His nose softly bumps against yours, as a soft silence blankets the air around you. The rain outside reduced to a soft pattering as your blood pumps in your ears.

Seeing Nanami this close never gets easier, it’s like being near him for the first time all over again as you slowly invade the small gap between you, pressing a feather light kiss to his lips. And god how he melts under your carful touch. His lips buzzing with electricity as you pull back, your hips involuntarily grinding against his as you gaze down at him. Your cheeks match the color of the roses he bought you just hours before.

“You need to learn to use your words.” You scold him, the pads of your fingers rub against the smooth buttons of his shirt, quietly popping them loose and revealing his glistening pale skin underneath.

He nods, completely unaware of what you’ve said. Nanami’s gaze is fixated on the untouched skin of your neck and the way your dress exposes so much of your chest.

Leaning forward his nose bumps against your skin, inches below your ear peppering soft hungry kisses onto your damp flesh.

You can hear the groan he suppresses, his chest vibrating under your fingers as you tilt your head back, shivering with bated breath as his mouth travels lower, his teeth nipping at every freckle and stretch mark on your chest as his large hands latch onto your waist just below your breasts, steadying you on his lap.

“Now it’s your turn to use your words.” He says, his words muffled temporarily as he places one final kiss onto your chest.

His eyes fight to catch yours as he pulls back, his hands squeeze gently as he speaks, “is this okay?”

A soft delicate hand cups his cheek tenderly. Your hand. The hand he yearns to put a ring on. The fingers he loves seeing covered in your own arousal, they now rub soft circles into his jaw, trailing up the side of his face and softly pushing a stray hair behind his ear.

You watch his eyes, swirling with that familiar hunger, but he’d never risk making you uncomfortable. So he waits patiently underneath you, his hands move to rub your back comforting his own anxieties rather than your own.

Today wasn’t supposed to lead to this, maybe it would’ve ended with you in his arms, but not here and not like this.

You gently press a kiss to his cheek, your sheer lipstick leaving its mark as you move across his face mapping every inch in kisses and makeup before finally meeting his lips. Your lips move slowly against his as you both drink in this moment.

The sound of rain increases, your ears ring as one of his hands sneaks under the bottom of your dress, palming gently at your ass.

Reluctantly you pull away, nodding as you readjust your hips, moving lower down his lap and pressing your hands flat against his torso, his hard muscles shiver under your touch, “this is good—“ it’s almost a whisper as you reach for the buttons of his shirt again.

Nanami makes a soft ‘tsk’ing sound,

Wordlessly he pushes your hands away before slipping his between your thighs, the pad of his thumb pressing suddenly onto your clothed clit. His ring and middle finger gently prod at your panty clad entrance as you whimper above him.

“I don’t want you doing the work, baby.” His voice is low as he watches you with intense hunger, your hips stutter against his hand as your eyes fight to stay open.

“Today is about you,” you moan as he speaks in that gentle voice,

“please.” You’d mistake it for begging if you didn’t know any better.

That man could spend hours between your legs, lapping at your dripping heat before he even thinks about himself. Hearing the pleasure ooze into the once quiet room is all he needs.

You try to object, shaking your head,

“no— I want to make you feel good too—“

Nanami makes that sound again, that sound of gentle disapproval.

Your eyelids sit heavy as you force them open only to see him already gazing up at you, his fingers quickly push aside the damp fabric separating you, his large fingers plunging into you with a loud squelch.

And god— the momentary prickle of pain and adrenaline that shoots up your spine is intoxicating.

You want to protest, to pull him out of his pants and drop to your knees, but your shoulders tense and you lurch forward bracing your hands on the seat he’s resting on with a throaty moan. A moan that has him twitching in his boxers.

“Let me take care of you.” He whispers, your faces mere inches apart as you pant, his hot breath fans across your face seeping deep into your skin and sinking down to your core as you drip on his fingers.

Thick fingers pump softly in and out, Nanami watched as you shudder above him. Your hair frames your face like a halo, a dress strap slowly slipping from your shoulder as his thumb finds your clit again, pressing hard before softly drawing circles soothing the stinging pleasure as you whimper.

Your arms tingle and weaken as he works you open, softly you slump forward resting your head into the crook of his neck breathing in his scent. The smell of rain and sweat and him making your body buzz.

He knows how to make you feel good, knows every spot that has you gushing around his fingers. Nanami listens to the shuddering breath you suck in, he feels your body trembling above him as you attempt to hold yourself upright.

Your head spins as he retracts his fingers only for them to push right back in, hitting that spot deep inside you. Your legs quiver, your hands cling to his shirt, his hair, anything.

Wordlessly he removed his fingers, a soft whine of his name bubbling up the back of your throat before you can even hear the sound of his zipper, “I’ve got you—“ he groans, his breath hot against your ear as you cling to him.

The air around you is alive, buzzing with a desperate need and an intense feeling of love, devotion, the sensation of the thick air making his pleasure double.

Nanami squeezes your hip with one hand, holding you still above him as he slowly palms at his aching erection with the other. His fingers pry apart the fabric, his chest heaving as he slowly pulls himself free. You breathe against him, hot and heavy as you push yourself up on wobbly arms, your eyes catch the sight of his hand lazily pumping himself under you.

“God—“ the sound is a soft whine as you lean back, your ass flush with your thighs, slick staining the bottom of your dress as you take in the view before you.

Nanami reclined back on his precious leather car seat, his head tilted back, eyes heavy as they hold your gaze. His fist gliding over his cock, base to tip, precum dribbles over his fingers coating his shaft as his breathing grows heavy.

Slowly, you clap your fingers around his wrist pulling him away from himself. His eyebrows furrow as you bring his slick digits to your lips, eagerly popping them into your mouth. Your tongue swirling around and between his fingers, he twitches, you clamp down around nothing, the air grows thicker.

With a wet pop he pulls his fingers free bringing them to his waiting lips, tasting your spit on his fingers while you wriggle against him, your small hand wraps around his shaft, one small stroke before lining the tip up with your entrance.

A shared wave of pleasure shoots through you, your shoulders tense, his abs clench, you drop down slowly drawing out the experience as rain pelts the windshield.

Desperate to get you wrapped snuggly around him quicker, Nanami brings his thumb back to your clit drawing soft circles into the sensitive nub.

Back arching pleasure tingles in the bottom of your stomach as you slide down lower and lower, with bated breath you close the distance completely, a hoarse moan crawling past your lips.

“Good— fuck— girl.”

Slick and saliva dribble down onto the seat beneath Nanami as you pull yourself back up, your arms snaking around his neck as you push yourself back against him.

His cock enveloped in your gummy heat has him seeing white, his resolve slipping as your hips stutter against his.

Nanami cups your jaw, his rough fingers meeting your soft skin, “You’ve got this, Angel.” He groans out, slowly meeting your hips in small thrusts.

“So good.”

His praise has you gushing around him, the feeling of him deep in your gut makes your legs shake, your forehead presses into his. Deep ragged breaths warm your faces, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan. Your hips burn, you give one final bounce before moaning his name.

“I— I can’t—“ it’s pathetic how easily you surrender under his touch. His hand roughly pressed down on your back, pushing your chest into his.

“Keep those hips high, f’me” his voice a low buzz in your ear as you bite down on the collar of his shirt, nodding desperately.

Large hands clamp down into the soft flesh of your hips, working them for you in slow lazy circles as he thrusts up into you.

The wet squelch echoing around you, melding with the sound of your desperate moans, his husky praise, and the pattering rain outside.

If heaven exists— this is what it feels like. Hot euphoria that swims from the bottom of your stomach down your legs and up your chest, mind numbing in every way.

Nanami moans harshly in your ear as you clamp down around him, your walls fluttering as your jaw falls open. Your red bitten lips wet with drool as you cry out, eyes screwed shut as his thrusts speed up.

“Kento— Jesus Christ!” His hand squeezes with a bruising force, your skin vibrating with the feeling of him, the smell of him, the presence of him overwhelming as you cum around him with a sweet cry of pleasure. Soaking his trousers as he continues to fuck up into you, unrelenting as you mewl into his neck.

“That’s it— so perfect— so good.”

Hot tears prickle the back of your eyes as you press searing open mouth kisses to his jaw, meeting his waiting lips in a rough kiss of clashing teeth and messy tongues.

Your nails bite into his shoulders, red angry crescents that’ll bruise come tomorrow.

The base of his cock is coated in your release, a white frothy ring meeting with your plush ass over and over as he drives into you, groaning into your mouth forcing you to swallow down his desperate sounds of desire as your cunt attempts to milk him dry.

“Ken— cum for me—“ it’s a plea, your lips press kisses to the corner of his mouth in pure desperation, over sensitive pussy pulsing around him.

“Please—please—please—“

Thrust— a hand flys up burying its self into your hair, snapping your head back.

Thrust— his lips capture yours, his tongue pushing past your lips and down your throat.

Thrust— his cock twitches, his hips pressed hard into yours as his hands push you roughly down onto his lap, your sensitive clit catching on the rough material of his boxers making your cunt clench impossibly tighter around him as he cums.

A thick fog covers the inside of the windows as the last of the raindrops coat the outside, sliding down the cool glass like the cum trickling down your thighs as you lay slumped against Nanami.

Your dead weight blankets him as his arms wrap around you, hands rubbing soft shapes into your shoulders and back.

…

“Maybe next time we should stay in.”

[chiscaralight]

fratboy!gojo who can't take his eyes off of you. geto is basically shouting his name before he snaps out of his trance. you're the most adorable thing! your big framed glasses and large sweater just make him want to devour you whole.

he can't get you out of his head even if another gorgeous girl is in front of him! he's rolling his eyes and pushing her head away from his crotch before he makes his way out of the bathroom. she's not interesting enough. but he can feel his cock twitch at the thought of you getting on your knees like that.

fratboy!gojo who can't believe he's pumping his cock. he could literally get someone to suck him off within 3 minutes if he wanted. so why is it he's not interested in anyone doing that except you?

nerd!reader who almost jumps out of their seat when gojo sits right beside them in their shared class. what the hell? what is he doing here? you're skeptical the entire time, especially when he strikes up a conversation. his smooth voice and boyish charm should be enough to ease your spirits, but you're not from the same crowd! whats with the sudden interest?

this continues for weeks. even months! youve long forgotten the suspicions you've had, even tugging at his heart just a bit when you smile that adorable smile and wave him over in the quad. its a little weird to see as a bystander, when did this happen, and why did it happen?

and hes surprised when you text him if he wants to come over and hang out. even with how close you've gotten, he's never really seen you outside of school! but he accepts nonetheless.

fratboy!gojo who cant get his eyes of the exposed skin of your thighs. he feels like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time, because he realizes this is the first time he's seen you with such little clothing! your shirt is small and light, highlighting the curve of your waist and those perfect tits he just wants to cup into his hands. he's staring so much that he doesn't realized your own eyes are trained on his adomen, the way that compression shirt highlights how broad his shoulders are, and how those grey sweatpants do nothing to hide his huge length.

you clear your throat and wander off to the kitchen to get some water. you ask if he wants anything, but his short 'no' sounds far and distant, because he's concentrating on the sway of your hips as you walk away.

fratboy!gojo who rests his head on your lap when you come back. he's trying to concentrate on the show that's playing, but the skin of your thighs is so warm, he doesn't even know when he starts to kiss them! its your squirming that brings him back, and he's quick to apologize, saying he doesn't know what's come over him. he's about to draw his head back, but you push him right back down. you're avoiding his gaze, but you're softly telling him to keep going.

it's how he ends up eating you out! tongue rolling languidly over your clit as those long fingers curl inside your cunt. you sound a mess, room noisy with your cute whimpers and the wet sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. and as much as you'd love to make a mess all over his face, you're pushing him off, telling him you're not ready to cum yet.

and he sits up. so you take the opportunity to push him onto his back, tugging at his drawstring so he can let his cock free. and holy shit, he's huge.

you have to consicosly catch your spit in your mouth when you sink down his entire length. you can feel every pulse, every throb. he asks if you're okay and you can only nod, all the words hooking in your throat as you start to move. his hands instinctively find your hips, but you're more than capable of holding your own like this.

fratboy!gojo who can't begin to understand how he was surviving without you this whole time. you're so gorgeous, perfectly bouncing on him, taking him so well as you whine out his name, fingers digging into his shoulders when he drags your tank top down to expose those tits he's been dying to see. he's quick to send a hand to your back, dragging your front down to press into his face.

don't think he didn't notice your hips slow down just because he's trying to suffocate himself in your chest. you've done a good job so far, so hell start thrusting up to help you out! and he's much more violent than you were because each heavy thrust has you crying out, twitching hard as he brushes against your most sensitive spots. trying to move away does nothing, as his inhumane grip will keep you right in place as he has his way with you, groaning as you clench around him, body shaking from your hard-hitting orgasm.

and he moans at the feeling, almost seeing stars from how your release is rolling around him. it’s insane almost how quickly he is to switch your positions, knocking the wind out of your lungs as he positions himself just right.

he’s going to ruin you so bad.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

angel of a daughter

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, stepcest, stepdad!rafe, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, female receiving oral, fingering, breeding, fertility issues (from mother), reader is described as having big boobs, kinda pregnancy kink from rafe but more talk of sex while pregnant, cheating (no daddy kink)

“i got the results back.” your mom says, her voice low and sad, revealing her results with her tone alone. “the doctor says theres no way.” “i’m sorry, mama.” you pout, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. you hate that you feel a bit of relief. your mom had you young, a teenager knocked up by another teenager who ran off the second he heard his girlfriend got pregnant.

your mom raised you until you were a teenager yourself, doing everything by herself until your stepdad came into the picture. he inserted himself perfectly into your life, but expected to have kids of his own.

“whats the plan then?” you question as your stepdad comes into the living room, setting a glass of water down in front of your mom. you sit on either side of her, showing your support. “adoption? surrogate?” 

you like being an only child. you like it just being you, mom, and rafe, but at the same time, you want your mom to be happy, and if a baby gives her that, you'll adjust for her.

“actually…” rafe clears his throat. “we were hoping you’d be willing to help out.”

“yeah, of course.” you nod. “anyway i can.” 

you don’t realize what rafe means until later. you assumed it was just help researching adoption agencies, or finding a surrogate, but as rafe hovers over you, you realize he means to breed you.

“m-my mom can’t be okay with this.” you stutter out, body stiff against the bed, trapped as you blink up at rafe, body caging you over the mattress.

“she thinks you’re going to get inseminated.” he huffs out, breath warm against your face. “and in a way you are. a natural way.”

“i-i-” you stutter out. “i don't know about this.”

“come on, i see the way you look at me.” rafe shifts his weight to one hand, gliding down the other down your torso, squeezing your hip gently. “i know you want this.”

“you're married to my mom!” your eyes are wide, but a spark does ignite inside of you. “you're my stepdad!”

“and you’re going to be doing both of us such a big favor, pretty girl.” rafe coos, his fingers running along the material of your shorts, stroking closer and closer to your center every time.

“i-i guess it would be easier than going to a doctor.” you’re sure it involves waivers and legal shit that your mind just can’t even wrap around.

“exactly!” rafe smiles down at you, glad for your naivety. “besides, im making you feel good... you’ll get pregnant, and both of us will feel real good.”

“how many times will we get to do it?” you whisper, hands reaching up to touch rafes cheeks, running your finger down the smooth planes. “like, it probably won’t take the first time.”

“as many times as we have to babygirl. and i’ll take real good care of you during your pregnancy. rub your feet, buy whatever you are craving, eat you out.” rafe loves the way your eyes blow wide.

“thats not appropriate!” your mom has lectured you long and hard about sexual experiences and above all how important it is to wait so you don’t become pregnant young like she did. and now she is asking you to allow your stepdad to breed you when you’re freshly out of your teen years.

“its okay, its just you helping us out so im helping you back out in return.” rafe moves his hand up to cup your cheek. “let me show you.”

he leans down to press your lips together in a kiss. you lay frozen for a moment before beginning to move back, reciprocating the kiss as your hands fist into his shirt, tugging him lower.

you let out a moan into his mouth and rafe has to pull away to chuckle. “see, i knew you wanted me babygirl.”

“yeah.” you nod. “okay, lets do this.” damn the consequences, you can think about them later.

“good.” he coos out, lips back against yours quickly as his hand gropes at your breast, rubbing them through your tanktop. you’ve always been insecure about the size of your chest, but as rafe lowers down to look at them, you think about them in a whole new light.

“these are gonna feed our baby so well.” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lower and lower until it breeches the swell of your breasts and they pop out the top. you don’t ask who he means by ‘our’. you can indulge in the fantasy that it’s just you and rafe. that your mom is still in the picture, but only in the role as your mother, not the one of rafes baby. 

rafe wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking deeply into his mouth, so in contrast to what it must feel like to have an infant feeding.

“i-more.” you gasp out as rafes fingers play with your other nipple, rolling and pinching at it until they’re both stiff peaks.

“i can’t wait to fuck you baby.” rafe says, helping you sit up just slightly to pull your shirt off, the small pajama shorts the only barrier you have left on your body. rafe also tugs his shirt off. you’ve seen him shirtless before in the pool or on your boat, but its different in this low lighting, so intimate and close. 

“gonna eat your pretty pussy first though.” rafe tugs your shorts down, your thighs pressing together to allow you to keep that part of yourself hidden for a moment longer, before rafe is pushing at your legs and slotting himself onto the bed in between them.

“aww.” rafe smiles, looking much more like a boy your age with his grin rather than your stepfather. “i knew she’d be cute.” his hands stroke over your inner thighs. “have you ever had a guy eat your pussy before?”

“no.” you shake your head. “never done anything with a guy.” you’ve kissed past boyfriends, but it never went beyond that.

“im gonna be your first?” theres a spark in rafes eye when he realizes that you’re a virgin. that he’s going to deflower you, fill you up. 

“y-yeah.” you nod. 

rafe wants you to cum once with his mouth and fingers first to open you up and get you wetter before he fucks you, so he wastes no more time, pushing his face forward between your legs, tongue swiping over your folds as you scream out in pleasure. 

rafe is glad as your moans increase with every flick of his tongue and glide of his lips that he chose to sneak into your room in a time when your mom was gone, off to the spa with her girlfriends, no doubt sharing to them her recent doctors trip and how her angel of a daughter agreed to be a surrogate so her and rafe could have a baby of their own.

“you taste so good.” rafe says. he isn’t one to enjoy giving head often, but you really are the sweetest taste on his lips. he focuses in on your clit as your entire body stiffens before relaxing, sighing out as your head becomes fuzzier and fuzzier with every touch of rafes mouth.

