#f: the mountain between us

[dilftaroooo]

Not sure if your requests are closes right now sorry if they are-

But you should do Yuji fucking fem!reader or eating her out and Sukuna switching with him in the middle of it 😊

nonnie im so happy to breath the same air as u

★tags: aged up characters + afab reader + she/her pronouns + spanking + oral (f. receiving) + fingering + implied piv sex (very brief tho) + praising + sukuna bashing yuji smdh.

Your beloved boyfriend always manages to find himself emerging in the sloppy heat that rests between your thighs. Salmon fields adorned with restless digits splay across the top of his head as he licks and laps at you desperately. It's good pussy for the soul and he would hate if he would've missed this opportunity to have you sing out his name while you involuntarily send pressure to the sides of his head with your rigid thighs.

Your chest heaves and ho's at the heavy mass of passion with each inconsistent breath you take--jagged whenever Yuji coos at your hard clit, telling her how he's obsessed with her and her owner before giving her a light peck.

"I want you to fuck me already, Yu." You croak impatiently, wiggling your hips to emphasize your desires but Yuji gives you a quick slap to the side of your ass and squeezes it right after.

"Not now, baby. Let me enjoy what's in front of me first. Can I get that?" He watches you under the rise of your pelvis. His words are soft and whispered in a tone he always uses with you whenever he wants to feel you clench. Honey-glazed globes look at the feast upon him amorously. Your previously shaven hairs start to grow into stubble as it retrieves itself back to its original state; wet and coated with your juices. He buries his nose further.

A moan was a good enough answer for your boyfriend and he keeps doing what he was born to do. You continue to plead for him as he eats you out. "I'm right here, lovely. Not going anywhere." He'd respond with each fervid call.

His sucks at your cunt arouses you tenfold once you feel yourself coming to that edge at the tippy top of a mountain as gusty winds roughly kiss at the apples of your cheeks and the lids of your closed eyes. It's easy to tell you're close as Yuji hums into wet folds causing you to rattle.

"Oh fuck, Yuji. Keep going, sweet boy. 'M gonna come soon..."

Your nails cautiously dig into his scalp, not enough to hurt him severely, and your legs wrap around bulging muscle for support of your incoming orgasm. His body glistens under the light of the living room and blesses you with each defined section of muscle to pop under dark shadows.

But the devil is a conniving bastard for your reach to climax was interrupted when you flinch at the harsh bite gnaw at your clit, sending you to scurry backward away from the abrupt pain but strong arms keep your legs in place to force you into more torture. Looking down, you noticed Yuji's canines were sharper than usual. His skin was tainted in elongated markings, ones Yuji had never worn. His nails were painted in a deep violet and you think to yourself, 'Yuji couldn't have possibly put that on so fast,'.

"That sappy shit was starting to churn my stomach. How about you do that whenever I'm not possessing you? I already get nauseous knowing I'm living inside a fucking idiot." His voice was deeper too.

"Y-You're Sukuna, right? Yuji told me about you." You've never seen eyes glaringly red like his--four of them. They all watch you with a look of interest paired with a cunning smirk.

"That's right, dollface. Very good. Glad you know of me already, so we can skip the greetings." He resumes his host's previous ministrations but turns it up a notch by adding a finger or two to your drooling pussy. He teases a glossy, purple tip along the quivering hole before pushing in deep. As soon as he learns you can perfectly take one, he puts the second one in. A grin remains still on his face when hearing your moans crescendo.

"My, my. You're already soaking my fingers, dove. Guess that brat is doing something properly for once. Slobbering all over the couch, fuck, can't remember the last time I've seen pussy like this." His index and middle fingers dance across the gushy ridges in you, he moves them in ways Yuji knows you love and that feature shocks you.

He gorges on your clit and eats your pussy out like it's his last meal on earth before being sentenced to death. Saliva runs down the length of your labia, bubbles forming along the way by his boisterous lapping. Your hips can't resist gyrating against his face, ruby red remains settled on your helpless figure as you revisit that same high as before. You bathe his fingers with cum til they prune and you're too overstimulated to feel sorry.

The couch dips and you're instantly turned around on your stomach, facing the decorative pillow you believed matched the aesthetic of your living room.

"Hey, what're you-"

"You said you wanted to get fucked remember? Your cunt is still drooling cus she's hungry. Didn't give her enough." The smacks he gave your ass were harder than Yuji's and that just goes to show how rough this curse really is but you writhed nonetheless.

He was gonna fuck you good. You already figured much as hands grip around the fat at your hips and his cock carefully grinds into you.

[soullumii]

carry out | javier peña x f!reader

javier peña x afab!reader

summary: javier’s messy way of dealing with business causes the two of you to work late. he offers to buy you carry out to apologize for making you stay late (and, more reluctantly, for making you miss the date you had planned). then he offers something else to make it up to you.  warnings: 18+ content mdni, smut [oral sex (f receving), unprotected piv], soft!javi, smiley!javi, sassy!reader, praise kink (for both reader and javi), javi likes to please, pet names (chiquita, baby, querida, sweetheart, angel), lots of uses of the word ‘fuck’, might be a little ooc?, no use of y/n. word count: 5k-ish?

inspired by carry out by timbaland

---

The last time you looked out the windows of the U.S. embassy, the sky was fading from blue to a pale orange. Now, when you peek up from the mountain of paperwork in front of you, the stars are the only thing visible, everything else bathed in darkness.

You can't remember the last time you actually went home on time from your job as a secretary. It had to be before Peña and Murphy started working here. With them around, your overtime hours stretched longer and longer. 

It’s for a good cause, you remind yourself. Because, truly, it is. Catching the Narcos is top priority. It’s just hard to remember that when you’re drowning in paperwork and have to cancel the plans you had made a week ago for this shit.

“Look, I’m really sorry again. It’s still crazy over here,” you apologize into the plastic transmitter for the second time this evening, twirling the curly wire around your finger. The first time you called your date was a couple hours ago when you had to relay the unfortunate state of your situation: multiple things to do and not nearly enough hours in the workday to do them. Thus, staying overtime.

“No worries. We can go out tomorrow instead.”

You smile, “Thanks, Michael. That sounds great.”

You hang up the phone and the moment it hits the switch, your expression transforms into a deep frown. You send the most withering glare you can manage to the only man left in the room and the cause of all your problems: Javier fucking Peña. If looks could kill, yours would, but unfortunately, they cannot. And Javier doesn’t even seem to notice, his nose buried in his own respective papers. The hard line of his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes, the skin between his brows pinched in a way that makes you itch to smooth it out. Not for his benefit, but for your own, because it is awfully infuriating.

His normally perfectly coiffed hair is curling over his forehead, ruffled a bit at the edges as if he’s been anxiously running his hands through it, and one hand twirls a pen between his fingers while the other is pushed up against his temple. Seems like the long hours are getting to him, too. 

Good.

“Michael again, huh?” Javier comments, still staring down at his documents. His pen scribbles on a notepad. “He’s… clingy.”

You staple a few papers together, and if the stapler clamps down a bit harder than you mean it to, you can hardly be at fault for that.

“If that’s clingy, I worry about the women you’ve been with. They probably thought you hated them.” You retort, not looking up. 

“Quite the opposite, angel.”

Arrogant bastard, your mind supplies. 

You don’t grant him the satisfaction of a response, focusing instead on the work in front of you. And you want to scream. Or cry maybe. Because this is literally all his fault. 

If it weren’t for the shit he bothered you with earlier, and the multiple times he interrupted Ambassador Noonan, you wouldn’t be here trying to play catch up—rescheduling all the meetings she had to miss and filing reports for the classified information Javier “stole” from the files room, to which you did not give him permission to take, but still received shit for anyway. 

And, of course, you received shit for “letting” him in. Which you did not do! He had just waltzed in, hours after you had told him multiple times that he was not allowed in and that you were not allowed to let him in. 

You glare at him again, and this time he’s looking at you, a single dark eyebrow raised. 

You’d quite like to strangle him. 

“You gonna tell me what these looks mean or am I just supposed to guess?” He asks, bemused. 

“I’m mad at you,” you grit.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

The papers in your hold crumple as your fingers tighten. You can hear your molars grinding against each other as you try to hold back your anger. This fucking asshole—! 

“Is this about earlier?”

“Yes. It is.”

He sighs, setting his pen down. “Look, we really needed to get that information and I already said—“

You interrupt him again with a barely concealed snarl. “Sure, right. You’re sorry, and you needed it, but I’m always the one that has to deal with the fallout, while you go prance about and fuck whores and get congratulations. And now we’re here late and I had to cancel my date and I’m so behind.” You bury your face into your palms with a groan of exasperation.

You peek through your fingers to glare at Javier again only to notice... is that …guilt reflecting in his brown eyes? Gods above, you didn’t think he was capable of feeling that emotion, or any, for that matter.

(You know he is. There had been a few times at the local bar with Steve, or in the parking lot after a late shift when he had shown the other side of him. When he’d talk about his family, or life back in the States, you saw something other than a flirtatious smirk or a tense look on his face. Something softer. Warmer. It was…disarming. And terribly addicting.) 

Even so, this whole situation is because of him, so you push away the instinctual urge to forgive him just to wipe that look off his face.

Javier stands, straightening his papers and shoving them in a manila folder stamped with the word “CLASSIFIED” on top. You drop your gaze back to your work, trying to drown out the sound of him packing up.

Yeah. Fine. You go home, while I’m stuck here. 

You’re almost able to read the words swimming in front of you when you’re interrupted by Javier leaning over your desk on his elbows, his leather jacket stretching audibly over his broad shoulders. He drops your coat down next to him on the polished mahogany and you tilt your head to regard him with suspicion, a snarky remark on the tip of your tongue.

He beats you to the punch. 

“Are you even getting anything done anymore?” He asks, gesturing to your papers. You’ve reread the same paragraph about five times by now, you think. 

“Actually, yes—“

He rudely interrupts you with a crooked grin. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. You’re terrible at it.” He taps your coat with two fingers. “Come on.”

“But I’m not done y—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupts, again. “I want to get out of here and you need to get out of here. Seriously. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay for it to make up for my shitty behavior.”

You stare at him in genuine surprise, jaw slack. “Wow, the Javier Peña can actually admit when he fucks up? I’m in shock.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a complete ass.”

“That’s debatable.” 

He frowns. “Do you want food or not?”

“Are you threatening to go back on your word? That’s low even for you, Peña. I’m pretty sure when you’re in debt to someone you’re supposed to be treating them with respect—“

He grumbles and turns for the door. “Never mind about the empanadas, then.”

Your chair audibly screeches over the tile flooring as you jump up, slinging your jacket over your shoulder. “Wait! I’m coming.”

You try your damn best to ignore the amused smile on his face that, to your chagrin, makes him look rather handsome as you follow him out to his Jeep Cherokee.

“If I had known food won you over so easily I would’ve used that a long time ago.” He jokes as he turns the car on. You buckle yourself in.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to be so eager next time. I’m only accepting this because I was deprived of my meal tonight.” 

He pulls out onto the road. 

“Sorry you didn’t get to have a date full of awkward pauses and subpar food, sweetheart.” 

You scoff at his audacity. "Goes to show how much you know about enjoying something other than sex with a woman."

"I know how to take a woman out on a date," he insists, glancing at you.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, you're terrible at it," you echo his words from earlier back at him with a saccharine smile.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

After a moment, he finally speaks again, tone genuinely sincere. “I hope you know I really am sorry for everything and making you stay late."

It takes you by surprise, and you meet his stare. His brown eyes look almost black in the darkness. A shiver travels up your spine. 

His eyes should be illegal.

You clear your throat, straightening in your seat. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if I forgive you after my food.” 

He chuckles at that, “Okay.”

Eventually he pulls the Jeep into the parking lot of your favorite local place (how did he know?) and then you’re standing in line to order. It’s ten at night and somehow there is still a line. Well, it is your (and everybody else’s) favorite for a reason. 

Javier manages to convince you to bring your empanadas back to his place. 

“We live right next to each other.”

“All the more reason for me to go home.”

“I have dessert. I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“Ugh, fine.” 

(You really don’t mind it. You just like to give him a hard time.)

So you order carry out.

His keys jangle as he unlocks the door to his apartment, and he sets the containers of carry out on his coffee table. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, and you do the same, trying not to stare at the way the sleeves of his button up stretch tantalizingly over his biceps, nor at the way his strong forearms are on display. 

Listen. He might annoy the fuck out of you, but you can admit that he is quite...attractive.

“Make yourself at home. Want a drink?” He asks, already grabbing two glasses.

“Sure, whiskey is fine. Since I’m assuming that’s all you have.”

“You know me so well.”

You look around his apartment and notice it's sparsely decorated, which makes sense to you, although, it still feels cozy in a way. 

The lamps reflect a gentle warm hue over the barren walls, save for a few government installed abstract paintings. Somehow, compared to your apartment in the same building, his place feels more comfortable. 

There’s a hand-knitted afghan sitting over the back of his couch and you twist the fraying yarn between your fingers as you admire the handiwork. 

“My abuela made that, before she died.” Javier says gently, handing you a glass of whiskey. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah. She was really talented. This was the only thing I wanted to take with me from the States.” He takes a sip from his glass. 

“Did she knit a lot?”

He nods. “All of the time, it felt like. Can’t remember the last time I didn’t see her in a rocking chair, a ball of yarn at her feet.” He muses, and these are the moments with Javier that you crave. You wish you had more of them. The way he softens when he gets that damned smile on his face… the way the crows' feet around his warm brown eyes deepen... It's, as you said before, terribly addicting.

You smile gently. “Where’s all her work now?”

“With my dad. He hardly let me go with this.” 

You chuckle, and then Javier’s gesturing to the couch. 

“Come on.”

You follow him over to the couch and he settles down into the cushions with a sigh, resting an arm lazily across the back. You sit perched awkwardly on the end. All of a sudden, the room feels too small. It smells like him, like tobacco and sage and… man. 

You’re finally realizing how close you’ve been to him this entire evening, and your body is certainly realizing it too. 

See, this is why you had a date tonight. 

“Relax,” he tells you.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” he leans forward, a smirk growing on his lips. “I’m not gonna bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You scoff, but a stubborn flush works its way into your cheeks. “No, ‘course not.”

You grab your container and Javier follows, and soon he’s got the TV on and you’re both enjoying your empanadas with the gentle noise of the Price is Right in the background. You relax into the cushions, your exhaustion encouraging you to do so before your brain can stop you.

It’s nice though. He’s… nice. 

“Hey," Javier eventually mumbles into the space between you. 

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna make sure the guys don’t come after you again for the bad decisions I make."

You roll your head to look at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s about time I took responsibility for the shitty things I’ve done."

“No truer words have ever been spoken.” You deadpan. It earns you a quiet chuckle, and you smile, turning your attention back to the TV.

You polish off your empanadas, licking the juices and bread crumbs from your fingers, and you think you see Javier watching you raptly out of the corner of your eye, but then you blink and his eyes are on the TV, as if he’d never been looking over at you in the first place. 

Damn, you need to sleep. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “Is this better than the date with Michael would’ve been?” 

You groan dramatically. “Why are you so bothered by him?”

“‘M not.” He says, but it sounds unconvincing even to your ears. “Just curious.”

“Are you jealous, Javi?” You grin into your glass of whiskey, the alcohol pouring warmth into your bloodstream, along with that heady, outlandish, and fleeting thought of him actually being jealous, maybe even possessive over you.

You really need to sleep. 

“‘Course not. Just want to make sure our little secretary is treated right.”

“I’m hardly treated right at work, this guy would probably be a step up from the people that talk to me on a daily basis.”

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

“I especially mean you.”

He sighs heavily, his head falling back against the cushions. He levels you with a pleading look, lips in a pout. “Come on, chiquita. When will you forgive me?”

Chiquita. That’s new. 

You tap your chin, glancing about as if in thought, attempting to ignore the giddy feeling curling in your stomach at the pet name. “I dunno…You still haven’t convinced me that you’re truly sorry.” 

Of course he has. You just like to stir the pot.

“No?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ dramatically, grinning smugly as you tease him.  “You’re missing the whole groveling and begging on your knees, bit.”

It’s a joke. Seriously. You think he'll just laugh, wave it off, and then you’ll actually forgive him. But that’s not what happens at all. 

Because he’s slowly lowering himself to the floor, all while keeping strict eye contact with you. The air rushes out of your lungs in a single, astonished, harsh exhale. 

“What…what are you doing?” You breathe, because seriously, what the hell is he doing? 

“Groveling. Isn't that what you want, chiquita?” 

He places himself in between your legs, and you really should be pushing him away, but instead your legs spread to make room for him. The movement has his eyes darkening significantly. 

Fuck. What are you doing?

“Javi…” You whisper, eyes wide.

A large, warm hand comes up to grip your right calf, massaging your muscles gently with thick, strong fingers while the other kneads at your left ankle. His lips press up against your leg in a soft kiss. 

“Let me show you how truly sorry I am,” he whispers against your calf, chocolate eyes boring into you. Heat licks at your core in white hot flames. 

Okay. Okay, wait, this is actually a really good way for him to repay you. He had deprived you of potential sex, but now is offering it to you on a silver platter. 

Still, you hesitate, remembering his reputation. 

“Javi, I don’t know… I don’t want to be another notch on your belt.”

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, his voice rough with sincerity. “You’re not. You never will be, you’re so much more than that, querida.” He reassures you, laying another soft kiss against your skin, and a shiver rattles your spine. “Wanna make you feel good…wanna make up for what I did..."

You take a shaky breath, warmth fanning out over your body. 

Fuck, this could either be a really good idea, or a really bad idea that could fuck up your already fucked up work relationship. 

But shit, if you aren’t wet right now…and he really does have some apologizing to do…

“Okay…show me.”

He sighs into your skin, his smile in relief edging on a satisfied smirk. “Thank you, chiquita.” 

And then he’s pushing your pencil skirt up your thighs with his big hands, eyes raptly watching the way your skin is revealed to him, like carefully unwrapping a gift. Soon enough your skirt is pooled around your waist, your throbbing cunt trapped behind the lace of your black panties. Javi sucks in an appreciative breath, eyes scanning every inch of you.

He pulls at the elastic hem of your waistband, then releases, letting it slap against your skin, and looks up at you with barely concealed disdain, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. “These for Michael?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way his possessive question sends tingling heat through your core. 

He tsks, squeezing your thigh. Why are his hands so goddamn big? “Now I'm glad I kept you late. He doesn’t deserve to see you like this.”

“Oh like you do?” 

“Chiquita, I know I don’t. Still, who's in between your thighs right now? I bet Michael doesn’t even like to eat pussy.”

“Javi!” You scold, embarrassment traveling up your body. He just smirks.

“That’s certainly not the tone you’re supposed to be using with my name. Let’s fix that.”

He maneuvers his hands to grip your lower back, and he scoots you to the edge of the couch. He inches his fingers beneath your panties and slowly peels them off of you, pupils dilating when he notices the slickness of your cunt.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, “you’re soaked.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been awhile.” You grumble, clenching around nothing at his words. 

“You sure it’s not just because of me?”

“Positive, Peña.”

He leans in, warm breaths puffing over your aching core. “Mm, I love it when you’re mean, baby.” 

And then he’s licking a hot stripe through your folds, and your hands that hold you upright jolt to his dark hair, threading the locks through your fingers. You sink into the couch on a high pitched whimper. “Javi—“

“Yeah, there we go, that’s it,” he hums against you, smiling into your pussy, and the vibrations travel through your spine, sending a wave of pleasure crashing into you. 

His cockiness should make you mad, but all it does is make you crave him more. 

He presses in, licking again, this time into you, and the tip of his curved nose bumps against your aching clit, releasing a wrecked moan from your lips.

“Shit,” you huff, eyes screwed shut as he continues to lap at you. “Remind me next time to ride your face—“

He stops his ministrations to look up at you, pupils blown wide, his glistening mouth curling wickedly. “Next time?”

“We all know men are prone to making mistakes,” you tease. “It’s just a matter of when. And when you do, I'll need another apology."

He goes to respond, but you tug on his soft hair, urging him back into your warmth. Whatever response he has is muffled into your slick, and he’s lapping you up like a man in the desert, moaning graciously. 

You feel him start to pull back, and you open your eyes, glaring down at him. “What are you—“ Your protests fade into a moan when you feel two long, thick fingers slowly slide into you. Your head falls against the back of the couch. 

“I knew you were a brat at work but I didn’t think you’d be the same in bed.” He jokes quietly into your thigh, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. They reach so much farther than yours do, and it feels so fucking good. God, you really needed this. 

“Different from your usual whore, hm?” You quip in between moans. 

“Yeah, I like it though,” he admits. “Could get fuckin’ addicted to your attitude and this pussy.”

You should be embarrassed by the new wave of slick running down his fingers at that, but you’re not. If he claims he could get addicted, you know you already are. You’re craving your next hit and Javi needs to be the one to give it to you. 

He seems to know what you want without you having to say, leaning in to wrap his lips around your clit again. 

You slouch into the couch, hips chasing his warm mouth, scooting you toward the edge. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you upright, and you buck into him. You grip his hair, urging him closer to your heat.

You can feel your orgasm building, ebbing and flowing, like the waves of an ocean. Each lick and suck and prod from Javi paired with the skilled way his fingers thrust in and up and out of you feels like a tug from a rip current, threatening to pull you under. 

God damn, he’s good. 

“Fuck—hng—shit, Javi!”

“Mmhmm, taste so good, chiquita.” He moans against you. 

“Mmngh, fuck, need you—your mouth on me all—all the time. So good.”

He sucks on your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jerk, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen spasming, just on the edge of your orgasm. 

“‘m gonna come—Jav—“

He gently scrapes his teeth over your clit and—oh shit. You’re fucking gone.

Your orgasm punches the air out of you, exploding white hot, tingles zipping through your nerve endings. Warmth spreads across you like a roaring wildfire. You hardly register the moans leaking out of you in an endless stream, your body so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Javi’s moaning too, his other hand palming himself through his jeans as he laps up everything you give him. 

Your legs shake as you ride it out, and he gently strokes them as he licks you through your high.  

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he mumbles against your heat. “So fuckin’ good for me. Look so pretty when you come.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to lick you through the aftershocks.

You tug on his hair, pulling him off of you when you’ve had enough. “Okay…that’s enough, Javi.”

Javier laughs as extracts himself from your legs, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You scoot back to sit properly again, though you're practically boneless against the cushions.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you as you catch your breath. He smiles at you, his dimple showing, and you smile back at him, your heart jumping in your chest. He looks like he thoroughly enjoyed himself, all ruffled and flushed. His dark hair stands up in multiple directions from your tugging, and his mustache glistens with your arousal. 

He looks so cute. Damn it! 

Angry feelings for Javier were normal. But these…lovey dovey-esque feelings simmering beneath the surface are not. 

You just can’t stay mad at him.

“…’Kay maybe I forgive you now.”

He raises a brow. “Just a ‘maybe’?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to where his cock is pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans, just begging to be freed. “Think I remember you mentioning dessert.”

He follows your line of sight and outright laughs, smiling so wide his eyes actually disappear. Fuck, why is he so cute? “I actually meant that—I have tres leches in the fridge but—shit, really?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I mean, you might as well actually fuck me at this point.”

“Jesus Christ—okay.”

He pulls you toward his bedroom, but you both get distracted along the way. 

He finds your lips at the entrance to the hallway, pressing you into the wall and kissing you roughly, hands unbunching your skirt to find the zipper, uttering under his breath about how unprofessional the garment is. Once the metal piece is in his fingers, he tugs it down, pulling away to watch your skirt fall to the floor.

He loses his shirt next, at the door to his bedroom, with you scolding him about how you’ll call HR on the amount of skin he dares to show at work. You only unbutton it enough for him to be able to pull it over his head, and then your hands are on him, squeezing the muscles of his arms and scratching lightly over his tan pectorals. You run your fingers up the long valley of his spine as he kisses you, delighting in the way he shudders against you at your touch.

He tugs yours off next, choosing now to bite your neck with a teasing “Guess I do bite”, and running his warm hands along your waist and breasts appreciatively. 

You finally make it into his room and he’s pushing you onto the bed, climbing over you, still clad in his dark, too-tight jeans. Those need to come off. 

“Fuck,” he swears, watching as you unbutton his jeans, tugging the zipper down. Arousal floods through you as you palm him through his briefs, hot and warm and big in your hands. 

“Been thinkin’ about this for a while,” he says, voice rough. He tugs his jeans and briefs off then reclaims his spot over you, leaning down to mouth at your neck. 

“How long,” you whimper, head tilting to allow him access. You shiver at the feeling of his light five 'o clock shadow scraping your neck as he moves up to your ear. He bites gently down on your earlobe.

“Too fucking long.”

Your hand wraps around his thick, warm length, and he jerks, thrusting into your loose fist. He groans, a sound so wrecked it’s like he’s in pain, and you take that as the sign that you need to get things moving.

You direct the head of his cock to your entrance, your gaze catching his own. Heavy eyes framed by thick lashes watch your face scrunch in pleasure as he slowly sheaths himself in you. God you feel so full as he bottoms out, more than you have with anyone else.

“Been wanting this too,” you admit. 

He smirks, “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You roll your eyes, but then he thrusts into you and they actually roll into the back of your head as he pulses inside you.

“Fuck, Javi.” 

“That’s it, chiquita.” He grips your thigh, pushing it up to gain a new angle. And then he picks up his pace, fucking into you with abandon. It’s like you can feel it in your throat, his cock hitting deep inside you. You jerk against the bed, the headboard slamming into the wall rhythmically. How many times have you heard this through the wall being his neighbor just on the other side? And now it’s you in the place of the multiple women he’s had over. And you think, maybe, that he’s enjoying it more with you than he was with them. 

He’s grunting above you, moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he fucks you with all the skill and expertise he’s gained over the many years of fucking his informants. He’s louder than he was when you heard him with the others. 

And you…you’re louder than the many times you got off by yourself just on the other side of the wall. Moans and praises drop out of your lips unfiltered—you just can’t stop.