“do you touch yourself here?” rafe asks, pressing kisses to your clit, making out with it just like he did you mouth.

“no.” you shake your head. you occasionally grinded yourself into a pillow stuffed between your legs to get off when you got too overwhelmed, but you never reached your hand in your pants to feel yourself.

“what about here?” rafe brings his hand to your cunt, finger circling around your entrance.

your eyes widen again, that gloriously innocent startled look that has rafe grinding into the bed to give his cock some sort of relief.

“never!” you shake your head.

rafe just smiles, going back to focusing on your clit as his finger pushes in. you’re so wet it’s not difficult at all, but he can feel the way you squeeze around his digit, getting used to the feeling of the intrusion.

“relax for me, princess.” rafe says, sucking at your clit as he begins to move his finger in and out until he’s able to easily pump, the delicious squelching of your wetness filling the room with his every movement.

“gonna add a second, okay?” rafe talks you through the process, not wanting to do something to scare you into changing your mind. “gotta open you up for my cock, baby.”

rafe pushes a second finger into your entrance, working you open until he feels your body stiffen, his concentration going to your clit as he works you through your orgasm, your high so suddenly breeching that your body locks up and you let out a scream.

“shh, i got you.” rafe kisses along your mound as you work through it, pussy clenching around his fingers as he scissors them, knowing he needs you looser to fit inside.

“that-” you gasp out, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “that was so good.” “yeah?” rafe smiles up at you. “i can keep helping you feel that way, baby.”

“mhm.” you nod, not sure how you’ll ever go without now that you’ve felt the high that rafe can get you.

“can i fuck you now?” he questions. as much as he’s ready to go right now, if he has to build you up to allow him inside bare, he would wait.

“yeah.” your voice is dripping with eagerness. “yeah, yes please. just need a drink of water first.”

you sit up slightly, going to reach for your water bottle on your bedside table, but rafe moves quicker, helping you bring the bottle to your lips and suck the water down, pulling away with a gasp as a drop of water glides down your chin, reaching your throat before rafes tongue is on your skin, tasting the sheen of sweat as he follows the wet trail up to your lips, kissing you to keep your mind occupied.

he works his pants and underwear off while you’re wrapped up in the kiss, your hands stroking through his hair, playing with the strands. 

rafe moves your legs to wrap around his hips as he holds onto his cock, swiping it through your folds. he taps the head against your sensitive swollen clit, making you pull away with a gasp.

“stay nice and relaxed for me, baby.” rafe says, pressing kisses to your jaw as he lines up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, your eyes clenching shut as your chest moves up and down with each breath, trying to keep your body relaxed like rafe said.

“there ya go.” rafe says, halfway inside your cunt. “good girl.”

he pushes as far in as your pussy allows, both of you sitting in that moment, relishing in the feeling of being joined together as you stretch to accommodate his large length, shifting your hips side to side and up and down to get used to the feeling.

“i gotta move, baby.” rafe says, his voice sounding strained.

“yeah, go ahead.” you nod. despite your affirmation, rafe continues to move slowly, his hips swinging back before pressing forward, carefully building up a rhythm.

“it feels really good.” you tell rafe, your cheeks flushed bright pink, hair fanned out on the pillow around you like a glowing halo.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods rapidly, his grip on control quickly loosening. “you feel so good too.”

rafe knows he should stop, but he loves the way your body reacts to his dirty words. “you’re so tight around me. i love this pussy. so much better than your mamas. gonna give me a baby, right?”

“i-yeah.” you nod. “fill me up.”

rafes loosening control shatters, his hips swinging forward fast, burying his cock inside of you as the pace instantly triples. you let out a squeal, the sheets gripped in your hands as he pounds into you.

“gonna fill up your pretty little cunnie, baby.” rafe grunts out, his own forehead sheening with sweat from his effort, his muscles straining as he pushes up then down, up then down.

“want it so bad.” you whine. 

“fuck.” rafe gasps out, mouth dropping open, his lips shiny from eating you out. “can’t last much longer. gonna cum.”

you experiment, clenching your pussy around his cock, and judging by rafes reaction of a loud moan and curse, you can tell he likes it. you continue, squeezing every time he pulls out, wanting to keep his cock wrapped in your warmth.

“i-im cumming.” rafe gasps out, his cock growing inside of you before your eyes widen, suddenly feeling warmth spreading as his cum fills you, his cock pressing in even harder, hoping it reaches your womb.

“god.” rafe groans, lowering his body on top of yours, but you don’t care about the weight as you smile.

“we’re gonna keep doing that?” you ask, running your hand down his back.

rafe looks up at you. “oh, of course baby. gonna keep fucking you while you’re pregnant too, maybe you’ll give us twins.”

you roll your eyes and giggle at rafe. “thats not how it works, silly!” “oh, what do you know?” rafe smirks at you. “you haven’t even had sex before!”

“well… i have now.” you mumble, shifting your hips from side to side, rafes cock still lodged deep inside of you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra

[prael]

Touch

Kinktember Day 9: Spa

Newjeans Danielle x male reader smut

words: 7,422 Kinktember Masterlist

"My client, did you see her come in?" you ask.

"No, why? Is she famous or something?"

"Well, that would explain the secrecy, and it would also explain a woman barely twenty having cash to burn at a place like this," you whisper to the colleague who is far too jealous of how you just got requested by name because that usually means big tips for a good service.

"Did you get her name?"

"Supposed to be a secret." Your answer dissatisfies her, and she throws you a side-eye. "Okay. Okay. Danielle something... Marsh?"

"Shut up!" She hits you on the shoulder. "No fucking way. Let me take this one and you can have my next ten VIP bookings."

"Sorry, but she asked for me by name," you tell her. She mutters an obscenity under her breath. "Want to tell me what I'm getting into here?"

And then the girl spews out a jumble of ramblings about K-pop this and K-pop that—the kind of reaction that only the truly obsessed can have. Millions of views on this, charting on that, really fucking popular is the gist of it. So basically the whole planet Earth knows who this Danielle is. Well, shit. No pressure or anything. "Get in there already, do your best work and maybe get me an autograph."

A few forceful pushes out of the staff room and you find Danielle where you left her, her cleansing mask still on her face, sitting in that long white robe. You step barefoot over the soft wood, heat rising from underneath it.

As you draw near, you ask, "Miss Marsh, are we ready to begin?"

"Dani, please," her voice says from beneath the mask. It's hard not to be intimated after being hit with the fact that the woman before you is world-renowned. Though from here, she looks like any other delicate young woman. Her feet are small. Bare, tiny and arched, they hang just a few inches from the floor, and they are as perfectly still as the rest of her. "No need to be formal, I'm here to relax."

"Then let me start by offering you a drink." The bottle pops as you twist it. The label is adorned in cursive. "Bottled at source, premium mineral water." Your arm raises the bottle so she can see the brand clearly.

"Is it magical water?" There is a playful lilt in her voice, "Maybe it has some healing powers?"

"Guaranteed to nourish the soul and unclog those emotional pores," you deadpan.

The facemask stretches with Dani's wide smile, and she lightly chuckles. "That's good, laughter is good for the soul."

"Right." You pour from a height and a theatrical stream flows. When the flute is halfway, you stop the flow and pass it to her hands, which take it gently.

"What? You don't even hold the glass for me? Put it to my lips and tilt?" It's another tease, the joke stretching on her grin, but now it is her hands holding the flute, her fingers long and smooth around the stem.

"I serve, not control."

"Those don't have to always be exclusive." She laughs, and the sound makes you feel something. "But I appreciate the intention. I hear you're the best in the business."

"I'll let you be the judge, Miss Marsh. Now, allow me to remove that mask. I have raised the temperature in here to help open the pores, and I would like to begin with a facial."

"I do love a facial." Danielle smiles to herself. "And again, please, just Dani is fine."

You step over behind her, where her head tilts back against the chair, her long hair cascading below, shimmering in the moist air. Lightly, you place the tips of your fingers along her jawline, finding the edge of the mask and gently lifting it upwards. She doesn't flinch at all, and you watch the wet mask give way to her face. Even upside down, Danielle is indeed beautiful.

With her sun-kissed hair, radiant skin, and effortless, elegant beauty. She is, in summation of all her parts: perfect. The image the word calls up has always been fuzzy around the edges, an abstract idea more than a specific concrete thing, because real people aren't like this. That's what you believed until you laid eyes on her.

"You take good care of your skin, Miss—Sorry—Dani."

"Thank you," she says simply, no joke this time. Your fingers ghost over her chin and then trace to her cheekbones, moving lightly to test her texture, all so smooth.

"First, I shall cleanse away any impurities," you say and lean down to examine her face. Even when you are so close, there is nothing for your scrutiny—no visible crevice, no blemishes, despite there being not a trace of make-up. It's all-natural.

There's a light whisper on her lips, one that you barely make out, "Good luck with that."

You tilt your head as you reach over for a fresh sponge, run it under hot water until it is filled, squeeze out the excess, and slowly drag a path of heat across her forehead. As your other hand holds the sheet over her neck to catch stray water, your first-hand works in large strokes from above, rinsing her skin with each successive pass.

As you focus, she leans back into the chair, and a soft hum escapes her lips. "Feels nice already," she murmurs.

You say nothing, working her in silence. Her eyelids are closed, her lips slightly parted, and she remains so still that, if not for the sound of her breaths, she could be easily mistaken as unconscious. This silence has a tranquillity and familiarity to it, one that feels like home, and without thinking, you are smiling.

She stays just the same as you begin to exfoliate her, brushing across her face in ever-widening circles. It's with such tenderness that her cheeks take a pink tint as she grows hotter and she smiles as you rub in gentle swirls, one spot, then the next.

Time passes in silence as you finish the exfoliation and apply all manner of natural, topical lotions, toners, and peels to Dani. When her skin is primed, you press your fingers against her skin and, starting at her forehead, you massage her face to a rhythm of long, soothing strokes. You enjoy touching her, you admit, which isn't exactly right for a professional, but since you have no outward reaction from her, you assume it isn't the end of the world.

Throughout it all, she keeps her eyes shut. Over time you move around her face, applying more pressure in some spots than others. She shifts and sighs, soft exhalations of her warm breath tickling your arm, yet otherwise doesn't move an inch. Her shoulders relax against the leather of the seat. "You really know what you're doing," she says, with a smirk. You pull her skin with your fingertips, moving them in large circles as it comes to an end. Finally, you tap your fingers gently over her skin to soothe.

"Now, your body, Dani."

Her eyes crack open, but slowly. "Are we moving?"

"I'll wash your skin over there, but the massage will be in the next room. Now, I'll need you to—"

Dani doesn't let you finish your sentence before she rocks forward in her seat and pushes herself to a stand. She's facing away from you and puts her hands in front of her, then she throws the robe back off her shoulders and lets it slide off her arms to the floor in one quick motion.

"Good," she says. "I was for too hot in that thing anyway."

Of course, as a professional, you would never gasp in surprise, yet, at the sight of her ass, the muscles tight, small, and round, the curves of her waist so thin, hair over her shoulders threatening to hide her slender back and those long slim legs, you manage to just barely gulp.

Too hot, she certainly is, you want to tell her and not just in the sense that perspiration coats her skin. Tiny beads of sweat that, as your eyes crawl over her, are in the process of running downwards. This glistening on her flesh is hypnotic. The curve of her ass, the slight tilt of her hips forward, the way the base of her spine leads downward, right down to a crack between her—

Focus. You remind yourself you have a job to do.

"In the far corner. The stone pool. Please, stand by the edge." It takes a second before Dani's head bobs, and then she slinks forward, slow and catlike. Her stride, and every motion of her muscles beneath her flesh that accompanies it, are mesmerising. And with every sway of her hips, you love her tight body more.

She pauses, a foot by the edge, and looks down into the water. Steam rises and envelops her form in a pale white that hugs her curves.

"Please, step in," you say as you walk over to her side and take her hand. Now, you catch a glimpse of her profile, and her chest, small, round and perky, and as you avert your eyes to guide her down the step, you tell her, "Watch your step now, go from stone to stone until you stand in the middle just there."

"Got it," Dani says. She steps with confidence and the hot water reaches quickly above her ankles and then halfway up her calves. With each careful move down the next step she gasps, soft and light. The water splashes with her movement and then swallows her up to the upper thigh.

"Please, take a seat there, on the wide stone." You reach to help steady her as she sinks down, her knees bending as she perches down so the water is at her hips as she sits.

"I just sit?"

"Yes, Dani, and I will bathe you." You step into the pool until the hot flowing water covers your knees, and then you stand behind her. You reach for a sponge, submerge it, and watch it fill, then draw it out and over her lower back and drag a large circle across her soft skin. "How's the water? Feel okay?"

"Great. Wow." She goes quiet as you work up and down her back, long, relaxing, soothing strokes until all the tension has left her shoulders. "That's wonderful," she says.

You clean her shoulders and then down her arms, the sponge dipping under the surface, and caressing her in a movement that feels like worship. With a slow rhythm, you run the sponge over her shoulders and around her neck, and finally, reaching over her, down to her chest. She shifts back as you do, resting herself against your legs. You run it over her chest a few times before coming up again to her shoulders.

"So soft..." her voice says, almost a breathy moan, and you catch a hint of it. Maybe she realises how it sounds because she soon goes quiet. Next, you work downwards, to her tight, toned stomach. Slowly you make sure you cleanse every part of her body. All while her back rests on you and her breathing is warm and pleasant.

"Miss, I mean Dani, can you stand now? We need to get you clean." You prompt, a hand on her shoulder.

"Sure." Dani snaps out of it. She stretches and cracks her neck before rising, leaning forward for a moment. When she rises, ripples run out in all directions and your eyes drift over her ass. It looks plump, perky, perfect. Then you sponge it, giving purpose to your stare. You push it down, over her cheeks and Dani shivers.

You repeat your slow, languid movements. Wipe away any trace of imperfection from her hips and thighs and then when you make her slowly step out of the pool, you work down her bit by bit. Finally, she stands on the edge of the pool, looking down at you, towering over you in her naked glory. She presents to you her foot and you hold her ankle to steady it and clean each digit, scrubbing between the toes.

"You can take the towel, on the peg, Dani."

"You do it." Dani doesn't move at all, keeping her eyes on you, staring into your eyes and through you.

You cautiously nod and then climb from the pool. You keep eye contact and wrap the towel around her small, wet frame. In your arms, she feels so fragile. You rub her down, first her legs. Long strokes, left and right. Each, in turn, both legs. Then you bring the towel up. When you wrap it over her hip and move upwards along her torso, Dani presses herself to you.

"You really know how to put someone at ease," she mutters.

You nod silently in return, and finish drying her shoulders, down her arms, back up, and down her back. You remain stoic as the heat between you builds, and she turns around without prompting. You wrap her again and bring the towel all the way down. Then over her rear. Soft, short circular motions with your palm.

"The table in the next room, Dani. Start by lying on your front, you can use the towel on the table to cover yourself. Once I see you settled in, I'll join you."

She laughs quietly and starts her slow walk to the door. You take your own towel, drying your legs, the water has soaked into the front of your shorts from where she leant against you.

She's on the bed. The towel, provided for her decency, is in a pile on the floor.

"Dani, the towel..."

"I'm fine, I want it off. I want everything off. Is that a problem for you?" There's this undeniably confident quality to her like the universe just has to be as it is because she likes it that way.

"Not a problem," you tell her. "It does tend to get in the way."

You're close to the bed now, looking down at her, still so perfectly nude. So vulnerable and relaxed, and not a drop of shame in her eyes. She gives you a look that says she's in charge, and that she's been waiting for this, and now it's finally going to happen. And that smile is impossible to refuse. "You could join me if it helps. Make it feel more like an equal partnership."

"Miss— I—"

"I'm joking," she winks. Danielle bunches her hair by her head and turns her head to the side as she rests.

The first of your oils, imported, rich and infused, drip with a consistency thick as honey over her. You watch it roll from the top of her back and run down her spine. Its warmth makes her twitch gently.

Slowly you reach out, press your hands into her skin and drag them from top to bottom, following the oil, making sure you cover her.

She hums in delight.

With great care, you begin your work. Fingers sink in, and your thumbs feel her muscles. Stroking and rubbing, from the top of her back, your fingers coax and prod at the flesh beneath. Pressing it back and forth, at times as gentle as a summer breeze and then as hard as a hammer.

There are knots in her back, beneath the tender surface. You find them easily and work at them to relax, coax them into submission, untying the muscles until they go soft. She gasps at your touch as you release them. Her body responds to you in the sweetest ways. With the smallest of whispers, the little fluttering breaths, and with her skin taking on a pink glow.

When the last knot goes soft, she writhes in response, and a content, relaxed murmur comes out of her.

"Oh god, that's it, don't stop," she says, the first words to come from her for a while.

"You were very tight." You reach across, add a small amount of more oil and start working back upwards. One stroke at a time. Up her neck. Over her shoulders. She trembles when you go deep into her flesh and reaches out to grasp at something, anything, and finds the edge of the table, holding herself steady. Her arms now, you lift them one by one, prying them from her grip and then holding and rubbing and pulling to coax the stiffness out.

Oil over her legs, next. Slowly you run your hands over the outside and inside and rub them into her skin, kneading it into her. Danielle keeps her mouth firmly shut the whole time. No jokes. Nothing funny. You lean down to her, focusing on her thigh that refuses to let go. Bending down, you push into her. As you feel her tension drain, you are rewarded with another quiet hiss.

You place the oil upon her feet and work it into her soles with a finger, an instant trigger, she cackles as her foot recoils at your touch. "Sorry, that's a bit ticklish," she tells you, apologetically.

Her feet go still and she inhales deeply as you set back to your task, much to the quiet amusement of Danielle. It's the slowest you have ever worked on a client, with long, dragging strokes to make sure she really enjoys it. Each is careful, so careful, to pull and tease. "Keep working it all the way up, all the way up my legs," she orders, quietly. "Nice and slow. Can you do that?"

You agree.

You hear Danielle sigh as you move your hands slowly up her calf. So soft and firm at the same time as she breathes so gently. A trace of laughter, an easy smile. You work her in the same manner, up her thigh, as slow and relaxing as before, massaging deep and heavy. Danielle begins to roll her hips as you grip the flesh at the top of her thighs and dig in.

"Higher, please, just for me." Danielle makes a little hum to accompany the instruction. You obey, knowing where this is leading. You take the oil, and let it pour lightly onto the peak of her cheek, it threatens to roll away so you capture it in your palm, a firm squeeze of her rear, a spread of oily warmth. She shivers and pushes up her hips in silent encouragement.

Your hands trail along, smooth and oily, each touch brings more shivers. Her legs part slightly, a slow squirm of her hips. Your fingers glide on her tight, round cheeks; running across, back and forth as she breathes deep. You press deeper with each sweep and listen as her gasps become a little louder, and her body moves a little more. She bends her arm, reaching back, as you watch it shake. Her nails claw onto the side of the bed.

The more you tease her with your touch, the harder she grips and the more she parts her legs. You've known the perfection of her body, just by seeing it, but this feeling confirms it.

Your hand wanders with long, oily strokes as you glide up her back, tracing the curves of her slim back up, all the way to her neck. There, you hold her as you lean in. "You can turn over now. Let's work out your front," you say, and Dani nods in agreement.

She smiles, though she remains silent, slowly, with such care, turning onto her side, then twisting to face you, her face flush, eyes drowsy, her mouth agape. She rests upon her back, arms by her sides, legs flat against the bed, open, as you gaze into her eyes.

You apply the oil with long slow strokes down her stomach, feeling her as she flinches, watching the dimples at her waist appear then vanish with her body's twists, with every flexing of her muscles. When you trace up, her flat, beautiful chest, and slowly slide a finger beneath her small pert breast, Dani takes a deep, quick, raspy breath, then says, "They didn't lie when the reviews said you have the best hands in the world."

Your oil-covered thumbs graze upon her nipple, soft at first, gentle in pressure, but this becomes firmer, building and rising, faster. Round and round it swirls, and this delight sends Danielle's breath to hitches and sharp, shallow pants. As she squirms in delight, her legs twist, rubbing and clenching. Her teeth bite down on her lips. The flesh of her body glistens.

One hand reaches, down a thigh then back up, across her stomach and down the other. Repeated in pattern as the other thumb never ceases on her pert nipple. Dani's eyes go blank as your touch continues, circling, teasing, stroking and grabbing. Her body responds and you are delighted to witness every tremor and gasp as it arches. And finally, for the first time, a full-blooded moan rings free.

Your hand goes lower. Deeper into the pit of her thigh as she spreads her legs wide. You seek out the inevitable and when you reach her crotch, you watch her tense up. And when the touch slides between her pussy's folds, and against her clit, there's an immediate reaction, her body jumping as you make the slightest flick of motion with your middle finger. You lift and let a trail of oil roll down her slit and back down to her rear.

"I wasn't really joking before," she gasps. "You should be naked. It would make this whole experience better." Dani tilts her head, fixes her drowsy gaze onto you, and holds the stare for what feels like a hundred heartbeats. "Don't you think that's fair? The way things are going?"

You hold the eye contact and consider this, a sudden lump in your throat making any immediate reply a struggle. Her eyes don't move from yours. Even her chest barely heaves with her short, fast panting.

"Go on, I want you naked. I'm going to feel so, so empty otherwise..."

That's all it takes.

How could you deny her?

Your hands, still covered in the hot oil, reach for the buttons at your collar. You slip them in order from the top and release one after another. Danielle's lips twitch, and her teeth rake them to a shine. Your clothing drops to the floor. Bared. It feels so wrong, and unprofessional, yet Dani looks on and gapes with a hungry, dark delight.

"Nervous now?" Her eyebrow twitches up.

"Never," you bluff.

Danielle's mouth stays open wide, and her breaths get caught and flicker as your touch returns to the same spot as before. Gentle, light touches flutter with your fingertips, drawing the tips of your fingers back and forth, back and forth, over her clit. You watch as her eyes widen, how her legs straighten out and she starts to kick her feet with the faintest hint of frustration as you tease.

"I paid for a deep massage." She emphasises the adjective, dragging the syllable out like a whine. "This teasing is bad for my heart," she whispers.

Her arm rises, then reaches for your chest and trails its way downward. The pressure of her finger, nails lightly scratching at your skin, trailing down to the waistline and then she wraps her slender fingers around you. It's hard. Incredibly so.

"And I'll show you how generous I can be with a tip."

She licks her lips slowly and sensually as her eyes meet yours with a mischievous gleam.

You grunt, pressing down with your fingertip, and then without a second thought, push it inside of her. Danielle throws her head back in silent bliss.

"Holy shit," she mumbles in a muffled, muted moan. "Don't hold back." You circle inside her slowly with one finger, letting the oil's moisture guide you. Then, adding a second digit, you delve back into her, pushing in deep and making sure she can feel it all the way inside as the palm of your hand pushes against her crotch.

Dani rolls her head to one side as you work, staring you right in the eyes and biting down on her lip as she throbs and you press down inside of her, moving in all sorts of subtle directions that are impossible for her to guess. With that, she moans again and there's a little grunt from deep within her. Her fist twists around you and she gets bolder with her touch.

You build it into some sort of rhythm and she moves, each time, reacting so well with your own thrusts. When she's relaxed enough for it, you introduce another finger.

"I— You can— Go a little bit faster," she pleas. Stretched wider, Dani starts to grow even more restless. This time, instead of small, languid strokes, your whole hand works, fingers rubbing and swirling, thumb finding her clit to massage it with purpose, building, always building, until she is shuddering under you, every single time, tensing and twitching with every change in direction.

"Come on—more," she pleads, bucking up against your hand, so slick with arousal.

She's barely jerking your cock, not even intentionally, just the jolts through her body causing the occasional twist of her grip or slide of her palm. You let it just rest in the loose curl of her grip and focus on doing what she commands, twisting your hand, gripping and stroking, tugging in circles and holding inside. The quivering gets worse and worse. And her breath grows heavier.

You keep working her relentlessly, as she squeals a drawn-out curse. Dani nearly loses control. She grips you hard, tightens her fist around you in spasm, a pained wince on her face, as she curls her toes so hard.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop." It's the only thing she says, no jokes, no banter, as her eyes roll back, mouth agape as if the wind's been knocked from her, and a final, body-length spasm overtakes her. Her whole body. Back arched off the table, eyes pinched shut. It lasts for the longest time, almost impossible to sustain, you watch with an odd mix of terror and wonder. Her hair is a mess. Her naked, stretched-out limbs, glisten in the warm light.

It takes her a good half minute to fall back down, her lungs now sucking in the air as if there were none at all. One leg quivers. Her breaths slow, her eyes open again and you're holding her stare, her cheeks a faint scarlet, strands of hair plastered across her forehead.

More oil. More rubbing. From tension to relaxation again. Slowly she softens and you turn her whole body limp beneath your hands. All while you barely manage to hold yourself back from ravishing her. She keeps her eyes fixed upon you, so you force a smile, ignoring the ache clenched in her fist. You could kiss those lips, right now. Taste them. How soft and smooth would she feel pressed against you? What noises would come out of her?

You'd be forgiven for letting your imagination run wild with desire, but not forgiven for taking this service in any direction that Danielle didn't command.

She watches your thoughts as they float by, and seems to be considering the same. Then she smirks, and just with a look, reassures you that it's going to happen, and it's going to happen just exactly the way she wants it.

You're working your slick hands over her midriff, and have been for a minute or two, waiting for instruction. You work slightly up her body, perilously close to taking some initiative, but then she speaks, "That was... unexpected."

"Was it? Seemed to be your plan all along."

"Planned to tease. Planned to be touched. But did not expect it to be that good." She shakes her head softly, her cheek touching her shoulder as she stares with a fuzzy, dreamy look that is impossible to decipher. She has a cute, beautiful way of pouting her lips that's fascinating, you're struck still, hypnotised by the sight and the motion. "A few more would be perfect."

"You have me booked for another hour, and the client gets what the client wants."

Dani laughs. A light, melodious chime. "I know what I want," she tells you, gently rocking her palm over your cock. "I'm incredibly hard to fully satisfy, you better get to work."

Dani releases you from her grasp, and turns back over to her front, stretching out once more and looking back at you over her shoulder, holding a stare as she parts her legs. This stare could kill a man if his heart were too weak, and though your heartbeat quickens, your mind focuses on your purpose.

Your hands glide over her oil-coated thighs, wet and glistening. Dani rests her head back down and you are unable to stop your gaze from wandering along her spine, the gentle dimple above her ass, the two tight round cheeks below and the line bisecting between them. Up over her ass, you caress, then you slip and stroke in the valley, this, she clearly enjoys, judging from how her butt rises to greet your touch, her hips rolling once more.

Lower now. Lower and lower, until once again, your finger meets her lower lips and she hisses an inwards breath and tenses. Her body is so reactive to every touch. It makes this so easy, so rewarding, so deeply arousing. You are confident you can build her up, high, and crash her down in waves, for hours, until the sun breaks.

Two fingers again, to begin, that same twist and swirl to coax her towards delirium. Her quiet huffs and suppressed moans fill the air. With a heavy push, you dive in deeper, to watch as her whole body, muscle by muscle, starts to become lost in the sensation. And when you curl your fingers down and grind the heel of your hand over her clit, Dani absolutely loses it. She bites the sheets, body tight, hands trying to grab the far edge of the bed to give something to hold onto.

Her feet kick uselessly and a series of incomprehensible phrases fill her breath and break apart on the way out of her. Though you don't quite understand them, you grasp the meaning. This is what she wants you to do right now, to see how high you can bring her.

Her whole body starts trembling again. Tingling, quivering, shivering. It's one constant shake and her moans are louder, and longer. She struggles to breathe out a scream. Sweat begins to mix in the oil, and she lets out another unintelligible mess of words as you pull away. Dani collapses back into a quivering heap, gasping for air and stretching her hands out as if reaching out to the void, reaching out, grasping for something in the dark.

She lies there, spent, breathing deep. Her entire body is hot and burning as her muscles relax. Each breath is a moan, and her thighs clamp tightly together as if the feeling of nothing after being so worked up is torturous to endure.

Your fingers are soaked in her creamy fluids, it drips down onto the bed below. Yet somehow, this isn't over. No. There's a single goal, right in the back of your mind, that's never stopped clawing. If only you could taste her. Sink your face between her firm ass cheeks and tease her with your tongue and suck and devour her, the entirety of her.

Maybe you could ask. Or maybe you could just start kissing her lower back, your nose rubbing against her tailbone, working to the left, towards her hip and tease, trailing your lips ever lower to a spot just over the peak of her butt, until she wants your tongue to dive right in.

The thought is interrupted by her blessing, "Again. Another. However you want," her words stumble upon each other, a raspy, spent quality to her. "Whatever you want."

You kneel at the very end of the bed, lean over and take her hips and you lift them up with an abrupt strength that earns her immediate interest, judging by her sudden gasp. You put her on her knees, ass in the air. Beneath it, her lips shine and spread. You're going to drown in her. You lean over, planting kisses along her body until they land right where your fingers had been, right along her soaked pussy.

The taste is so sweet. Dani whimpers as her body twitches. Your lips part her, and your tongue stretches and laps her up with an unshakeable excitement. Dani tastes amazing, like every inch of her, hot and rich and so unbelievably delicate. She is desire—concentrated and distilled into the female form. Your mouth descends, kissing every tiny spot you can reach, your lips closing, sucking the sticky warmth into your mouth. You might spend the rest of eternity here, savouring her juices.

Each rough lick gives Dani a small burst of pleasure. This is perhaps not the most elegant approach, but you wouldn't dream of stopping and so you continue, over and over, eager to return Dani to her previous, tranced bliss. So wet and sweet and smooth as velvet, your tongue flattens over her clit.

Dani cums twice like this. Ass in the air, your face in her cunt, two more delicious releases and you lap up both. They come accompanied by Dani's musical screams and moans and swearing and mumbles and complete incoherence. Every part of her body tenses. Every movement becomes forced, with less control, until every part of her, quivering and shaking, is taken by a rapture. Her throat chokes off her moans and breathy whimpers, and then she becomes lost for a time, struggling to remember to breathe, caught up in the overwhelming, and unstoppable waves.

"Enough, enough," Dani chokes out, and so you stand back, watching as she twists back into a flat position on her back again, her hips shaking with the effort. She trembles for a while longer before lying perfectly still on the table. As you gaze at her, she still appears ethereal, unattainable. She gazes up at you with lidded eyes and the drowsy content smile that rests upon her lips—she is a goddess. Even after all those body-racking orgasms, she settles into that same elegant grace that makes you question what makes her mortal.

Dani raises a hand and curls a beckoning finger, "Come here."

And you come to her, to her smile that draws you in, a moth to a flame and the moth will burn, not the flame, it will never tire, it will consume anything. She takes you in her hand, hard and throbbing under her delicate touch, and yet so helpless against it. With a pull, Dani draws you in—to consume.

She parts those pretty, pink, curled lips and then looks up into your eyes and sighs as her warm breath runs across your length. Danielle curls her tongue to the underside of your head and engulfs it. She doesn't raise her head from where it rests, instead making you clamber up to her, so you put a knee on the wooden frame and a hand next to her shoulder. The heat grows, and Dani is swirling her tongue over your tip, making you twitch and throb in her grasp, a slave to her touch.

You're pushing forward, leaning over her, as her mouth opens wide and lets you in, then, all at once, tightens. Her tongue and lips stretch around your thickness and then enclose you, sealing tight. She makes a point of looking you in the eye, holding your stare, a curl at the corner of her mouth that only further sets a tremble to your loins. She pulls, slow, agonising and without hurry, her mouth holds tight and sucks back.

You pull out of her, an inch, and she stays clamped tight and as she draws away, she uses the time to slowly slide her tongue along and around your crown and against the sensitive underside. Once Danielle has pulled right off with a wet smack, the warmth of her breath covers your cock once more. She flicks her tongue against your tip, first as a long, sweeping, lingering brush, then a rapid flick that teases.

"Dani, fuck," you groan.

"That's the idea," she whispers, right against you, her warm, panting breath driving you crazy, her own burning desire barely contained. "Get down there and do me. Right now."

Then, in one fluid movement, her hands find her legs. She grips behind her knees and pulls her thighs up and back. She spreads her legs wide, with her feet in the air.

"Fuck me. I mean it," she states firmly, fixing you with that stern gaze. Her words send a flaming arrow directly to light the most basic of your instincts.

She has presented everything to you and wants to give even more. You can think of nothing else but ploughing her into the table until your vision fades to white. It takes only seconds and you find yourself over her, between those slim legs. You put a hand on each thigh and spread her.

Cock bearing down on her leaking cunt, you lower your body until she has all of your weight on top of her. Her hips squirm under your pressure, and she drags your arm tighter around herself until she finds exactly what she's been looking for. A rub between her folds as your length slips against her, up and down.

"Mmm, yes," she giggles, "put it in, all of it."

In an almost unconscious action, you place the head of your cock against her opening. Her wetness provides no friction, and Dani uses her nails to scratch your back impatiently. Slowly you flex forward. Every inch. So warm, so fucking hot. Tighter than anything.

"Oh, yes," is all Dani has to say as her breath cuts short. You feel the intense squeeze, you have no doubt this is a step beyond the pleasure your fingers gave her, and her entire body tightens, and she pulls you in, deep and full. Her eyes grow wide and her fingers dig into you as you draw back and drive in once more.

Another moan, her pitch gets deeper, this one drawn out from her very core. You hear it right in her chest, from the depth of her lungs, before it squeals free, right into your ear. "Worth every penny." Her words are thick and drawled, hard to make out, she can't seem to decide whether she wants to open her mouth or close it and keep it shut.

She wraps her arms tight around your neck and pulls you in deeper, you push her legs higher, folding her body up and it only makes things tighter, a thrill she clearly relishes.

You roll forward, holding her close to you, giving you a better purchase with her feet held up so high. Dani groans as you bite and suck at the soft skin along her neck. Your thrusts are still slow, so damnably slow. You push, and fill, and wait. Over and over, it's a cruel torment to both of you.

"Ah, come on. Give it to me, hard," Dani says, raking nails on your neck. She turns her head. Finds your mouth. Seals her lips against yours. Teeth nibble and then her tongue penetrates your mouth. Her hips start to rise and drop. Her sex grabs at you, pleading to pound her.

So you let go of your iron self-restraint and fuck her. Fuck her good.

Your tempo grows more powerful. Her walls squeeze and pull and writhe with a desperate need. It's tight, so, so tight, the way she envelops you, the slick warmth around you. Each stroke sends a shudder through her. Another ripple follows and with it, her high, pitchy wails. Dani's never been so loud, so demanding that her pleasure be delivered.

Number five is close, you can feel her body going rigid, the quivering, twitching, curling of her toes, the growing tension, you go faster, a force building within, trying to rush her to the inevitable. Dani screams, moaning incoherently, her eyes screw tight as you throw yourself into her with such ferocity, like an animal, with no regard for pace, or rhythm. Pure, unrelenting pleasure.

She grips so hard on your shoulder, and then her other hand goes back, over her head, gripping the edge of the table in white-knuckled desperation. "I'm... cumming," Dani spits through a clenched jaw, unable to even form her tongue around the word.

Her orgasm feels more powerful this time, so much more; it flows through her and you can't help but stare. Watching the way the pink blossom blooms on her face and how the rest of her pales. One orgasm into another, you think, it's difficult to discern. You're in no rush. No race. Instead, you delight in the absolute loss of control you see in Danielle's face and you feed off it.

Her mouth forms a soundless scream and she reaches up and sinks her nails into your chest and drags them across, not breaking the skin, but hard enough to leave marks. It feels amazing. All the more so watching Danielle break herself, willingly.

"Holy shit..." Danielle pants then sucks air into her empty lungs.

Her little, flexible body, pinned beneath yours, seems incapable of even the tiniest motion, save the trembles.

Through gritted teeth, she says, "I want— I want a facial. My face. Cum."

This is the single sexiest thing she could have possibly said at that moment. For all the time you've spent watching that pretty doll-like face contort in a hundred different ways, you want nothing more than to see it coated with your lust. To paint every last bit of that sweetness on her lips, on her cheeks—everywhere. To witness that brief moment, after climax where she is confused and awash with bliss and trying to remember how to breathe, and it's interrupted by a load of your cum. You want it.

You round the table, standing over her head, lowering down and watching her eyes spark with anticipation. Danielle knows how bad you want it, how close it is, and you watch, enraptured by the way she tilts her head up and licks her lips. Her little, eager tongue.

Dani wraps her fingers around you and strokes and pumps fast, pulling, urging you to completion, teasing you to spill over her, onto those pretty, dainty features. Your skin feels alive, like static and pinpricks and pure lightning, like your nerves have come to the surface. Pent-up energy coils low, threatening to snap. You cannot resist her anymore.