“That’s it, Javi–yes. So good. Fucking me so well.”

And he’s fucking…loving it. 

You can feel his dick jumping inside you with each compliment, and it sends a new wave of arousal crashing within you each time. 

He’s getting close, but so are you, everything is tightening, a catapult ready to sling you off the deep end.

"Javi—I'm—“

"Yeah, that's it, baby." His hand gravitates down to circle your clit. "Come for me, being so good—you deserve it after today. Come on—“

You deserve it.

That's what fucking gets you.

Heat and fire and light and everything heavenly bursts within you as you come on Javier's cock, muscles spasming as they rejoice in that fact that you're finally getting laid. You're practically screaming, back arching off the bed as you ride the wave.

And Javi's fucking you through it, trying to hold off. But you don’t want him to.

"Come in me, Javi."

“You sure?”

“Please.”

How is he supposed to deny you?

He comes right on command, releasing inside you, and the feeling is euphoric. He's warm and hot as he coats the inside of you, and...shit...

...how are you supposed to live without this?

He collapses next to you, and you both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

You turn on your side to look at him, but he's already watching you. His hand idly traces the inside of your arm.

You think you could get used to this.

"So," he says, dragging out the syllables, "forgive me now?”

You run a hand down his chest in thought.

“Hmm… I think I might need a little more convincing.”

He just grins. “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

And then he’s reaching his hand up to cup your jaw and pull you in for a kiss much more sweeter and tender than before, as if this kiss is the real apology, and everything else before was just him buttering you up to prepare you.

If that’s the case, you accept it anyway, because you deserve it. And so does he. And you know he’ll just keep making mistakes—he’s only human, after all.

But at least he has a method to earning your forgiveness.

Oh, and carry out.

[darlingdekarios]

hide and seek.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,555 content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader, reader is referred to as a codename "Freya" and related nickname from Ghost, smut [fingering - receiving, unprotected p in v, mentions of stomach bulge, creampie, oral - receiving], kink(s) [size, outdoors, slight degradation, praise, squirting, cum eating], not beta/proof read deal w/ it

during a training exercise, the lines between hunter and hunted become blurred, and the feelings that have been buried inside claw their way to the surface.

"You can't hide forever, Freya."

Eight hours and fourteen minutes into a training exercise with Taskforce 101, and the two men who remained were starting to question if the words rumbling through their ear piece were correct. Dropped in the mountains within a ten mile radius of one another, it was a game of hide and seek … each of you taking on both roles simultaneously as you tried to remain hidden while taking out your opponents.

It was an honor system - survival of the fittest. Price, of course, at a camp at the base of the mountain, sending a team out to retrieve those who were picked off. Now it had dwindled - only the three of you remained, and the comms channels had been particularly quiet as time ticked by, each of you convinced you'd prove yourself top of the food chain eventually.

But Ghost's voice had interrupted the quiet, your focus broken for a moment as you halted all of your movements, waiting for the forest to respond to his voice. When nothing close to you alerted you dropped your own voice lower to quip back at his taunting, adjusting your position where you currently crouched.

"Just have to outlive you, LT."

"And Gaz. Don't forget about Gaz."

A smile spread across your lips, backpack sliding off your shoulders and to the ground quietly in an effort to increase your movement radius. Your target was well within sight now, the figure hunched over a jet boil that was working to make him a hot meal without smoke.

"Oh, don't worry. I didn't forget about Gaz."

"Well, I'm still here, so you've still gotta worry about me finding you first," the named man finally responded, his voice echoed from the earpiece and from the figure in front of you, carried between the trees as he gave no effort to hide himself, thinking he was without company.

You were moving forward now, using trunks and bushes for cover, stalking toward prey that remained blissfully unaware that its downfall was close enough to see puffs of cold breath from them.

"Not for long."

From there, it was silence from you, any further conversation a threat to giving away your location the closer you drew to him. You could hear the uptick of worry in his voice immediately when he responded, his focus on dinner shattered as he stood again. There was no possibility of him fleeing now, not with hot equipment to turn off and put away. Instead, he'd have to wait for the inevitable.

"What's that mean?" he questioned, head searching around his perimeter desperately in hope to find you before you could reach him. When his question went unanswered the frustration in his voice increased, a subtle shake indicating he was aware of his mistakes. This game was over for him … now he only needed to wait. "Hey, what's that mean?"

"That doesn't sound good, Gaz."

You were trying to ignore the tone Ghost used now as he spoke … the subtle amusement lingering under his tone only spurring you along more. It was over for Gaz before he had a real chance to react.

"Freya, what does that … FUCK!"

His shout was muffled into your hand as you slid up behind him and covered his mouth, a victorious smirk covering your face. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket you activated a GPS tracker to signify his pickup location, moving around him to look him face-to-face. He gave you a nod of respect before you hurried back to the trees, replacing your equipment and setting off on your next target.

"That's Gaz out," Price's voice was smooth in the comms, ready to set the match into its final round. "Ghost, Freya, you're all that's left. Try not to play with your food too much."

"Hmm."

You wondered if Ghost had an advantage position now, if he was looking to the trees for evidence of Gaz's retrieval, perhaps hopeful for a tip toward your location. You were eager to ensure he'd receive none.

"No promises."

"Once the sun goes over the mountains, you're alone for the night. No comms. It becomes true survival. Understood?"

"Copy," the two of you spoke in unison and Price dropped out again, returning the two of you to your isolated setting. As you hiked forward you found an eagerness filling your stomach … butterflies fluttering around as the prospect of facing Simon in this setting as the victor for this game set in on you. He could hear the smile you wore on your face as you all but purred into the comms.

"See you soon, Ghost."

The confidence in your voice sent a shiver down his spine - something he found becoming a common occurrence whenever you were around. From behind his mask his lips curved into an amused smile, though his tone indicated no such thing when he spoke.

"We'll see about that."

"It'll get cold soon, Frey. Once the sun drops over those mountains …"

It had been just under two more hours since you'd taken Gaz out, and things had mostly been silent. Neither of you wanted to outright give away your locations by something as easily avoidable as not remaining silent, so for the most part you had, only responding to Price quickly when he provided time updates.

"If you're worried about a little cold you could always forfeit, Ghost."

The laugh that rumbled in him came through even lower through a microphone like the one you wore now, and while the sound still set all of your nerves ablaze, you wished you could hear it in person. It was a ridiculous offer - Simon Riley had never forfeited in his life and he wouldn't start now, even if it meant sleeping beneath a layer of snow tonight. It was something about him that pulled you in like a magnet, his proven results time and time again securing your unspoken feelings for him.

Feelings you now couldn't afford to focus on with bragging rights of this size at stake. You were well aware of the possibility that Ghost had an eye on you through a scope - he could already be tracking your every move. You were certain that, knowing him, he would be close - he wouldn't allow his last remaining enemy to stray too far.

You still hoped to use that to your advantage, opting to ignore the cockiness in his words.

"Not a chance."

It was only an hour later that the sun was no longer offering any amount of warmth, the last of its gold and orange hues diluted by the beginnings of the night sky.

"Price did say if we're out past sundown we're out for the night."

"You sound scared, Frey. Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark?"

"Not a chance."

Really, you weren't…not now, anyway with every inch of your body burning with the desire to win. You echoed his earlier words to initiate a playful banter the two of you ever really enjoyed alone, inviting him in to another game with the reminder that now, only the two of you remained on the line. Thankfully he took the bait, catching on quickly to what you silently offered.

"You should be…never know what's lurking about…hiding behind a tree, in the shadows."

To his own internal pleasure, the quiet laugh that he allowed to rumble through his chest was joined with your own, the soft sound sending a rush of warmth through his body. Though he'd never admitted aloud - maybe not even fully to himself mentally, in truth - he craved moments like this with you, where your laugh and your casual tone fell easily on his ears like the chirp of birds in the morning.

Instead, he enjoyed his time with you selfishly, the need he felt within him to enjoy more of you buried inside where it would never see the light.

"Could say the same to you, big guy. What's lurking in the shadows around you?"

There was something in your voice that made the hair on his neck stand, something to the tone that piqued his interest further. You were almost purring - he was starting to wonder if Price's request not to play with food was directed entirely at you now. As he focused on your tone, on his surroundings, on taking in the trees around him and desperately trying to ignore the new tightness in his pants, your eyes were on the finish line.

You had slipped free of your boots and socks again, suffering through the cold ground in an effort to quiet yourself further as you stalked your way to him slowly under the cover of darkness. When you could begin to make out details - the pockets on his jacket and pants, the glimmer of zippers as they caught the remaining light, every curve his silhouette offered…you stilled, enjoying the moment.

His breath was visible - heavier than usual. You couldn't help the rush of pride that filled you at even the slightest hint that you had his nerves alight. How many people could say that about Simon Riley? It was a feeling so fulfilling you were almost tempted to bask in it longer, to savor every microsecond it lasted.

But the promise of his reaction was far too enticing to stay hidden for too long, a fact you succumbed to as you silently took more steps toward him.

"Hey, Simon?"

"Hmm?"

"Boo."

Fortunately the ground was soft enough to aid in the jump you sprung into to wrap your legs around his waist from behind, your arms wrapping around his neck and giving the slightest squeeze to accentuate your point. He'd lost.

"Fuck."

"Concede."

When the order was not immediately fulfilled you squeezed ever so slightly harder, only enough to drive it home. This was a fair win. One you'd earned.

But he wasn't hesitating to find a way out…he'd taken an intentional moment to allow you time to bask in your glory - at least, that was better than admitting he just wanted to feel you closer for a moment longer…for as many moments as you'd allow. Regardless of his own wants and completely focused on what would make you happy (though he could already feel it radiating from you), he forced himself to not, a deep breath filling his lungs as you released him.

When you climbed down and he turned to face you, the grin that had spread across your face fell open. In preparation for the dark Simon had already removed his glasses, leaving his sparkling eyes bare for you to see, more of his face exposed now in his balaclava than you'd ever been treated to before.

(Though it was hardly enough. Your curiosity about what would greet you beneath the black fabric grew by the day…by the second now as you made eye contact like you'd never been able to before.)

In the depths of his eyes your own pride was matched, telling you enough about his thoughts on your win that the words could truly go unspoken. He studied you carefully, enjoying the curve to your lips as a coy smirk and how somehow still, despite the pride, a neediness flooded behind it all, something as primal and feral as the forest's inhabitants.

"How long have you been on me?"

"Right after I picked up Gaz, he was trailing you from the southeast."

The mask's fabric shifted confirming the light smile that played on his lips, his eyes burning into yours now. As intense as his gaze was (it always was, why should now be any exception?) you were lost it in, searching for a hint of what he was thinking…what he was feeling. He was an expert at this - at hiding, at interrogating, he could easily pick you apart and have the answers he wanted flowing from you with only a little more effort.

With you, however, it required no intimidation to coax what he wanted from you.

"You could've caught up before sundown, then," it was a simple statement, his eyes not leaving yours as he took a knee on his sleeping pack before you, digging in his bag for a small towel and a fresh pair of socks. He motioned for you to take a seat on the rock he'd set up camp next to, nodding in appreciation when you adhered. "Your pace is faster than that."

You hadn't known him very long - you weren't even technically part of the task force as it stood. It has been almost a year, however…nearly twelve months of knowing the man who now knelt before you, carefully wiping mud from your feet and handling you like you would shatter if he wasn't softer than a hummingbird's feather. You didn't know what to expect of physical contact from him…but this degree of gentleness was certainly not it until this moment.

You thanked him for his delicacy by ensuring your eyes never left his face, eager to meet his gaze again whenever his found you again.

"Could've, yeah," you confirmed when he started to slip the warm socks onto your feet, his attention now nearly fully returned to maintaining eye contact with you. You were aware that with each passing moment your heart was beating faster…even more aware that you couldn't stop it even if you tried. "You could've tried to track me."

"Could've done."

"Why didn't you?"

He was still on his knees in front of you - in fact, there was no sign he intended to move now.

"Wanted to see how long it took you to find me. Wanted to see how you'd approach."

You'd never heard his voice like this - so quiet it offered no disruption to the peaceful mountains around you. Not quiet like he normally was to avoid an enemy, quiet to pinpoint that the words were only for you. As if you needed another reason to be attracted to him - as if the very definition of perfection could get any better.

"Did you find my methods satisfactory?"

The longer his eyes burned into yours the easier it was to ignore the dropping temperatures in the air around you.

"I did."

His praise - even just that was enough to be considered such - struck you to your core. You found yourself speechless, your face burning. Unaware for a moment as one of his hands rested against your knee, uncaring that you probably looked foolish as all you could do now was stare. He was willing to hold your gaze for as long as you offered it - a dangerous fact.

"If you're trying to prove yourself to Price, you don't need t' put yourself at more a risk of injury to do it. Proper footwear is important."

"I'm not proving myself to Price. I'm proving myself to you."

He'd been choosing to ignore the signs from you - opting for the safety of denying what was transpiring between the two of you now for the security it provided. It seemed those days were gone - even the air around you seemed to be pushing the two of you together.

Still, this was a territory he'd convinced himself was forbidden, and in his internal fight as to how to move forward it allowed you a moment of doubt. It was you who spoke again before he got the chance, eager to explain your actions further.

Not that you owed it or he expected it…you needed it now to fill the silence.

"I wanted to hear it from you…that I bested you," he could hear the doubt blossoming on the back of your words - it wasn't like you to share like this, it was much safer to keep things to yourself. But if you did that forever, he would as well…and the reality was, you were more willing to break the unspoken rule with yourself before he was. "I wanted to hear the pride in your voice. To see it in your eyes."

His eyes found yours again as he reached a hand toward your face, hesitating for a moment just centimeters away to give you the chance to slap his hand away, waiting for any action from you that confirmed the doubts ever-present in the back of his mind. Instead, ever so subtly your head leaned closer to his hand, inviting the distance to be closed.

All the signs were there, and now he just had to read them.

He grasped your chin between his fingers and held you gently as he drew closer to you, his free hand reaching up to push the bottom half of his mask up. His lips were more inviting than any you'd seen before - it was a cruelty that he covered them, a gift at the same time to your focus.

(For the record - you'd gladly sacrifice your focus if it meant watching his tongue run across his bottom lip. A momentary lapse of your attention was well worth witnessing the way he invited you in now.)

"Who knew you could be so needy?" he questioned, his tongue swiping across his lips again, finger tapping your chin playfully. That alone sent you clenching around nothing - just that taunting question was enough to fully spiral you into desire. "Why don't you tell me why you kept us out here after dark first?"

Your face was burning - every inch of you was burning. Simon was an intelligent man - your plan to string the game along longer hardly a secret now. It was your turn to concede - he'd found you out. Somehow, you couldn't even begin to remotely care.

"For this. This moment alone."

He had come so close now that the distance between your lips could hardly be considered decent. With the smallest movement either of you could have closed it - a kiss both of you had long awaited in silence a promise now.

"Are you hoping for a reward?"

Your mouth had never been this dry and you could only nod, savoring the way his free hand now ran up your side, urging you forward slightly. He began to lean closer, slower than you'd ever seen him move before, to demonstrate where he intended to go, hoping you would follow his lead - hoping you could be the one to initiate what was to come.

"Use your words."

"Yes."

Like a flock of birds startled by a sound too loud cracking in the night like thunder you came crashing together like lightning, his lips finding yours like they'd already done so a thousand times before now. With his strength he had you on your feet and against a tree in the time it took for a gasp to fall from your mouth. He paused, dark gaze softening briefly as he waited for you to give any sort of show that you wanted him to stop. When you didn't, his lips finally claimed yours as your hands pulled him in firmer by grasping his collar.

It was heated - both of you had waited for this moment while simultaneously avoiding it since you'd met, but now that it was here it demanded everything from you - the kiss itself was all-consuming. As your lips and tongues danced together both of you allowed your hands to explore under shirts as best you could. His hands engulfed you - any part of you he grabbed was with as much as he could possibly get his hands on, noticeably holding himself back from grasping tighter in an effort to spare you from bruises.

Until your nails ran down his abs hard enough to leave red trails in their place and he took the unsaid words as further permission, his finger tips digger into your hips harder as he leaned more of his weight against you, truly pinning you to the tree. He gave you a moment to breathe - your vision blurred as you blinked up at him, eager to see the swirls of color in his eyes this close but still hopelessly wanton for his mouth on you some more.

A light smirk played on his lips at your expression - pupils and eyes wide and your already swollen lips remained parted, desperate and shallow breaths falling from your lips. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to your jaw, dragging them back until he reached your ear with a gentle nip at the lobe.

"'s this what you wanted, dove?"

You could hear the desire fueling his words and could only whimper and nod in response as his lips connected to your neck, one of his hands releasing its hold on your hip to unhook the button of your pants. His lips reached lower, beneath where a collar would normally sit on you to suck a spot that raised goosebumps all across your skin as your zipper was undone. You realized you'd yet to give him the verbal response he probably required and it came from your chest as a broken moan as his hand slipped into your pants, pushing your underwear to the side.

"Y-yes, sir."

It was his turn to groan now, his fingers spreading your folds to spread the slick that had already started to leak from you. He bit into the spot he'd been paying attention to, uncaring if it left a mark for others to see in more casual settings, savoring the gasp and moan that fell from your lips and the way your hands desperately clawed at his sides to hold you to earth as your hips bucked forward, his fingers teasing your entrance as they did.

"Fuckin' soaked already, eh, love?" his taunt was directly below your ear followed by a loving swipe of his tongue, uncaring of the sweat that had gathered on your skin throughout the day and cherishing everything you had to offer. His fingers traced your hole slowly, teasing you with the slightest entrance several times before he continued. "I've barely touched you, y'filthy girl…"

You could once again only whimper as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with a quiet 'tsktsktsk' sounding against his teeth, his muttered words of praise and degradation muddled by your hazy mind as he stretched you open. He was well attuned to what your body responded to, pumping the thick digits into your tight sex with the perfect speed, rubbing against the most sensitive and velvet part of your walls perfectly each time to pull more moans from you.

His lips found yours again when he was satisfied you'd finally caught your breath enough to meet you in another bruising kiss, his hand that wasn't focused on fucking your cunt reaching to work his own pants partially down his thighs, freeing his throbbing cock with a grunt. You could tell by the speed to which his fingers entering you picked up and the rough grasp on one of your hands that he needed you just as desperately, guiding your hand to his cock and groaning again into your mouth as you wrapped your hand around his thick shaft, stroking his length tenderly.

As you continued to ensure your hand paid attention to every inch of him available he worked your pants down, making sure to quietly ask you if you were too cold in doing so and rewarding you with a gentler kiss and pressing closer to you when you shook your head. You could feel an orgasm building in you heavily and he picked up on the cues your body provided like it was something he'd been doing for a long time already, pumping his fingers faster as he continued to relentlessly kiss you.

"Go on, then," he coaxed against your lips, still not pulling away enough to give you a chance to suck in a full breath. You were dizzy, vision blurred already as every cell in your body focused on finding release. "Get nice and messy for me to fuck you."

It was that promise that sent you over the edge, the first wave of euphoria crashing over you and blinding your vision as you gushed around his fingers, the sloppy sounds of them entering your spasming repeatedly bringing a smile to his lips. He gave you the chance to breathe finally, releasing you from his kiss as his fingers abandoned your white hot core, hands grasping your hips to lift you upward. You realized your hand had fallen away from his cock as you'd worked through the initial hit of your orgasm and reached for it again, guiding it between the folds of your pussy and guiding it back and worth as he situated you between him and the tree, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were closer to his face now and could see the emotions in his eyes more - the hunger and need that filled him pouring from his expression and accentuated by a groan as your slick was spread over his cock. His words were barely more than a growl - the conflict deep behind each one only evident because you understood him. "Shouldn't…fuck you raw, dove. Such a bad fuckin' idea…"

You whined to communicate your dissatisfaction, already desperate to feel every inch of him buried in you and logic chased from your mind this soon after one orgasm had rushed through you. You reached between your bodies to rub your thumb over the pre-cum leaking from his swollen cock, grinding against him more. He was coated in your slick already - the fact he could slip into you with enough aid from just that unfocusing his mind.

"Need you, Simon…"

Of course it was his name on your lips that silenced his worries - that completely erased them. He adjusted quickly and with one swift movement his cock was stretching you, splitting you open on inch after inch as his lips found yours again. It was a fact that his length was too much for you to take in full, one you ignored happily and in a moderate state of drunken bliss until he'd bottomed out in you, tip pushing against your cervix. One of his hands remained attached to your hip and the other reached to press against your stomach and the bulge, adding to the pressure seated in your core so much you already started seeing stars again.

"Y'okay, princess?"

Any other time you'd have snipped at him not to call you that, but now as he muttered it in a slightly higher pitch, his whisper desperate and light against your lips you couldn't bring yourself to mind the name - with his cock buried in you you only nodded in response. His eyes met yours again before he leaned his forehead against yours, giving you a moment to focus on the feeling of his pulling his cock out from your velvet walls slowly.

He waited for a moment, teasing you with a delicate kiss to your bottom lip before he sheathed himself into you fully again with one swift thrust, hand pressing down against your stomach again. The sound of your pussy accepting him in with a squelch combined with the moan that ripped from your chest was pornographic and addicting, and he immediately entered a bruising pace to repeat it as much as he could - greedily working for another release from you.

You were thankful that his resolve had completed melted away as he got lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock on each entry, moans and grunts repeatedly falling from his lips as he fucked into you. While most of his hand stayed pressed against his own bulge inside you he reached his thumb down to your clit to rub the swollen nub, eagerly claiming your mouth again with his tongue when a moan erupted from it.

He continued his efforts relentlessly but gave you another break to breathe to lower his head to your neck again, kissing a trail down to your collarbone where he nibbled lightly, testing how the added stimulation would effect you. Despite the repeated moans and whimpers falling from your lips - it wasn't enough from him, the need to push you over the edge and prove to you the months of this building was worth it fueling his movements with primal need.

His hold on your hip became harder as his speed increased, thrusting into you desperately and rough. Distantly you could hear him praising you repeatedly as your walls began to squeeze his length tighter, mumbling quiet words of appreciation into your skin interchangeably between biting and licking and sucking. When your legs began to shake around him, he knew you were close and while he could've continued on just how he was he pressed for more, fucking into your harder with bruising thrusts into you.

(In the morning you'd remark that he could've taken it easier on you considering you had a hell of a hike back to camp and it would only be worse with a bruised cervix and hips. He'd only offer you a smirk as he remarked the pain would be good for you.

But he'd carry you for however long you asked him to if it was too much.)

"That's it, dove," he cooed, adjusting to look into your face again. "Want you to cum on my cock…want to see how messy we can make you, yeah?"

You nodded, vision blurred as you met his eyes again, eager to see the gaze of adoration he was now offering to you. His lips twisted into a smirk at the sight of your mouth hanging open, a bit of drool running down your chin - something you hadn't noticed and would've felt embarrassed over if he hadn't leaned forward and greedily swiped at it with his tongue, kissing you deeply again.

It was then that a second orgasm was pulled from you - but between the stimulation of the head of his cock rubbing against the perfect spot inside you, his thumb circling your clit, and his lips kissing you as though it was life sustaining this time your release squirted from you, your release coating his cock, waist, and thighs. A low groan rumbled in his chest and his speed picked up again, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him and milking his own release from him.

He opened his mouth to try to warn you it was coming - a lost cause when you abandoned his kiss to attach your lips to his neck and jaw, lightly nipping and licking at several sensitive spots that were typically covered to the world. He grasped your hip tighter and stilled his movements otherwise as he filled you with his release, his hot seed creating such a large load that it was already leaking from you around him.

You continued to kiss on his jaw as you both came down again, Simon waiting until he was certain you wouldn't fall before he removed his length from you, gently lowering you back to the ground. His eyes remained transfixed on your combined releases leaking down your thighs for a moment, conflicting emotions once again flooding his expression as he gazed at you. Just as you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay he dropped to his knees, using one hand pressed against your stomach to pin you to the tree again as the other lifted one of your legs over his shoulder.

He leaned forward to lick each of your thighs clean - you wished he'd removed his mask briefly so you could tangle your fingers in his hair, the thought was abandoned when he leaned forward fully to connect his flattened tongue to your folds, licking a slow stripe through them gently. You gasped and grasped at what you could, landing on holding the hand over your stomach and the back of his head, anchoring him to you.

He was happy to accept the way you pulled his head forward, burying it into your cunt more until his nose was pressed to your clit. His tongue found your hole and fucked into it, greedily slurping in as much of your releases as he could. It was entirely too much the way he swirled his tongue and sucked against you hungrily, but you still couldn't silence the loud cry of disappointment when his mouth abandoned you only to stand and kiss you again, silencing your whine with his tongue sharing what he hadn't swallowed for himself already.

When he released you again he leaned his forehead against yours, a lazy smirk spread across his lips that matched the smug energy radiating from him. With a shaking voice you quipped at him, unashamed of what he'd reduced you to and completely pleased with how your plan had come to fruition.

"Price told us not to play with our food."

The way his laugh huffed from him in his breathless state was intoxicating, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip briefly catching your gaze and transfixing you again.

"What Price doesn't know won't hurt him.

masterlist. call of duty masterlist.

[tightjeansjavi]

the feel of coldness only water brings

A/N: so this is the unplanned part two of this Joel drabble I wrote called wildflowers. I just woke up this morning to some lovely reblogs on it, thus inspiring this piece 🥺 oh, and I also thought of @beefrobeefcal and her beefy, fat! Joel fics that are so so good while I was writing this!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: you convince Joel to join you for a swim in a lake while on patrol despite his insecurities

Pairing | joel x f!reader

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, angst (so sorry) non specified age gap between Joel and the reader, body insecurities(Joel), self deprecating thoughts, real bodies, natural body changes with age etc, language, teasing, flirting, body appreciation/worship, peepaw!joel, grumpy!joel, sunshine reader, reader has no physical descriptions (outside of wearing a bra and panties) +18 minors dni!