It all unfurls in a glorious, explosive instant. Blinding. A shiver climbs up your spine, spreading to every limb in one long spasm. A long, raw growl in your throat as you shoot thick and hard, some on her face, and some overshooting onto her chest. Dani gasps a cute little "Oh" and then starts to giggle as the second rope lands right over her perfect little features. And then another, this time across the bridge of her nose and her cheek and down her lips. Her tongue collects whatever it can.

Dani's small hand keeps a hard grip and keeps coaxing, even as you feel like you have nothing to give, with it all painting her face, still, she jerks up and down, until you are empty, trembling and drained. Still, she goes, forcing you through painful shivers, laughing the whole time until the pain becomes too much, and your hands take hers and pull.

You prop yourself against the table, looking down at the mess you made. Dani's happily laughing to herself, licking up what she can. "You'll need to clean me again now, won't you? Sponge away all your dirty filth," she giggles.

Her giggle is intoxicating. Loving. It warms you right through. You wish you could bottle up her laughter.

"Need a minute," you grunt, and there's so much pride on her cum-strewn face.

"Aw, need time for recovery?" Dani quips. "I'll just lay here, all messy and defiled. Waiting to be tended to. Enjoy the sight of me, of your filthy cum all over my sweet, innocent face, until you get the strength to lift me. Really, don't rush, I love this feeling."

[alastorss]

a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!

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You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.

He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).

You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.

The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.

While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."

"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."

He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?

"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."

You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."

"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.

Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.

You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.

Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.

He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"

Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.

For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.

Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.

Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.

Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.

It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.

How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.

It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.

He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.

On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.

"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.

You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.

He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.

Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.

"You missed me that much?"

"One more word out of you and I am leaving."

"Aww, so that's a yes?"

The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.

"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria (send an ask to be added!)

[lucysarah-c]

The door creaked under Levi's weight as he entered his office. His bloodshot eyes surveyed the dim room, a sight that usually offered comfort but now unsettled him deeply.

His mouth felt dry, coated with an unfamiliar taste. He was sweltering in his military uniform, blaming the oppressive heat on the formal attire rather than his own tension. Dragging his feet across the office, he approached the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it open, perhaps too forcefully, causing you to stir in bed and twitch involuntarily.

You didn’t wake up, but one of your bare legs shifted higher. On any other occasion, Levi would have grumbled about the wrinkles on the sheets. You always insisted on neatly tucking the blankets only to end up sprawled across them, barely covered. Curled in a fetal position, your smooth, naked legs parted slightly at his noisy entrance. Your light nightgown had bunched around your hips, leaving your body exposed. Lips parted, you breathed softly, your chest rising and falling peacefully as you slept.

It bothered him deeply that you were asleep. This alone spoke volumes about his intoxicated state because, under normal circumstances, he would have been filled with adoration. His gaze lingered between your legs, noting that you weren’t wearing panties. Normally, he might say the view made his pants feel tighter, but the truth was he had been hard since leaving the military board meeting.

Stumbling forward with one objective in mind, he tripped. Even in his drunken state, he felt like an idiot. It was a forewarning of how stupid he would feel the next morning once his full faculties returned. Squinting in the dim light, he saw what had caused his fall: your bags, perfectly arranged at the foot of the bed, ready for your early departure to a girls-only trip by the lake for the weekend.

But in that moment, Levi couldn't care less. He had drunk far too much at the military board's mandatory party. Initially, he was reluctant to have more than a glass or two. But everyone insisted, and drinking allowed him to avoid conversation. When the MPs brought in women, probably paid for, he felt ashamed to be there, especially knowing you were at home. He continued drinking to keep his eyes occupied and his mouth busy. The heat wave made the crowded, smoke-filled room unbearable, and with no water available, he kept drinking.

With too much alcohol in his system, his mind fixated on his most primal instincts. These included frequent bathroom trips and, of course, thoughts of you. He imagined you and him together, sweating—since he was already drenched, it would be better if he were naked and thrusting into you—hearing you moan his name, feeling your body beneath his control.

A small part of his consciousness insisted that his thoughts were wrong. But the other part urged, “Since you're already on the floor, take off your shoes.”

Before he could think clearly, he had climbed onto the bed, positioning himself on all fours above you. His lips found the tender spot on your neck as his hand slid under your nightgown.

"Mmm," you groaned, stirring uneasily under his touch. Your eyes remained closed, but you were slowly waking. Levi sucked and nibbled at your neck with the fervor of a man possessed. "Levi?" you asked, confused, allowing his hands to roam over your body.

Levi simply hummed, pleased that you were awake.

"You're back?" you asked, though it was clear he was there. "Levi, I need to sleep."

"I'll be quick," he promised, his voice slurred, betraying his drunken state. You could taste the alcohol on his breath when his lips met yours.

You pulled back slightly, repulsed, "You're drunk," you muttered, sleepily, as he continued to assault your neck.

"Drunk in love with you," he declared, his words catching you off guard. "I want you," he continued, kissing your shoulder. "I need you."

It was clear he wasn’t thinking straight. "Levi," you protested, his hand now squeezing your breast over the nightgown, and his hard erection pressing against your core, "I need to sleep. I leave early in the morning."

Your complaints were silenced as he kissed you messily, moaning into your mouth, taking your breath away. A thin thread of saliva connected you as he looked at you with drunken, lust-filled eyes. "You don't have to do anything. I'll do it all."

You weren’t sure if it was the idea of a quickie before sleep or his unusually needy state that made you receptive, but you parted your knees slightly on the mattress. You didn’t bother moving from the position you had been sleeping in just moments ago. With your face resting on the pillow, Levi positioned himself and thrust inside you. Your faces were close, sharing the same breath, panting as he eagerly fucked you. It was messy, fast-paced, and though it lacked his usual calculated rhythm, it was intensely arousing and intimate. It felt like being teenagers again, fumbling through quick, passionate sex without knowing exactly how it was done, but enjoying every second of it.

"Ah- mmm!" you moaned softly, too tired to be loud, quiet little kittenish sounds escaping your lips. He was impossibly deep, his heat blending with the oppressive summer air. Sweat dripped from his face, mingling with yours.

"Ah- ah, yeah! Fuck, you feel amazing. Mmm, ah!" Levi was unusually vocal, his eyebrows raised slightly, mouth open. From the corner of your eye, you admired his relaxed expression, completely lost in the moment. "I'm fucking melting inside you."

It felt the same for you. The quick, messy fuck ended with him spilling inside you, not helping to ease the heat.

You usually didn’t mind Levi cuddling you, but this time, it felt unbearable. The air was hot, he was like a living radiator next to you, the sheets were warm and tangled, and you felt sticky and wet all over.

Reluctantly, you slipped out of bed, determined not to miss your trip with your friends. You dragged yourself to the bathroom for a cold shower. Half-lidded eyes tried to focus on the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Gradually, your eyebrows drew together as you noticed the deep purplish marks on your neck and hips. There went your hopes of wearing a bikini around the families at the lake.

"LEVI ACKERMAN!"

The pillow fell off his head as he jolted awake, his upper body shooting up in bed. A terrible decision, as he immediately felt a pounding headache and a wave of nausea from last night's excesses. Groaning, he gripped his head, dreading the day's work ahead. The fallen pillow didn’t help when you hit him with it.

"OI!"

"You RUINED my girl's weekend!"

--

"My head is killing me," Erwin muttered, his dark circles standing out against his pale, sickly complexion. The scorching sun outside the shop only made things worse. "Levi! We're going to be late!" he complained as his colleague lingered inside the shop.

Levi peeked outside, looking no better. "We wouldn’t be late if you didn’t take so long to get ready. As usual."

Erwin groaned as Levi disappeared back into the shop.

When it was finally his turn, Levi approached the front desk quickly. "What are the prettiest flowers you have?" he asked.

The florist, busy rearranging a bouquet, looked up with a grimace. "Oh boy…"

(I don't know what this was... It just came to my mind.)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[heauxvibez]

Cognac Queen

Warning: smut (18+)

I'm fucking a baller, we courting I'm making it clap, he record it (damn) And he keep on making them noises (yeah) Damn, fuck, shit ooh (fuck, oh)

With a gentle grip, you tilted his head back with your left hand, feeling the coarse texture of his beard hairs against your palm as you positioned his throat perfectly. In your right hand, you held the glass bottle of cognac, its rich brown color catching the light as you angled it above his open mouth. Slowly, you poured it in a steady stream, ensuring he didn't miss a drop.

"There ya go, baby," you whispered softly, your voice gentle and soothing.

As you watched the liquor cascade into his mouth, you couldn't resist the urge to mimic his actions, your lips parting slightly mirroring him. The drink filled his mouth, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped his throat—a signal for you to stop.

You pulled the bottle back, a smirk playing on your lips as he lifted his head to swallow. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the effort, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he forced down the remnants of the drink. He shook his head slightly and let out a shuddering breath as the liquid burned its way down his throat, leaving a fiery trail that led to his stomach. He could feel the intense heat spread through his chest.

You could feel the bristly hairs of his beard still tingling in your palm. He was never really a cognac person; you knew that. Whiskey was more his style—a comfort drink he rarely ventured out of. Yet, here you were, straddling his lap as he took it to the head on his luxurious, comfortable couch in the dimly lit living room. The soft glow from a few candles cast gentle shadows around the room, highlighting the expressions on your faces. The faint sound of Megan Thee Stallion played in the background, weaving beats through the air and your body.

A wave of chills coursed through him, starting at his legs and rippling upward. "Jesus," he murmured under his breath, his voice rough and strained.

You couldn't help but gently wipe away the lingering liquid that had dripped from his bottom lip with your thumb. The cognac's rich aroma wafted up as you did so, making your mouth water. Without thinking, you quickly brought your thumb to your mouth, savoring the taste that you adored. Cognac, specifically E40's 'Typhoon VSOP', was your favorite type of liquor— smooth and spicy, with a warmth that spread through your body and a depth of flavor that lingered on your tongue. It always got the job done, providing a special something that other drinks never could.

Unlike dark liquor, clear spirits always seemed to sit heavily at the bottom of your stomach, their sharpness leaving you with the worst nausea in the world. The unpleasant aftereffects were a stark reminder of why you preferred dark.

You leaned over, carefully placing the bottle on the small table next to the couch. As you did, his hand found its way to your hips, steadying you with a firm grip. Once the bottle was secure, you straightened up, turning your attention back to him.

With a tender gesture, you placed both of your hands on his face, your fingers threading through the black and gray hairs of his beard. Your thumbs traced soothing circles on his flushed cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. You could tell he was already feeling the effects of the drink—the telltale signs were all there.

His lips curved into a lazy, contented smile, and his heavy-lidded eyes flickered with intoxication. Soft, wavy tendrils of hair dangled from his loose ponytail and around his temples and forehead as he gazed into your eyes, his look lingering before dropping to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes again. The feelings were deep and you both couldn't help but fall deeper with each other in moments like this.

Your pulse quickened as his hands slowly slid from your hips, slipping beneath the shirt you wore—a shirt that happened to be his. The fabric, soft and familiar, was a comforting reminder of him. You were dressed only in his oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties, your skin exposed and sensitive to his touch. Despite his hands typically being roughened from hard work, they felt surprisingly gentle as they explored the smooth skin of your back.

He traced a path up and down your bare back, you moaned softly, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily as his fingers moved with tender pressure. The warmth of his hands heated up your body the same way the alcohol did.

"You really are the Cognac Queen, ain't you?" he teased. He licked his lips and shifted his hips subtly, the motion causing the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants to press against your wetness through the thin fabric of your panties.

"Yup, Megan Thee Stallion ain't got shit on me," you teased back. He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. His laugh was just as intoxicating as the liquor coursing through both of your veins. The combination of his laughter and the lingering effects of the drink made your head spin slightly but in the best way.

His hands traveled slowly from your back down to your ass, his touch a bit possessive. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping them for support as you lifted yourself slightly, giving him better access. He took the opportunity to grasp your cheeks firmly, his hands squeezing and massaging them. The sensation of his strong hands kneading your flesh made you weak. Your pussy began to pulsate against him.

"Her knees don't got shit on yours either," He lifted you up slightly signaling for you to plant your feet onto the couch. You popped yourself onto your tippy toes and continued to steady yourself using his shoulders.

"You ain't ever lied," you replied while eyeing him mischievously. You started to move, popping your ass to the rhythm of the music that filled the room. Your movements were fluid and sensual, each motion perfectly timed to the beat.

Soft grunts escaped his lips, now flushed red from the blood rushing to his face. His low, half-lidded eyes remained fixed on you, observing your every move with admiration as your hips worked against him. You were completely in your element, your body moving with the same confidence you had when you were out with your friends.

He enjoyed watching you, it reminded him of the way Megan Thee Stallion did when she squatted down to her knees, rocking her hips back and forth. You embodied that same energy, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sight.

"Can you do that with it in you though?" he challenged with his voice low and provocative while watching his bulge only grow bigger. Slowly, he looked up at you, one eyebrow raised. The question hung in the air, daring you to respond.

You paused your movements, the stillness making the tension thick. Your eyes locked onto his playfully. You raised your own eyebrow in response. The corner of your mouth curved to the side as you were ready to meet his challenge head-on.

"Baby..now you know I can do that.." you stated with pure confidence. With his hands still gripping your hips firmly, he responded without words, thrusting his hips upward once again. The sudden movement pressed his bulge directly against your throbbing wetness for the second time, the friction eliciting an immediate moan from your lips.

"Then show me," he whispered huskily. His wish was immediately your command. Without question, you stood from his lap, slipping out of your panties with a graceful motion. He wasted no time, quickly pulling his black sweatpants and briefs down to his ankles, his dick springing free.

You got back on the couch, straddling him once again, your bare skin pressing against his. The tension between you was almost overwhelming. You reached down and grabbed his hardened member, feeling the warmth and firmness in your hand. A small groan escaped his lips at your touch.

He pulsed in your palm, his dick throbbing with need, begging to be enveloped by your walls. You could feel your pussy reacting with the same desperation, the slickness of your arousal making it clear how much you craved him. You were both ready to lose yourselves in each other.

You began to tease both yourself and him, sliding his dick back and forth against your slit with a slowness. The sensation was damn near torture, each glide sending you to the moon. His hardness pressed against your slick folds, the friction driving the both of you insane. You could feel his pre-cum mixing with your own juices.

As his tip brushed against your throbbing clit, you could see him struggling to maintain control. His breathing became ragged, and his chest heaved with each breath. His tip was already drowning in your essence, slick and glistening from the contact. The sight of him so close to losing himself made you almost do the same.

He threw his head back against the couch, his eyes squeezing shut as a whispered string of curses escaped his lips. The guttural sounds of his moans resonated through the room, each curse followed by a sharp breath. His neck muscles tightened, and veins stood out against his flushed skin as he struggled to maintain control.

"Uhn uhn, baby, you better look at me while I put it in. I wanna see that handsome face," you demanded with a soft rasp. He let out a breathy chuckle at your words, finding it cute how you tried to exude the same confidence that came so naturally to him. He had half a mind to be disobedient, to assert his dominance with a stern "No," but the situation was different now. The warm buzz of liquor flowing through his veins, combined with the intoxicating sensation of your juices dripping down his dick, had softened him. At that moment, he was ready to do anything you asked, completely captivated by the power you had over him.

His eyes flickered open, dark and intense, locking onto yours as you slid down his length. You wrapped around him so tightly, his grip on the decorative couch pillows couldn't compare to the grip you had on him. He clung to the pillows, his knuckles white with the effort, but it was clear that your pussy had the stronger hold. His eyes never left yours, maintaining the intense eye contact just as you had demanded. His brows furrowed in concentration, lips parted as moans and gasps escaped him.

Your stomach fluttered at the sight, a rush of butterflies adding to the dizzying arousal. Your heart skipped a few beats, the rhythm stuttering under the weight of the moment. Although this was what you had asked for, you could barely handle the sight yourself. The intimacy of watching his every reaction, knowing you were the cause, was almost too much to bear.

"I can't. Fuck, wait baby." he moaned out. Roman couldn't believe the words tumbling from his mouth. Was he really tapping out on the first stroke? The pleasure crashed over him in powerful waves. Maybe if you allowed him to throw his head back and close his eyes, he'd be able to push through, to regain some semblance of control. But he was so entranced by you, by the way you moved, the way your body enveloped his, that he felt completely vulnerable in more ways than one. Your presence, your gaze, held him captive, it left him utterly exposed. He fought to hold on, to not lose himself entirely.

You also found yourself melting at your own request. You had never had him begging like this before, and the sight and sound of his desperation was different for you. Your knees wanted to give in, and your pussy pulsed around him, gripping his dick tighter and eliciting another deep moan from him. The liquor had a completely different effect on you than it did on him. It made him weaker, and more vulnerable, while you felt a surge of power.

With a slow lick of your lips, you wrapped your hand around his throat. You began riding him, moving up and down with nice strokes. Your titties bounced in time with your hips. You couldn’t help but use your free hand to grab one of your breasts, pinching and twisting your nipple while you watched his face intently.

He remained obedient, his eyes fixed on yours, filled with awe. They didn’t stray from your gaze, except for the occasional moment when they rolled back in sheer ecstasy, only to quickly find their way back to yours. The sight of him fueled your confidence even more. His moans grew louder, matching your movements.

"Mmm, but you can baby. You can take it.. you're doing so good.." you praised, your voice a sultry murmur. As you spoke, you shifted the movement of your hips, no longer lifting and dropping but instead rocking back and forth. The change in pace earned a very faint whimper from his lips.

You were stunned at how you were able to take him, his thick length hitting your most sensitive spot repeatedly with each roll of your hips. The sensation was almost too much. Your moans reverberate through the living room and with the soft strains of music playing in the background. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as you loved on each other.

Your knees began to burn, a dull ache that was overshadowed by the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. The signs of your orgasm were unmistakable, and the feeling grew stronger with every thrust. Your movements became more frantic, more desperate, each rock of your hips driving you closer to the edge. You could see the intensity in his eyes, feel the tremors in his body, and you knew he was right there with you.

"Fuck, look at us baby. Look at what you make me do.." you murmured. Slowly, your hand trailed up his throat, the pads of your fingers grazing his skin until you reached his jaw. You tilted his head downward, forcing him to witness the sight of his dick sliding in and out of your slick, swollen folds.

The visual was mesmerizing. His eyes widened as he took in the view of your bodies joined together, the creamy ring of your pussy forming at the base of his length, glistening with each thrust. The sound of your wetness grew louder, filling his ears with the sound he loved the most.

"Only you can make me feel this way, baby," you moaned softly as you slowed your pace, allowing him to savor every sensation. You wanted to make sure he could see and feel the tugs and pulls your pussy caused around his dick. You wanted him to see the effect he had on you, to witness the power of his touch.

In the background, Megan's music continued to play. The beat motivated you to continue, urging you to ride in time with the music, each thrust synchronized with the melody. He couldn't hear anything but the soft, sensual moans that slipped past your lips and the soft gushy sounds of your pussy.

"Baby, if you keep talking me like that, I'm gonna nut," he confessed, his breath still in ragged gasps as his eyes remained fixed on him fucking you.

You made him look back at you, locking eyes with him, a mischievous smirk on your lips. "Then I guess I'm gonna keep talking, baby,"

"Whose dick is this, baby?" you questioned. Your orgasm loomed on the horizon, but you were going to make sure he came first. There was no way you were going to let yourself finish before him.

He threw his head back once more, a low groan escaping his lips as he surrendered to you. "It's yours," he whispered into the air. In that moment, there was no doubt that you owned him completely, body and soul.

"Aht, look at me, daddy," You could see his jaw clench at your words as his orgasm approached. He exhaled deeply, a sound that echoed through the room, before reluctantly lifting his head back up, his hands still clutching onto the pillows with a desperate grip.

"Whose dick is this?" you asked again as your hips rocked faster, urgently driving you both toward the edge of ecstasy. You felt his dick stiffen up beneath you, he was on the brink of release.

"It's yours, it's yours, fuck, it's yours," he groaned, his voice filled with need as his orgasm coursed through him. "Fuck, I'm cumming," he moaned, the words torn from his lips as you continued to ride him through his orgasm. His hands abandoned the pillows, reaching instead for your hips, holding onto you as his climax washed over him, his body tensing and trembling with the force of it.

You didn't let up, still working to chase down your own release, feeling yourself getting closer with each thrust. The sensation of him filling you up only added to the moment, pushing you ever closer to the brink as well.

Now it's his turn.

With a firm grip, he gathered your hair, pulling it back into a ponytail with his right hand, while his left hand remained steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you through the waves of pleasure.

"You gonna nut for me, babygirl?" His deep voice resonated through your ears, igniting something deep in your core. With sweat trickling down your forehead, your body responded tirelessly to him.

You nodded eagerly, your breath hitching as you felt the tension building in you. Every movement, every thrust, brought you closer to the edge, and you were determined to let go under his touch. His hands worked perfectly, one guiding your movements while the other maintained a firm grip, grounding you.

As you continued to ride him, he met your thrusts with his own, his hips rising to meet yours almost in a dance against the music. His movements were deep, each one grazing your G-spot, sending you into a frenzy.

"Daddy's hitting that spot, ain't I?" he questioned watching you tremble on his lap. "There you go, that’s it baby. Cum for me." As your body responded eagerly to him, your essence flowed freely along his dick, creating a trail down it and pooling onto his thighs. The orgasm brought a constellation of stars behind your eyelids.

As his thrusts increased, your trembling knees struggled to support you, eventually succumbing to ecstasy. He showed no signs of stopping, his need driving him to ravish you with endless strokes.

Your head found solace in the curve of his neck, and your fingers tightened their grasp on his broad shoulders, desperately seeking an anchor.

“Please..” you begged, eyes watering as the torture continued. His hips felt like the pounding of a machine, driving deeper and deeper into the depths of your soul.

"Nah...", his fingers stayed entwined firmly in the curls of your hair, with a gentleness that still demanded your attention, coaxing you into meeting his gaze again. He was ensuring that there was no escape from his eyes.

"Since this dick belongs to you," he continued, his tone filled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill coursing through your veins, "you gon take it like it belongs to you."

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

Shoutout to @caramelcleopatraa for being my inspo for actually pushing this out💐🩷

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @tshepisho @mzv11 @sheyaish

@saintmagx

[luveline]

hiii jade, hope you're having a lovely day/night <3

can i request sirius comforting r after a hard day of studies? maybe with some good ol' domestic fluff?

it's exam season at my school and my world is getting absolutely rocked

thank you for your request <3

“You look tired.” 

“That’s not very nice, is it?” you ask, no maliciousness in your tone nor sarcasm. You sound as sapped for energy as you look, shoulders aching profoundly in a line down your entire back, your eyes sluggish from a day spent reading, and testing yourself, and then reading again. 

Sirius leans against the doorway. He’d been waiting for you when you got here at the time you’d promised, and here he remains looking at you like he might want to eat you or, at least, give you a kiss. He puts his arms behind his back and a slip of his stomach flashes under the cropped length of his t-shirt, exposing pale skin and a threading of dark hair. 

“Too tired for manners,” he says, clocking your ogling. 

“You flashed me. You’re a flasher.” 

You’re too tired to stand there flirting, letting the bag that hangs on your shoulder slip to your elbow, and knowing already that Sirius will take it from you. He proves your anticipation correct, closing the small gap between you to grab the strap. 

It’s his kiss you aren’t expecting. Sirius takes your shoulder in his opposite hand to keep you still, his chin ever so slightly raised as he presses his lips to your forehead. You indulge the both of you and let yourself tilt forward. 

“Did you take lots of breaks?” he asks. 

Not really. “Yeah. I’m tired.” 

“I know,” he says sympathetically. “No more tonight. Let me take you inside.” 

Sirius begins a half-dragging of sorts, ferrying you into his flat and on to his bed. Sirius is a loving guy, even if he’s hard to understand sometimes; you can’t work out how he’s feeling right now, but you can sense the tenderness in his hands as he unties your shoelaces and pulls your shoes from your feet. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t question you anymore about your day, and many might label him uncaring but he’s too busy trying to get you feeling comfortable to ask.

He pulls your hoodie carefully over your head so as not to jostle your chin, unfastens your belt and unbuttons your jeans. Then he pushes his arms under yours and carries you to the top of the bed (not carry, really, but manhandle seems too rough a word). “Okay?” he asks.

He looks you in the face. He really, truly cares. It would be startling if you didn’t know him well already. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Can I have a glass of water?” 

He nods softly. “You can take your jeans off without me? I’ll get you something with less buttons to change into. And some biscuits.” He’s halfway down the hallway when he adds, “Or I can forget the thing with less buttons.” 

You burrow into his white sheets and breathe in deeply. They smell like his shampoo, a consequence of his tendency to sleep with wet hair, but they’re perfectly dry under your cheek, and terribly smooth. You rub your nose into his pillow as you relax for the first time all day. For a few seconds the cacophony of lecture slides and textbooks melts away, because you’re here in his bed with your boyfriend so eager to take care of you. 

His hand where it lands on your back only cements this. “Don’t fall asleep, please. I just need ten minutes to make sure you’re alright.” 

“I’m okay.” You pull your face up. “Did you bring me a biscuit?” 

“Brought you everything I promised,” he says, leaning down to kiss your jaw chastely. “I know it’s hard right now, but it’s not forever. You’re doing well. In a month we’ll be spending our Saturdays entirely in bed. You won’t have jeans on for a minute.” 

You sigh happily. “Will you take them off for me? Too tired.” 

He takes them off, and he pulls the blanket over you murmuring about the cold before he lays next to you with his arm over your back to ask in whispers about your day. Your answers come in dribs and drabs, so tired you forget the water you’d wanted or his promised biscuits. 

You fall asleep under his touch. He kisses your squished nose.

[goaways-stuff]

Sunshine's Baked Goods

Tim Bradford x gn!baker!reader

Summary: Long shifts rarely end in such wonderful things

Rating: PG, but I'm an 18+ page

Warnings: none! fluff. No physical descriptions of reader, just that they like pink.

a/n: requested! To the person who requested, I'm so sorry, tumblr deleted my og post & I lost the request & user. Please comment & I'll tag you!! Briefly looked over, but not Beta'd

It was the morning after a long night shift, and all Tim wanted to do was go home and crash on the closest soft surface, but his stomach was ravenous for a bite to eat first. He tried to ignore it as he packed his stuff to go home, though he knew he would need something. 

It was still pretty early, the sun had barely risen, and not many places were open yet as he drove around, looking for something to eat. His stomach rumbled as he finally saw an open sign lit up. A small bakery right outside of town. His eyes were heavy as he stepped out, his senses overwhelmed with the sweet scent of fresh baked goods and…coffee? Oh, he had hit the jackpot. Definitely not his normal post shift snack choice, with the pink decor looking like a barbie puked on it, but it was open, and it smelled good.

The store was barren as he stepped in, the only sound was the little bell attached to the door, alerting you that a customer had come in. You furrowed your brows and looked up at the clock on the wall. Just past 6 in the morning. Yeah, you were open, but you never got customers this early. You just came in early to get a headstart on baking and decorating cakes. You wiped your hands, though you were sure you still had frosting stains somewhere on your body as you went out to the front with your signature customer service smile. 

“Good morning, what can I-” You were awestruck by the man standing in front of the counter. Tall, muscular, a hunk of a man. “...do for you.” You finished quickly, trying not to ogle. 

Tim looked over the small menu above you, seeing the variety of baked goods available. He looked in the glass, settling on a plain donut and black coffee. As you got a second look at him, you noticed the bags under his eyes and the look of exhaustion on his face and in his body.

“Do you want me to make that an espresso for you?” You asked as you rang him up.

“Not this time, thanks. ‘Bout to head home and crash.” He chuckled, the small smile lighting up the whole room, causing your heart to speed up. 

“Professionalism!” You reminded yourself as you nodded, ringing in the coffee as a water. It was your business, after all. A little discount for a nice customer every once in a while is just good customer service.  

You turned around, pouring a cup of the freshly brewed coffee and making sure to grab the best-looking donut. 

Tim swore to himself he saw you glancing at him. He tried to convince himself that he was just tired, and the attractive person behind the counter was just being polite. He couldn't help but glance back as he watched you make the coffee. And when he finally took the first sip, he swore you had to have put something extra in there. Perfectly brewed, smooth, not too bitter. The donut was soft and melted in his mouth. He thanked you and went on his way, sure that he was just so sleep deprived that he was imagining things. Imagining a connection.

But that didn't stop him from coming back. It became a regular thing after, especially long shifts. You always greeted him with a smile, but he swore again that there was an extra sparkle that wasn't there with other customers. The hot, grumpy man is what he became to you. All your employees made sure to get you when he came around. Though he was never rude, just quiet and to the point. 

You always made sure he had the freshest brew of coffee and the best donut, even if that meant going to the back to the warmer to get one. His order was so simple, yet perfection every single time. 

It was another late night, and you were getting ready to close shop when he came in. You smiled. It was easy to get annoyed when customers came in so close to closing, but you didn't care for him. He looked especially tired, so you brewed him a fresh coffee since you had already discarded the batch that had been sitting for a while. You took care to warm the donut up as something in your body pulled you to take a risk. As he sat down, you wrote your number down on the receipt, at the very bottom. You had to take a chance at some point.

You handed him his food. He always stayed to eat, though it never took him more than ten minutes. You went to the back to finish closing, not wanting to admit to yourself that you were too much of a coward to face him. He left as normal, and you were a little disheartened. Maybe he just didn't see it yet, you told yourself. Or maybe he's taken. Or maybe he just doesn't like you. You tried to calm your spiraling thoughts as you closed, turning off the pink neon open sign. 

You tried not to, but you checked your phone far too often that night, hoping for a text. It wasn't until the next afternoon when you got a text from a new number. You were over the moon, clutching the phone to your chest as your life played out like a movie. The chat ended with a date at a higher end restaurant across town that weekend. It was all you could think about that week. You hummed love songs and made more couple's themed cakes than normal. 

Even at the station, Tim's coworkers noticed his good mood. A little less harsh on all the “Tim Tests,” a little less snappy with his orders. It was the talk between all of his coworkers. 

Date night came, and you scrambled to pit yourself together. Everything about you had to be perfect. Pink accents complimented your outfit. He was even coming to pick you up like a true gentleman, a bouquet of pink roses in hand. So he picked up on that. 

You gracefully took his arm as he led you to his car, his hand right above your knee the whole way. Protective but gentle, not wanting to push any boundaries. He smiled the whole time, more than you had ever seen him before. 

And, of course, the night went great, starting off with the essentials of getting to know each other, but diving a little deeper into what the both of you are looking for in a relationship. He had you giddy the whole night, drowning you in compliments, giving a pink flush to your face. You were no stranger to the flirtations either, compliments flowing about his suit, his freshly cut hair, and how it enhanced his sharp features. 

Your heart fluttered from the butterflies flying in your stomach the whole night, and a longing for more had already set in before the night had ended. He drove you home, walking you to your door step.

“So, next Friday?” He smiled, wanting to hear the reassurance for the next date.

“Yep.” You responded, hearts for eyes. He looked at you, his eyes soft, flashing to your lips, plush and strawberry tinted. It aas a moment of silence, but not the awkward kind. It was filled with tension, begging for one of you to break it. Ultimately, he brought a hand to your face, rough and calloused with a gentle touch, bring you to him as he connected his lips to yours. For such a brooding guy, his lips were soft as ever, lovingly exploring yours. You hands wrapped around his neck as his other hand made it to your waist. It lasted forever but not long enough as you had to pull away for a breath of hair. He followed up with a small peck to the lips and a confident smile. 

“I'll see you then,” He said, though you both knew he'd be coming to the shop before then. 

[her-favorite]

HER DAY; M. BEER

MADISON BEER X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, soft dom!reader/sub!madison, scissoring, i think that’s it besides the usual

wc: 4,226

a/n: REQUESTED! i promise all of the other mads requests are in my drafts!! <3 - after seeing a vid of mads (a few years ago) with another girl and she literally squeezes her ass, i’m gonna be using this knowledge to my advantage

SYNOPSIS: Arranging your girlfriend, Madison’s, birthday party was always fun for you. Not only that, but it was even more enjoyable when you get to spend the entire day pleasing her..

tags!: @mattybsgroupie @chrissv4mp @marvelwomenarehot0 @cuntymilaa @y0urval3ntine @mseilishmwah @emotionalblues @pinksturniolo <3

-

“Happy birthday, Madison.”

It was March 5th, which only meant one thing: it was your girlfriend’s birthday!

You had arranged the entire party, inviting all of her friends so Madison could enjoy it to the fullest. You tried to do it all in secret, wanting to surprise her, but you knew Madison could read you like a book. Despite that, you spent the entire week before her birthday making the plans and reaching out to everyone. Thankfully, the majority of them had accepted and were free to stop by.

Once Tuesday came, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You still hadn’t broke, keeping the surprise from your girlfriend, but you could tell she was skeptical.

The morning of, you had showered her with every type of affection in the book. Madison always loved her birthday.. because of how special you made her feel.

“Morning.” Madison rasps, her voice low as she stretches her limbs slightly before curling back into you. Her head rested on your shoulder as she nuzzles her face into your neck, long arms wrapped around your body. The sun that peered through the curtains hit the girl perfectly, accentuating Madison’s pretty features.

“G’morning, birthday girl.” You smile, squeezing your arms around her softly. Her hum reaches your ears as you chuckle, rubbing her back. Your hand reached under her baggy crewneck, gliding your palm along her soft, smooth skin. You litter kisses along the side of her head, as much as you can reach with her hiding in your neck.

You had decided to let her sleep in a little, since it was her birthday.. and how could you say no to her?

Once you both had gotten up, Madison stepped foot in the shower as you promised to join her soon. Sitting on your shared bed, the sound of the water running filled the house as you scrolled through your phone. Checking your messages, you counted the people that were going to make it to Madison’s party. A good amount had accepted, which only elevated your mood since you knew how much Madison cared for her friends.

Responding back to a few of them, you shut your phone off as you rush to join Madison. As you walk in, your eyes wander her figure through the marbled glass. Her arms raised to wet her hair under the stream of water, showcasing her pretty figure.

Immediately, you reach for your clothes to strip them off of you. Licking your chapped lips, you place the fabric on the counter before sliding the door open. Madison glides her hands over her eyes to get the water out before she looks over at you. A smile takes over her lips before her hazel eyes rake along your bare body.

“Hey, baby.” She hums, moving over slightly to let you get in as well. As you walk under the stream, you let the water glide over you before you feel Madison’s hands reach for your hips. Her soft palms travel over your skin, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, contradictory to the warm water that was cascading down your body. Her hands don’t stop as they move down to your ass, squeezing the plush skin. You chuckle at her action, knowing how much trouble she has keeping her hands off of you. “Mm, you’re always so soft.” Madison coos.

You smile at her gentle words, letting your hands fall to her sides. Moving the both of you, you help her under the water as your hands card through her hair gently. “Wanna take care of you, sweetheart.” You mumble, reaching for the shampoo. Pouring some onto your palm, your rub it together before gliding it along her hair. “It’s your day, Mads.” You say. Your fingers scratch into her scalp, eliciting a hum in response from her.

She leans back into you as you wash it out, making sure not to get anything in her eyes. As your hands move through her hair, they go off track and travel down her body, grazing along her skin. Your palms hover along her chest as you cup her breasts, an exhale of air escaping Madison’s pretty pink lips. Squeezing softly, you keep one of your hands there as your opposite glides down her stomach. A shiver passed through your girlfriend’s body as you smile, loving the reaction you cause her to have.

Your fingers skim along her thighs, avoiding the one area Madison needs you to touch. Her thighs automatically tense as your fingertips tickle along her inner thighs. She moves her legs slightly, leaving you with better access. The water that lingers on her body helps your hand glide easier. Your fingertips tease her as Madison whines impatiently.

“Y/N, c’mon. Please, I — ” Madison starts before she gasps as your finger parts her lower lips and glides along her slit. Gathering her wetness, your finger slides through her easily.

“God, Mads, you’re so wet.” You breathe out, lathering your fingers. Before Madison could reply, you rub your finger pads along her clit, circling the sensitive area. She lets out a moan, leaning back against you. One of her hands reaches back and grasps your hip, pulling you as close as possible to her backside. Her acrylics dig into your skin, making you hiss.

Your other hand stays on her breast, your thumb teasing along her hardened nipple. Leaning forward, your lips press soft kisses along her shoulder. Your finger moves down her slit, gliding along her entrance as her hips jut forward, needing you to do something. The way you teased her never failed to get her going, the way your fingers pleasure her already bringing her near the edge.

Pushing your middle finger inside, Madison whines at the invasion of it. You coo, still kissing along her soft, wet skin. “Doin’ so good.” You mumble, slowly moving your finger. Adding another, the squelch of the action sounds through the room, mixing with the noise of the stream of water hitting the floor.

Darting your tongue out, you lick a spot on her neck before you suck on the skin. Madison’s eyes are closed as she basks in the pleasure, occasional whimpers leaving her pink lips. She arches into your touch, letting you do what you want to her. You wanted to make her feel good, it was her birthday, after all. You knew that she was gonna try and repay you after you make her come, but you wanted today to be about her, and only her.