Sweat beads and drips down from the base of his hairline and slowly seeps into the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric naturally. His steel toed boots stop at the water's edge, soft ripples lapping at the worn leather with a soft audible swish. The lake is crystalline, and beneath the glass surface he sees a million different rocks, all shapes and sizes and textures. The mountain air is crisp, refreshing as he inhales deeply.

The high noon sun blinds his vision momentarily, but he welcomes it. The fabric of his shirt is beginning to grow itchy, scratching at his skin from the beading perspiration. He kicks a stray rock into water, watching as it sinks into the shallow depths.

“Joel.” Your voice carries over the water, your head and shoulders bobbing like a cork in the middle of the glistening lake. “You said it yourself, there’s no infected out here, and the water is so refreshing. Won’t you join me?”

His shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his shirt, his jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He squints, bringing his hand over his forehead to block out the blinding rays, “M’fine here, darlin.’” He chuffs out, “Besides, one of us has to be on alert.” He added, rationalizing his decision.

“Is it because you can’t swim?” It was a safe assumption to make.

He shook his head, kicking another rock with the toe of his boot. “It ain’t that.”

“Okay, so you can swim? Well, then what’s the issue? C’mon, baby. You’re practically sweating right through your shirt.” You said teasingly, hoping to see the corners of his permanent set frown quirk upwards, just for you.

“It’s silly.” He wavered, eyes casting downwards to his boots. “M’just—insecure s’all. Don’t want you to uh—see me like that.” He was never the best with communicating, but he tried with you, and that’s all you could ever really ask for.

“Joel, it’s not silly. If it makes you feel any better, you can keep your clothes on? It doesn’t matter to me because I think you're handsome, and your real body isn’t gonna suddenly make me stop feeling the way I do for you.” You reassured him with a soft smile.

“If I keep my clothes on m’gonna sink like a fuckin’ rock.” He forced out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a huff. “Y’say that now…” he trailed off, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “But ‘m littered with scars, baby. Got grays on my chest and—m’barely fittin’ in my jeans these days. Should probably hold off on extra—”

“Joel.” You sighed, “I’m gonna stop you right there. Cause everything you just described to me?” You lifted your hands up from under the water in emphasis, “is a real fucking body. More importantly, it’s your body. You’re a healthy man, Joel. Your jeans ain’t fitting the same because you’re no longer in survival mode. You’re getting to indulge in a way that you weren’t able to in over 20 years. You're strong, but you're also soft in the right places.”

He doesn't believe you, of course. He would argue that it was because he had grown old and lazy like a house cat. You didn’t give him the chance, however.

“I love how soft and squishy your stomach is. You know why?”

He shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck and face,

“Because it acts as the perfect pillow for my head when we’re napping, and I love to grab onto your love handles when we’re cuddlin.’ Love to feel the way it presses into me when we hug. Or when you’re takin’ me from behind.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.” He scoffed.

“Am I?” You challenged him as you pulled yourself out of the water, dripping wet in just your flimsy pair of bra and panties.

“Don’t.” He warned you, taking a step to the side when you reached out to touch him. As if he was a frightened animal shying away. “M’jus’ a fat old man, darlin.’ Don’t gotta lie to me, sweetheart. I can accept the truth.” He was on the edge of snapping, nearly baring his teeth.

“Joel.” You said softly, “stop that. I ain’t have a reason to lie to you. Never have, never will.”

“You don’t have to protect my heart, darlin.’ S’okay. I ain’t deservin’ of your kindness. Don’t know why you even waste your time with a man like me—”

You looped your thumbs into the worn belt loops of his jeans and yanked him towards you swiftly despite his faint protests. “Would you shut up, please?”

Loose pebbles crunched beneath his heavy boots when you pulled him towards you and his hands naturally found your waist, big palms splayed across your damp skin. “Don’t you think you deserve yourself a real man? Someone who—isn’t like me?”

“You are a real man, Joel.” You gently remind him and slowly slip your thumbs from the belt loops of his jeans. “You’re beautiful, and I just wish you could see what I see.”

“Beautiful?” He scoffed, nose twitching when he felt your hands slowly slide up the expanse of his covered chest, “that ain’t me, sweetheart.” He rasped, tilting his chin downwards so he could watch your fingers gently toy with the buttons on his shirt.

“It is you, Joel. And one day you’ll wake up and realize it. And when that day comes, you’ll look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are beautiful, and you are loved, and you are deserving of kindness and softness for as long as Mother Nature lets me have you.”

He could feel himself slowly begin to cave from your words, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he would claim that it was just from the blinding sun and the irritating sweat dripping from his brow. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin.’ Don’t think I’ll ever understand it. You could have your pick of men in Jackson, and you choose me?” He stifled a chuckle, dipping his chin down further so he could kiss the edge of your fingertips.

“You’re worth more than the whole damn bunch, Joel. Stubborn ass of a man, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Undress me.” He murmured, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “M’yours.”

You smiled, dragging your thumb against his jaw and slowly tilted his chin upwards so your eyes could meet, “Remember, it’s just you and me out here. Nothin’ but miles and miles of wilderness.”

“Kiss me.” He whispered, tightening his grip around your hips, pulling you in closer.

Your lips brush, testing the waters before you fully kiss him. Tasting the sweat from his brow that had trickled down his lips. Soft, chapped, warm and familiar against your own.

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open, exposing his skin to the warm rays from the sun. You pushed the strained fabric down his shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the pebbles below. You traced his scars with delicate movements, detaching your lips from his so you could follow the path your fingers created. You nipped at the softness of his bicep, pressing open mouthed kisses that trailed down his arm to his hand. You kissed each knuckle, each callous with your eyes staying locked on his.

You squeezed the soft plump flesh of his love handles, imagining yourself using them as an anchor when you would ride his cock in the early morning hours when neither of you could sleep.

You dragged your nose against the swell of his belly, feeling him tense up before melting into your touch like a pad of butter on a hot pan. You inhaled his musky scent, dragging your lips southwards through the dark hair of his happy trail, pressing a kiss there, too.

Your fingers moved in muscle memory as you undid his belt, tugging his too tight jeans over his hips and strong thighs, letting them pool at his ankles.

He watches your every move, brows furrowed together at the sight of you on your knees between his thighs. He hopes to god there is no danger lurking nearby. He wants this memory etched into his brain for the rest of his days.

He breathes out a strained puff of air from between his parted lips when you press the tip of your nose against the underside of his heavy cock, and the drag of your hot tongue through the strained fabric.

A groan bubbles up his throat, spilling over and he presses his hips into your face, the swell of his belly brushing against the crown of your head.

You giggle, nipping lightly at the fabric, feeling his cock twitch and harden. You watch his eyes roll back, words tumbling out in tandem.

“Do. Not. Tease. Me.” He growled and you giggled at his response.

“If you want more…you’re just gonna have to catch me!” You rose from your knees before he could grab ahold of you, stepping back with that glint in your eye.

“Hey! That ain’t fair and you know it!” He huffed, already struggling to unlace his boots so he could pull his jeans off completely. He cursed under his breath when he watched you dive back into the refreshing waters.

“Gonna get you back for this.” He grumbled to himself, fighting the urge to grin at the warmth that he felt flooding in his chest.

You heard a loud splash just as you resurfaced, and two dark brown eyes locked onto you like a target as you playfully swam away.

Your giggles and his deep, raspy laughter filled the hot summer air like a song that you would play on repeat, over and over again.

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[doumadono]

𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

villain!Bakugo with f!reader. I'll leave the plot up to you (I'm confident you'll come up with something nice.) All I'm asking for is our boy being a bad guy, having his verrry rough ways with the reader (including spanking!)

Warnings: smut with plot, rough smut, pussy fingering, spanking, doggy style & missionary, creampie, fem!reader, villain!Bakugo, mentions of fwb

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during the first Sinful Sunday poll I held over a week ago. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

As the convoy rattled along the desolate highway, Bakugo sat shackled in the back of the armored vehicle, his crimson eyes narrowed in frustration. He had been captured, subdued by the heroes, and now they were escorting him to a maximum-security prison. Trapped within the confines of the van, his hands bound by quirk-restraining handcuffs, he seethed with impatience. But Bakugo Katsuki, the menacing Dynamight, was not one to be contained so easily.

There was a minor flaw in handcuffs design that he quickly noticed and exploited to free himself - it was a pair of older handcuffs, made of a weaker metal alloy. It meant they were susceptible to melting under intense heat. 

With his explosive quirk, Bakugo swiftly devised a plan to apply enough heat to his hands and the cuffs to weaken them, allowing him to break free.

Some time later, Bakugo's quirk erupted in a fiery blaze, tearing through the vehicle's structure like paper. Amidst the chaos, Bakugo seized the moment.

Using the intense heat of his explosion, Bakugo focused his quirk on the weak metal of the handcuffs. With a sizzle and a crackle, the metal began to melt under the intense heat, giving way to his freedom. With a triumphant roar, Bakugo tore his hands free from the now-molten restraints.

As he burst out of the van, a surge of fury coursing through his veins, he was met with a grim sight. The guards who had been stationed on the back of the vehicle, caught in the blast of his explosion, lay motionless on the ground, their bodies heavily burnt. The intense heat and force of the blast had been too much for them to withstand. 

The blonde haired man chuckled darkly, basking in the sight. He didn't know why, but they reminded him of beef being roasted on a grill.

The night air was cool against his skin as he sprinted through the darkness, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind him. Of course they wouldn't stop looking for him! He was too dangerous, too unpredictable. He was a threat to society.

Bakugo was quick and cunning, slipping through the shadows like a wraith. He knew he had to find shelter, to lay low until the heat died down. He darted through the forest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he sought refuge from his pursuers. With each passing moment, the distance between them grew, but Bakugo knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

After a while, he noticed he was familiar with his surroundings – he recognized a mountain on the horizon. He used to climb it countless times in the past with his girl friend, back when things were good.

Hours later, weary yet exhilarated from his escape, Bakugo stumbled upon a secluded cabin nestled at the base of the mountain. It was the perfect hiding place, a sanctuary from the prying eyes of the heroes and law enforcement. With a smirk, Bakugo darted towards the cabin, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Bakugo wasted no time in approaching, his senses on high alert as he surveyed the area for any sign of danger. But as he reached the door, he realized that the door was closed - a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

With a grunt of frustration, Bakugo raised his leg and delivered a powerful kick to the door, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the night. He stepped over the threshold, his keen, crimson eyes scanning the ground floor for any sign of life.

The cabin was eerily silent, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves outside. Bakugo moved cautiously, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty space as he searched for a place to hide. And then he saw it - a staircase leading up to the upper floor.

Deciding to explore further, Bakugo made his way up the creaking staircase to the upper floor. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and lavender, the faint flicker of candlelight guiding his way.

Bakugo walked quietly through the narrow corridor leading to the room at its end. The flickering candlelight spilled from under the door, casting a dim glow along the walls of the corridor. As he reached the wooden door, he slid it aside. 

Inside, he saw you sleeping peacefully in your bed, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around you.

For a moment, Bakugo's heart skipped a beat as he took in your familiar form. It had been years since he had last seen you, but he would never forget your face. Memories of days gone by flooded his mind - the laughter, the late nights, the stolen moments of passion. You were his old friend, his confidante, his partner in crime. 

It couldn't be a coincidence that he found himself in your cabin. You, the woman who had always helped him, even when he turned to a life of crime.

But as he stood there, watching you sleep, Bakugo knew that things had changed. He was no longer the same person he once was, and neither were you. 

You stirred awake, your eyes fluttering open as you sensed a presence in the room. Fear flashed in your eyes as you took in the sight of a tall man standing in the door leading to your bedroom, his expression unreadable in the dim light cast by a candle.

“Who are you?!” you whispered, noticing how dry your throat had become.

“Y/N,” he uttered your name as if it was the most sacred word in the entire world.

"Bakugo?" you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief.

He nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling within him as he stepped into the room. "Yeah, it's me," he replied gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean to intrude, I was just -" He felt foolish, like a complete idiot. He should have left right away, for both your sake and his own, but something in the look on your face stopped him. The fear was replaced by genuine happiness – you were genuinely happy to see him.

"Running from the heroes," you finished the sentence for him, your voice soft but tinged with sadness. "I heard about what happened in the convoy, all of the TV stations had it in their breaking news. Are you okay?"

Bakugo hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours once more. Not only were you happy to see him, but you were also concerned about his well-being. You were one of a kind.  "I'm fine," he said brusquely, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. 

You nodded, understanding in your eyes as you reached out a hand towards him. "You can stay here," you offered quietly. "As long as you need to. I bought this hut some time ago. I was ready to leave town, but too many memories held me back.”

Bakugo's expression softened at your words, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I appreciate it." He cleared his throat awkwardly, adding, “I’m glad you stayed.”

After being awakened, you guided him downstairs. You prepared a meal for him, making sure to add all of the spicy spices you had. After the meal, you offered him a fresh towel and allowed him to take a shower. Thankfully, you had some male clothes on hand. They belonged to him in the past, left by your place just in case, and you never felt ready to part with them. It seemed that fate had its own plans for the two of you all those years ago.

As you scrubbed the dishes, the warm water running over your hands, your mind wandered to him yet again. It had been so long since you last saw him, yet the moment he was near, your heart fluttered like it used to, and your thoughts raced uncontrollably.

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you cursed yourself for feeling this way. You shouldn't be drawn to him, not after everything. Sure, you had once helped him when he was already a villain, but now... Now he was something else entirely.

A convicted murderer. A dangerous, notorious villain.

You shook your head, trying to push away the memories of your time together. You had to focus on the task at hand, on the present, not dwell on the past! But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the feeling of longing that lingered in your heart, reminding you of the connection you once shared.

Despite never officially being his girlfriend, despite the numerous times he hurt you, shattering your heart into pieces, pushing you away only to come back begging for help when his other relationships fell apart one by one, you still found yourself longing for him. You were always his second choice. Even when he was fucking you, whispering sweet nothings that you knew deep down were only meant to manipulate you, and despite your rational mind warning you, you couldn't help but cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he meant it. Eventually, you resigned yourself to the fact that you were nothing more than a side option in his life. And you grew used to things being that way.

Bakugo returned to you wearing only sweatpants. He was shirtless, with his wet bangs adorning his forehead; his toned physique drew your admiring gaze. It was evident he had stayed in great shape over the years.

He noticed your gaze and flashed you a cocky grin. "Enjoying the view, huh?"

You felt a flush creeping up your cheeks as you struggled to look away. "You... look pretty damn good," you confessed, feeling a surge of excitement at the sight of him. “Even after all these years…”

Bakugo closed the distance between you, his presence practically crackling with electricity. "Why don't you come over here and find out just how good I can be?" he nearly purred, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Heart pounding, you closed the distance between you, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you any longer. You slowly ran your hands up and down his abs, looking up into his fiery eyes. You had always been drawn to him, despite his rough exterior and abrasive personality. Bakugo was the villain of your story, but you couldn't help but be drawn to his raw power and intense energy.

Katsuki sneered at you, his eyes blazing with anger and desire. He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you closer towards him. With his other hand, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he leaned in for a rough, possessive kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every inch with a fierce intensity that left you breathless.

You gasped in surprise, but you couldn't deny the spark of desire that ignited within you.

Bakugo's hands began to roam your body, roughly squeezing your breasts and ass, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It had been a long while since he had a woman in his arms, and he craved the feeling of a female touch more than ever before.

He couldn't resist the urge as his hands harshly squeezed your breasts through the material of the oversized shirt you wore to sleep. Thankfully, you didn’t wear pants but panties, granting him the access he craved so badly.

He pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your nipples to the cool air of the night. He latched onto your nipple with his mouth, sucking and biting until you were writhing beneath him. 

Your hands gripped his ash-blonde hair, pulling him closer as you moaned his name. You moaned in pleasure all the time, your body responding to his touch like it used to do before. 

He pulled away suddenly, leaving you panting and desperate for more. Bakugo's hands moved down to your panties, roughly pulling them off and exposing your pretty pussy. He grinned at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You're wet for me, aren't you?" he growled. His fingers then traveled down to your pussy, teasing your clit. 

You blushed, unable to deny it. 

Katsuki chuckled, his fingers sliding over your clit and making you gasp in pleasure. After slipping his calloused middle finger into you, a wide grin spread across his lips. "Oh, fuck. Of course you are, doll," he murmured, licking a stripe up your neck with the tip of his tongue.

All you could do was to throw your head back, moaning like a whore.

He grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly while fingering your pussy roughly, and squeezing the meat of your ass with his other hand.

After the kiss, he nudged your hip, but you already knew what to do. With a swift motion, you jumped up, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

He effortlessly held you in the air with just one arm slipped under your butt to secure you as he made out with you, carrying you to the couch by the window in your small living room.

You could easily feel his cock getting hard in his pants, straining the material and pressing against your bare crotch as you still had your legs wrapped around him.

Bakugo tossed you onto the couch like you were a rag doll, paying no mind to the whimper that escaped you. "On your fucking hands and knees," he commanded, his tone filled with pure lust. “Show me that pretty cunt.”

As a good girl you were, you took the position, lowering yourself as much as you could on your hands, sticking your ass out, presenting yourself to him. Was it wrong? Perhaps. Was it exactly what you wanted? Absolutely.

He admired your figure for a moment before delivering a sharp smack to your ass, leaving a red mark in the shape of his palm.

You let out a yelp of surprise, followed by a moan as the sting turned into a pleasurable warmth. 

Bakugo chuckled darkly before spanking you again, harder this time. He continued to alternate between rough caresses and painful smacks, driving you wild with desire. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, smacking you again.

You moaned in response, your body writhing with pleasure. 

Bakugo chuckled again, smacking you again and again until your ass was red and throbbing. He enjoyed seeing the influence his actions had on you - your juices slowly spilling out of your pussy, coating your sweet folds in the essence he craved so much.

Your sweet arousal scent filled his nostrils, making his cock twitch in his pants, already leaking precum and staining the material. All he could do was growl at the sensation and the tight knot building within his abdomen.

Finally, he gave in. Katsuki pulled his sweatpants down enough to free his rock-hard cock. He lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you with one swift motion. “Fuuuuuck!” he howled, spanking your ass again. “You feel so fucking good, just like I remembered, doll.”

You cried out in pleasure, your pussy stretching painfully to accommodate his monstrous girth.

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards him, his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy with ease. 

Bakugo began to thrust into you, rough and hard. 

You could feel every inch of him, filling you up and hitting all the right spots. His name was falling out of your lips like a prayer.

He grunted and groaned above you, his hands gripping either your hips or the meat of your ass tightly, squeezing it to the point he would leave bruises in his wake.

Suddenly, he pulled out, only to scoop some of your juices on his fingers and bring it to his mouth. After tasting your essence, he groaned. “Fuck, you’re gonna be a death of me, doll. You taste so divine.” He slid his cock back into your pussy, his thrusts even rougher than before. Of course he didn’t stop himself from delivering hard spanks to your ass. “Say you missed me. Say it!” he growled.

“Yes, Katsuki, I missed you!” you whined, tears welling up in your eyes.

“That’s it. That’s my bitch,” he praised, spanking your ass again, earning himself a yelp from you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and Bakugo's grunts of pleasure. 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building with each powerful thrust of his.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, Bakugo pulled out suddenly. He flipped you over onto your back before positioning himself between your legs. He entered you once again, this time with a slow and deliberate pace.

The truth was he wanted to see your face. He wanted to witness the pure bliss written on your features, accentuated by your watery eyes that used to roll back in the cutest way possible when he used to fuck you all those years ago. He longed to be as close to you as possible. All he wanted and craved was you.

His eyes locked onto yours as he moved inside you, his expression intense and focused. 

You could see the burning desire in his gaze, and it only served to heighten your own pleasure. “Katsuki…”

"Come for me," Bakugo growled, his right hand gripping your waist tightly as his other hand moved up to squeeze your breasts.

He increased his pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you, growling like an animal.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and raked your nails down his back, feeling the tip of his cock continuously hitting the sweetest spot deep inside of you.

As you climaxed, your body shuddered, and Bakugo let out a roar of satisfaction, feeling your velvety walls spasming around his dick. He continued to fuck you, drawing out your orgasm until you were spent, gasping for air like a fish pulled out of water.

He came shortly after you, spilling his warm, thick seed inside your abused pussy. He threw his head back, grunting gutturally as he reached his peak. He was a little frustrated that he didn't manage to come at the same time as you did.

When it was over, Bakugo collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy. Soon, he pulled out slowly, hissing when a cold air enveloped his slick cock, covered in your mixed releases.

You giggled quietly, rolling in the ball so he could fit behind you on the couch, blushing hardly as you felt how soaked you were thanks to his cum, which slowly flowed out of your pussy, staining your inner thighs.

He wrapped his arm around your waist from behind, holding you close as you both reveled in the afterglow of your passionate encounter. His rough fingertips ran up and down the curve of your waist. "You're mine now," he growled, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of bitterness as his words echoed in your mind. "You're mine now." He had said it countless times before, but you knew deep down that he never truly meant it. It was just another empty promise, meant to keep you tethered to him. "You don't have to pretend with me. You can lie to your other girls, but not to me. We both know I'm just a friend with benefits to you, Katsuki."

Suddenly, Bakugo's grip on you tightened, his temper flaring instantly at your comment. "What the hell did you just say?!" he snapped, his voice becoming sharp and accusing. "You think I don't mean it, huh? You think I'm just messing around?"

You flinched at the sudden intensity in his tone, but you refused to back down. "I'm just saying what's true," you replied, feeling how his grip on your waist tightened. "You never wanted to be with me. You just used me when it suited you."

Bakugo's expression darkened, his jaw clenched in anger. "That's not true," he growled, his grip on you almost painful now. "I wanted you, damn it. I still do. But it was better that way.”

You rolled to your other side to face him, tears welling in your eyes as you poured out your feelings. "I've always loved you, Katsuki," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "No matter what you did or who you are, I've always loved you, and I still do."

His anger faltered as he listened to your words, his expression softening slightly. "I pushed you away to protect you," he admitted, his voice filled with a modicum of remorse. "From my deeds, from myself. I've never been a good man, and I didn't want you to get caught up in that fucking shit, Y/N.”

But you shook your head, reaching out to gently touch his stubbly cheek. "I don't care about any of that," you insisted in a whisper, your love for him shining through despite the pain in your heart. "I love you, Katsuki. I always did, and I always will, no matter what."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of your emotions hanging heavy in the air. 

And then, without a word, he pulled you closer, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest as if he never wanted to let you go. Bakugo's expression was grave as he pulled you close, his voice low and urgent. "There's a manhunt for me, as you know,” he reminded, his words tinged with a mix of sadness and anger. "It's too dangerous for you to be associated with me."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation, but determination burned in your eyes. "We'll find a way to navigate it," you assured him, refusing to let fear consume you. “Together, Katsuki.”

There was a long silence between the two of you.

He kissed your nose tenderly, his touch gentle against your naked skin as he caressed your body. "I've always dreamt of something true, something pure," he admitted, his voice tinged with longing. He stared into your eyes with his intense crimson gaze, as if trying to peer into your very soul. "But I was too blind to notice it was always right in front of me.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Gone But Here All The Same｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Being a military wife could be quite lonesome especially being a military wife to a ghost but he knows exactly what you need to make you feel less alone

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (m&f), some reference to death and PTSD but not really, dom!Simon, sex toys, bit of voice kink, size kink

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You knew what you were getting into when you married Simon. He was a member of the special forces who technically didn’t exist- you were used to the long months when he was shipped off, the anxiety that John Price would show up on your doorstep with a frown and a letter from the military, the anger and the fear that your husband carried on his chest every moment of the day.

You knew all of this and yet you still married him because he was the best thing to ever happen to you and besides that, he was the best lay you ever had.

Simon had ruined you for any other man (and toy) the moment that his thick fingers slipped between your soft thighs and into your panties under the bar table on your third date. He drove you insane with the smallest of touches, playing with your body with a finesse that only a seasoned soldier could.

You constantly ached for him, feeling so hollow without his thick cock stretching you to your absolute limit. Sure the reunion sex was absolutely mind-blowing every time he came home but with Simon leaving for sometimes months at a time, your need for any sort of pleasure drove you insane.

But luckily, he was going to call you today.

Simon called when he could, usually it was from a private number or some foreign phone, a different number every time. He had created a system with you, he would always call on the 13th of every month and if he missed it, he would call you on the 23rd. 

You sat on your shared bed, staring intently at your phone. The minutes ticked by at a snail's pace as the sun cast a warm orange glow over the large bedroom. You sighed when the clock hit 8, you doubted that he would call today.

A groan slipped from your lips as you rocked forward to slip from the bed, but just then the phone screen lit up, displaying a cute photo of you and Simon on your honeymoon as a random number rolled across the top. You snatched it up and quickly answered.

“Simon.” You breathed, relief flooding your body. His chuckle crackled through your phone’s speaker.

“Hello to you too bunny.” Your smile grew even wider if that was at all possible. He only ever called you bunny when he was in a good mood. You flopped back against the mountain of pillows propped against the headboard, keeping your phone as close as you could in lieu of your husband’s massive body.

“Are you coming home soon?” You tugged the collar of the shirt you were wearing up to your nose, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne.

He was silent for a moment. “No, not yet love.” ‘Love’, that’s what he called you when he was trying to let you down easy. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he quickly spoke again. “I do have a present for you bunny.” He purred, his voice dropping down an octave to that deep baritone that haunted your wet dreams.

“But nothing was delivered to the house?” 

“Oh bunny.” He said mockingly. “Your present is already in the house. How ‘bout you check my nightstand.” You practically dove over to his side of the bed in your excitement, Simon’s broken laughter following after you.

The drawer slid open and you gasped. Sitting on top of one of his many spare balaclavas and a book he was in the middle of reading was an enormous dildo. There was a suction cup on the bottom where the balls should have been and with a little bow sitting on the head, it made you laugh a little under your breath. “Got it?” 

Simon’s voice broke you out of your trance. You snatched up the toy and gasped at the weight of it. “Simon what is this?” You settled back into your original spot, your fingers flexing around the purple silicon almost unconsciously.