“My pretty girl.” You hum, pulling back from her neck. Your eyes take in the mark you just made on her skin, your lips curling up. Madison moans at the combined feeling of your skilled fingers and your praise. Your words always brought her closer to the edge, adding to her euphoria. Your hand squeezes her tit once more before moving down to tease along her clit. At the added pressure, Madison’s back arches as she pants, her chest heaving.

“Fuck! ‘M’gonna.. please..” Madison whines, her voice a tad higher than usual. Her nails dig deeper into your skin, definitely leaving her mark. The sensation makes you gasp, pressing your front against her back. The feeling of your breasts being squished against her back makes goosebumps form on her skin, her head falling back. Her slicked back hair, drenched with water, drips down your shoulder, giving you a better view of her expression. Her plump lips are parted as she pants, her eyes scrunched tightly closed as her chest rises and falls faster and faster.

“You gonna come f’me, baby?” You ask, your fingers only moving faster against her. She immediately nods, a whine leaving her mouth as her thighs start to tremble slightly. “Go ahead. Wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.” You coo.

At your words, the knot inside Madison’s stomach bursts as she moans out your name. Her back arches as her legs shake, your fingers helping her ride out her orgasm. “Happy birthday, Mads.” You whisper in her ear as she comes down from her euphoria, leaning a lot of her body weight back on to you. Gently pulling your fingers out of her, you wrap your arms around her stomach and kiss her neck. “Did so good, baby.” You praise, moving your lips to kiss next to her ear.

Madison breathes heavily as she nods appreciatively, still too out of it to verbally reply. Your thumb draws soft circles on her skin, somewhat dried from having stood outside of the water stream the entire time.

Her hand that was on your hip travels down to the back of your thigh, gripping the plush skin. “Want you to feel good, too.” She mumbles, fluttering her eyes open to look over at you. Shaking your head, you press one more kiss to her shoulder.

“Today’s about you, Madison.”

After finishing washing Madison’s hair, you take your turn before shutting the shower off. Stepping out, the mirror was fogged as you reach forward to wipe it down. Wrapped up tight in a towel, Madison does the same as her hair drips down onto the soft fabric.

As you both get ready, you finish before Madison does. She touches up her makeup as you give her a quick kiss to the cheek before walking back into your bedroom to your phone. Turning it on, you take it off of the charger as you look for any new messages. Inwardly, you try to think of how to set up the decorations for the party without Madison noticing.

Replying back to some more people, you shut your phone off again. Thoughts swarm you as you try to brainstorm, thinking of any way to go through with your plan without Madison getting too suspicious of your ideas.

The next few hours had went by fast as you and Madison make plans. Over the time, you had decided that you’d get in contact with some of your friends - and Madison’s - to help decorate while you distracted your girlfriend, taking her out. Maybe it was a bad idea to trust the Sturniolo’s with the decorations, but you and Madison loved them, so.. how bad could they do?

It was the evening when you and Madison had gotten back to your house together. You had taken her out on a romantic date, the both of you dressed up. It was sweet and fun, the both of you talking as if it was the only thing you both knew how to do.

On your way back, Madison did not know how to keep her hands off of you.

You would giggle and try to protest as her hand would graze your ass, begging to move under your dress and touch you. Eventually, you took her hand in yours as she pouts, realizing that she can’t put her hand on you anymore. You reassured her that she’d have all night to do that.. and more..

Walking up the steps to your front door, you unlock it before Madison presses against you, locking her lips with yours. Her lipgloss tasted of cherries as she kissed you, desire seeping through the movements of her lips desperately moving against yours. Walking backwards into your house, you peek your eyes open slightly, only to realize it was pitch black. You smile into the kiss, knowing everything was set.

“Happy birthday!”

Madison jumps as she pulls back from you, her brown eyes wide as she looks around. You noticed the slight pink hue to her cheeks, realizing her friends just caught her basically shoving her tongue down your throat. Her hands dart up to cover her mouth as she smiles wide, looking at everyone.

You look around, taking in the scenery. A large banner that you had asked the triplets to set up said: Happy Birthday Madison! on it. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you notice a little squiggle, another letter written on top of it. Must’ve been Chris’s doing. Scattered streamers hung from the ceiling, livening the area.

“Did you do this?” Madison asks, a cute, wide grin still present on her face. You smile and nod, chuckling as you feel her arms immediately wrap around you, hugging you tightly. “I love you so much.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. You feel your heart flutter at her sentiment, repeating it back to her with just as much sincerity.

“Go have fun, Mads. I got you some dessert in the fridge.” You say. Her eyes light up even more as she leans forward to give you another peck before dashing away. You laugh as you finally shut the door and make your way inside. Finding the triplets, you hug them each.

“Thank you guys so much.” You say, squeezing Nick. “I couldn’t have done this without your help.” You smile. Your eyes pick up the way Chris and Matt shrug in unison and Nick’s smile widens.

“‘Course, girl. We’re happy to help.” Nick replies, rubbing your back softly before you both lean away from the hug. The other brothers nod as well.

“Yeah. Sorry for the spelling, by the way.” Matt speaks up, pointing to the banner. “This dumbass decided it’d be a good idea for him to write it.” He says, pointing to Chris beside him. The latter smacks his brother’s arm. You chuckle, waving it off.

“It’s fine - ‘s’not that big of a deal.” You dismiss, smiling.

After making your rounds and thanking yours and Madison’s friends for coming, a drink had made its way into your hand. By the time you and your girlfriend finally crossed paths again, you both were tipsy. Madison was giggly as she talks, her hands unable to keep to herself. Her palms squeeze your hips as she pulls you close to her, her body heat radiating off and onto you.

“You look s’pretty.” She slurs slightly, grazing her lips along yours, but not outright touching them to hers. You smile at her words as you look up at her, glancing from her mesmerizing hazel eyes to her glossy pink lips. Your eyes can’t help but scan over her outfit, a fitting black tube-top, matched with a cute skirt. You lick your lips as you look her over, a sudden desire taking over your body as you crave to feel her body under your hands. “Want you.” Madison mumbles, her palms moving to grab a handful of your ass, not even thinking about anyone else that was in the same vicinity as you two.

Your lips collide as you moan against her, your hands reaching up to cup her cheeks. Your tongues dance as your need grows, your hand moving to the back of her head. “Upstairs.” You whisper against her wet lips. It was obvious you two wouldn’t be able to wait before everyone left, and your tipsy mind hadn’t even put that into account. It was clear Madison felt the same.

Hastily make your way up the stairs, you and Madison rush to your bedroom. With shared giggles and fast, heated kisses, you finally find your way to your shared room. Shutting the door behind you, your lips still connected to hers, you lock it as you turn quickly, pressing your girlfriend to the door. Your lips intertwined, the kiss turning messy as need takes over. Your hands grasp at her hips, frantic hands moving along her body. Madison whimpers into the kiss, her acrylics scratching against you as she grabs for any bare skin she can find.

“Need you,” you pant against her lips. “So bad.” You suck harshly at her lip before pulling away, dragging her lip with you. Madison exhales shakily as you do so, eyes fluttering open to look at you. Your eyes are half-lidded as you watch her, coated with lust as they meet hers. “Want you on the bed, pretty girl.” You say breathlessly, tapping her cheek softly with your thumb before pulling back.

Madison immediately follows through, biting her bottom lip as she looks up at you, sitting at the end of the bed obediently. You stand in front of her as you teasingly strip, revealing your lacy black set that you had hidden under your clothes. You smile once you notice the way her eyes widen, taking in your figure before her.

“Fuck, Y/N..” She whispers, her heart race picking up as she feels her arousal pool, soaking a patch into her panties. Her thighs clench as she watches you, your hands moving along your body.

Taking a few steps forward, the liquid courage that was still in your body heightened your state of need. Your legs perch on either side of her thighs as you straddle her. You lean your forehead against hers as your lips graze, the feeling of your hot breaths combining fueling the craving. Madison gets too impatient as she moves forward, smashing her soft lips against yours. You hum into it, feeling Madison’s hands move up your thighs, squeezing the flesh before tracing over the lace of your lingerie.

“Y’look so fucking pretty.” Madison breathes out before quickly pressing her lips against yours, as if she couldn’t live a second without feeling them on hers. Your hands lift to her neck, trailing down until they hook under her tube top, wanting it off. Madison gets the message as she breaks away from you temporarily, lifting her arms as you toss the little fabric away, the sound of it hitting the floor not reaching your ears as you’re too caught up in the way Madison’s lips taste. The flavor of the bitter liquid that she was perviously drinking lingers on her tongue, mixing with the kind you had been consuming.

Your palms glide down, groping her chest as she moans into the kiss. Your fingers rubs circles on her nipples, the sensitive area immediately hardening at the feeling. You pull away from her lips to press kisses against her neck, slowly leaning forward to make her lay on her back on the soft mattress. Madison’s chest rises faster as seconds go by, your touch already affecting her. Your lips glide down her smooth skin, kissing along her collarbone, down to her breasts.

Teasing your lips around the sensitive area, you dart your tongue out to lick along her nipple. Madison shivers as she gasps, her hand moving to rest on the back of your head. You suck, a whimper leaving her lips as your tongue lathers the skin. Popping your lips off of her, you repeat the same process to her other boob before kissing down her stomach.

“Please, baby. I need — ” Madison begins to beg.

“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You coo, hooking your fingers in her skirt and tugging it down, bringing her panties with. “Tonight’s all about you, Mads. Gonna make you feel so good.” You hum, kissing along her inner thighs. Your hands part them, giving you better access to her wet pussy. You lean forward, licking a line up her slit. Madison gasps, her hands balling the sheets in them. You kiss along her wetness, staining your lips as you moan at the taste of her. The vibration only brings Madison closer, her hand moving down to clutch at your hair as she moans in return.

Enveloping her clit, you suck as Madison’s grasp on your hair tightens, her back arching. You smile against her, bathing in her reactions to you pleasing her. Your tipsy state only makes your movements messier as you lap at her arousal. Moving down, your tongue strokes near her entrance, eliciting a whine from the girl beneath you. Not wasting any time, you plunge it inside, moving your tongue the way you’ve grown used to - the way that brings her the most pleasure.

Madison moans at the way your tongue curls inside her, her acrylics scratching your head as she tugs at your hair. Bringing your hand away from one of her thighs, you circle your finger on her clit, bringing her even further into pleasure. Your tongue greedily laps at her, needing her to let go and give into the euphoria that was building up in her stomach. Your nails dig into her other thigh as you feel your panties get wetter, needing her to satisfy your desire.

At a certain curl of your tongue, Madison moans loudly as her thighs shake, her hand clutching at your hair as she keeps you in place, her back arching off of the bed. Yelping out your name, you quickly devour what she releases, all while you look up at her as she cums. You hum against her, helping her ride the waves of pleasure out. The added vibration only drives her sensitivity higher as she whines, her thighs clenching.

Pulling away, you move your hand as you place a few kisses to her clit. “Did so good, baby. Look so fucking hot when you come for me.” You praise, kissing back up her body. Madison pants as her hands move to your hips as you lean back up. Swiping away her wetness from your chin, you balance yourself with your hands on either side of her head as you lean down to press your lips to hers. She sinks into the kiss, her hands moving up your body to unclip your bra. Taking it off, you let her slide it through your arms as she tosses it to the side, all without breaking the kiss. Her tongue dances with yours as she eagerly tugs down your panties, pulling away just to watch the way your arousal sticks to the thin fabric.

“Fuck..” Madison exhales, licking her lips as she watches. You smile, biting your lip as she gets worked up all over again just from seeing how wet you are for her.

You help her take them off, throwing the material again. Madison grabs your hips tightly, bringing you as close as possible to her. “Want this to be about you, princess.” You say, trying to deny her nonverbal request. Madison pouts and shakes her head quickly, disagreeing.

“Want you against me. Wanna feel you, Y/N.” She pleads. And how could you deny that?

Taking her leg, you situate yourself in a more comfortable position as you move your hips down to press your most intimate areas together. The both of you gasp in sync at the feeling, your lips parting. Gripping her thigh tightly in your hand, you start to rock your hips. The wetness of your arousal helps glide you against her, the feeling eliciting a moan from you.

You move your free hand down and press on her pelvis, adding pressure as you grind against her. The friction against the both of your clits elicits moans as your hips only seem to go faster and faster as minutes go by. “Mm.. y’feel so good, Mads.” You pant, the sloppy sounds of your arousal mixing with hers filling the room, taking over the sound of the music that was playing downstairs. Your nails dig into her skin as your thighs tense, your lips parted as all they do is heave.

Madison whines, higher pitched than any of her other noises tonight. It only spurred on your movements as you rolled your hips down harder, wanting - needing - more of her sounds to hit your ears. The way your hips moved against hers offered the best friction as it hits yours and Madison’s most sensitive parts, rubbing your clits together as it helps to bring you both to the brink.

At a particularly rough thrust, the pressure became too much as Madison cries out, her hands taking the sheets beneath her as she calls out your name. You smile, but ultimately utter out, “Shh, baby. Don’t want everyone else hearing how good you sound when I fuck you.” You knew your words had an affect on her as Madison whimpers at them.

“Can’t — ” She stutters out, gasping for breath as her peak teases her. You let out a shaky exhale as you get hit with the perfect pressure, your thighs tensing as you moan.

“Come with me, Mads.” You whimper out. “Wanna feel it.” You pant. You nails dig into her skin, marking her with half crescent moons, irritating the skin. In that moment, Madison couldn’t care less, all she felt was the overwhelming euphoria as you bring her to her third climax that day. “Such a.. good girl.” You heave before your orgasm hits you hard, your legs trembling as you moan her name, the both of you riding out the harsh pleasure of it all.

You balance your palms on your girlfriend’s stomach as your body begs to go limp. Her thigh falls back onto the bed, Madison’s eyes closed as she tries to catch her breath. “You did so good.” You coo breathlessly, leaning down to gently kiss her stomach a few times before moving up to lay beside her. Licking your dry lips, you look over at her. Her eyes flutter open as she follows your movements, smiling as she makes eye contact with you.

“Hi.” She giggles.

“Hi.” You repeat, reciprocating her smile. You reach out and wrap her up in your arms, pressing a kiss to her hair. She snuggles into you as she shuts her eyes.

“Happy birthday, Madison.”

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part five

art by the incredibly talented @piaart!

author’s note: finally have this finished but man is it hard to be satisfied. i keep wanting to work on it and work on it but i also really wanted to get this out! also don't even know if this is good teehee. lots of awkward here. 4.9k words. part one/two/three/four. ao3 linky.

The date is going surprisingly well. You chose an Italian spot (ha!) and have had your fill of lobster ravioli and Cabernet Sauvignon all while you learned more about Dylan since he graduated high school. Went to a state school in the middle of bumblefuck, drank and drank some more, got overly into the college culture (emphasis on cult) and tipped a few cows in his time. It aligns perfectly with the slivers of information Catherine gave you through the years, though he’s mentioned nothing of the steady college girlfriend he supposedly had. Interesting. You laugh at his dumb jokes. You’re smiley. But it does feel like an act that’s partially fueled by alcohol and having someone’s attention on you.

He’s still talking but you’re admiring his small, button nose, how his brunette locks shape his face and his bright smile. You can’t help but think his face is a little too smooth, though. Has this boy been through anything meaningful? Has he suffered at all in his shiny little life? Your mind drifts back to Terzo’s rough hands and how they felt on you earlier that day. He forced you to your knees and it was clear that it wasn’t the first time he’s done so. You can still taste him on your tongue.

“You haven’t told me about your job! Aren’t you like an assistant?” Dylan snaps you out of it and you offer a shy smile.

“Yeah! I had to get out of that call center, man. It was like draining my life force. Not that this isn’t difficult but it’s nice to not be yelled at by some rando on the phone for hours a day.” You toy with your glass of wine.

“So, like what do you assist in? Is it just you?”

Huh. You’ve never really explained exactly what you do to anyone. Not even Catherine or Erica — you only really focused on Him. That won’t go over too well in this situation, will it?

“It’s just me and it’s mainly house maintenance right now. My boss’ place was a disaster when I started.” Perhaps the most watered down description of your job.

“So you’re like… you’ve cleaned it up?” There’s judgment in his voice that’s immediately sobering. He stares at you blankly.

“I guess I meant more like projects. The last big one was fixing up his yard. I had to manage the budget and scheduling of the landscapers and stuff.” Your voice is flat.

“Oh, okay gotcha.” Dylan nods and he is back to smiling. You’re seething on the inside. Was your answer acceptable to him? “What’s your boss like? Is he a guy?”

What the.

“Yeah, he’s a guy. He’s a little weird. Definitely eccentric. I’ve tried not to pry too much into his personal life, you know. Boundaries and all that, but when I first started he had me sort out some of his things and it looked like he used to be the lead singer in a band.” Another oddly phrased question. At least now you’ve been prompted to bring up the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“Oh, shit! That sounds awesome! What band?”

Oh, do you hesitate. A long silence stretches between you two.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should say. I don’t want to blow up his spot or anything.” You’re sheepish suddenly and Dylan notices.

“Aw, come on. Who am I gonna tell?” A good question. You drum your fingers on the table, thinking about how you’ve never really told anyone who your boss actually is.

“Catherine will tell me if she finds out.” A warning, last one until the big reveal. Dylan nods enthusiastically, some of his hairs falling into his forehead. For a split second you think that maybe if you were younger with much less life experience perhaps he would be perfect for you. But you know too much and you know that he wouldn’t be able to give you what you want. “It was Ghost.”

“Oh.” He makes a face and leans back in his chair.

“Oh? Sorry, is that not impressive enough?”

“No, no. It’s still cool. They’re just… I don’t know.”

Do you continue this conversation? Do you care what he thinks? You don’t…but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“What is it, Dylan? Are they lame? I’ve tried to… you know, not dig too deep into it because I feel like that would affect my professionalism.” That and you didn’t want to completely pry into the man’s life.

“Oh, I get that. Uhhh, I mean they’re not REALLY metal. They say they’re metal but they’re not so it’s just a little weird.” He shrugs and crosses his arms. You knit your brows together because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Right. Okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, they are basically like pop. Not metal, not at all.” He sounds so impassioned and you nod along but it feels inappropriate. Why is he so pressed? It turns you off even more and you do everything in your power to get this date wrapped up. You are done drinking and you’re too full for dessert. Responses shorten and eventually you’re out front on the sidewalk waiting for an Uber. Dylan has insisted on waiting with you and hovers just a bit too closely by your side. He seems a little oblivious to how this date has gone, bless his heart.

“Well, this is me.” Awkward, so awkward. You move to get into the car but Dylan stops you by your arm and leans in for a kiss. It’s truly over before it starts, a quick peck before he pulls away with a smirk. You are dying on the inside.

“We’ll hang out again soon, yeah?”

“Sure. Yes.” You lie and hurry into the Uber, wanting nothing more than this wretched day to finally end.

Terzo blinks awake. The cool air of the night pricks his cheeks. Leaves crunch beneath his soggy socks. He coughs, blood spilling from his mouth and splattering on his thick chest hair. A robe hangs loosely from his shoulders. Terzo’s eyes drift down to his hand to see he’s wearing his black gloves with sharp, golden nails. He squints and there’s something black stuck to one of the points. Gaze drifts to where he is. His driveway. A breeze rolls by that sends shivers down his spine as his eyes focus on your car.

He’s slashed one of your tires.

Terzo cackles wildly upon this realization. This is new even for him and his weird, otherworldly tendencies. Could be straight up mental illness. He takes a few lumbering steps forward before crouching to eye the tire, surveying the damage. Completely shredded with the rim touching the ground. There’s a familiar buzzing in his skull, a buzz that he used to get while performing. How far he had fallen. Still, he’s delighted with himself. A fitting punishment for the way you crushed him earlier. What hubris you had for leaving your car on his property. Rage shoots through him for a quick moment, the thought of you spending the night with your date crossing his mind. Would this boy drop you off in the morning? He could plan for that.

In his fits of unsatisfying sleep, ideas for being cruel sprang to his mind. He’s settled on ignoring you for most of tomorrow, to have you toil away waiting for any kind of attention but to no avail. Terzo would be watching you the whole day, of course, hidden away in dark corners and peering down from atop the grand staircase. He has always been the best at sneaking around undetected out of all of his brothers, having avoided so many moments where his father could have reamed him out due to this expertise. Primo and Secondo weren’t so lucky.

Sharp pang in his chest from thinking about them.

No, no. He must focus on you. He pushes the thoughts back to the void. You’ll be trapped here at the end of your workday because of this, wouldn’t you? That’s when he’ll reveal himself. He’ll torture you. Tease the information of your date out of you.

How well could it have gone when you are so devoted to him?

The house is cold without him, a shiver running down your spine every time you found yourself in a dark corridor. You try to keep your thoughts to a minimum and are somewhat thankful that the contractor was able to come today. He’s a quiet man but seems to enjoy your cheerfulness which breathes life into an otherwise miserable day. Between directions and answering questions, you would wander the first floor and hover by the stairs, listening for any signs of life only to hear silence. The last time you saw him flits through your mind — the pressure of the hand on your neck that forced you to the ground seconds after he angrily spat in your face seconds after he kissed you. What the hell. You should be furious at him for treating you that way, for leaping over the carefully placed boundaries the two of you have been dancing around for weeks.

But instead you sigh dreamily. You burn for him. Cheeks grow hot just from thinking about his rough hands on you. You hope he’s okay. And you’re sure he is, he’s a big boy.

The fact that you’re more worried about his feelings than you are about potentially losing your job over this is not lost on you. You’ve lived in constant fear of getting fired over the smallest mistakes since the start of this job but you are oddly calm about this situation. This feels like a natural progression. There was going to be a time where you had to confront this strange connection and you would rather it happen sooner rather than later with the way things have been going. As painful as it would be (emotionally AND financially) to say goodbye to him maybe it would be best for it be sooner rather than later.

The day goes by at a painfully slow pace with no sign of him. Anxiety builds and builds as you watch your clock tick down on your phone. You’ve taken to painstakingly wiping down every single mirror on the first floor (there is an absurd amount of them) because it takes up time and gives you something to focus one. After a while interacting with the contractor becomes painful for you, too heightened to be able to function in a normal social setting. You send him home early with a smile, being Friday and all, and you continue carrying out your mirror mission. This takes you to around 4:30 at which point you say “fuck it” and decide it’s time for bed! What is the point of even being here anymore when you could be under your comforter with a pint of chocolate chip ice cream as you ponder your existence?

It was an easy decision.

You meander out the front door, making sure not to slam it shut but have it at least be somewhat loud to announce your exit. Yes, you are stooping that low. A quick wave of relief washes over you because you made it. The day is over and while the issue looms you are at least out of his domain. Car keys jingle in your pocket. You make quick work of the walk from the porch to your car until the state of your tire stops you in your tracks.

“Oh my god!” You’re in disbelief. It’s like an animal chewed through the rubber. Your rim is on the ground. Tears start to well up in your eyes. This is it. This is the thing that’s pushed you over the edge today. A frustrated screech bubbles up your chest.

“Come back inside.”

You freeze as soon as you hear his voice. Spinning on heel, you turn to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, leaning against a column on the porch. His dress shirt is the darkest black you’ve ever seen, partially unbuttoned to show off thick chest hair and cut slacks show off his strong thighs. Did he get dressed up for you? His paint is crisp and hair is slicked back neatly. Fuck, he looks good*.*

“I can get an Uber?” A question as if you’re asking him permission, taking a few tentative steps towards him.

“Hmmm. No. I’ll call you a driver.” A rough response but you can’t help but feel warmth blossom in the pit of your stomach. “Get back inside.” Terzo growls, his gaze stern and pointed. He leaves you alone in his front yard. You feel silly by how hard your heart hammers in your chest but this is what you’ve been wanting all day. A moment passes by and you work up your courage to go inside and take your punishment. Thoughts of your shredded tire fade.

You walk inside the foyer and follow the sound of clinking glasses, finding him at the bar in the den. Terzo’s gaze falls to you then he directs you to the couch with his eyes. You silently follow the order and sit on one of the couch cushions furthest away from him. There’s a lump in your throat, fidgeting with your hands as you wait for him to join you. Eventually he turns around to face you with two drinks in his hand, one a red martini with a lime green umbrella and the other a pint full of something gross looking - not beer but still brown? His face is blank and you try to match his energy but it’s hard to keep your blush at bay. You reach out to take the martini from him but he pulls it back out of your grasp and instead presses the pint into your hand. The smell fills your nostrils: whiskey. Yuck. He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, allowing for plenty of space between you two.

“You’ve called the driver already, right?”

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes but you’re still not sure you believe him.

Terzo’s arm stretches across the back of the couch, gloves just brushing your shoulder. Your grip on your whiskey tightens. This isn’t his usual charming aloofness, there’s something cold and cruel bubbling beneath the surface. Still, you want nothing more than to speak to him, even if he’s obviously pissed at you. He lifts his other hand up to his face, admiring the sharp golden nails adorned to his leather gloves. Eyes slowly drag from them to settle on you, gaze so piercing and yet uninterested in you.

“So, you had him pick you up here, si?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Drink.” He points at your glass and narrows his eyes. Not playing around. You do as he says and take a sip. “Keep drinking.” Lip twitches in a faint show of satisfaction as you bring the glass up back to your lips and take a deep gulp. There’s delight in his eyes and you’re more than happy to play the game just to see more of it. Your eyes twitch and you cough once you set the glass, the whiskey burns your throat.

“It was convenient for him.” Words are rough from the sting of alcohol.

“Ohh, was it now?” Terzo growls and digs his nails into the couch, tearing into the fabric. The sound gives you goosebumps. You open your mouth but he’s too quick. “Finish your drink.” He snaps, daggers for eyes that sends a chill down your spine. You swallow thickly and toy with your glass with the tips of your fingers before bringing it back up to your lips. Head tips back, the room swirls and you swallow down the rest of the liquid.

“Gross. Ugh.” Grimacing as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s less of a drive for him and I’m a pushover, okay?” You sigh, only partially joking. His eyes noticeably soften. You sink deeper into the cushion. “I said yes to this date because it was with my best friend’s older brother who I’ve known forever and I’ve always had a crush on him.” Terzo’s fingers shift from the couch to your shoulder, his nails just short of tearing through your shirt, his anger coming back up to a simmer just below the surface, but you continue on unafraid.

“I had to see what would happen. You have to understand… you build the thing up in your head as something perfect and special but then when you actually actually experience it…” You deflate and you eyes wander away from him, wanting to look anywhere else. “It’s never as good as you imagined it. Plus, he was a garbage kisser.” You immediately regret the words as soon as you say them. They hang heavy in the air and the air catches in your lungs. You feel him shift on the couch but you can’t bring yourself to look until his his hand curls around by back of your neck and forces you to look at him. Eyes sharp like knives.

“You let him kiss you.” A statement, not a question. Terzo makes you watch as he slinks closer to you. There’s like a current coming off of him right now that has you paralyzed even though you so badly want to protest. You whimper, words getting caught in your throat as he reaches for you. He grabs you by your waist with the tips of his claws poking against your skin, that delicious danger teasing you as always. “How did it compare?” Terzo trills, a charming smile with vicious edge. Hoo boy. Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“It didn’t compare at all.” You whisper as you try to sink as far into the couch as possible. Not because you don’t want to be close to him but you’re confused. Everything about this feels like a trap, like one wrong answer could set him alight but you’re not exactly fighting it. Instincts are telling you to run but you stay exactly where you are. Terzo’s hand drift up your sides, suggestively squeezing you in all the right places until he’s holding you by your shoulders. He’s smiling wider than before and there’s glee in his eyes — he’s pleased with you. A torrent of heat shoots through your core. He doesn’t say anything, merely taking in your reactions to his touches. His finger tips glide across your top, nearly clipping right through it until his hands settle around your throat. He squeezes just enough to make you gasp for air, then leans in to you, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel his hot breath on your lips.

Tease.

“I could hurt you.” Terzo muses against your lips, lashes fluttering and eyes wide. There’s a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. Silence passes comfortably between the both of you as you take in each other’s breaths and warmth.

“I know. I’m… afraid of that. But it’s why I’m here.” You feel drunk, the words just tumbling out of you but you don’t care anymore. He is so close to kissing you that you can nearly taste him but instead he pulls away with a wry smile.

“Your glass is empty.” Terzo snickers and then jumps up in a way that can only be described as cat-like, snatching the glass from your hands. You’re left hot and bothered as he turns his back to you to saunter over to the bar. Alone with your thoughts while you watch him pour you another generous whiskey. Oh no. Oh no. You can still taste it on your tongue and it is not for you. But when he turns around with the warmth and charm you’ve been wanting all doubts are gone. You’re going to be messy tonight and that’s just that. When he turns back to face you he’s at least given you half of what he did the first time, walking slowly over to where you’re sitting on the couch.

He looms over you as your eyes drift up to meet his gaze and he audibly growls. You suck in a sharp breath, your nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. Terzo lifts a hand up and brushes his thumb along your jaw before tilting your chin up. He brings the glass to your lips and tips it back. You part your lips, the whiskey burning as it spills down your throat. He continues to pour until you can’t keep up with it and it leaks out of your mouth and down your cheeks. You gasp and he flings the glass down onto the side table as he crushes his mouth against yours, unable to keep away from you any longer.

And you certainly don’t care that he all but purrs into your mouth, soft lips moving against yours. He cups your face with his gloved hands, leather thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he slips onto the couch beside you without breaking the kiss. Fingers curl around his wrist and you press in close to him, losing yourself in how he tastes. His velvety tongue probes your mouth as the kiss grows in intensity. Deep pants try to keep your feet on the ground but you’re off in space, exhaustion and comfort mixing in a way that has you floating. Terzo pulls away from the kiss and you can hardly open your eyes. He gently guides your head to his chest, stroking his fingers through your hair.

“You never called me a driver did you?”

“Oh no. Never considered it.” Terzo squeezes you in his arms.

Oh, he’s so warm. A rumbling groan falls from your lips as his wraps his arms around you, just holding you there. Your limbs relax and you sink deeper into his chest as he starts to rubs up and down your back. In that moment you know you’re a goner. A deep, sleepy sigh falls from your lips and in a matter of minutes you are out cold.

Terzo almost feels guilty for being such an ass. Almost. He feels for you, he can relate to realizing that something isn’t all it was cracked out to be. At least for you it was a childhood crush and not being raised for one person. But still, he was a tad mean wasn’t he? It was necessary and the tension… the tension had been so delicious. Watching you squirm under his intense stare. And you just did what he said, unquestioningly, even when had you drink and drink and drink. Adrenaline is pumping through him and he struggles to contain himself— he must not go any further, despite how tempted he is. He could get away with it. You’re so soft, so pliable and so wanting. Terzo can feel the heat radiating off of you, no doubt from the alcohol and your closeness. He could slip his hand between your thighs and give you exactly what you want.

But it wouldn’t be fair to you. Terzo wants you coherent and focused when he takes you. Plus you’re adorably snuggled against him right now, your soft breaths against his chest. He’s longed for this and you did not disappoint. Wait a minute. Are you sleeping? He is about to fall apart, his arms wrapping so much tighter around you. The urge to keep you safe, to keep you here and never let you leave overcomes him*.* He squeezes your hand that is clutched to his chest and then gingerly picks it up and places it back in your lap.

“Sleepy?”

You lift your heavy head to look at him and good god do you want to be asleep right now. A tender smiles breaks out across his face as he swipes some of your hair from your eyes. A stark contrast from how close he had just been to strangling you.

“Take the guest room tonight, puffetta. I will bring you some clothes.” Terzo pulls himself to his feet. “Meet you up there.” He’s so soft, so different than how torturous he was of you earlier. You’re sure he’s heard what he’s wanted to hear from you but he’s unpredictable. Something you liked about him. There’s an unknown darkness that lies beneath his charm and good looks and it calls out to you. You’ve never felt this way about anyone. How could you ever get away now?

You blink and realize that you’re alone. You’ve been alone. Oh shit. Scrambling off of the couch, you trip over your own feet with the effects of the whiskey hitting you hard.

Ah, the guest room. A cramped space with antique furniture that could use some time and attention. The overall theme of the room is… dust. You’ve brought up having the dresser refinished or even repainted and replacing the peeling wallpaper but it’s low on the list of priorities. You push the door shut and give a soft sigh of relief. Shoes come off. A lamp on the bedside table barely illuminates the room and a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt are waiting for you on the bed. Eyes scan over the remainder of the comforter and pillows, wondering if anyone had ever slept here. You can’t help the feeling that you’re being watched but maybe the fact that you’re about to wear your boss’ clothes isn’t meshing well with the practically decaying room.

“Whatever.” You huff to yourself and undress with the grace of a toddler, kicking your pants off and throwing your removed clothes into a pile on the ground. Sitting down on the bed, you pull up the sweatpants and they are loose as they settle around your waist. The shirt slips over your head and swallows up your upper body. Did he purposely give you his largest clothing to make you feel small? It is so cozy, though. You wrap your arms around your body and flop back onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the blankets. Comfortable heat spreads across your skin from buzz of the alcohol. Limbs go limp and your eyelids grow heavy, a deep sigh falling from your lips. Fading fast.

The piercing ring of the rotary phone cracks through the air and you jolt upright and wide awake. What the? You don’t remember seeing it when you came in and it’s not like it blends in — it’s bright red with intricate black etchings along the base and the handle of the receiver. Not a speck of dust on it. The phone rings again, somehow louder and more harmful to your ears than before. You blink and suddenly you’re standing directly in front of the dresser with one hand curled around the receiver. Heart is pounding in your chest and ears. Something is calling out to you. Answer it. Answer it. Answerit. answeritansweritansweritanswerit.

You pick up the phone to silence. Then chittering. The receiver is hot on your cheek. Something pricks your ear but you can’t pull away. There’s a squelch. A screech. More screaming. It only gets louder and louder, needles in your ears, pain shooting through your brain. You can’t breathe. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers and shuffle your bare feet against the cold floor, the only thing you’re able to get your body to do other than press the phone so hard against your head. The closer you listen to the screams the more familiar they get, growing in intensity, pain and volume. Burning, the receiver is burning now and yet you can’t move, you can’t get any relief. The phone cord is nearly completely tangled around your wrist and you’re sweating, gasping for breath, and crying without even realizing it. The screams finally subside, replaced by a cold, dead silence.

You hang up the phone.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washes over you and you collapse onto the bed. The world spins as you sink into the soft mattress, the dial tone still echoing in your ears.

[no-nameno-face]

Auburn Thoughts (Pt.5) WITH AUDIO

[READ STORY FIRST]

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Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary:  With a hot shower, Ellie makes sure you feel better. Much, much better.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, Fingering (R!receiving), Choking (R!receiving), Praise, Commanding, Shower Sex

Author's Notes: basically just smut lmfao, sorry it took me so long to get part 5 out. I've been going through a lot of shit in my personal life so i wasn't able to write at all. Def in a depression but its okay lmfao. I kinda hate my writing in this but i wanted to push myself to start again, so this is me trying to get back into it. i think im gonna write a one-off next cause i really want to make an audio with ellie having a degradation kink... what do we think? anywhoooo... Thanks for being understanding. Love you guys <3 

PART 4

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 “Do you wanna hop in the shower?” she smiles before standing and walking towards my bathroom… turning to me when she reaches the door and tilting her head at me, playfully.

“Are you coming?”

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My body is on autopilot, hopping up and walking towards Ellie waiting in the doorway. My brain, on the other hand, is stuck on the idea of seeing her, exposed and drenched. Watching her body move through the water, seeing every part of her. My heart thuds in my chest.

Steam hits my face as I reach the bathroom door, slightly ajar. I take a deep breath and with shaky hands make my way into the bathroom. 

My shower is blurred with steam, I see her silhouette through the foggy glass. My eyes trace her contours. They follow the lines of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips to the toned muscles of her arms visible even through the vapor. I want to engrave this image in my sketchbook forever, in my mind forever. 

I turn and begin peeling off my shirt, then my pants. The pulsing in my ears is deafening, the tightness in my belly growing. As my clothes fall to the floor I look back to the shower, I see Ellies head snap away when I do. I flush at this. 

Steadying myself, I walk to the sliding door and let myself in. Ellies under the hot water facing away from me, It's hard to peel my eyes from her. I hungrily observe her shoulders, strong and muscular, leading to her petite waist then the swell of her hips and, oh jesus. Her ass. I choke on my own spit and start coughing, real fucking smooth.

“You okay?” She turns to me smirking, my arms shoot to cover my chest. How is she so brazen, confident? I mean shit with a body like that I would be too. My eyes dart to her newly exposed skin, her small perky tits that sit perfectly on her frame. Then they quickly shift down her stomach to her… “Take a picture, it will last longer” she says with a sideways smile. My eyes shoot up to meet hers. Then it's her turn to explore me, I feel her gaze burn my skin and my cheeks burn in response. Her eyes leave me, turning back to put her face under the water. The heat in me is searing now. 