“I would think you know what it is considering how often you beg for it.” He said right as your middle finger brushed against an incredibly life-like vein towards the base of the fake cock, a vein you knew very well.

“Is this- is this your cock?” Molten heat pooled between your thighs as you held the toy even tighter, now realising that you were indeed holding a replica of your husband’s generous gift. Already you were using your free hand to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

“Damn right it is. You think I would let another cock near you?” He snarled, sending another wave of arousal right to your core. You moaned softly into the air as your fingers brushed against your aching clit, smearing your wetness over the sedative bundle of nerves. “Oh you like that don’t you.”

“Si.” His groan echoed through the room and you could faintly hear the sound of a zipper.

“Go on bunny, get that cunt nice and stretched for my cock.” You were dripping onto the comforter beneath you, desperately eager to follow each and every one of his orders. Excitement began to curl in your stomach as two of your fingers easily slipped into your cunt. It wasn’t nearly enough for you, your fingers weren’t as thick or as long as your husband’s but they were warming you up well enough.

“Can I put it in now?” You pleaded into your phone, needing your husband’s cock nestled inside you once more, even if it was only a replica. He let out a sniffled groan and you could just picture the way he was biting his lip to keep his voice down, his blue eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the base of his dick to stave off his end. He always got noisy when he was about to cum.

“I don’t think your little cunt can handle it.” He managed to get out through clenched teeth. You nodded frantically. “Words bunny.” He snarled, briefly jolting you from your haze.

“Yes Si, can handle you. Always do.” Your other hand practically flew between your thighs, the toy gripped so tightly you could feel the silicon give under the tension. The cold tip bumped against your hot skin as you notched it at your entrance. 

Your cunt burned as it finally breached you, dousing the ache in your belly. You whined with pain and Simon moaned. It was no secret that he loved the size difference between you both, he revealed in the way you cried when he fucked you, his massive cock stirring up your guts in the most deliciously painful way.

You could barely breathe as you reached the halfway mark. “So big.” Your back arched and you forced another inch inside you. A wet slapping came through your phone’s speakers along with Simon’s muffled breaths.

An image of him flashed behind your eyes- fully dressed in dark clothes but with his fly open and his thick cargo pants shuffled down his hips just enough for his cock to be free. The ridged lines of his skull mask would hide the way his lips twitched as he got lost in the feel of his gloved fist around his aching length. 

You cried out as you finally reached the hilt of the dildo, finally you were full of him once more. “Simon, you feel so good.” You pulled the toy out only a few centimetres before pushing it back in and sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck bunny, keep talking.” He ground out as the wet sounds on his end picked up the pace.

“I can feel you in my belly, so big. Stretching me out.” Your hand began to move faster. It wasn’t the same as when your husband fucked you, you couldn’t feel his weight keeping you picked to the mattress or the way his cock would throb and twitch within you but the sound of his voice right next to your ear was all the same. 

His groan resonated through your chest, lighting your nerves up with that familiar fire. “Take that fucking cock, bunny, be a good girl and fuck yourself on it. Let me hear you cum for me.” 

You thrashed on top of the bed, hips rolling down to meet your hand with each thrust. “Simon!” You clumsily strummed your clit with your other hand so wishing for the rough fingertips of your husband instead. “‘M close.” You mewled.

“Cum.” The connection crackled with the depth of his voice but the effect was still the same. Your body seized suddenly as your jaw dropped in a silent scream. Pleasure rippled through you like a tidal wave, both easing and fuelling your lust. 

As soon as your breath returned to your lungs, you chanted his name over and over again as you rode out your high. “That’s it, good bunny.” Simon cooed, his breath hitching as he thrust into his fist with an added fervour. You were delirious with ecstasy, the toy inside of you now only keeping you full while your orgasm began to fade.

“Simon. Need your cum.” You begged softly into the phone. “Please Simon. Need it so bad.” He gasped and then moaned deep in his chest. 

“Shit.” He said breathlessly after a moment. “Shoulda brought a towel with me.” He grumbled and you laughed.

As gently as you could, you eased the dildo from your cunt. You winced at the stretch, now feeling sore and satisfied for the first time in two months. “How much longer do you have left on the call?” There was a grunt and then the sound of a zipper.

“Not long.” You sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. Simon always got quiet after sex, his pillow talk was practically non-existent.

“I love you.” There was a beat and then.

“Go take a shower and have a snack. Don’t forget water.” He never said it back but you felt it all the same. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was muffled shouting in the background and he sighed. “Stay safe out there. Don’t worry about me.” Your fingers curled around your phone and tucked it closer to your body.

“Always do bunny.” He replied simply. “Always do.” 

You held onto the device long after he finally hung up. It was hard being Simon’s wife but it was also the easiest thing in the world because you knew that he would always be right there, even when he was thousands of miles away.

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[bratchoso]

TRUST ME BABY | CHOSO.

pairing. choso x f!reader word count. 2.6k content warnings. smut, pwp, use of vibrator, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, needy whimpering messy choso (for a minute before he takes control hehe)

“It’ll feel good. Trust me, baby.” Your voice sounds so sweet, soft around the edges as your hand gently trails the silicone head along his bare skin. It’s not on yet, but the anticipation is killing him. The rounded edge of your nail tickles his chest as you circle your finger around his nipple, making a choked gasp escape him. “If it makes me feel good, imagine how good you’ll feel. Hm?”

Choso doesn’t even remember how he ended up in this position, his back resting against your mountain of pillows, you naked on his lap with the prettiest smile on your lips. He was familiar with the vibrator in your hand, had seen you use it a few times, enjoyed pressing the soft head against your bundle of nerves as he fucked you, but he had never thought of using it on himself. 

“Y-yeah, okay.” And maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to accept, because the flash in your eyes is a little too excited for him to register that maybe you had something else up your sleeve. But he can’t help that you have him wrapped around your finger, wound so tightly he even helps you yank down his sweats and boxers in a haste. 

“It’ll feel good,” you reassure him again, voice blending in with the low buzzing as you turn on the vibrator. It buzzes against his abs, muscles clenching at the sensation, his eyes focusing on it with a slow breath. He’s in a trance as it trails along his skin, circling his belly button before dipping down an inch. You giggle as he shudders from the ticklish feeling, your free hand resting on his hip, legs slot between his as you sit on his thigh. 

He can feel how wet you are already, messy folds dripping onto his skin as you fidget on his thigh, and he finds it hard to focus on anything else until you’re running the vibrator over his lower belly, just enough for the vibrations to tingle down to his cock. Its a brief moment but it makes his heart stutter, hands clenching the sheets below him as his mouth drops open. Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of the vibrator finally running down the length of his cock, weakly buzzing head resting on the red tip, making beads or precum drip out. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans, eyes clenching shut as he tries to breathe. The feeling was unfamiliar, a little shocking at first, but something about that gentle buzzing made him crave more. You giggle, sliding it off his tip, choosing to bring it back up and down his inner thigh in a teasing motion, just wanting to give him a taste. 

“How’s that?” His hips buck up in search for it, thigh rubbing deliciously against you and you have to bite back a moan. 

“More—want more, baby.” It’s a low rasp, desperate and needy as he looks at you with hooded eyes. You told him he’d like it. 

He holds his breath as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning over him as you let a glob of spit drip from your mouth and onto his tip. He hisses, brows pinching together as your hand glides up to spread your drool along his length. It’s shiny in the dim lighting of your bedroom, heavy in your hand as you pump him with a sly smile. 

“Okay.”

With a click the vibrators intensity goes up, pulsing against his inner thigh while your hand rests along his base. It's a torturously slow trail, but once you glide it back over his cock and his eyes roll back, he knows it was worth it. His mind is spinning as you circle it around his sensitive tip, enjoying the way more beads of precum drip out, gliding down to collect around your palm as you continue to jack him off. 

“I like seeing you like this,” you muse, eyes taking him in. His hair is a mess on his head, getting worse as he rakes his fingers through the dark strands, a huff of laughter escaping him as he spares you a glance. “So pretty when you’re needy and whining.”

His chest hiccups as you press against his frenulum, the jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine. A mirth smile tugs at his lips, head tilting as he stares down at you. “Careful love”

“Or what?” You counter, giggling sweetly as you tighten your hold on him and speed up. “I have the power right now. You gotta be nice to me.”

“I’m always nice to you—fuck,” he groans when you raise the intensity, leaning forward again until you’re lightly suckling on the head of his cock. It was overwhelming, the warmth of your mouth, the tingling vibration felt to his core, the delicious squeeze of your hand. “So fucking good. Just like that, good girl.”

His praise has you mewling, hips instinctively rocking against his tense thigh. The feeling of your wetness dripping down his skin has Choso reeling, his hand reaching forward to cup against your cheek, abs tensing when you once again up the level. You pull away from his cock with a smile, a small string of spit connecting to your lips. 

“I wanna see you cum, Choso. Make a mess so I can clean it up.” He curses under his breath, nodding along mindlessly, hips rutting up. The silicone head bends as you press it harder against him, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to burst at the seams as he moans out. His chest feels tight as he gasps, blood pumping so loud in his ears. He would’ve never imagined something like this would feel so good, no wonder it always left you drooling and crying when he used it on you. 

“Mm yeah, gonna cum. Make me cum baby.” His whines sound like music to your ears, rutting against his thigh with more urgency, circling his tip to bring him closer to the edge. Choso lets his head hang back as he groans, desperate little whimpers filling the air, stomach caving in as the warmth spreads until finally, he’s cumming. Your eyes widen in surprise as white ropes spurt onto his tummy, dribbling onto the head of the vibrator as it continues to buzz against him. He whimpers as the feeling rocks through him, hips twitching when you lick along his tip. 

“Fuck, too much.” He hisses when you hum in question, continuing to tease him as you milk his orgasm. The pleasure turns sharp, his whole body tensing, hips pushing into the bed to try to escape the feeling. 

“Really? I thought you’d want to fuck me after.” The vibrator finds its ways down lower, buzzing against his balls and making him curse. He groans as he stares at you, licking his lips while you bend over to clean up the mess on his stomach. The pearly white splashes get licked up, coating your tongue as you smile and stick it out for him to see before going back to lick up the length of his aching cock. 

“I do, s-so let me. Please.” It happens too fast for him to register, the vibrator being tossed aside as you shimmy higher up his body, straddling his hips before you’re sinking onto him. Your walls invite him in easily, nice and wet from the show he just gave you. The sensation leaves him feeling winded, hands clutching onto your hips so hard your skin dimples. 

“Wanna feel you cum again.” Your walls pulse around him, hands resting on his chest as you raise your hips before dropping them once more with a thump. The veins in his neck appear as he clenches his jaw, sensitive cock being sucked up by your greedy pussy, overstimulation making the corners of his vision blur but it hurts too good to beg you to stop. 

“Y-yeah, I can do that just—fuck. Go a little faster for me.” His hands grip you tighter, bruising your skin, controlling the speed of your hips in case you decide to go against him. It’s not like you mind though, always preferring when he lets you go pliant and does what he wants. His cock curves just right inside of you, tip rubbing against the spongey patch of nerves that have you whining, nails digging into the soft skin of his chest as you lean forward and angle your hips better. The wet sound of skin slapping together fills the bedroom, the obscene squelch making the faintest blush spread onto his cheeks, always loving being able to hear how much you wanted him. 

“Mm, you feel good Choso,” you mewl, head dropping down to watch the way his cock disappears inside of you, covered in your slick, ring of white collecting at the base. 

“Yeah?” he hums, biting down on his bottom lip as he slides you up and down. “Can feel how wet you are, making my cock nice and messy. Your pussy likes me that much?”

A shaky laugh escapes you as you lift your head, meeting his lidded stare, eyes swirling with lust. “Almost as much as I do.”

Choso smiles now, tongue tracing the bottom of his teeth. How could you be this cute in this position? One of his hands glides up your body, goosebumps flaring up on your skin on the path he makes until he has a handful of your tits in his palm. You groan as he gives them a playful squeeze, fingers pinching the pebbled bud, feeling your pussy clench as he tugs it. 

His feet slide up, planting themselves on the bed as he starts to rut into you, matching your speed and reaching deeper inside of you. His laugh is dark as you gasp in shock, resting more of your weight on his chest to let him take over fully. While your eyes flutter shut he reaches over, hands sliding along the bed sheets until he finds the discarded toy, remnants of his cum still covering the head.

“Want you to use this on yourself while I fuck you,” he grunts, thumb pressing the button to bring the toy to life. It buzzes against your thigh, making you blink your eyes open to stare at it as he trails it up your skin towards your pussy. His cum smears along your folds, the vibrations making you shudder as he presses it gently against your clit. “Need to feel you cum around me before I fill you up baby.”

The desperation drips from his voice, soaks into your skin and makes your stomach flip. With a shaky hand, you replace his hold on the vibrator, following instructions like the good girl you are and pressing it against your clit. It's embarrassing how quickly the warmth spreads through you at the stimulation, walls clamping down around him so tight it makes him groan. You know you won’t last long now, especially with the way he starts to fuck up into you ruthlessly, eyes glued to the way your tits bounce from the force. 

He looks so beautiful beneath you, muscles flexing from exertion, sweat glistening on his skin, love drunk look taking over his features. It’s funny how easily the roles are switched, how quickly you become the whining mess on top of him, whimpering with each roll of his hips. 

“I thought you had the power baby?” he teases, brow cocked up as he angles his thrusts just right to have you gasping. 

“S-shut up,” you stutter, letting your head fall back, raising the intensity of the pulsing, feeling your nerve endings tingling. Your body starts to rock, searching for moremore once the familiar feeling starts to overpower you. 

“I’m kidding,” he whispers, stomach tensing as his orgasm starts to creep up on him too. “You look so fucking pretty like this, always look so pretty. Already making a mess of you, got my cum smeared all over your pussy baby, look at that.” You glance down, seeing the milky white streaks coating your folds, remnants of his earlier orgasm blending in with your arousal as you glide the toy down to your entrance and back up. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry, biting down on your lip, breath choppy and stuttering as your high approaches. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you messier right now. You just gotta cum for me,” he grunts out, trying to ebb his own orgasm away, needing to feel you crumble and fall apart before he did. You’re nodding above him, mouth open as you moan out, nails clawing into his skin as the pleasure starts to crest, crashing over you until you’re cumming. He watches in awe as your eyes roll back, body tensing as your orgasm flows through you, pussy clamping around his cock so tight it makes him gasp. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, tingles spreading through you as you come down, allowing the toy to continue to buzz against your bundle of nerves before you’re weakly shutting it off and letting it drop to the side. Choso doesn’t slow down, if anything he speeds up, determined to fulfill his promise. You gush around his length, only amplifying the raunchy sound of his balls hitting your ass, tiny mewls from you blending into it to make the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. 

“Ah, cumming. I’m c-cumming,” he groans, eyes locked onto the view of his cock pummeled into you, sticky and wet with your orgasm, and the thought of him adding more to it sends him over the edge. Choso grits his teeth as he spills into you with a raspy moan of your name, cock twitching inside your pulsing walls, spilling ropes of white with each thrust. His hands clench your hips, slamming you down until you’re flush against him, humming in content at the warm feeling, allowing him to shallowly rut into you until he is satisfied. 

You look down at him with a cheeky smile, seeing the blissed out look on his face, giggling when he purses his lips out for you to lean forward and give him a kiss. His arms wrap around you as you kiss, lips smacking together softly, cock still nestled inside of you when he flips you both over to cage you in. It makes you squeal in delight, loving how small he was able to make you feel, your hands roaming over the muscles of his back as he kisses your neck gently. 

“You’re so cute,” you whisper when he pulls away, a smile on his face at the tender compliment. You groan when he finally pulls his cock out, feeling his cum gush out of you, surely staining the sheets below. Choso smirks when his cock bobs in the air, still hard as he readjusts his hips until it’s resting along your swollen folds. Your brows pinch together when he rocks forward experimentally, sensitive clit aching as his tip rubs against it. You think he’s just teasing, still riding the wave of his orgasm, until he does it again and again, not caring about the slight pain he feels. Maybe he got off on it, but he knew you enjoyed it too, especially with the way your leg instinctively hooks around his waist to keep him close. So desperate. So cute. 

“Wait Choso, ah.”

“Why?” he rasps with a wicked smile, arm still caging you in as his free hand guides his cock back into you with a lewd squelch, enjoying the wet gasp you release. “Thought you liked this? Wanted me to keep cumming earlier. You can handle it, trust me baby.”

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Reader teaching Haganezuka how to eat that kittykat and fuck it properly because we all know he's a virgin still uwu

(bonus points for size kink, implied age gap [reader 20s])

(bonus points and cookies for Haganezuka being so focused, listening very intently to the puss eating lesson but gets super into it and tunes out reader as he begins to figure what to do and he can't stop himself from overstimmulating reader, which has reader smacking his head so he finally lets go)

Argh yes okay here we go! I love this beautiful nutjob and I got carried away. (I left the age of the reader ambiguous because personally I am old as shit, but I think I get cookies still for the overstimmulating?)

Also... I really want to write a part 2. I want us to take care of him after the events of season 3 because I just know that once the adrenaline wore off this poor man was hurting so bad.

Anyway, enjoy!

UNBREAKABLE, UNQUENCHABLE.

F!Reader x Hotaru Haganezuka

Content Guidance: cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, not stopping when reader tells him to (reader is still into it though)

Minors DNI.

"I don't make swords for civilians," the swordsmith said, his voice deep and his tone final. He turned away from you, continuing his journey down the mountain path, the soft thud of his footsteps accompanied by the gentle tinkling of the windchimes hanging from his hat.

Your heart sank for a moment before you steeled your resolve and renewed your determination. It was never going to be easy and you'd mentally prepared for rejection. This swordsmith was infamous for his unbending resolve and temper. 

Running a step ahead of him, you turned to stare into the wide bug-eyes of his hyottoko mask. "Please, Haganezuka... I need a nichirin blade."

He continued walking as if he expected to simply pass through you. "No."

"But it's the only thing I can use to kill demons."

He paused. "Demon slayers kill demons. Not civilians. No sword for you."

"I am a demon slayer, just not an official one." You brace yourself for a telling off. Usually whenever you admitted to going rogue you were met with lectures about the proper way to do things and told to leave things to the demon slayer corps— but their numbers were dwindling and you'd never quite figured out breathing styles well enough for your sensei to agree to send you to final selection. Still, hacking and slashing got the job done with the right blade. "Please, Haganezuka. I had a sword with your stamp on it before. It was the best blade I've ever had and—"

"Where did you get it?" His voice was strained as if forced between gritted teeth.

"I found it..."

"SOMEONE LOST MY SWORD?"

"Yes... maybe, but I found it. It served me well and I really want another."

He turned his face away from you slightly, making the windchimes ring. "What happened to it? Did you lose the sword too?"

"No, it broke."

You could've sworn he was vibrating. "m-m-m-m-m-m-my SWORD???"

The elongated lips of the mask poked your cheek as he stepped right up against you. His haori concealed the true size and density of his body, but with him standing so close, you could tell he was muscular and incredibly strong. He was also apparently unhinged, but then again, you reasoned, what was life without a little zest?

“YOU BROKE MY SWORD??”

You'd been pre-warned that his swords were the key to winning him over, so you kept your voice level as you emptied your arsenal. "Your sword was the finest sword I have ever seen. It was an honor to wield it, Mr. Haganezuka. Not even the blade of a hashira could compare to the sublime craftsmanship of that sword. I dream about that sword." You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his body pulse against your palm as you added in a lower, more sultry tone. "And I've dreamed about meeting the artist who forged such a perfect sword for a very long time."

His chest rose sharply as he pushed out the only response he could manage; a strained, breathless grunt.

Taking his broad, calloused hand in yours, you gazed into the eyes of his mask. "Mr. Haganezuka... please make me a sword?"

The trees swayed overhead, the sigh of the leaves the only break in the utter silence between you and the swordsmith.

"Mister Haganezuka?"

The windchimes tinkled. "Tell me your name."

You told him, and he repeated it back, slowly and carefully as if trying it out.

The mask's mouth moved to your nose as he stared you in the eyes. "Mine is Hotaru. Do you need a husband?"

"I... uhh..." you stammered, suddenly feeling very warm as the heat of his burly frame pulsed against you. "Do I need a..."

He carefully removed the hyottoko mask and with it, removed every particle of air from your lungs. Ravenette hair threaded with silver, amber eyes which glowed like the forge, dark, severe eyebrows which slanted downward as he awaited your answer. He was... beautiful, treading the fine line between painfully pretty and achingly rugged.

"Yes." You said firmly. "Yes I do need a husband."

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

Two days later you were married to Hotaru and about to spend your first night at the Swordsmith Village. Ordinarily, outsiders had to undergo a lengthy initiation process to ensure the village remained a secret, but the village chief fast-tracked your application and damn near pulled you through the gates himself.

It seemed he was just as keen as you were to get your marriage to Hotaru underway. In fact, the whole village pitched in to ensure your wedding went ahead quickly and without a snag.

“Thank you for marrying Hotaru,” the village chief whispered while you were in the middle of your vows. “You have no idea the relief you have brought to the village. We were beginning to lose hope. He has never shown any interest in anything besides swords. Once Hotaru finds something to focus his attention on it's nigh impossible to tear him away from it.”

Before you knew it, you were a wife, married to a man so introverted he spent the majority of your wedding day hiding behind a tree, peering out at you as you chatted to the villagers. In fact, he only came out from behind the tree when someone walked over to congratulate him on the marriage, and even then it was only to find a different tree to hide behind.

"Hotaru..." you sighed adoringly as you slipped away from the crowd to stand beside your husband in his hiding spot. "Are you unhappy?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm happy."

"Ah... You just prefer to be alone?"

"Yes. With you. I want to be alone with you."

He was a strange man, but he melted your heart with every other word. And Gods, he was beautiful. You yearned for him like no other. You craved him.

"Husband, for my wedding gift, will you—"

"No sword for you," he said firmly. "No fighting demons. No risking your life. You are my wife now and it's my job to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself. So no sword."

You couldn't help but smile. It seemed Hotaru's dedication to being a husband was as intense as his dedication to smithing.

"I promise, no more demon slaying, but I wasn't going to ask about the sword."

"Oh?"

You leaned in and whispered against his ear. "I was going to ask you to take me to bed."

His orange eyes snapped to your lips as though he couldn't quite believe what you had said. He cleared his throat and tried to speak but only managed a choked grunt.

Silence descended between you until he finally found his voice. "I don't know how to do… those things."

"I can teach you."

He didn't speak. He simply took your hand in his and led you away from the wedding party and deep into the woods. After a minute he looked back at you and picked you up, carrying you against his burly chest.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"A place where we can be alone. They won't find us."

He carried you a little further, to a small, seemingly abandoned work shed. Inside there was a small forge and smithing tools, and a small living area with a bed and basic amenities. The air was thick with the lingering tang of smoke and molten steel.

"Is... this our home?"

Hotaru shook his head. "This is where I come to work in peace when I really need to concentrate.''

He set you down carefully beside the bed and waited. Except, he wasn't simply "waiting." Hotaru's eyes drank you in, gazing at you with soft reverence. He was so big, so intimidating and by all accounts completely lacking any kind of social skills, but you had won his heart entirely. He was softer than molten steel for you, and more than willing for you to hone and hammer him into the shape you desired him to be.

"Teach me," he said. "I'm ready."

You nodded, your heart thrumming with the anticipation of what was to come. "Okay. Would you like to use your fingers? Your tongue? Or your cock?"

"Yes. All. Teach me how to use them."

Marrying this strange man had definitely been one of your better decisions.

Closing the space between you, you wrapped your arms around your husband's neck and gazed into those fiery eyes. "Well, we should start with a kiss. Do you know how to do that?"

His brow knitted. "Yes of course I know how to kiss."

"Good. Then kiss me, Hotaru."

He leaned down and pecked your cheek.

"Was that good?" An expectant look lingered on his face, faltering by the second. "I... that's what you want, isn't it? Do you want more? I can give you more."

Gods, the man was completely uninitiated.

Still, you couldn't help but smile as he eagerly peppered your cheek with little kisses; dozens of them, soft and dry and so sweet. His brow remained furrowed in concentration throughout, and you remained patient as he expressed his devotion. But when they inched closer to the corner of your mouth you turned your face to press your lips to his. 

The moment your lips touched, he froze, eyes wide as you gently and slowly pulled him into your kiss.

His lips were still and stiff beneath yours as he adjusted to the new sensation. And then they softened. Gradually, tentatively, he followed your lead. His lips crept across yours, careful and slow like he was learning the steps to a new dance and didn't want to tread on you.

You licked the seam between his lips, easing your tongue through the gap as he inhaled sharply and he brought his hands to your waist.

And then something inside him snapped. A restraint cut loose.

He wound his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. The strength in his arms was breathtaking; forged by decades of tireless labor, and now wholly dedicated to you as he pushed you down onto the bed and slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring this newfound pleasure.

Your kisses awakened a voracious appetite in him and before long he was devouring you with heated passion, barely giving you time to breathe. It was as if he had gone his entire life without intimacy, but once the dam had cracked it was impossible to stop the flood.

His tongue stroked yours again and again as his tough hands skated up the length of your legs. When he reached your knees he granted your tingling lips a reprieve, kissing your throat as he pushed up the skirt of your wedding dress and squeezed the tender flesh of your thighs with a wanton groan. 

"My pretty wife," he growled as you shifted beneath him, craving his touch. "Tell me how to make you feel good."

You parted your legs, pulling your skirt up all the way to reveal yourself to him. A sharp intake of breath expanded Hotaru's chest as he looked down at your pussy. A muscle in his cheek danced and his grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes filled with a look of pure hunger.

"Do you want to touch me?" you asked, your breaths coming in shallow bursts as anticipation coiled in your belly.

His answer was barely a whisper. "Very much." He swallowed hard. "May I?"

"Please... please do," you whispered, your need for him drowning out the rest of the world. It was just you and Hotaru, and nothing else mattered. 