“Your turn,” she says with a smile shifting so I could take her place under the hot water. I shift past her, feeling her nipples graze my back and my ass slide across her exposed skin. It takes every ounce of self control to not gasp at this small contact. The water hits me and it's warm, embracing. I relish in the feeling of it, pulling my hair over my shoulder letting it swell with water. Then I feel hands on my back, I startle at this.

“Woah woah, so jumpy.” she says with a smile in her voice. I turn slightly and see her with soap bubbles on her hands, “is this okay?” she asks.

“Shit sorry, yeah it's fine. Thanks El’s,” I turn back to the water, staring past the wall as her strong hands span my back. They shift down so slowly, she's paying attention to every part of my skin. As they approach my lower back she begins to circle over and around my hip bones, hands resting on my stomach. I wonder if she could feel the inferno I was radiating. Her hands went up my abbs circling the bubbles over my skin, now tracing under my boobs. I feel her body gently press against mine, I sharply inhale at the feeling of her skin flush with my own. 

“Can I?” she whispers into my neck, her breath and gentle touch sending chills down my spine. 

“Yes,” I sigh, barely audible. Then her hands, and the suds, are massaging my tits. My head tilts back onto her shoulder and I close my eyes as a small sound escapes my lips. She chuckles lightly at this. 

“You're so easy to please,” her finger flips over my nipple and I jolt slightly at this. A curse spills from under my now heavy breathing. After a moment of her playing with me she firmly turns me so I am pressed against the wall of the shower. It's cold against my back, the sudden sensation is shocking. Thrilling. I look up at her through my lashes, lust radiating in my eyes. They are met with devious amusement. 

Pinning me with one arm she traces the other hand across my collar, then down my sternum. She watches her hand make art on my skin.  I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling of her fingers on me, gentle as a butterfly wing. Her fingers trace down and circle my navel, then lower. My eyes open, nervous and they are met with green. Begging for permission. I smile at her shyly and shift slightly making myself a bit more open for her taking. A silent yes. 

She bites at her lip, her gaze darkens slightly and suddenly she's there, her fingers sliding through my slick, feeling me. My eyes shoot close at this unfamiliar contact. They run through my folds slowly then back to the top hitting my clit softly, I gasp at this. My hands grab at her, any part of her I can grab. 

[START OF AUDIO]

“No one’s ever touched you like this?” she questions, I can hear the smirk on her tongue. She circles my clit with her fingers and my responding sounds are her answer.

“You’re so Innocent…” she sighs. Then slowly begins tracing back down my folds, my eyes open at the change in sensation searching for her, I'm met with darkness. 

“Makes me want to wreck you.” suddenly her finger is pushing into me, i feel my walls tight around her. She pulls it out slightly and thrusts it back into me, firmly. 

“F.. fuck! Oh my… Oh…” she's going in and out now, curving her finger into me, it's a feeling I've never known but one I never want to stop. The sounds are graphic, I feel myself soaking her knuckles as she lays into me. 

“Does that feel good?” She asks knowing full well it does. She just wants to hear me say it. I can't get the words out. Her finger withdraws from me and she crooks her head, demanding a response.

“Yes! Yes it feels.. Feels so.. So good..” I say begging her to continue. I look at her with big eyes. “Please, please keep going.” she smiles at me, so ready for her taking. So eager for more. This time there's a soft stretch as she pushes two fingers into me, hitting my spongy spot sending moans from my mouth into the acoustics of the shower, they echo off the walls. She moves them at a slow firm pace. Harder. Deeper. My hips subconsciously rock into her hand, helping her reach further into me. 

“You're doing amazing,” she smirks before her lips dip into my neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin. My hands tangle in her hair, pulling lightly as they fumble through her locks. “Taking my fingers so well.” she whispers against my skin, her hot breath branding my skin. Her lips return with a gentle kiss, then a soft bite. 

“Mmm… El’s” I say pulling her closer into me.

“Do you want me to go faster?” she pulls back and looks at me, one eyebrow raised. My eyes are wide watching hers, 

“Yes,” I plea. Her eyes don't leave mine as her fingers pick up in tempo, my slick sounds now louder than the shower water hitting the floor. Her gaze is drunk with lust, pleased with the power she has over my body. I feel myself quake against her fingers, she feels it too.

“You like that?” she says, her free hand skimming up my torso, running over my erect nipples until her hand rests on the throat. She squeezes lightly, pushing my head back into the shower wall. Hot water trickles down my face, the pressure making me a bit lightheaded, I feel my eyes roll back. 

“Yeah you do,” she sighs, tilting her head in amusement. Her assault on my cunt is ruthless, the rhythm, unbearable. My vision is turning blurry, with the stunted airflow. It's pure euphoria, but suddenly her grip on the throat loosens.

My hands shoot to her arm and pull her hand back to its place. Firmer than before, long fingers wrapped around the span of my throat. She huffs at this. 

“You want more?” her fingers tighten, cutting off all air flow. 

“Greedy girl.” her fingers swirl inside of me, my eyes open and everything is blurry and tinged white. My body is trying to gasp for air to no avail, and it feels so.. so.. good. My head is getting lighter, lighter, all I feel is her fingers, my ears ringing. Her hand releases and I take in a gulp of air. She grabs my jaw firmly.

“Say my name.” she commands. I am still gasping as her face slowly comes back into focus. Her fingers slam into me, hard. “Say it.” This time her voice is soft, this time it's her begging. 

“Ellie!” I yell, “ellie.. ellie..” my voice gets softer as the pressure builds in my core. I feel like I'm going to implode. 

“That's right,” she pushes her palm into my clit applying rhythmic pressure that creates a symphony with the beat of her fingers. I can't hold it anymore. 

“Ellie… P.. Please.. I'm gonna. I'm gonna..” 

“Yeah? You're gonna cum?” devious eyes. My body is clinging to the edge. “Go ahead baby,” she grabs my throat again and pounds into me. 

“Cum for me” I explode around her, cursing through the high that overtakes me. Her fingers somehow hit my spot harder, faster, intensifying the sensation. Pleasure surges through me and leaves me shuddering in its wake, my knees shaking. She slows when I relax around her and slowly, so slowly, pulls her fingers out of me. I shiver at the sensitivity. 

[END OF AUDIO]

She softly pecks up my neck, to my lips. Pulling back to look at me she brushes a damp piece of hair from my face behind my ear. “You're so pretty when you cum,” she smiles at me, holding back a laugh. 

“Fuck off,” I playfully push her shoulder, embarrassed by my show of desperation. Her laugh escapes and its music to my ears. 

“I'm just saying,” she says smirking, “It's hot.” she shrugs, turning to splash some water on her face. I cross my arms to cover my chest, oh my god. Thinking about her fingers, the feeling of them stretching me out. Her breath on my skin, her hand around my throat. “I'm gonna dry off, meet you out there” she says winking at me before climbing out of the shower and grabbing a towel off of the hook. I watch the silhouette of her leave and I melt to the floor. 

The water cascades down my shoulders and back, my skin is so sensitive. What the fuck. What is she doing to me? My heart is pounding in my chest, and somewhere else. I like her. I like her too much. What does she think this is? Am I just a easy fuck? Is she just an easy fuck? That thought is gone as quickly as it arrives. She's more than that to me. I feel it. And it scares me. What am I to her? I raise my head letting the water coat my face. It's not that deep, I reassure myself. It's fine. I'm fine. She's fine. We are fine. 

We?

Fuck.

[satyricplotter]

(suggestive, slightly explicit content at the end)

Even though you’ve been expecting the visit for most of the night, the Red Hood knocking at your balcony door at 1 in the morning still catches you off guard. You scramble off the couch in a sleepy daze, book falling off your lap and cracking open on the floor. For one long second, the only thing you can think of is that whoever your last assignment was has managed to find you, that you’ve finally been too sloppy and left a trail with which to track you.

That’s your first thought. Your second thought is, of course, Barbara. But before you can reach your phone to shoot your boss a SOS, or, at the very least, an alert, a second rasp at the window panes freezes you on the spot.

“Will you open the damn door?” Red Hood’s unmistakably robotic voice grits out. “It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

You trip in your rush to open the doors, limbs loose and clumsy with relief. Hood shoulders past you with a grunt, fingers prodding at the back of his head to get at the latch of his helmet. He takes it off in a smooth motion, his hot breath forming a white cloud against the cold air of your running AC. You lock the balcony back up after him as he goes around your apartment, setting his helmet on your dinner table and shrugging out of his jacket. He means to stay apparently. You could’ve lent him an umbrella if he wanted to go back out there. Probably would’ve been best.

See, you don’t like the Red Hood much.

He invites himself over to your kitchen, opening cabinets here and there until he chances upon the dinnerware and pulls out a glass. The Gotham public infrastructure is in such state you have never once attempted to drink out of the tap, but you don’t stop him when he does. It is, technically, allowed. And he had the pitcher full of filtered water right under his nose, so. You wait impatiently as he downs two whole glasses of tap water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand (there is a perfectly usable kitchen towel draped over the oven handle).

He glances over, notices you staring. The corner of his lips quirks up. “How obedient,” he mocks. He pats at his sides, pulls a folded envelope from somewhere in his body (the Bats have endless pockets, you’ve come to learn) and tosses it on the table. “There’s your file. You better be fucking thankful. Traipsed through half the city in this shit storm just to get you these.”

“Thank you, Red Hood,” you say politely, picking up the rumpled envelope and eagerly flipping through the files. “Much appreciated.”

Red Hood rolls his eyes at you, eternally put off by your insistence on following the proper channels of conduct. “Whatever. You got anything to eat?”

“Help yourself,” you tell him.

You walk back to the couch with the file in hand and leave him to make himself whatever he will, already too distracted by the information within to care that you’re gonna have to make a second grocery run when he’s done with your fridge. Red Hood rummages through your cabinets, pulling out far more stuff than he should for a midnight snack. At one point, he asks if you’ve had dinner, and you respond him with an absentminded (and truthful) negative. The files he’s brought are the latest Robin’s swiped from the team’s ongoing investigation on a dicey arms exchange deal that may or may not involve three out of four of Gotham’s biggest conglomerates (sans, of course, Wayne Enterprises). It’s your job to process the info—a task too menial and too tedious for Oracle and Red Robin, respectively, to handle. Besides, Tim’s far more useful on the ground.

It must be about twenty minutes of you pouring over the pages scattered over your coffee table when the man speaks up again. “Dinner’s ready,” he says.

You look up to see him setting two plates of steaming stir fry on the table. He’s taken off his gloves, his utility belt, the domino mask and rolled up his sleeves—the whole nine yards. Only missing the apron. The food looks lovely, but of course it does. Cooking is listed as a specialty in Red Hood’s file, right along with marksmanship and hostile takeovers.

Your lips quirk up at the unexpected kindness, but you shake your head. “None for me, thanks.”

“I said,” Red Hood says, placing his gun on the table menacingly. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

Well. So much for kindness. You’re about as dumb as Red Hood’s subtle, which is to say only at your benefit and very much at will, so you only sigh and push the papers aside. He watches you rise and sit, and pick up the fork, before he does the same. You eat in silence.

After a few bites, you stop being disgruntled at his coercion and grateful that he’s got something other than a protein bar in you because you were, in fact, quite hungry. That’s not something you can say—or at least not in any way which he would accept, so you just shut up and eat your meal happily. That seems to be enough for him, as he watches you finish the whole plate with a satisfied expression.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, actually,” you beam.

Even when he stands and brings the dishes over to the sink to wash, you are reluctant to leave your spot at the table. You watch him rinse and sponge the plates and pan, the knife and spoon and cutting board, and your afternoon tea mug. He washes his hands thoroughly and rinses his mouth with the dubious tap water again. A thorough, judicious man. He’s played remarkably nice this evening. You wonder if Oracle’s been pulling his ear to leave you alone.

When he finishes, he walks slowly the remainder of the narrow hallway of your kitchen back to the dinner table and leans against the threshold. The long line of his body catches you off guard, always so unexpectedly graceful despite his musculature, his brutality. You hold his gaze serenely, trying not to cave under his scrutiny.

This is why you don’t like the Red Hood. Every time he looks at you, he sees you wholly. As you are. Not, crucially, as you want. It has been this way since the first time he laid eyes on you—a single glance and he had taken the measure of you. No further explanation, no time to make amends. And what’s worse: he expects you to be honest. He expects you to say what he can read in your face. He doesn’t let it go when you deflect, when you coat your truths in niceties. He wants it raw and open.

You can’t play dumb with Jason Todd.

He breaks the silence first. “Were you expecting Grayson this evening?”

The non-sequitur catches you so off guard you break eye contact accidentally. What’s Nightwing got to do with anything?

“No?” You say, evidently baffled. “Nightwing’s been off-world all week. Why would he be coming around?”

He cocks his head to the side, sucks in the bit of flesh below his lower lip. "So you knew it was me who'd be coming around?"

"Obviously?" What is he going on about? He clearly doesn't believe you, either. It's childish when you stomp your foot and whine, but he always brings out the worst in you. "I'm serious, Hood. I've been waiting for you all evening. Just you."

Jason pushes off the wall and approaches, staring you down with slightly raised eyebrows. “Then, if you knew Dick wasn't coming with, what are you looking so fuckable for?”

Despite how much it bruises your pride, you cannot help but sputter. The staring is one thing, the passing brushes are another—even the stupid pulling at your pigtails like you’re both in kindergarten is… permissible. But this? Coming at you so straightforwardly when all you know how to do is circumvent and hide? Desperately, you respond to the one thing in that sentence you can make sense of: the accusation.

“I don’t like Nightwing,” you whine. Jason fixes you with a look of dry incredulity. You huff. How you despise him. He can’t even let you lie. “And I don’t dress for him either.”

“Hm.” He reaches over to pull at the neckline of your admittedly skimpy top, his knuckle brushing against your chest. “Sure.”

You bat his hand away, and stand up, but that leaves you much closer to him than you expected. Or wanted. “This is not fuckable,” you grit out. “This is… pajamas.”

Jason cranes his neck to take a close look at you, every bit as assessing as the first one had been. One of his large hands comes to play with the hem of your shorts, pushes it up just a smidge, and the pads of his fingers are rough and calloused against your outer thigh. Your eyelids flutter, and he has the nerve to smile.

“That’s a blatant lie, you know,” he says, dipping his head low so the words brush against your lips. “Try a little, huh?”

“This seems like a you problem, my guy,” you snap, so close you might as well be speaking into his mouth. You need to get away. You don’t.

Jason’s smug when you gasp after his hands close around your ass and bring you forward, flush against his body. The hardness in his pants trapped between you, a pressing weight just below where it should be. Should be? What are you—but Jason adjusts before you can scold yourself, lining up your crotch with his and grinding. It feels bigger this way, which is insane because it's already pretty fucking huge, and a hot flash of desire runs through you lightning-quick and just as obliterating. You slump against him, head on his shoulder.

“That’s my problem,” he murmurs against your ear. His thumbs press just under your asscheeks, playful. “You gon’ do anything about it?”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Paper Rings - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 750 Summary: Signs of you are all over Joel's bedroom in Jackson. Warnings: Smut, slight somnophilia, drinking.

Masterlist

Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, I picked Lover because I've been listening to a lot more of it as the weather begins to get warmer. "Paper Rings" is definitely not my favorite Taylor song, but oh my god I LOVED writing this about Joel, it fits perfectly for him.

***

The story of your romance with Joel Miller could be told with just one look around his bedroom. 

The picture frame on his dresser with a picture that you painted of the two of you the night you met.

It was quite a meeting, a quick slip on the ice as you stepped off the curb on your way to the Tipsy Bison to celebrate Tommy’s birthday, Joel jumping towards you to catch you. His hand grabbing your blue jacket’s shoulder before you fell into the large pool of water leftover from the melting snow. You both making your way to the Bison together, his handsome face taking your breath away once you saw him in the light of the high moon. You became fast friends, urged on by Tommy and Maria’s matchmaking. Your friendship accidentally turning into something more after a night of drinking and dancing together in Joel’s kitchen. The two of you sharing your first kiss as you slowly swayed along to a Neil Young record. The kiss turning heated, turning into Joel taking you from behind as you gripped his kitchen countertop.  

The books you’ve read stacked up on the table beside your side of the bed. Your favorite chapters marked with the bookmarks you made.

He’d always try to bring you home a book to make up for how early he’d have to leave for patrol on Monday mornings, the day always being more sad and dreary due to his absence. He’d always succeed at not waking you up until he’d kiss you goodbye. He found it hard to control himself when he’d hear you let out a small sleep drunk moan as his lips touched yours. Some mornings he could manage it and walk away, and others he’d be late to the stables, leaving you satiated and smiling after gently fucking you in the light of dawn. 

The comforter rumpled on the floor in the corner, left there from when Joel threw it off the bed last night before he made love to you.

Your glass is still sitting on the coffee table half full of wine, the thought of finishing it out of your mind once Joel began kissing your neck. You were teasing each other all day, playing a game of cat and mouse. Biding your time until both of you couldn’t take it, Joel stalking behind you up the steps as he threw his shirt off and started unbuttoning his jeans. 

The t-shirt of Joel’s you wear to bed with the large blue paint stain on it from the time you helped him paint Tommy’s house. 

He loves to see you in it, your body filling it out in places he loves to touch. He loves how you smell of him whenever you wear it, how it sits against your smooth skin. He loves it when you ride him while wearing it, seeing his clothes on his girl as you grind your hips.

The sheets on the bed always on your side, Joel sleeps warm, he never needs a blanket.

You like to watch him sleep, his face more at peace, his breathing relaxed and slow. A small grunt usually escaping his mouth when he turns away from you, followed by a hum of contentment when you wrap your arm around him. Sometimes you’ll wake up before him just to watch the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you take his cock into your mouth. Joel always waking up thinking he was having a dirty dream until he looks down and meets your eyes staring up at him. A small half smile as he realizes what comes next, his tired eyes growing larger with lust. 

The jewelry hung from the hooks surrounding the mirror above his dresser. 

The mirror that Joel loves to watch himself kiss you in. Sometimes because you had a long night. Sometimes because it’s the best way he knows to tell you it’s gonna be alright. Sometimes because he waited his whole life for you. He loves to stand behind you and watch his reflection touch you, he loves watching you gasp as he sticks his hand down your pants. 

The paper rings on each of your nightstands. 

Joel secretly teaching himself how to fold them as a way to surprise you until he could find a ring that would fit you. He just couldn’t wait to make you his wife.