The sound of his shaking breaths was the only break in the silence. His hand left your thigh and he gently brushed his fingertips along the edge of your folds. 

“Soft,” Was the only word which emerged from his lips as he stared and explored the shape of you. His orange eyes were focused, his perpetually furrowed brow somehow even more severe. Hotaru was lost in concentration, entirely focused on mapping the curves and ridges of your cunt.

You lay there on the bed, letting him find his bearings. His gentle exploratory touches sent shivers through your body. Those rough, calloused fingers touched you with such care and attentiveness. His eyes snapped back to yours every time you made a sound or breathed a little harder.

Hotaru was a devoted craftsman– his hands finely tuned tools– and they were dedicated entirely to your pleasure. He found your entrance and pushed a finger into you, watching intently as your pussy clenched around it.

You sighed in pleasure. "Gods, Hotaru, you're making me so wet…"

"Is that good? Am I making you happy?"

"Yes. That's good."

"Hm," he muttered, as if filing the information away. "A wet wife is a happy wife."

A sharp gasp escaped you as he nudged the hood of your clit with his thumb and his lips curved into a smile. 

"You like this, don't you?" He hummed pensively and circled your clit, spreading your wetness.

Squirming beneath him, you nodded as the heat on your cheeks blossomed. "Yes, Hotaru. Keep doing that."

Gods, those rough hands. They sent jolts of pleasure surging through your body as he lavished attention on your clit, fascinated by the way it swelled as he worked with dogged determination. He added another thick finger to your cunt, stretching you deliciously.

A quiet groan emerged from him as you began to fuck yourself on his fingers, hard and fast as he rubbed your clit. He watched you intently, his lips parting in sync with your cry as your first orgasm of the night rocked through your body.

"Oh look at you, my pretty wife with your sensitive little bead." He moved down your body, lowered his head and nuzzled your clit with his nose. 

"Ho-taru…"

The wet heat of his mouth closed over your tender bud, pulling another cry from your lips. 

"Ah! You like that too," he murmured as he knelt between your knees, his long, dark hair spread like strands of seaweed across your thighs. 

"Yes. D-do it again… please… use your tongue."

“My tongue?”

You sucked in a breath as he licked your clit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your essence. 

He groaned. "Mm~ fuck, this is good." 

"More… please…" 

In response to your demand, he raised his hand to press his thumb against your lower lip. "Show me how to lick you well."

Gods, this man. You took his thumb into your mouth, showing him exactly what to do, licking the tip of it as if it was your clit. He groaned as you lapped his thumb, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw clenched. 

"That feels… huh…" He bit back a groan before burying his face in your pussy and replicating the motion on your clit.

Thank the Gods he has the foresight to take you away from the village, because the sounds he pulled from you were unholy. He was eager and so receptive to your lessons.

Hotaru put everything he had into eating your pussy; the slick, sucking sound of his mouth and his hot, wet tongue accompanied by your desperate cries. With every passing moment his confidence grew, pumping those thick fingers into you and curling them against your walls, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to give you more pleasure than you ever expected. 

As he pleasured you, he ground his hips against the mattress, groaning as he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth. It was too good, too intense. Your senses were flooded with him; the sight of that beautiful man devouring you, the acrid scent of the forge, the lewd wet sound of his mouth on your cunt. And Gods, nothing had ever felt so good before. 

Hotaru was born to forge swords and eat pussy, and he did both with unbreakable focus. 

You sucked his fingers and he sucked your clit, groaning as he voraciously lapped the sensitive nub, driving you higher… higher…

An immense wave of pleasure crashed through you as you reached your peak, the force of your orgasm making your legs tremble. His name tore through you like a cry to the heavens, his answer a soft moan which vibrated through your core as he kept on licking. On and on, lapping at your pulsing clit as you gasped and bucked your hips against his insatiable mouth.

"Ho-taru… you did it… you made me–"

Taking his fingers from your mouth, he slung a heavy arm across your belly and continued eating you out, unrelenting, pulling another choked cry from you. Hotaru was drunk on you, on the taste and the knowledge that he was pleasing you; groaning, grinding his hips against the mattress, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you as he fluttered his tongue over your overstimulated clit.

The village chief had told you his focus was unbreakable, and now that attention was dedicated to your pussy. He was lost in you, wholly devoted to pleasuring you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, torn between needing respite and craving more. 

He propelled you from your second orgasm right into your third. Intense pleasure drove your head back against the pillow as you screamed in ecstasy and torment, your pussy throbbing beneath his lips as your nectar ran down his chin. And still, he licked you with an unquenchable thirst.

"Hotaru! Ho- oh it's too much.” 

He hit a spot inside your cunt which made the world shatter around the pair of you, sending you careening into another climax which turned your blood to liquid steel. “Too much! I can't!" You swatted at his forehead, smacking him with your fingertips as you wriggled out from beneath him. 

Your husband stared at you, dazed and breathless, his lips glistening with your slick juices. "Did… did I do it right?"

You gasped for air, trembling down to your bones. “You did it perfectly, Hotaru.” 

He pulled you into him and kissed you. You licked the taste of your desire from his lips, swallowing the low groan which rolled from his chest. His lips caressed yours with deep, undying passion, his hand dropping to the bulge tenting his hakama trousers.

“Let me take care of you now,” you whispered into his ear as your hand joined his, cupping his cock and making him moan. “Lie back for me, my love.”

He did as you asked without protest. It was true that you wanted to take care of him and give him as much pleasure as he had given you, but in a more practical sense, being on top of him allowed you to have control. You were already so fucked out, and from the feel of things–from the girth and weight of it through his trousers– control was definitely going to be necessary.

You stood from the bed and undressed as he gazed up at you, languidly palming his cock in his broad hand and drinking in the sight of you.

“Such a lovely wife,” he whispered, his orange eyes heavy with desire.

“And I have such a handsome husband…” you replied as you undressed him, revealing his big, muscular body inch by firmly hewn inch. He was a mountain of a man, and Gods, there wasn’t a thing you would change about him. “A handsome husband who pleases me well…” You kissed him, gently pushing him back and straddling his hips. “And who makes the very best swords in all the world–”

“Ohh…” He groaned, gripping your hips as you brushed the fat tip of his cock against your pussy. “Say that again.”

“Hm? That you’re the best swordsmith in the world?” You eased the top inch of him in, letting your body adjust to the sensation. “That your swords are works of art?”

“Gods, I want you,” he hissed, baring his teeth and gazing up at you from the pillow. A deep, longing groan emerged from him as you inched your way down his length. “You… you are…so warm… so wet… beautiful.”

You skated your hands over the plain of his abdomen, taking him deeper, your back arching as he stretched you even at that slow pace. When you finally reached the bottom of his shaft, you were breathless, tingling at your core. Hotaru was even less composed than you. 

The swordsmith growled, bending his knees to slide his legs up and down the mattress, fighting the urge to fuck up into you. His cock twitched inside you as you rocked forward to kiss him, your breasts pressed against his burly chest, his rough hands skating up your back. 

“I love you, Hotaru,” you whispered before rocking back to start riding his cock. 

“I–ngggh ohh… ohhh!” he groaned, eyes widening, fingers digging into your hips with bruising ferocity as you bounced on top of him. His control slipped almost immediately. 

He fell apart, groaning and thrusting up into you with a loud moan. His eyes screwed shut, his face flushed scarlet, and he trembled beneath you as his cum flooded into you, spilling out onto the base of his cock.

Pulling you down into an embrace, Hotaru held you in his arms, his heart thrumming beneath your ear. His big, broad hand stroked your back as he kissed the top of your head and his cock softened inside you.

After his breathing returned to normal, he gathered his senses long enough to ask, “Do you need more, my love?”

“I’m more than satisfied,” you said with a smile. 

He was asleep a second later. 

You lay there, pinned by his arms, crushed up against this strange, wonderful man you called your husband, and there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

[morallyinept]

Northern Lights - A Joel Miller One Shot

Summary: You and Joel watch the Northern Lights together whilst cold camping.

Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Established relationship/fingering/hand job/kissing/lots of snuggles/Joel being a grump - mostly fluff, but you get the spicy too.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I was watching The Last Of Us (again), and this idea came to me. Have you ever seen the Northern Lights? I've been fortunate enough to see them in Iceland, which was incredible. Would have been better if Joel was there, mind... 😍

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

A cold-tipped nose brushes against your cheek, rousing you from sleep.

The shadows of his face blur into clarity in the dim natural light of the camp. Your back, hard and cold on the ground, aches. The layers help, but it still seeps into your bones when you camp out so exposed like this, in the middle of a trying winter.

The steep, shadowy jags of the snow-capped mountains cut into the horizon; a deep midnight sky spackled with the twinkle of stars. A clear night, which means it’ll only get colder.

You rub your eyes, yawning. “What time is it?”

“Hell do I know.” Joel mutters as he reaches for the tin mug and pushes it into your hands. Your eyes fall on the broken watch he still wears around his wrist.

The scent of burnt, bitter coffee mists into your nostrils as it sloshes around the inside like a muddy puddle.

Your mouth becomes a vortex as you yawn, eyes dry and heavy.

A dense canopy of towering trees stretch skyward as you sit upright in the little clearing; their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers to brush against the star-studded awning above.

Despite the desolation that grips the world beyond, the forest offers a sense of tranquillity - a reminder that life, in all its beauty and complexity, still thrives in the most unlikely of places.

It’s a good place to pause; two survivors, traversing the decaying landscape of a once-thriving world, seeking refuge to rest your tired bones wherever you can.

Striking a balance between coasting in the woodlands out of sight and only daring to penetrate fallen cities or urban landscapes when you’re in dire need of supplies. It’s what's kept you both going for so long.

“Did you sleep?” You ask him as he gulps back his own coffee with fervour.

He shakes his head under a furrowed brow, greying curls billowing. You frown at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re going to keel over one day.” You blow on your coffee, fingers heated as you grip round the mug.

“M’not dead yet-”

Suddenly, a distant howl pierces the stillness, sending shivers down your spine. The infected are never far away, a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

Joel stiffens, reaching for the rifle.

“That’s not infected.” You say, listening to the shrill, barking moans emanating from deep in the forest surrounding you, and he nods, eyes darting about.

“Maybe a coyote.” He keeps hold of the rifle anyway.

The air is bitterly cool and heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine resin, creating an atmosphere of eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant screech of a hungry mammal.

Sipping your coffee, feeling it warm down the centre of your chest despite its acrid taste, you close your eyes again.

“Ya gon’ miss it.” Joel murmurs.

“How do you know it’s gonna happen tonight?”

“I can feel it.” He says, pottering about and with the gas stove. He pauses to glance up momentarily at the glittery sky.

“Right. The same as you can always feel it’s going to snow.”

“It snowed, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, two weeks after you said it would.” You scoff with a wry smirk.

“Just be grateful it ain’t snowing now.” He bites back.

“If it snows now I’m sleeping in the cab. You missed your calling as a weatherman, clearly.” You chortle.

“Drink ya damn coffee.” Joel grumbles, dumping the stove in the back of the truck.

“It’s really gross.” You say, offering it to him.

You smirk as he comes and sits beside you.

“You’re a coffee snob.” He remarks as he gulps it back.

“Yes I am.” You concur with a grin.

Tucking his body into the sleeping bag with you and rubbing his hands, Joel opens his arm out. You shuffle into it as you wrap your fallen scarf over your shoulder.

“Any minute now.” He gruffs, looking up at the sky with stretched eyebrows when he’s eventually settled.

“Mmhm.” You retort sceptically. “If you woke me up for nothing, expect a black eye.”

Joel snorts. “That’s some mighty big smack talk for a lil’ lady.”

You put your fists up and he kisses your knuckles with deep, big browns peering at you over the ridges.

“C’mere,” he lays right down with you horizontal, and sighs out.

Within moments, small ghostly wisps of green fleck across the sky; a gentle birth of colour that seems shy in its solo performance.

“Told ya.” He mutters, trying not to smirk.

“No-one likes a smartass, Joel.” You quip, nudging him gently.

“Yeah they do. Are ya warm enough?” He wraps the mottled scarf around you further with soft eyes lancing at you as you shiver.

As you gaze back at him, you can't help but notice the delicate web of lines that radiate outward from their corners, framing his stare with a quiet wisdom and warmth. With each smile, the crinkles deepen, forming gentle crow's feet that cradle the corners of his eyes like little parentheses of joy.

Despite the hardships you’ve faced, swinging on the precarious, fraying threads between life and death at times, there’s a lightness in the way Joel's eyes crinkle when he smiles, even if it’s a rare occurrence; a resilience that refuses to be dimmed by the darkness of this world.

And as you trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over your skin, warming you.

Despite the ruggedness of his facial hair, there’s a surprising silkiness to the touch, a reflection of the affection and intimacy shared between you. An unspoken tag-team who keep each other alive and well without having to utter the words out loud.

His moustache, once meticulously groomed in another life, now boasts a craggy charm, with patches of grey peeking through the remnants of its original dark colour as his youth stubbornly tries to hold on that bit longer. Each strand curls softly at the edges, adding a touch of character to his weather-beaten features.

As your hand cups his cheek, you can feel the gentle pressure of his fuzzed beard against your palm, thumb stroking at the edge of his lips where the hairs riot in a cluster of different directions as you smooth them down. You’ll probably need to help him trim them again soon and the thought makes you smile.

Despite the weariness etched into his face, there’s a quiet dignity in the way Joel carries himself, a sense of pride born of the challenges you’ve overcome together. He’s more than just a man who’s dragged you through this world with bloodied knuckles and kept you alive - he’s your confidant, your ally. Dare you even admit, a soulmate.

A shared story of love and loss, of hope and despair, woven into the fabric of your mutual beings, Joel’s gentleness in moments like this offer a sanctuary - a place where you can be yourself without reservation, without the tough bravado where your fears and doubts melt away in the pull of his hypnotic eyes.

“Lookit.” He breaks the spell and pushes your chin gently with a thick finger toward the direction of the sky.

Above you, the Northern Lights paint the firmament alive with their mesmerising hues, casting an otherworldly glow upon the world below. Soft tendrils of pink and violet unfurl like delicate petals around the spectacular emerald green.

They pulse and flicker with a rhythmic cadence, casting a soft, iridescent glow that bathes the landscape in a surreal, spooky light.

Joel wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer as you share the warmth of the sleeping bag and your layered up bodies crushed tight against one another.

"Look at that," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the leaves carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing this.”

Joel nods in silent agreement, his gaze fixed on the swirling display of colours overhead.

In that moment, it feels as though you’re the only two people left in the world, cocooned in your own little bubble of warmth and intimacy from the brackens of an oncoming harsh winter that’ll test both your resilience over again.

You both watch in silent wonder, lost in the beauty of the moment, for moments like these are hard to come by. A respite in the doom-filled survival that snaps at you daily, for a moment of shared awe.

Joel pulls the sleeping bag further up as you nestle into his arms. As you huddle inside, you can feel the plush, ragged interior cushioning your bodies, moulding to your contours like a second skin.

The sleeping bag is large enough to accommodate you both, yet intimate enough to foster a sense of closeness as you lay side-by-side.

“So beautiful,” you say.

“Yeah, you are.” Joel remarks and you turn to see his eyes watching you and not the sky. Face illuminated in a green glow, lost in how your curious orbs reflect the ethereal beauty above.

The pull of need floods your body, tingles pitching down your spine as he loses himself inside your eyes.

“Kiss me, Joel,” you murmur to him, nose pressed against his as you pull him by his collar to your face. His lips pursed, they find yours - cold and chapped as they graze.

A warm tongue slips inside, sucking gently as he explores; tiny, soft nips felt peppered across your lip.

You already feel warmer, the prickles of the heat blooming under your armpits and on the back of your neck. His cool fingers stroke you there, engulfing your mouth with a growing need of his own as he crushes you closer to him.

You find his skin under the layers; stroking at the softness of his belly that overhangs his jeans a little more now, as he gasps into your mouth at the intrusion of cold fingers. Traversing gently over the welts of scars where the texture changes underneath your tips.

You can feel his fingers within the depths of the sleeping bag fumbling at your button, tugging at your jeans clumsily with deep pants before he gives up and just slides his hand in when the zipper won’t give.

You whine into his mouth as he finds your clit, rubbing with the thick pad of his middle finger against it.

Your hands do the same, releasing him from his scuffed denim, warm and heavy. Breaking your kiss to spit into your palm, he hisses into your mouth as you stroke him; succulently wet around his thick cock, weeping as you pump.

You fist at his collar, face buried into the plush heat of the crook of his neck. He grunts as your teeth dig into golden, weathered skin, muting your gasps from the pulsing between your legs as he strokes and taps; the heat begins to engulf you inside the sleeping bag.

He growls as you bite harder, nudging your face with his so he can kiss you again, his own teeth gnawing at your lips as he pants harder now.

Hard and pulsing in your palm, his whines upping their tempo as he closes in on that moment when he’ll dissipate.

“Come-” he wheezes, words barely audible as he breathes. “-M’gonna come,” choking breaths get tangled in his throat.

Eyelashes fluttering agasint your skin, breathes seeping into your mouth, his grip on you tightens as his back stiffens and hips thrusts his cock further into your hand.

“Fu-fuck,” he jolts, spilling into your palm, warm and thick.

Joel trembles, body shaking as he empties, face pushing against yours as he breathes out in satisfaction, a small bewildered snicker in confoundment as you nuzzle against him.

“You kill me, darlin’.” He whispers, breath warm on your lips and chin as you wipe him away on your scarf.

He moves his fingers still inside your jeans, stroking over the swell of nerves. Your grip around his wrist keeps him there, feeling him dip his middle just inside your hole as you contract, thumb smoothing over the oil-slick bead of your clit.

“Joel!” You gasp, tonguing the sparse tracks of sweat-salt hairs grazing down the side of his throat.

His finger slides right into the hilt, palm up and stroking deeply; thumb still pushing on your clit. Your nails cut into his wrist, pulling him against you as you subtly grind.

The hooked end of his nose notches against yours as you whimper.

Gentle, broken commands lose their endings as he loses his breath. “Give it,” and “want,” snuffling out of him as he strokes faster on your wet, fleshy spot.

Your body shakes as you come; his finger sopping as you clench and rib around it, knees jerking against his as you float in the lights, bathed in fuschia and jade strobes.

He stops stroking as you kiss him. Tiny, soft pinpricks of his moustache tickle your lip, making the insides of your cheeks tingle. Coarser, wiry greys prominent in the fading roots, mingling with the softer ones that still reside.

You run your fingers through patchy, bare spaces, smooth and free of any growth. You make patterns in them, trace their random shapes with your tips; an oval here, a heart there.

You both turn and look up at the sky together. The display falling into your eyes in that glow of emerald and pink as the Aurora shows off for an entrancing encore.

The heat envelops you both as you snuggle in together, his arm draped around you and your head resting on the muscled pillow of his shoulder.

You press a soft kiss under his jaw, of which he grunts with throaty appreciation. Your eyes continue to roam the falling curtains of colour in sky.

“Is it everything ya ever hoped for?” Joel questions gently, voice rolling around that familiar grizzle as he tucks you in closer to his side.

“Freezing my ass off in the middle of the forest with you?”

He chuckles with a wheeze. “Yeah.”

“It’s everything.” You smile.

I hope you enjoyed watching the Northern Lights with Joel. He gives the best snuggles, right? Would love to know your thoughts and if you enjoyed it, I'd appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy it too. Thankies 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

[justlillythinking]

idk where to put requests bc i barely ask for stuff on here but basically my idea was this. neteyam x human reader that is hella funny. friends to lovers type thing where he feels his responsibilities and stress slip away when hes with them. kiss kiss love confession type thing. gn or fem would be cool mookie

neteyam x human!reader imagine

1.7k words

warnings- sfw, mutual pinning, soft fluff, a little angst ? love confessions

also while writing this it was inspired by in love with you by erykah badu and boogie nights/all night by erykah badu

hanging out with the sullys is always interesting, from going on ikran rides to sneaking on missions. when lo'ak says that you should all go on a ride right before eclipse, neteyam is fast to object.

"come on bro, you know dad is going to slaughter us if we are out at eclipse, lets just go tomorrow."

spider huffs before jumping on lo'aks ikran. god, my brother is such an ass, sometimes i just want to slap him so hard he can't feel his face for a week. i give neteyam a look, us both understanding that the only way to keep our stupid brothers in line is to follow them and keep them safe. he helps me up onto his ikran and we take off after spider and lo'ak, soaring in the calm sunset.

after flying for 10 minutes, spider and lo'ak land somewhere in the floating mountains, neteyam and i follow after them. when we touch down, neteyam picks me up and sets me down; something he loves to do to remind me he’s 3 feet taller than i am.

“fucking skxawng”, i mutter under my breath. before i can even turn around to shoot him a dirty look, he picks me up by my waist with one hand, laughing at me kicking him.

“what was that you just said?” he asks, still laughing at me.

i shoot him the dirtiest glare possible, “ i called you a fucking skxawng, skxawng. now put me down before i rip your braid out.”

neteyam laughs and sets me down, walking away like i huff. we both eventually walk over to spider and lo’ak, sitting beside them and admiring the forrest. we all talk and joke around, laughing about stupid jokes and talking about rumors. we eventually get on the topic of crushes, me teasing spider about his growing crush on kiri, neteyam rolling his eyes like lo’ak complains.

“cuz, come on, that’s my sister i don’t need to know that you want to bang her bro. how would that even work anyways, a human and a na’vi??”

i sigh to myself, knowing what lo’ak says about a human being with a na’vi is true and that neteyam and i will probably never grow to something more than just being friends.

little do i know, neteyam is having the same thoughts, wanting and wishing we could be more than friends, when in reality he knows that kissing me is probably off the table because of my exopack.

the conversation between all of us dissipates as we quiet down, all thinking about different things. i stand up and brush my legs off before saying we should head back so we can be home before eclipse. neteyam agrees while our brothers sigh with “do we have too” and “just like 5 more minutes i swear.”

we eventually all start walking back to the ikrans, lo’ak and spider racing each other. neteyam and i trail behind, talking and shoving each other and laughing. i look at him, the sunset shining on his beautiful blue skin and as it gets darker outside his freckles start shining. i realize that my feelings are futile, but it’s hard to be around the most kind, loyal, protective, beautiful man and not get attached.

i sigh, realizing i have gotten caught up in my own head again. when i look back up at him i see him with a sad smile.

“what’s wrong?” i ask.

“it’s nothing.”

“well it’s got to be something, you’re not usually sad for no reason.”

he sighs and says, “really, it’s nothing. we should try to walk faster so we get back before eclipse.”

he starts walking faster towards the ikrans, making me jog to catch up. i grab his hand and stop walking.

“neteyam, please, don’t keep stuff from me. we are best friends, and when we first became friends you promised to always tell me what’s bothering you.”

“stop digging y/n, i don’t want to talk about it right now. i just want us to laugh and talk like usual right now.”

“just tell me so that i can help you and we can go back to normal.”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

“nete please-“

“fucking stop y/n, i’m not going going to talk about this with you.”

i stand there shocked, not used to him getting angry. he walks off and i follow after him, confused as to why he’s so mad. i know i shouldn’t have pushed but it’s not like him to be so sad.

when we get back to the ikrans lo’ak and spider immediately notice that something’s off, seeing the look on neteyam’s face. when spider and lo’ak look to me i shrug and shake my head. it’s awkwardly silent before neteyam clears his throat and says, “ y/n, how about you ride with lo’ak and spider rides with me tonight.”

lo’ak and spider both whip around and look to me, about to complain about how it’s never been this way when i just shake my head. spider raises an eyebrow at me but walks over to neteyams ikran anyways. i walk to lo’aks, waiting for his to grab me by the waist to help me but he doesn’t. i climb up, and go to hold onto his waist, but i stop and hold his shoulders.

neteyam and spider take off first, lo’ak and i soon after. we sit in science for a little before he asks, “so what happened?”

i sigh, “he just seemed off. he’s been more distant and sad lately, but i guess that’s just a journey of him becoming a man.”

“yeah well he has been stressed out about the whole ‘becoming a man and choosing a mate’ thing. it’s not like there’s not 20 girls that would die for him to stick it in them,” he snickers.

“ew come on lo’ak that’s disgusting.”

“i mean, i know who im choosing when i become a man.”

“the hottest girl who wants me, duh cuz. i mean that’s skxawng has always been picky, but now it seems like he’s trying to always want what he can’t have.”

“what do you mean?”

“come on cuz, you can’t be that blind. did you notice when he started getting all whiny earlier?”

“no? i mean after we talked i guess?”

“and we talked about what...”

i pause, trying to remember.

“ummmmm we talked about how you wanted to bang that girl we saw that was healing you and neteyam’s dumb asses, we talked about how spider is never going to find a na’vi that wants his tiny ass but let’s be honest, him and kiri totally have something going-“

“no you fucking skxawng we talked about humans and na’vi, then neteyam got all whiny and shit.”

i pause, “so?”

“so who is the human that neteyam spends all his time with?”

i stop.

“you’re saying that neteyam likes me?”

“YES THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING AND YOU CLEARLY LIKE HIM TOO”

i blush and laugh, “ lo’ak, there’s no way he likes me. you said it yourself, he was like 30 hot girls lined up for him.”

“he totally does like you-“

“he totally doesn’t-“

“but you like him anyways. that’s the point, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not because we all know that you two like each other.”

we ride back home in silence, i think about what he has said. could it neteyam actually like me too? is that why he didn’t want to talk about it with me? i wonder what would even happen if he did, it’s not like we could mate.

when we land at home, i get of lo’aks ikran and thank him for telling me. i walk to my tent and lay down, thinking about how this could change everything. i should probably talk to neteyam about it instead of just mulling it over by myself.

i decide to get up and go talk to him, even though i’m scared that lo’ak could be wrong. i mean, what if i talk to him about it and tell him i like him when he doesn’t even like me back? i stand by his family’s tent, not sure if i should go it on not.

while i’m standing there thinking, i don’t notice that neteyam walked up behind me. he taps me on the shoulder and when i turn around i see that it’s him.

“hi.”

“hey?” he says, nervously scratching his neck.

“i think we need to talk, i was about to go in and ask for you.”

“i told you i don’t want to talk about it-“

“lo’ak told me you have a crush on me.”

he stares down at me with wide eyes. i can see his cheeks turn purple as he blushes and he opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something. i grab his hand, my small one grabbing on to 3 of his fingers. i walk us over to my tent, thankfully lo’ak must have gotten spider to stay away for a little.

when we go inside my tent, neteyam looks so nervous that you would think i’m trying to shoot him. he starts rambling, “ listen i don’t know why lo’ak would tell you that because i don’t have a crush on you i mean, you’re my bestfriend that would be kind of weird right? i mean not to say that you’re not funny or pretty, because you definitely are but even if i did like you, i mean how would that even work, i’m na’vi and you’re human and we probably would even be able to kiss because of your exopack and-“

i cut him off, “neteyam, i like you.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i do.”

“but why me, why not lo’ak? or anyone else?”

i look at the floor, “because i don’t want lo’ak. i want you. i want your smile and how funny you are. i want to talk to you and go on your ikran with you. you understand me like no one else. i see you nete.”

i feel a his hand on my chin, guiding me to look up at him. he hugs me, my forehead on his chest.

“i see you y/n,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

[borathae]

"He asked for two things. Your strap and to be treated with care. You can't say no to him. Not when he looks so adorable with his pretty, sparkly doe eyes gazing at you and his dainty, little waist fitting perfectly between your fingers."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, winter holiday!AU, Smut, BDSM

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, Mommy Dom!Reader, he makes her cum against her will (with consent obviously), and she gives him some spanks as "punishment", that's the only rougher part 'cause otherwise this story is very soft, he dresses up for her in a jockstrap & leather harness, he also wears bunny ears & a tail buttplug, emotionally intense love making, Lotus position, pegging, praise, good boy kink, she calls him slut but in an adoring way, loving dirty talk, voice kink, rimjob, face sitting, oral (f.receiving), 69nin, handjob, nipple play & sucking for both, nipple clamps with chains + choker, multiple orgasms (f. & m.receiving), his orgasms are very intense, he's deep in subspace, subby boy tears, the softest aftercare, they're in love and kinky

Wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: i wanna give him the world. he is my babyboy and i wanna coddle him and love him and give him all the attention in the world! my cutie pookie :( enjoy besties, i fucking love him 🤍 ps: these are two ideas from Kinktober 22 which i turned into one ruining smut :(

You and Jungkook were on vacation. It was a cold destination this time around. Canada in the winter. Jungkook rented a cozy wooden lodge with a view of the mountains and lakes. The bedroom was located at the best spot of the house with one wall being entirely made out of glass and a view of the starry sky. You could also close the blinds, so you and Jungkook have been sleeping in on most days. 

Work has been left behind in Seoul. Jungkook didn’t even take his work phone nor laptop with him and you didn’t even think twice about packing your study books. 

You have been neglecting each other lately, not willingly, but because life is stressful and cruel. So you swore to each other to make this holiday about two things. Nourishing your relationship and relaxing. Both things have been going splendidly. 

You sleep in, cuddle and make out, go for breakfast in the resort’s restaurant, either go skiing or use the resort’s thermal spas and then let the evening play out however you feel like. 

Tonight you felt like going to bed with a good horror book and Jungkook felt like using the bathtub. The book is amazing. It’s scary and totally captivates you.

The bedroom door opens, in steps Jungkook.

“I’m back.”

You don’t notice him at first as the book completely engrosses you. 

Jungkook struts to your side of the bed and stops. 

“Hello”, he coos.

No reaction from you. You are completely lost.

He huffs out air and pouts. He really wants your attention.

He tries by calling your name, then your petname. Both don’t work.

“Mommy?” he tries next, tapping your shoulder.

“Yes Bunny?” your attention is on him instantly. You look at him, “oh wow.” 

Jungkook is wearing a skin-tight jock strap in white which truly accentuates the shape of his dick. He paired it with a white leather torso harness and a pair of nipple clamps. Silver chains are tangling from them, connecting with a white leather collar which he seemed to have pulled tight enough that he naturally holds his head high. 

“Bunny…” you choke out, placing the book aside without bothering to use a bookmark. Yes, this is how truly mesmerised your sweet husband has you. 

A pair of floppy bunny ears is tangling from his head. Jungkook turns for your viewing pleasure, revealing his plump buttocks and the fluffy bunny tail between them. Judging from its position, it’s attached to a buttplug.

“Holy shit Bunny, you look so sexy. Bunny”, you gasp and get on your knees, reaching for him greedily. 

Jungkook turns again, allowing you to pull him closer by his waist. 

“Bunny. Oh my god, Bunny.” 

He giggles, pulling a little pose.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Of course I like it. I, I fucking love it. Holy shit, you look so sexy. Bunny”, you babble, running your hands all over him. His hips, his waist and stomach, his sides and chest, his arms and shoulders. You can’t get enough of him.

Jungkook tingles from the touches, watching you with half-lidded eyes. This is the kind of attention he wanted from you. All of it and all of it and all of it. He’s so greedy for it.

“You look so handsome. Oh Bunny. Is that what you were up to? Did you even take a bath?”

“No”, Jungkook confesses and snickers, “I lied so I could prepare the surprise.”

“Wow, you’re such a sneaky Bunny. I never would have figured. Gosh look at your ears”, you say, playing with them carefully, "I’m gonna burst, this is the cutest thing ever. You’re my actual Bunny now."

“Mh-hm I am”, Jungkook says, and gets on bed. He does a little bunny jump, making you laugh with it. He laughs himself, doing it again with a cute butt wiggle at the end. 

“You’re too adorable. Oh my goshyoucutieyou”, you lull your words as you press them out through gritted teeth. You squish his cheeks, frowning deeply, “I’m gonna squish you to death”, you growl, acting as if you were squeezing his face even if you apply not an ounce of pressure. The cuteness aggression is hitting you hard. You love this man so abysmally much that you are angry. 

“Mommy, stop it”, Jungkook giggles, stubbing your palm with his nose.

“No, you stop it. You’re so handsome and cute that it’s making me mad.”

“No Mommy, don’t be mad at me”, Jungkook pleads and pouts. 

“You’re so cute. Fuck, I’m done for”, you say, dropping into your pillow with your arm thrown over your eyes, “I need a minute. You’re too much.” 

Jungkook feels so good that it gets difficult to stay still in one place. He wants to bounce around and giggle. It feels so good to be your husband! 

Jungkook loves your attention so much. You give the best reactions to his surprises. Jungkook always imagines how you may react to them, but then you always surpass it. He won’t ever grow tired of being your only center of attention and praise and heart eyes. All of it. Jungkook wants all of it. 

He bounces on the mattress in little movements, closing in on you that way until he can climb on your lap and place his hands on each side of your head. 

You drop your arm from your eyes, looking up at him. The bunny ears tangle, the chains of the nipple clamps do as well. The contrast between his cute headgear and the sexy nipple accessories makes you weak in the knees. And that says a lot because you are currently lying down.

You reach up and twirl the chains. Jungkook shifts, feeling the slight tug. It tingles like crazy.

“What am I supposed to do with you, mhm?” you speak to him in your fond Dom voice. 

Jungkook loves this voice so much, fighting the urge to moan like you trained him to do. Not willingly of course, but Jungkook realised that whenever you talk in this voice and he makes pretty sounds, you praise him even better. 

“You’re looking so cute with your little bunny ears, but then you're dressed like such a slut.”

Jungkook moans softly, arching his back.

“See? That’s what I mean. You’re such a cutie and yet you’re such a slut”, you coo and tug on the chain. 

“Mommy”, Jungkook is arching his back again, sticking out his butt. 

“Mhm, Bunny? What do you want me to do with you?”

“Peg me.”

“Peg you? Is that why you're wearing a pretty tail for me?” 

“Yes, Mommy. I, I cleaned out and then prepared myself for you”, he says and climbs off your lap just to turn around and show off his butt this way. He is resting on his feet, sticking out his butt as best as possible. He wiggles his hips, looking over his shoulder.

“Mhm look at you. The tail fits you so well Bunnybaby.” 

“It’s really deep, but not as deep as your cock could go”, he says and turns back to you. He sits in perfect posture, tilting his head to the side, which forces his bunny ears to flop cutely. He runs his hands up your body until he can rest them on each side of your head. He lowers himself, letting his pretty eyes run over your face, “I want your cock so bad, Mommy.”

You twist the sheets and speak through gritted teeth, “the things I want to do to you, holy shit.”

“Mommy…” Jungkook sighs and chases you. You tilt your head up, meeting him in the middle. The kiss feels so good to both of you. Moans mix with each other, lips know exactly how to move and your fingers dig into his dainty waist instantly. He fits so perfectly between your hands. His skin is soft and warm while the leather straps of the harness are rough. The contrast drives you crazy. He feels so fucking good to hold.

Jungkook mewls into your mouth. He lowers himself to his elbows just so he can be closer to you. His fingers shift from the pillow to the crown of your head, giving you a gentle yet greedy massage. Your touch feels so good. Jungkook became so needy as he prepared himself for you and now his skin is extra sensitive. He hopes that you never stop touching him.

You run your fingers from his waist to his buttocks, feeling them up greedily. The jockstrap pushes them up and makes them feel extra plumb. You need to squeeze them. Once. Twice. The desire is too big. You land a little spank with both hands. Just harsh enough that his butt wiggles.

Jungkook squeaks and flinches, breaking the kiss with a shy giggle.

“Mommy”, he gasps, scrunching his nose.

“My Bunny”, you rasp, gazing up at him as your fingers knead his buttocks, “my pretty, sexy Bunny.”

“Yeah, I’m your Bunny”, he says and cups your cheeks to pull you back into the kiss.

You allow him gladly, giving him a chance to think that he is controlling the kiss. He’s so good in showing you the tempo and level of passion he currently needs. You can busy yourself with feeling him up. That’s so much more fun either way. You intentionally leave out his tail for now, knowing that this will make him impatient in the long run. And when Jungkook gets impatient, he becomes a whiney, squirmy mess and you love that state of his'. You dance your hands to his hips and up his waist. Just to the middle of it, then you run them to his back to feel up the harness there. The straps and metal hooks are so hard in contrast to his soft, perfect body.

You linger especially long on the spot where four straps meet and create a small opening in the middle of them. It exposes Jungkook’s spine and you can’t stop tracing it and scratching his skin on each side of it.

Jungkook breaks the kiss after a few seconds, sighing his words, “this feels so good.”

“You’re so soft there.”

“Oh god”, he shudders, pressing himself closer, “Mommy, I want to be treated gently tonight.”

You smile, running your fingers to his neck just so you can play with his undercut.

“You’re my precious prince, Bunny. You can get whatever you want.”

“Then I want to be fucked and loved and, and get all your attention.”

“You’re already getting loved, Bunny”, you whisper, swirling your fingers to his shoulders, “and you’ve got all my attention”, you add as you feel up his choker until you reach the hook where the nipple chains connect with it.

“Then I want more. More and more”, he says, rolling his hips on your lap, “oh god”, he chokes out, chasing your lips. He is still talking as he is kissing you, resulting in messy, amazing kisses, “I’m imagining that your strap’s already there, Mommy. I want to be filled with you so bad.”

“You’re so greedy”, you chuckle fondly, kissing him back with your heart racing unbearably. Sometimes you wonder if there will ever come a day where it will beat a little less for him. You always come to the conclusion that there won’t ever come such a day. On the contrary, day by day, your heart is racing faster and faster for this man.

You trace the chains until you reach the clamps. You outline them, going slow and careful to make sure you remember the feel of them and get him squirmy in the process. And it works. Oh it works too well. Just moments later and Jungkook arches his back to get closer to your touch. The passionate kiss breaks because he needed to be whiney.

“My nipples are sensitive.”

“I know, Bunny”, you coo, flicking the small hoop which connects the chain to the clamps.

“Please touch them. I, I made the clamps tight for you.”

“For me?” still no touch. Just gentle play with the chains to give him a little stimulation.

“Yes to, ah”, he chases your lips, speaks as he does, “to make my nipples swollen for you.”

“You’re such a good boy, Bunny”, you praise, touching his waist. You give him a little push, forcing him to scoot back on your lap so you could sit up. He is taller than you like this, looking down at you with big, sparkly eyes and his hands on your shoulders.

You give him a fond smile and tug him closer, lowering your lips to his right nipple.

“Oh my god”, Jungkook gasps, throwing his hand over his mouth. Like this, his arm cages in your head, giving you a sense of comfort. He squeezes his eyes shut, moaning into his hand.

The nipple clamps grip most of his dainty nipples, leaving your mouth their very tip to explore. You don’t mind. This part has always been the most sensitive for Jungkook and you can wiggle your tongue between parts of the clamps as well to explore his heated up nipple.

His hips are squirmy on your lap, his back keeps chasing you in small arches.

You abandon his right nipple for the sake of his left. You don’t want it to feel left out. Jungkook wants all your attention and you are hellbent on giving it to him.

“Mommy, oh my god, you feel so good”, Jungkook moans, dropping his hand from his mouth to instead cradle the back of your head. He slings his other arm around you, hugging you gently. He buries his nose in the crown of your head, giving you small kisses between his needy moans. This is better than anything he could have imagined.

His cock is so hard in the jockstrap, his hole keeps clenching around the tail plug and reminding him how needy he is. Your tongue is lapping at his nipple, your lips are kissing it. You change between his left and right, making him wish that he could melt with you. It feels so good.

“Thank you, Mommy. You make me feel so good”, he mewls, trembling blissfully. 

His tail keeps poking your lap. You can’t feel its fluffiness as you are wearing sweats. It’s getting harder and harder to stay clothed. His body is burning up and it is torture not to feel his skin against yours.

“Shit, Bunny”, you lull against his chest, lapping at his nipple greedily, “I wanna feel your skin on mine. It gets so hard not to.”

“I can help you undress.”

“You’re such a good boy”, you croak and kiss his nipple one last time because then you lift your head and arms, “do it quickly.”

Jungkook follows obediently. He takes off your jumper, working carefully in order not to hurt your face. He throws it on the floor, letting his eyes run over the white tank top you are wearing. You are going braless and the top is cut in a way which makes your tits look especially pretty. Your nipples are poking through the material, making Jungkook gulp.

“Yes, the tanktop too”, you say, pulling him back to reality.

“Sorry, your tits look so good in the top”, he mumbles in a raspy voice and begins undressing you. It’s the voice he gets when you affect him deeply in a way other than your touches. When your looks and body mesmerise him and drive him crazy, he talks in this deep, raspy voice. You’re obsessed with it.

He throws the top on the floor and cups your breasts instantly, playing with your nipples gently. His palms feel warm and his skin soft. Jungkook has the most perfect hands, manly yet with the most tender of skin. His touch feels so good.

“Mommy, you’re so pretty”, he is back to whining. How adorable.

“Thank you, Bunny. You’re making me feel so good right now”, you say, arching into him.

“So pretty”, he whispers and leans down to suck on your nipples. He doesn’t stay on one for too long, sucking and licking them eagerly. It feels fantastic. His mouth is so incredibly warm and wet.

“Bunny, my pants”, you are sighing the words, ending it with a breathy chuckle, “focus for me, come on.”

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I love your nipples so much”, he says, kissing your neck as an apology. You roll your head to the side, allowing him better access. He is purring as he kisses you, suckling on your skin every now and then to really make it tingle.

“You’re too greedy, Bunny.”

He giggles shyly, “sorry”, he mumbles, earning himself a little buttocks squeeze and a fond chuckle. He lifts his lips from your neck, crawling off your lap to take off your sweats. You lie down for it to make it easier for him, watching him with fond eyes.

Jungkook throws your sweats on the floor as well, running his eyes over your exposed body.

“Wow”, he whispers, touching your thighs, “Mommy, you are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Bunnybaby”, you say fondly, wiggling your head into a more comfortable position. Like this, you are resting on two pillows, allowing you to see him better, “get on my lap and turn around for me.”

He follows without hesitation. He is resting on all fours, giving view to his bubble butt and the white fluffy tail between his buttocks.

“Closer.”

He listens, shimmying up your body until his knees are resting on each side of your waist and his toes almost touch your arms.

“There we go, I gotta really bask in you”, you praise, “the tail looks so real”, you say.

“I feel so pretty with it”, he confesses, gasping softly when he feels your fingertips dance up his inner thighs.

“You are so pretty with it, Bunny”, you say, feeling up the jockstrap on the spot where his balls meet his taint. He’s so hot to the touch.

Jungkook twists the sheets, moving his butt closer to you in reaction. The touch is just one small change away from where he needs it most. He is so desperate for more.

You touch the tail, give it a gentle squeeze and a little flick with your fingers. 

“So soft”, you say and laugh softly, “shit, it’s so cute how it’s just sitting there.”

“When you touch it, I feel it move”, he says and moans, “please Mommy, don’t tease me please.”

You wiggle his tail, making him press out another plea for more. He’s so pretty when he begs.

“Such a pretty tail”, you coo and grab it, “can Mommy take it out?”

“Yes Mommy, please”, he allows you, clenching his hole in excitement.

“It’s a shame to take it out though. You look so pretty with it”, you say and tug on it, purring in enjoyment when the plug starts slipping out without resistance. He’s so good for you, “no clenching. You’re seriously the best boy”, you say, rewarding him with a slow fuck. There’s the smallest natural resistance whenever you reach the girthiest part at the bottom, but it’s barely noticeable. Jungkook is stretched out so well for you.

“Oh god”, Jungkook gets out, placing his hands on your shins and arching his back. The plug is big enough that you are fucking it against his prostate and it feels like heaven to him. When he walked, he felt the plug shift inside him and said sensations continued as he sat on your lap and made out with you. It resulted in his prostate slowly getting more sensitive and for the current slow fuck to feel almost unbearable.

“It feels so good”, he moans, dropping his head. His floppy bunny ears tangle weakly, showing just how ruined you’ve got him.

“Come closer for me.”

Jungkook obeys.

“There we go, such a good boy”, you praise and reward him by pulling out the plug. His hole gapes for a second, before fluttering closed. Lube squeezes out and runs down to his balls, soaking the jockstrap in the process.

“Please back”, Jungkook begs, clenching his greedy hole. He spent so long being plugged up, that having nothing inside feels like agony.

“You weren’t lying, Bunny. This plug is huge”, you rasp, eyeing it hungrily. It is the perfect hybrid between plug and dildo. Three inches in length, shaped just like a cock with veins and a bulbous head, it ends in a girthy base and a smaller shaft where his rim sits. The white fluff of the tail is soaked in lube where it was pressed against his hole, “that must have made you so desperate. Mhm, Bunny?”

“Yes”, he mewls, arching his back to get closer to you, “please, Mommy don’t tease me please.”

“You’re cute”, you say and place the toy aside. You grab his buttocks and use your grip to pull him onto your face.

“Ah!” he squeaks, lifting himself quickly, “sorry!”

“You did the right thing. Fucking sit on me again”, you order him, tugging him down.

“Oh go-god”, he falls with a shaky moan, squeezing his thighs around your waist when his hole presses down on your tongue, “Mommy, thank you….”

You are sticking out your tongue, wrapping your arms around his middle to move his hips for him. His hole is grinding on the flat of your tongue, getting cleaned from the lube whilst at the same time burning up in pleasure. He tastes artificially sweet at first until his natural taste begins to linger on your tongue. You love it like nothing else, licking him greedily.

“Mommy”, he moans, falling into pleasure he thought never to experience. Which is quite ironic to say because you made him sit on your face a million times before. He should know how it feels to ride your face and yet he still can’t ever believe that it is happening when it does. It always feels like the first time, leaving him dizzy and short of breath.

“Fuck”, your growl vibrates against his sensitive rim, “you taste so good”, you get out and pull him back down, tightening your arms around him as your tongue begins lapping at his hole. It sounds wet and sloppy, feels like paradise.

Jungkook has to gasp and tremble. His hands slip from your legs against his will, forcing him to catch balance in the sheets. He grabs them and twists them, choking out your name while his nose scrunches up in pleasure. His legs are shaking. It’s embarrassing that they are so quick to shake, but it feels so good.

“I can’t get enough of you”, your voice is like electricity against his hole. It’s moments like this, when Jungkook is reminded that he has the biggest kink for your voice. He clenches his hole rhythmically, feeling you growl into him. His clenching intensifies, forcing you to break away, “relax for me. Come on, be my good boy.”

He obeys instantly. He can’t be a bad boy when you’re talking like this. You slip your arms from his middle and place your hands on each of his buttocks, using the leverage to pull him apart. His hole – once so dainty and small – opens up and exposes itself to you. His rim looked so tiny at first, but reveals its true readiness the farther you part him. Jungkook sighs and trembles, letting you know how good it feels to be so freely exposed. He doesn’t feel embarrassed about being so vulnerably open in front of you. As a matter of fact, it turns him on to be that exposed.

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking pretty”, you lull, inspecting his pretty hole greedily.

It flutters at the praise, his breathy voice whispers a weak “Mommy”. It feels so good to be exposed to you. It feels so, so good.

“Lower yourself for me, pretty boy”, you order and stick your tongue out.

Jungkook obeys, letting out a whimper when it results in his stretched out hole to slip down on your tongue. He tries so, so hard not to clench in reaction even if the rest of his body tenses up. He always tenses up when the pleasure overwhelms him. It’s the only way to remotely control how you make him feel.

“Holy fuck”, he whispers, gasping for air repeatedly while his eyes widen and stare at the ruffled sheets. He is getting fucked by warm, wet tongue. His eyes go out of focus, his head tilts back slightly, “Mommy…holy fuck”, he breathes.

You growl, nodding your head as your praise. He comes into contact with your nose, squishing it slightly. Breathing gets difficult, but it’s so worth it when it means that Jungkook is whimpering and trembling above you. 

You wiggle your tongue, enjoying the tightness of his rim greedily. He stretches so well around you, squeezing you in the best way.

“Mommy, I need to- ah!” he moans loudly, shuddering in ecstasy, “I h-have to be loud, I’m s-sorry. Ah!”

You let him know that this is what you want from him by moaning gutturally and giving his hips a small push to show him that you want him to move. Jungkook obeys without hesitation, fucking his hole on your tongue in small movements up and down.

And as he fucks his soft hole on your tongue, he keeps being loud. His fingers keep twisting the sheets and his head can’t decide whether to roll back or tangle weakly. One second he is throwing it back until it gets too much and he drops it again. It forces his bunny ears to flop all over the place, making him look so adorable.

Not that you can currently see. Your vision is blurred, as are your thoughts. He tastes so good, smells even better. There is nothing better in this world than Jungkook. All of him, every single inch, drives you crazy. You let him fuck himself on your tongue until your lungs protest for air and only then you guide him off of you. Your tongue flops out, his hole clenches desperately. Spit covers your face messily, but you couldn’t give two shits. Not when you need him so fucking bad.

You make up for the loss of contact by sucking and kissing at his rim, flicking your tongue over his sensitive parts as you pant for air.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god”, Jungkook is chanting. His head keeps tangling. Any other position was too exhausting. His thighs are squeezing you so much that it hurts just a little.

“Bunny, mhm Bunny”, you growl, pulling him closer even if he protests at first. It is instinct. He doesn’t want to squish you.

“P-please I’ll suffocate you”, he stutters, furrowing his brows as a squeaky moan leaves him. You are trying to fuck your tongue back into his hole, going obsessively rough with it. It gets him so wet, both his hole and his pretty little dick. There is a wet stain on his jockstrap by now. Jungkook can feel the cool air of the room turn it colder than the rest of the fabric. He wants to cup his cock and rub it, but he holds back because he has to twist the sheets instead.

“Please I’m too, too heavy.”

“Shut the fuck up mon amour, I ain’t made of glass”, you spit in what you lovingly call your street-days-dialect, “fuckin’ sit on me wit’ yo’ pretty hole. Make Mommy happy.”

Jungkook feels even the last piece of his sanity crumble. He can handle a lot, but he can’t handle it when you get aggressive with him. He always wants to be a gentleman with you and then you tell him to be quiet and act up. Jungkook gives up, letting you win the fight and therefore pull him down on your face.

You growl into him, making the wettest love to his little hole while your fingers dimple his inner thighs.

Jungkook mewls softly and shudders. His strength forsakes him. He falls to his elbows, resulting in his hole to leave your mouth for just a moment until you pull him back again. You keep lifting your head to meet him, anger fucking his hole with just your tongue. You soothe the punishment with wet kisses and sloppy licks. Jungkook swears that you are currently rewriting his definition of pleasure with just your tongue.

“Mhm”, his voice sound so pretty when he moans, “mhm, mhm, mhm…ah, aha.”

And he can’t stop doing it. He breathes heavily, gasps, moans and hums and you soak up every little sound of him as your starved mouth feasts on his hole.

His jockstrap can barely contain his cock by now. His velvety tip has already slipped out at the side, dripping onto your chest in a constant rhythm. You can feel the wet mess by now. From all the wiggling and squirming you are doing as you eat him out, it has smeared all over your tits by now, covering parts of your nipples as well. You can also feel the warmed up chains of his nipple clamps dance over your tummy as Jungkook keeps shaking above you.

You slide your right hand from his inner thigh and touch his cockhead.

Jungkook squeezes his thighs around you, almost kicking you in the face as his foot twitches in surprise. He drops his head into your thighs, forcing his hot breath to soak your panties.

“I’m close”, he gets out, mouthing at your clothed pussy, “oh god, I can’t hold it for long. Ah!”

“Shit Bunny”, you tilt your head back, giving yourself a chance to speak. Your hand is back on his right thigh, edging him “we gotta stop this or I’ll keep going until I’ve got you cumming.”

“That, that wouldn’t be bad”, he stutters, chasing you while his fingers try to tug your panties to the side, “please, Mommy”, he begs and drags his tongue through your folds. He couldn’t help himself. The scent of your warm, wet pussy was in his nose and it is so close to his mouth, “please”, his voice sends vibrations through you.

“Fine, fuck”, you lick your lips, rolling your hips up as his tongue keeps lapping at you, “I can keep going or I’ll fuck you. You decide.”

Jungkook lets out the first sob of the evening. Even now – when you sound so ruined by all of this – you find strength in yourself to tease him and mess him up. You are so cruel without even doing anything. Jungkook wants to keep sitting on your face so fucking bad, but the thought that he could miss out on orgasming around your strap makes him hesitate.

“I want Mommy’s cock”, he decides in the end, lifting his lips from your pussy, “please.”

“Very well. Do you have the strap here?”

“Yes, your red suitcase”, he answers you and buries his tongue back between your folds. He keens happily, lapping at you with a hot, dripping tongue.

“Okay, Bunny. Good boy”, you are keeping him with you as you run your finger over his rim, “get it for me.”

“I don’t know if I can. My legs are so weak”, he confesses and whimpers, kissing your clit as a weak apology “I’m sorry, Mommy”, he adds, drawing quick circles.

“Fine”, you give in, “get off of me. I’ll get it.”

“Mommy”, he mewls, burying himself deeper between your legs.

“Bunny”, you warn, swallowing down the gasp he almost licks out of you. What he does feels fucking amazing, but you have to stay strong. It’ll be so worth it.

“Mhm mhm”, Jungkook hums, sucking on your clit while his nose is buried between your folds.

“Fuck”, you hiss, arching your back, “Bunny, come…on”, you give his buttocks a soft spank, “don’t be like that. Come on, get up.”

“Mh-hm”, he shakes his head, pushing your thighs apart as his mouth laps at your pussy more vigorously. Your panties dig deep into his fingers as he keeps it pulled away from you, your hips smother him as they thrust up against your will.

“Bunny, listen- ah”, you gasp and moan, dropping your hands from his ass to instead twist the sheets. He makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to function, “Bunny-ah listen to, to ah fuck, listen to me. Fuck, ah.”

Jungkook moans into you, connecting his tongue with your clit as he keeps sucking on it. It results in a mixture of rough sucking sensations broken up by the hottest wetness ever. Mixed with his needy moans and his pretty nose fucking your dripping hole and you are quite frankly, done for.

You roll your eyes back and drop your back.

“You fucking brat”, you choke out, orgasming on his tongue with such intensity that you forget how to moan.

Jungkook whimpers needily, licking you through your orgasm until a sudden harsh spank to his ass forces him to throw his head back.

“Ah!” he lets out, clenching his hole aggressively. A spank on it follows. It stings and forces tears to Jungkook’s eyes.

“You little, disobedient brat”, you spit. Your voice is distorted from the pleasure he made you feel, raspy and deep. Jungkook feels his senses blur. Holy shit, he has such a kink for your voice. You spank his hole again, forcing the fire to burn deeper by pressing the pad of your thumb against it and applying pressure.

He writhes on top of you, struggling to stay on his elbows.

“I told you to listen. Is it so hard to follow a simple order, mhm?” you growl.

“I’m sorry”, he whimpers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh god, Mommy.”

“Good. I fucking hope you are”, you spit and give him one last spank to really get the message across.

Jungkook shudders, leaking onto your tits.

You soothe the burn with a gentle finger, changing your voice as you speak.

“Now get off of me”, you say in a sweet voice, messing with Jungkook’s poor heart.

“Mommy, please”, he begs and rolls off of you. He drops to his back, licking his lips hungrily, “wanted to make you feel good, oh god”, he whines, exhaling shakily as his hands come down to play with his cock. He does it instinctively, writhing on the sheets with one of his legs propped up.

“Don’t you dare make yourself cum”, you warn and stumble out of bed with weak knees. You manage to walk to your red suitcase and squat down even if you are dizzy. He’s got you really good with his mouth. You don’t have to look for long because you keep your toys organized.

“Where is the lube, Bunny?”

“I forgot it in the bathroom. I’m sorry, Mommy oh god. I, I can get it.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it”, you say and leave the room.

You decide to slip on the strap in the bathroom, using a grinder on the inside to make it enjoyable for you. You look at yourself in the mirror for a moment. The strap is similar to your skin colour and curves just right to stimulate his deeper pleasure spots. It looks so good on you. And with that thought in mind, you hurry back to Jungkook.

He is kneeling on the floor when you come back, keeping his head lowered. His cock is stuffed back into the jockstrap and his hands are on top his thighs with their palms facing up. His bunny ears, although only fake, look so sad as they tangle from each side of his head.

“What are you doing down there? Gosh, Bunny”, you gasp, hurrying to him.

“I want to apologise. I, I should have gotten the strap and, and the lube. I’m sorry, Mommy”, he says honestly and bows.

“Gosh, you stupid noodle stop that”, you say, pulling him back up with nothing more than two fingers under his chin, “you’re my precious prince and Mommy’s here to treat you, yeah?”

“So you, you won’t punish me?” he asks.

“Of course not, Bunnybaby”, you reassure him.

Jungkook releases a shuddering breath, “Mommy”, he chokes out, gazing up at you with sparkly eyes.

You give him a playful smirk, “unless you want me to punish you, mhm? Didn’t have enough of getting your hole spanked?”

He giggles, lifting his shoulders to his ears, “yeah, that was fun”, he confesses, scrunching his nose up.

“Cutie”, you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Jungkook moves into the kiss with closed eyes, opening them when you pull back. They shift to your cock for a second and linger.

“You like it?” you ask him, gripping it by its base while your other hand still holds his chin.

“Yes”, he gets out, parting his lips, “you look so pretty with cock, Mommy.”

“Thank you, Bunny.”

Jungkook closes the distance between his lips and the tip of your strap, kissing it while his devoted eyes gaze up at you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. He looks so pretty like this.

“I love Mommy’s cock”, he whispers and flicks his tongue over the tip, ending it with a droopy smile.

You feel yourself melt, ruffling his hair gently enough not to rip out the clips from the ears.

“Get back on bed, Bunny and let me fuck you.”

“Can you fuck me in lotus position?”

“Of course I can. Everything my Bunny wants, my Bunny gets.”

“Don’t say that”, Jungkook mumbles and giggles. He is so happy. He feels especially soft tonight and you know exactly how to handle him to keep him in the headspace.

You take a step back and walk to the bed, climbing on top of it. You fluff up the pillows so you can rest back into them. Once you are comfortable, you move your legs into the right position. Jungkook followed you as you did all of that, climbing onto bed after you. He is now waiting for you to get your legs comfortable.

Your eyes meet.

“Come closer”, you order as you spread a generous amount of lube on your strap.

Jungkook follows excitedly, positioning himself on top of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, looking down at you.

You smile up at him, connecting your fingers with his hole to spread the lube. He shivers, sighing softly.

“My pretty Bunny”, you whisper, “I can’t get enough of you in those ears.”

“They’re connected to my hair.”

“I know, I felt the clips”, you say and push a finger into him, watching in delight how his eyes go out of focus and his lips fall open.

You curl your finger as you fuck it in and out of him, gazing into his eyes as deeply as possible. 

“You’re so soft inside”, you praise, poking his walls, “my pretty Bunny’s soft everywhere.”

“It’s hard to concentrate”, he confesses, scrunching his brows.

“Want more?”

He nods his head, “yes please.”

“Shit, you’re such a good boy”, you mumble and slip your middle finger into him as well, “the shit you pulled before wasn’t like you. Mhm, why did you act up Bunnybaby? Mhm?”

“Wanted Mommy to feel good”, he lulls his words, finding it hard to look into your eyes. Your fingers fill him out so well.

“You wanted me to feel good”, you repeat, massaging his prostate.

“A-ah.”

“Shit Bunny, when you say it like that it almost makes me feel bad that I punished you.”

“No, it was so…good, ah holy shit this feels so good, ah”, Jungkook gets out and moans, closing his eyes.

“Mhm, I know”, you purr, slipping your fingers free just to make him mewl desperately. You grip his hips, giving them a gentle tug, “take it at your pace, Bunny.” 

Jungkook grabs your cock and lowers himself. He manages to get as far as the tip and then moves up again.

“More lube”, he says.

“Hurts?”

“Yeah, it’s too dry.”

You lube up your cock more, spreading the access on his hole, “try it again.”

Jungkook lowers himself. Your tip slips past his rim easily.

“How’s that?” you ask him, caressing his tensing buttocks.

“Mh-hm”, he lets out, furrowing his brows. His frown worries you.

“Are you okay? Bunny, take it slow if it hurts”, you tell him.

Jungkook frowns harder, sinking down more.

“Bunny, take it slow for me.”

“Mommy, please be quiet. I need to concentrate”, he whines and pouts with big eyes.

“Oh you-”, you laugh, throwing your head back, “you little brat.”

“I have to concentrate”, he murmurs and sinks down the last inches. Now he is sitting on your lap with you cock all the way up his ass, “ah”, he lets out in a sigh, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. His arms hug you, his legs wrap around you. He begins rocking himself on your lap, moaning into your neck quietly.

“Is that better?” you ask him, caressing his lower back. You can feel his muscles shift and tense under his skin. Just as you can feel his thighs tense as he moves on your strap.

“Yeah”, he mewls, nodding his head, “oh god, you’re so deep.”

“I know, Bunny. You’re taking all of me”, you speak softly, grabbing his pretty butt to help him with the movements, “you’re such a good boy taking me like that.”

“Oh fuck, ah fuck”, he whimpers, hugging you tight against him, “I’m so stuffed with Mommy. Ah! Ah”, he shudders, increasing his movements. He still keeps you deep inside, grinding on your lap as his legs tremble around your waist. He doesn’t need to bounce. As a matter of fact, what he is currently doing feels so much better than any bouncing ever could. Because your cock is so deep and really stays at one area, it can stimulate all those sensitive spots inside and Jungkook has way too many of them. And they are way too fucking sensitive on top of that. Every second with you feels like ecstasy even if he hasn’t orgasmed yet.

“Yeah, you are. So filled with me”, you whisper, squeezing his buttocks, “so filled with me. Such a good boy for me. Such a good boy.”

“Mommy”, Jungkook whimpers, falling into you. It forces your back deeper into the pillows and allows him to grip the edge of the headboard. It hurts his nails, but he barely notices it. Everything feels way too good. He is so far gone. Not only in the pleasure, but also the safe headspace. He is on your lap, he can feel your naked chest against his, smells your warm scent, has you holding him and on top of that, his leaky cock grinds against your stomach while your strap stimulates every single spot inside him. There is not a single thing which isn’t right currently. This is perfect and it’s ruining Jungkook to the point where he genuinely has to sob.

“Breathe Bunny, it’s okay”, you soothe him, closing your arms around his torso whilst burying one of your hands deep in his hair.

The hug soothes him so much and makes him sob again because he is so close to you.

“Can I cum? Please”, he begs squeakily, “make me feel…so good. Everything feels so good. Oh god”, he gets out, ending it with a high-pitched whimper and his body trembling in your lap.

“Whenever you are ready, Bunny. I’m right here”, you allow him, hugging him safely.

“Now”, he gets out, “oh god, Mommy now”, he moans and feels how your strap makes him cum. It starts deep in his ass. Right where the silicon toy kept grinding against his pleasure spots. Describing the orgasm as hot wouldn’t be enough. It is so much more than that. Jungkook feels it everywhere and he feels it so deep that it gets very hard to stay conscious. His body twitches and convulses on top of you and you know that he has no control over it. His cock doesn’t release, but throbs so aggressively that it slips out of his jockstrap again. And his voice sounds so consumed by his orgasm that you feel yourself gasp for air as well. You know exactly how good he feels right now, holding him through his high until those shakes slowly die down.

“Good boy, oh my good boy”, you praise him, hugging his waist with your left arm while you let your right hand slip to his cock. You pick it up to jerk it off.

“Ah”, Jungkook arches his back so he can press his chest closer, his trembling arms close around you as his fingers grab a bundle of your hair, “ah, ahm, ah, o-oh.”

He didn’t cum with his cock. He knows that he didn’t, so getting touched by you right now, forces him straight back to the start.

“Oh god, ah, fuck. A-ah, ahm, ah”, he is struggling with producing moans, resulting in them to sound just a little strained but so fucking honest. Only you can make him moan like this. Only you can get him that ruined so it is even difficult to make sounds. And yet, he still tries to because it’s the only way to handle you.

“Good boy, my good boy”, you praise him as you jerk his cock, rolling your hips up to keep his hole stimulated as well. You don’t want any of that sweet, sweet pleasure to die down. You need him ruined and you are going to do it in the gentlest of ways. This kind of way always hits the deepest.

It’s easy to ruin someone with a rough and fast fuck. You just got to pound them hard enough and they’ll feel destroyed.

The proof of a good fuck is how well you can destroy someone with minimal movements. That’s where the real talent lies. And you? Oh you. You are one talented motherfucker.

“Feels so good”, Jungkook is whimpering even if he can barely produce moans. Your shoulder is wet because he keeps spilling tears. He thinks his eyes might be stuck after you made them cross, he can’t seem to find his focus again. His head is dizzy and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. You are ruining him with nothing but a slow handjob and your hips grinding up into him.

“Yeah, feels amazing”, you agree, “I’ve got you Bunny.”

Jungkook sobs, convulsing on top of you as if you just thrusted into him with all your strength. His cock throbs between your fingers, his fingers grip for your desperately. He doesn’t know where to touch, what to hold of you to make all of this easier to bear.

“Mommy”, he tries to call your name, maybe that will make it easier, but it doesn’t.

“I’m here, Bunny. I’ve got you”, you soothe him, sliding your left arm down his waist until you can press your fingers against his hole. You massage his stretched rim, giving him a reminder that he already orgasmed once and that he is terribly sensitive now.

“I can’t do this”, he sobs and convulses, “oh god please”, he pulls you closer, needing your warmth to survive.

“Break? Or need it closer?”

“Closer ple-please.”

You hug him strongly, tightening your grip around his cock just as you increase the pressure on his hole.

“Closer.”

The hug gains in intensity. You can barely move your hand up and down his cock, deciding on putting your attention on his tip instead. You massage his wet slit, giving it just a little bit of a stretch as you fuck the pad of your thumb into it. Your fingers are around the base of his tip, massaging it in rhythmical squeezes.

He begins panting, releasing loud noises each time he breathes out. He can’t stop. They leave him in sync with his body convulsing on top your lap. He drops each time he exhales, sagging his shoulders with it before his harsh inhale forces them to lift again and with it also Jungkook. Just a little, but it’s so intense for him that he is a little scared.

“Good boy, my good boy. You’re my good boy”, you praise him and kiss the shell of his ear.

Jungkook climaxes. He can’t tell you that he does, he also can’t change his voice before it happens, it just takes over. It starts at his slit this time around. The gentle fuck you gave it was too much. From there, it took over his whole cock until your strap did the rest.

Jungkook thought that the first orgasm was intense, but this is on another level. He claws at you in hopes of making it easier, even buries his teeth in your shoulder as his body shakes uncontrollably. But nothing helps. The fire feels endless. It is as if Jungkook never orgasmed before.

“Yes baby, my good boy”, Jungkook can hear you choke out and judging by the sound of your voice, you are orgasming with him. The thought makes it even more intense for him and by the time it finally starts to get easier, Jungkook has to sob.

“My Bunny, oh my Bunny”, you speak shakily, holding him so tightly while your lips litter him with kisses, “good job, my good boy. You did such a good job. I know Bunny, let it all out. You did so well.”

“It feels so good”, he presses out, “so good, Mommy”, he wails, pressing you closer with his fingers deep in your hair.

“I know Bunny, oh I know. My good boy, you took all of this so well.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook shudders, “oh god.”

“My good boy”, you keep praising him. It makes it so worthwhile to come back to you, “I love you so much, my good Bunnybaby.”

“Oh god, Mommy”, he gets out, trembling uncontrollably one last time before some of his clarity comes back. It’s difficult to come back sometimes. Jungkook loves being in subspace, so sometimes it’s hard for him to accept that he has to get back to reality again. It would make Jungkook feel really awful to be forced out of it entirely the moment the sex ended and you never make him feel this way. You always help him come back in such a nice way. You make him slip out of it far enough that you can do aftercare with him, but also allow him to stay in it deep enough that he can feel fuzzy even long after the main sex act ended.

“My good boy, you’re such a good boy”, you praise him, rubbing his buttocks gently, “how’s the stretch?”

He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t hurt?”

He nods his head.

“Then we’ll stay like this for a little, yeah?”

He nods his head again, hugging you tightly.

“And once you’re ready, I’ll give you a nice warm bath before we’ll have yummy dinner and lots of snuggles in bed. Yeah?”

He giggles, nodding his head.

“Yeah Bunnybaby, let’s do that”, you say, giving him a gentle squeeze, “fuck, I adore you.”

“I adore you too”, he whispers, “thank you so much for everything.”

“Mhm Bunny”, you sigh, kissing his shoulder as you pull him closer with the harness twisted in your fingers, “mine.”

Jungkook sighs in overwhelming happiness, pressing himself closer as his heart bursts for you. Yeah, you really make it so worthwhile to come back.

[joelscurls]

to the ends of the earth

pt ii of feel it in your bones | epilogue

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12k

summary: You spend the week of Spring Break in Austin with your long-distance-boyfriend Joel. As you settle into a comfortable routine together, questions regarding your future arise.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), fluff, angst (ik ik i’m sorry), smut, phone sex, masturbation (f, m), semi-public touching, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, soft dom!Joel, hair pulling, tiniest bit of nipple play, implied oral (f receiving), brief mention of shower sex, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.)

a/n: i’m honestly so overwhelmed with all the positive feedback I got on part 1 - thank you all so much! there will be a part 3 in the form of a lil epilogue, so stay tuned for more of these two! as always, ty to @caffeinated-validation for giving this your eyes <3

Long distance sucks. 

It’s been six months to the day since Homecoming Weekend, five since you and Joel put a label on things: “exclusive”. Not like you’d been talking to anyone else. Since Joel left Vermont that first time, he’d occupied your mind, made a home there, nestled deep between grooves of soft brain matter. 

He’s been back a couple of times since. Quick weekend trips — much like the first one — just without the bad art and couch surfing. And each time he’s come and gone has been more painful than the last. More memories to reminisce on when you lay in bed alone. More words exchanged to drown in. You feel as if your heart has been ripped apart and stitched haphazardly back together every time he slips from your embrace.

The last time you’d seen him in person was New Year’s, when you’d rented a cabin in the Green Mountains, watched Joel react to his first snow, exchanged I love yous for the first time under falling flurries. 

It feels now as if it were a lifetime ago.

It’s never enough — time, kisses, touches. It’s all so fleeting. You want, more than anything, to burrow into Joel’s chest and make a permanent residence there. To go with him where he goes, be with him where he is, always. 

But you know you can’t — it’s not realistic. You have your life here, and Joel has his there. You remind yourself of this fact more times a day than you’d like to admit. 

You will be with him again soon enough, though, and for the longest stint of time yet. An entire week in Texas, you and Joel. 

The thought of it keeps you going in the leadup to spring break.

It’s the night before your flight, an early-morning departure from Burlington International Airport. You’ve waited until the last minute to pack, so here you are, hovering above your suitcase — which lays sprawled out on your bed — aimlessly throwing pairs of underwear and t-shirts into the main compartment. 

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. A much welcomed distraction. 

And then you notice that it’s Joel calling. 

Your heart skips a beat. You answer. Put it on speaker-phone. 

“Hello?,” you purr, flopping down on the small empty space on the bed. 

“Hi baby,” he drawls, his voice so sweet and saccharine it makes you melt. “All packed?” 

“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m ready.” 

“Me too,” he says. “So ready. I miss you.”

“I miss you,” you parrot. “How was your day?”

He sighs. “Fine, I guess. Had a bunch’a loose ends to tie up at this site before Tommy takes over for the week. A lot’a back and forth on the phone, orderin’ shit.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I hope you won’t be stressed all week thinking about it.”

He hums, so deep it vibrates through the phone. It goes straight to your core. “Impossible, babygirl. Once I have you here, ‘m not gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout anything else.”

Your face heats. An unignorable pang of desire swells in your chest.

“Joel,” you say, desperation already coloring your voice.

“Yeah?”

“I need you.”

Phone sex has become somewhat of a norm for you and Joel, that overwhelming need to be close to one another manifesting as desperate touches of your own fingers and half-coherent pleas through the speaker. It’s rare that a bedtime conversation between the two of you doesn’t end in panting down the line, telling each other goodnight through labored, satiated breaths.

Tonight, your need for him is bordering on carnal, carving into your skin like a sharp blade. You know you’ll have him tomorrow, and a number of days after that, but still, it feels so intangible, unreal. Like you can’t let yourself fully believe it until he’s in your arms. 

And so you need him — right now — in any way you can have him.

“You wanna touch yourself?” 

“Yes Joel — please.”  

“Fuck babygirl,” he breathes. “Okay. Lemme take care’a you.” 

You slip your fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants impatiently. You feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties and, unsurprisingly, you’re soaked. It’s like you’ve been pavloved  — like all you need is the sound of Joel’s voice, soft and deep like crushed velvet, and you’re gone  — every single time.

“I’m so wet,” you mewl. 

Joel groans on the other end. He sounds almost pained, like not being there to feel you, to taste you, is physically hurting him. If it is though, he covers it up well, snapping his attention back to you like a reflex. 

“You still got your pants on?,” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Take ‘em off for me. And your panties.”

You do as he says, pulling your sweatpants and underwear down in one tug, letting them bunch at your ankles. 

“They’re off,” you say. 

“Good. Now touch yourself baby, go ahead.”

You shallowly dip two fingers into the pool of arousal that’s formed between your thighs. Then you glide slick digits over your aching clit, back and forth, a quiet whimper slipping from your mouth.

“‘ts it, darlin’,” he coos, “rub that pretty pussy for me.”

You pretend your fingers are his — bigger, rougher — as you increase the pressure you’re applying and begin to rub tight circles against your clit. The thought of your touches being his, instead, leaves you failing to swallow back a moan.

“Joel – ngh – it feels good.”

“‘Good, baby,” he says. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You keep going, your breaths becoming increasingly uneven, your hips inadvertently canting off the bed in an attempt to create more friction. You can sense that you’re dripping onto the duvet below you, staining it with your arousal. You’re way past caring at this point — you just need to cum.

You bring your other hand between your thighs, teasing your entrance. You sigh when you find how much wetter you’ve gotten in just a few minutes. You’re sure Joel must be able to hear the lewd slickslickslick of your fingers swirling against your sopping cunt — which he confirms when he curses under his breath.

“Fuck; that all for me, darlin’?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers for me? Cum all over ‘em, imaginin’ it’s my cock, instead?”

“Yes,” you cry. “Please, Joel, need your cock so bad.” 

“I know babygirl, I know.”

You push two fingers inside as deep as you can get them, crooking them against your walls until you find that spongy spot. You fuck yourself in time with the fingers rubbing your clit, your pace reflexively increasing when you start to feel that familiar warmth growing in your abdomen.

You feel it build, up up up — and then it falls, fading completely. 

“Fuck,” you murmur. 

You don’t relent. But again and again, even with the perfect amount of pressure applied to your clit and the fingers in your pussy curved just right, you find your orgasm just out of reach. You let out a frustrated whine, your movements stalling completely. You can’t get there, not like this, not alone. 

“Joel,” you punch out, “need you to touch yourself. Need you to cum with me.”

He inhales a sharp breath through his teeth. “Fuck, sweetheart — okay.”

You hear a faint clink of his belt on the other side of the phone, followed by the telltale whir of a zipper. There’s rustling over the line. When you hear him sigh, you know his cock is in his hand. And then there’s a shift in his breathing, subtle, but enough that you pick up on it. Evidence that he’s started stroking himself.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Miss that perfect little cunt so bad, baby. Can’t wait to fuck you again. Gonna ruin you.”

You love when he talks to you like this — when he loses himself in it and his tongue works faster than his brain. You’d never imagined when you first met him, reserved, quiet Joel, that he could be so filthy.

“Tell me —“ you plead — “tell me how you’re gonna fuck me, Joel.”

“Fuck, gonna get you in my bed, burry my face between your legs until you’re beggin’ me to stop…”

“Shit,” you gasp, your fingers stuttering at his words.

“‘N then ’m gonna fill you up with this cock, make you go dumb on it, fuck you so good your eyes roll back in your head.”

You whimper. You know he’s not just all talk from experience, and the thought of him fulfilling all these promises so soon has you plummeting toward the brink. As long as he keeps going, keeps talking, you’re not going to last another minute. 

“Gonna make you soak it, make you cum all over my fuckin’ cock. Fuck — swear ’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

You feel your orgasm approaching again. But it’s not waning, not this time. You chase it, letting Joel’s words run on a loop in your head: gonna fill you up with this cock, gonna make you feel so good, bury my face between your legs until you’re beggin’, gonna make you go dumb on it, gonna make you feel so good, so good, so good…

“So close Joel,” you breathe. “So fucking close.”

“‘ts it, darlin’”, he says, his voice strained. “‘m right behind you — shit — let me hear you cum. Wanna — ahh — wanna hear you.” 

That’s all it takes, just his encouragement, and you’re cumming so hard the room spins.

You can faintly register Joel talking you through it, able to make out a string of good girls through ringing ears. When you finally start to come down, you can tell he’s nearing his own climax, panting down the line as your own breaths begin to even.

“Please Joel,” you beg. “Please cum for me.”

He lets out a low growl, and then your name is spilling from the tip of his tongue, over and over again, in between strangled moans. 

The line is quiet for a moment, apart from you and Joel’s shallow breathing. 

“Fuck,” he says when he’s recovered from his orgasm, “how many hours til you get here?

You laugh. “I don’t know — too many.”

“Yeah, too many,” he agrees. 

There’s another lull. You yawn exasperatedly, only now realizing how exhausted you are. An earth shattering orgasm will do that to you, you guess.

Joel chuckles on the other end.

“Go to bed, baby. It’ll make the time go faster.”

You sigh. You don’t want to hang up. Don’t want to be without him again. But he’s right. He usually is — though you’d never admit it out loud.

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“I love you,” he hums. 

“I love you too, Joel.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he adds.

You smile. You’re glad he can’t see you right now, can’t see how ridiculously giddy he makes you. 

“Me either,” you say. “Goodnight.”

“Night, darlin’.”

You’re still grinning like an idiot when you hang up the phone. You lay there for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling, willing time to move faster.

Eventually you peel yourself off the bed and finish packing. You throw in some lacy bras you know Joel will love — if you end up wearing any real clothes this week, that is. Then you zip your suitcase shut, toss it onto the floor somewhere, and slip under the covers. 

You flick your bedside lamp off with a sigh, and begin your attempt to coax sleep. You are tired, but you’re more excited.

When you finally do drift off — at some ungodly hour of the morning — you dream of Joel, of his large arms wrapped around you, his honeyed voice in your ear. Tomorrow, he whispers, again and again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

You wake up the next morning with butterflies the size of baseballs in your stomach. You get to the airport unnecessarily early, make it through security in record time, and plant yourself down at your gate with a coffee in hand two hours before your scheduled departure. 

Your body is practically vibrating in your seat, only partially due to the caffeine. Joel will no doubt still be asleep at this hour, so you shoot him a text to wake up to: 

at the airport, all checked in. can’t wait to see you, cowboy <3

And then you send one to Sarah, who you know will be awake, her study-abroad trip to Cambodia meaning she’s probably studying or eating dinner right now.

On my way to see your dad; miss you! Can’t wait to hear all about your studies sometime soon :) 

She almost immediately responds:

Yay! Miss you both so much! Yes, talk soon pls - lots to catch you up on. The professors here want me to stay forever (I won’t, dw, need to be able to bother you and my dad on a more regular basis).

You laugh to yourself. 

Sarah had been thrilled when she’d found out about your relationship. Had been way too proud of herself for setting you up. When you’d learned she’d faked sick the night you met Joel at the art exhibition, you’d found yourself unable to feign disapproval. How could you care, really, when you’d ended the night straddling him, kissing him?

Not that you’d told her that, of course. She didn’t need to know every detail of that weekend.

It had been…interesting, to say the least, navigating a long-distance-something with the father of one of your students. But Sarah hadn’t pried, even when you’d suspected she wanted to. She’d let it bloom into something more, something real, before beginning to pester you with the questions: isn’t he the worst cook? do you think you guys will get married? can I be your maid of honor if you do?

To which you’d responded: yes (affectionately), I don’t know, and of course you can.

You’ll miss her this week, but another part of you — a more selfish part — is thrilled to have a week alone with Joel, without any distractions. 

So thrilled, you can barely steady your shaking hands enough to plug your phone into the outlet under your seat.

You scroll mindlessly on social media as it charges until it’s time to board. Then you’re shuffling single-file down the aisle of the plane to your row, hauling your suitcase into the overhead, and taking your seat next to the window.

It’s your first flight of two, separated by a three-hour layover. You make it to Philadelphia in just over an hour, halfway through the cheesy 2000s rom-com you’d selected on the inflight entertainment screen. You make a mental note to finish it on the next leg.

You get lunch once you’ve tracked down your new gate  — pay seventeen bucks for a soggy airport sandwich and a bag of chips that, upon opening, is mostly air. When you sit down to eat, you notice that Joel texted you back.

Got one foot out the front door already. Can’t wait to see you babygirl.

You can’t help the embarrassing smile that pulls across your face. 

You re-read the text no less than ten times before you board your next flight — then once more for good measure just before you put your phone on airplane-mode and shove it in your sweatshirt pocket. 

This is it, you think as the wheels lift off the ground and the clouds come closer into view. No more countdown. It’s here.

You have to refrain from sprinting off of the plane as soon as it’s landed in Austin.

You grab your suitcase from the overhead with reckless abandon, nearly knocking another piece of luggage out of the compartment and onto a passing flight attendant. 

“Shit, sorry,” you curse. 

She glares at you, unamused. 

“I’m just…I’m meeting someone here,” you ramble. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Too excited.” 

She nods. Pops her gum. “Mhm. Have a good day, ma’am. Thanks for flying with us.” 

You keep your head down as you disembark.

It’d been a packed flight, and so you find yourself weaving through the crowd that’s gathered at the gate as you exit, around parents who have stopped to tie their kids’ shoes and solo travelers pausing to book their ride shares.

You check your phone as you walk, unwilling to waste even a fraction of a second. Find the directions buried in the text thread between you and Joel detailing how to get from your terminal to the passenger pickup area. 

You follow them, suitcase rolling behind you as you trudge along, down a couple escalators and through a corridor.

You round one last corner — and then you see him, standing with his back to a pillar, hands anxiously fiddling at his sides. 

Now you are sprinting.

Your suitcase is abandoned somewhere behind you as you run toward Joel. He doesn’t see you at first. You make it a few feet, shoes squeaking on tile, before his head snaps up and his eyes catch yours. And then he’s bounding forward, meeting you in the middle, your bodies colliding, hard. 

He throws both arms around you, squeezes you so tightly you think your blood vessels may burst. You accept your fate willingly, breathing him in, letting your hands rove along his broad back.

He smells like pine and worn leather and Joel. 

He feels like home. 

He bruises a kiss in your hair, whispering against your scalp in disbelief: baby, you’re here.

You stand wrapped up together for a long moment, Joel rocking you back and forth as you catch your breath. Then you pull apart to look at each other. 

Only then does it begin to sink in — Joel is right in front of you, touching you — and you’re about to spend a whole week together.

“C’mere,” he drawls, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing his lips into yours. It’s a slow kiss, punctuated by gentle strokes of his fingertips along your jaw. Your tongue rolls against his and your fingers anchor into his shirt collar. It simultaneously feels like it lasts forever and not nearly long enough.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your lips when you part. “Let’s go home, darlin.”

You grab your forgotten suitcase and pull it behind you with one hand, the other in Joel’s as you walk to his truck. It’s parked just outside, at the curb, hazard lights blinking. 

“Was supposed to wait here for you,” he explains as he opens the passenger door, helping you in. He takes your suitcase, throws it onto the backseat like it weighs nothing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you smile as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Felt like a rom-com — I liked it.” 

“Yeah,” he says, turning his key in the ignition. His cheeks flush. “I liked it too.”

You stop for fast food on the way to Joel’s — Whataburger, naturally. They don’t have these in Vermont, so you try to savor your burger, but your long day of travel has you ravenous, so you wolf it down, ketchup smearing on the corners of your mouth between bites. Joel just laughs at you from the driver’s seat, piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth. 

You get it for him — fingernails prodding at his gums, but he lets you. Even sighs at the contact. When you flick the leaf off your fingertip, he pulls you in for a kiss, much softer than the one you shared in the airport, but dizzying, nonetheless. “Better?,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s asking about his teeth or you, but both are true, so you hum affirmingly. 

You sink back into your seat, adjusting your seatbelt where it’s tightened around your neck.

You feel full and drowsy as you throw your trash into the paper bag the food came in, tucking it by your feet. 

You let your head rest against the window. The glass rattles against your skull as the truck begins to move, but you ignore it, too tired to care. And then you let your eyes shut —  just to rest them — that’s all.

You don’t remember falling asleep. 

You come to when you feel Joel at your side, trying to move you from the passenger seat. 

“Baby,” you hear him say. Your eyes flutter open. He brings a hand up to your face, peeling stray strands of hair from where they’re stuck to your forehead and pushing them behind your ear. 

“We’re home,” he drawls. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

You nod groggily, still letting your eyes adjust to the daylight. You take in your surroundings: you’re parked in his driveway, his house right in front of you. Somehow, it’s just as you’d imagined it to be — big, sprawling porch at the front, meticulously kempt yard ornamented with a beautiful red oak tree. It’s so Texan, you think, so Joel.

He grabs your luggage from the truck. Then he helps you out, walks you with a large hand wrapped around your middle to the front door and into the house. Once inside, he sets your suitcase down. 

And then he hugs you again, like he’s afraid to let you out of his embrace, lest you vaporize into thin air.

“Still tired? Wanna take a nap?,” he asks.

You yawn, right in his ear. He laughs; that’s enough of an answer. 

“Alright,” he says. You follow him to his bedroom, too sleepy to argue. You pass through the kitchen and living room on the way. Through drooping eyes, you notice scattered pieces of Joel — the guitar leaning against its stand next to the couch, the pictures of him and Sarah lining the staircase. It makes your chest tighten, being here in his house, seeing the parts of him that he can’t bring with him when he visits you.

His room is the most him though — masculine and minimalist. A canvas with a ram painted on it hangs above his bed — a gift from someone, you assume. You can’t exactly imagine Joel strolling the aisles of Target, picking out artwork to hang in his house. There’s another photo of him and Sarah on his bedside table that must’ve been taken at her highschool graduation, cap adorning her head full of curls. 

It makes you smile — all of it. 

You lope over to the bed, climbing in when Joel pulls back the covers for you. He tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His duvet wafts his scent, when you pull it up to your face. You inhale it deeply. Commit it to memory.

“Wait,” you say as he turns to leave the room. “Aren’t you going to stay with me?” 

He leans against the doorframe, wood creaking under his weight. “Well I don’t really nap, darlin’,” he admits. “You get some rest, I’ll just be doin’ some stuff around the house.” 

“Please,” you say, sticking out your bottom lip at him. You watch as he thinks on it for a minute, then sighs in defeat. 

“Okay, I’ll nap with you baby.” 

He climbs in next to you. “Only for a little bit, though,” he mumbles, like he’s trying to convince himself.

His broad chest presses into your back. He drapes an arm over your side as you nuzzle into his embrace, so warm, so safe. He noses at your neck, leaving gentle kisses along your exposed shoulder. This, you think, is what heaven must feel like. 

The sound of Joel’s breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the room is cast in shadows. It’s dusk, you realize, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You roll over. Find that Joel is no longer next to you.

His side of the bed is still warm, you notice, so he must not have gotten up too long ago.

You clamber to your feet, ignoring the blood rushing to your head as you stumble out of his room. You make your way down the stairs, hand braced against the wall as you descend. The lights are on in the living room — a sign of life. But Joel isn’t there. 

You wander into the kitchen. He’s not here either.  Did he leave the house? You look around for a note, fish your phone out of your pocket to see if he texted you. But you have zero notifications and the dining table is empty, apart from a pair of salt & pepper shakers and a napkin holder. 

You call out for him, to no avail. Stumped, you make your way to the door that leads to the garage, the only room you haven’t checked yet, and wedge it open. 

To your surprise, you find Joel standing at the back of his truck, loading something into the bed. Upon further inspection, you see that it’s blankets.

Huh?

“Hey,” you announce, making your way down the small set of stairs. He whips around at the sound of your voice. The color in his face drains, like he’s just been caught in the act of something.

“Darlin’,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re up.”

You join him by the truck. Let him rest a heavy arm on your shoulder. You peer up at him with a quirked brow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I uh, I had planned somethin’ for you. Not sure if you’re up for it?”

You look back at the blankets in the truck bed. It’s not just blankets, you discover. There are pillows too, big ones, like the kinds you put on patio furniture, plus a small radio situated in the corner. And there’s a bag of chips leaned up against one of the pillows, next to a box of your favorite candy.

“A picnic… in your truck?”

He laughs. “Not quite. There’s a drive-in movie theater down the road. Thought we could go.”

Those butterflies from this morning suddenly return, swarming your insides at the realization — Joel planned a date for you.

It’s not that he isn’t normally romantic, because he is. 

You recall one particular weekend he’d visited — he’d insisted on cooking dinner for you at your apartment, determined to make it perfect for you. He’d ended up burning the chicken and oversalting his sauce, but you hadn’t cared one bit — not when he’d gazed at you so adoringly across the candlelit table, one of your hands in his as he’d peppered each of your knuckles with kisses.

On another visit, he’d scouted one of the only nearby mountains you hadn’t hiked yet and climbed to the top with you — because the internet said this was the best spot to catch the sunset. You’d stood at the lookout, hand in hand, and shared your greatest dreams — yours to have your research published in a major publication, his to leave contracting behind and buy a sheep ranch. And when the sun had dipped behind the horizon, the sky bleeding vibrant pinks and oranges, he’d just looked at you.

So you know he’s romantic. Still though, you’re practically swooning at the scene in front of you.

“So, you wanna go?,” he asks. He scuffs his boot along the concrete floor, awkwardly. “It’s okay if you d-“

“Joel,” you say. “I wanna go.”

He smiles. Rolls the cover over the truck bed. Presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The sky is dark by the time you get to the drive-in. There are already quite a few cars in the dirt lot, parked in neat rows facing the giant movie screen that sits at the edge of a treeline. There’s a person directing traffic, a teenage boy, you guess, based on his stature, and he twirls his light-up batons in the rearview as Joel rounds the corner to the back row.

He backs into a spot at the far-left, car to your right parked a good ten feet away. And then he cuts the ignition with a quiet grunt, steps out, and makes his way over to your door to open it for you and help you down.

The pillows in the truck bed had jostled around a bit on the drive over, Joel finds when he unfurls the cover. So he adjusts them, making sure everything is just right. Then he unlatches the tailgate and helps you hoist yourself up, following closely behind you as you crawl toward the back. 

Once he’s set the radio to the right channel, Joel sits with his back flush to the truck cab and spreads his legs, patting one of his thighs in invitation. He doesn’t need to ask twice — you immediately crawl between them, letting your head fall back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in him. 

A satisfied hum escapes your lips. The realization hits you then that you hadn’t even asked what movie you were seeing. Not that you care much — it could be a documentary about grass, and you’d still have a good time, thanks to the company. 

It’s some dystopian sci-fi thriller, you find, as the opening credits begin to roll, with a title you vaguely remember hearing in passing at some point. 

And it’s good. You’re invested in the story by the end of the first act, curious to find out how the main character is going to save her love interest. 

But then you lose interest, quickly, when you feel the white-hot touch of Joel’s fingers against your skin as he slips them under your shirt, inching down your stomach.

He halts when he gets to the waistband of your jeans, and your breath hitches, lodged somewhere in your throat when he dips one finger under the denim. Your hips lift reflexively and he laughs lowly in your ear, prompting a shaky exhale to sputter out of you.

“Stay still, darlin,” he whispers, slipping another finger into your pants.

You try, you really try not to move, but he’s teasing you, his fingers moving the pace of molasses toward your core, where he hasn’t touched you in months. You feel like your entire body is going to combust if he doesn’t make contact with your clit in the next five seconds. 

You whine, quiet enough that it’s muffled by the sounds of the movie echoing from the radio, but still too loud for Joel, apparently. He reaches his free hand out to turn the volume up, pushing the nob a few decibels higher. 

He returns his attention to you. “You want this, babygirl?,” he asks, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. 

“Yes,” you whisper pleadingly. “Please touch me, Joel.” You feel his cock stiffen behind you, prodding your back. 

“Okay,” he says. He pulls his hand out completely to unbutton your pants and unzip them halfway. Then he’s cupping your sex through your panties, letting his fingers brush over the wet spot that has already formed. 

“Gotta be quiet then,” he purrs. “Can ya do that for me?”

You’re not sure you can, to be honest. He’s barely touching you and you already feel like you’ve lost all control over your body. Whatever it does, however you react — you have no say in the matter. Still, you’re not about to tell him that, risk him stopping, so you nod, furiously, your desperate face illuminated by the flashing light of an action sequence playing out on screen. 

He dips two fingers into your underwear, immediately pressing them to your seam. He curses under his breath behind you, clearly pleased with how wet you are for him, with how easily he breaks you down. He brings them up to your clit, then, swiping back and forth, back and forth, his calloused touch forcing you to suppress a yelp. His fingers feel so rough compared to yours, so good. Breaths are pouring out of you in quick succession, your chest heaving with pleasure. 

You’re briefly paranoid as Joel continues his ministrations that someone might see — but as you glance around the parking lot, you realize that you can’t see anyone else, just shadows in cars and on folding chairs, all focused on the movie in front of them. Slouched within the walls of Joel’s truck bed, it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s happening.

So you let your body relax, melting into Joel behind you, your hands clinging onto his thighs to hold yourself steady. “‘ts it baby,” he says, your pliancy encouraging him to press his fingers down harder. “Always so good for me, huh?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your voice still hushed. 

“Yeah, you are” he agrees, rubbing your clit faster, more deliberately. He knows by now just how to touch you — exactly how to bring you straight to the edge and send you toppling over. And it’s clear that time apart hasn’t affected this in the slightest, your abdomen already tensing, familiar coil tightening threateningly in your core.

You warn Joel with a squeal. His free hand flies up to your face, covering your mouth in an instant. Your eyes roll back instinctively at the lewdness of it, of him muffling you with his palm. You moan freely against it, teeth scraping the skin there as your orgasm grows nearer and nearer and nearer.

It hits you hard. You have to bite down on Joel’s hand to keep from screaming out as it scorches through you, heating every inch of your skin as it does. Your fingernails are digging into Joel’s legs so hard you think you may be drawing blood even through thick denim. He talks you through it, quietly, his utters of atta girl, look at you, ya cum so pretty for me baby keeping you tethered to reality.

When your breathing begins to even and the trembling in your thighs subsides, he removes his hand from your mouth and the other from your pants. 

You gaze up at him through bleary eyes just as he brings the fingers that were pressed against your pussy straight to his mouth, sucking on them through a satisfied hum. He pulls them out slowly, and your body nearly buckles at the sight.

“Taste so sweet,” he whispers in your ear. “Always taste so goddamn sweet.”

Your head swims. 

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. 

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

“We need to leave. Right now.”

He cocks his head at you, confused. “Are you alr-”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off. “But I need you to fuck me right now, and I don’t think we can do that here.” 

You see his eyes darken, his jaw twitch. 

“Yeah,” he says after a few seconds. “Let’s get out of here.”

Joel speeds the entire way home.

The hand he doesn’t have on the wheel grips your thigh, making you dizzy with desire by the time he pulls into the driveway. He lodges the passenger side door open so hard you’d think there was an emergency (maybe needing to fuck your significant other after months of not seeing them in person does constitute as an emergency, though — who’s to say?).

He unbuckles your seatbelt for you, barely letting your feet hit the pavement before his lips are on you and he’s slamming the truck door shut, caging you against it. It feels like he’s everywhere all at once, his tongue sliding along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You’re panting by the time he pulls back, begging him in not so many words to bring you inside and pound you into the mattress.

It must take you five whole minutes to get from the front door to his room. Joel’s hand is splayed across the globe of your ass as you walk. He stops you every ten feet to spin your around and kiss you again, sucking on your tongue, needy moans slipping from his parted lips. His shirt has been discarded by the time you get to the stairs, and your hands greedily take in every inch of skin they can reach as you make your way up step by agonizing step. 

When you finally make it upstairs, he backs you through the threshold, straight to his bed. You tumble down onto the mattress in a heap, mouths melding together in desperation as he reaches a hand behind you, under your shirt, and unclasps your bra. You help him out, reaching up your sleeve to tug down one strap, then shifting your weight to pull down the other. When you move, he follows you, not letting his mouth part from yours a second sooner than it needs to. 

He tugs the bra the rest of the way off your body and pulls your shirt up over your chest, revealing your bare breasts. Only then does he unlatch his lips from yours so that he can admire you.

“More gorgeous every time I see you,” he mutters, rolling one of your nipples between two fingers until it hardens under his touch. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. He leans down, lathing his flat tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a heady moan from you. 

“Joel,” you cry beneath him, a hand coming up to his shoulder. You push against him lightly. 

And he gets it — as much as he loves teasing, now is not the time. You’ve been teased enough by the miles between you and him. So he pulls back. Lets you roll him over. You straddle him, bracing your hands on his chest and experimentally roll your hips. You immediately feel his hard cock straining against his jeans underneath you. 

You reach between your bodies then, prying open his button and yanking the zipper down. Then your hand is in his pants, tracing the outline of his heavy cock where it bulges under cotton.

You lean down and press a kiss to his clothed length. He hisses through his teeth. 

“Baby,” he groans, hand coming down to tilt your chin up towards his face. “Another time. I need to be inside you. Right now.”

You don’t argue. He sits up. Shuffles back to the headboard, bringing you with him. He pulls your shirt the rest of the way off, over your head. And then he’s helping you slip out of your jeans and panties so that you’re completely naked atop him. 

He pulls you in for another bruising kiss as he tugs his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his leaking cock. He strokes it languidly, smearing pre-cum from the tip down his length. You’re already impatient by the time he’s lining himself up with your entrance, so much so that you have to refrain from taking him all the way down in one go. You use your better judgment, sinking onto him slowly, until you’re flush with his pelvis, the hair at his base tickling your inner thighs. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing labored as you adjust to the size of him. You’ve missed the sweet, burning stretch of him, the fullness you feel when he’s inside you, like you’re complete, whole. You’re pretty sure you could stay like this forever, make a home here on his throbbing cock. 

When the sting dissipates, you begin to move, rocking on top of him. He grabs onto your hips, steadying you, his eyes blinking half-open to take you in.

“Fuck,” he rasps as you set a steady pace, his cock disappearing from you, then filling you to the brim again and again. “‘ts it baby, take my fuckin’ cock; ridin’ it so good.”

His hips snap up, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrap your hands around his neck reflexively, digging your nails into his shoulders, indenting crescent moons in the muscle there as he ruts against your g-spot. Your face falls against his chest, your muffled pleas for Joel to fuck you harder, harder, right there barely coherent.

He gets the message regardless.

He pulls you down onto his cock, essentially spearing you on it. You think he must be bruising your cervix, the way his thick head is repeatedly bumping it, but you don’t care. You need every inch of him, need to take everything he has to give you; it feels as essential as the air being punched out of your chest right now. 

He’s fucking up into you so brutally that you find yourself delirious, eyes rolling back in your head for the second time tonight. You can’t even find the strength to warn him of your rapidly approaching orgasm, your body going limp in his grasp. He doesn’t need you to, though — he can tell just by the way you squeeze him that you’re close. 

“Gonna cum for me, baby?,” he growls, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over. 

“Uh — ahhh — uh-huh,” you moan weakly into his skin. Your fingers loosen at his neck, too weak to hold onto him any longer.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head off of his chest and holding it up so that you’re looking him in the eye. 

His gaze is lascivious, almost carnal, like going without you for so long has him ready to swallow you whole.

“Look at me,” he spits, “look at me when you cum.”

You nod wearily. You want to give him that, want to give him anything he asks of you. But you’re not sure if you can, not when your eyelids feel like boulders on your face. 

“C-can’t Joel,” you manage through moans as they fall shut again. 

“Nuh-uh,” he snaps, yanking at your roots. Your eyes fly open at the intrusion. 

“You can do it baby, c’mon. Missed these pretty eyes so much — wanna see ‘em.”

You can only imagine how absolutely fucked-out you must look, using every last ounce of energy in your body to keep from slipping again. Your eyes glaze over slightly as he gives a particularly rough thrust, and you feel yourself skyrocket to the edge.

You feel like putty in his hands — and maybe you are. You’d let him mold you to whatever shape he pleased right about now, when he’s making you feel this good.

“There ya go,” Joel coos, bringing his thumb to your clit. He lazily swipes it once — twice — and you begin to fall apart in his arms.

It’s almost violent, your second orgasm of the night. It rips through you, your body thrashing on top of Joel’s, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he continues pounding into you. It feels different too, something more intense lingering, the threat of it just behind your walls. 

And then he hits that spot again, the one that makes you see stars, and you’re gushing around him. Your release splatters out onto the duvet below you, soaking it. If Joel notices, he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans.

Your eyes adjust as you come to. You take in Joel’s, charcoal black and blown-out with lust. You feel shy, almost, which you know is ridiculous given he’s still inside you. But even so, the way he looks at you, like you’re the most desirable thing he’s ever seen — it makes your cheeks heat.

He flips you over onto your back in one swift movement, slipping from you momentarily as he helps you to wrap your shaky legs around him. Presses a gentle kiss to your trembling ankle as he does. And then he’s burying himself in you again, right to the hilt, his pace slowing as he nears the edge. 

“Please baby,” you cry. “Please cum inside. Need to feel you.”

Your body feels boneless under Joel’s weight, like he’s fucked near everything out of you. And now you need him to feel good, to take whatever he needs from you, whatever you have left to give. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. His hips stall abruptly. He spills into you, deep moans pulling from the back of his throat. You dig your heels into the meat of his ass, dragging him closer, forcing him so deep he paints your cervix.

He pulls out with a hiss, his length softening against your mound as he lifts himself up on his elbows to kiss you. It’s a meager kiss, both of you still too out of breath to deepen it, but it soothes you, along with the soft graze of his thumb over your ribs.

You hold each other for a while, in no rush to move from this moment. You’re pretty sure you drift off more than once, awoken each time by the vibration of his gentle hums against your neck. When you finally do move, it’s not far, just up the bed and under the covers. And then his arms are right back where they were, around you, pulling you tightly to him.

He falls asleep before you, snoring quietly at the crown of your head. You try to wiggle from his grasp, move to the other side of the bed, but even in his sleep, he’s acutely aware of your presence. He just grips you harder, nuzzles his head deeper into your hair. You’ve never felt more content being stuck somewhere.

You slip under again eventually. You’re pretty sure you dream of nothing — no need for your brain to conjure up anything more than what you already have. 

The following morning, you wake up with Joel’s tongue between your legs. He nibbles at your inner thigh, waiting for you to give him the go ahead to continue. And then he makes you cum twice on his mouth before you even eat breakfast. 

He doesn’t let you get up for that, either. He brings you hot coffee in a Texas Longhorns mug and a plate of toast, slathered with butter and grape jelly, and doesn’t complain when you get crumbs on the sheets. 

You’re satiated and caffeinated before you even start your day — which Joel has planned out to a t. 

He brings you to his favorite spot for lunch, a BBQ place by the river, and acts smug when you tell him these are the best ribs I’ve ever had in my life. Then you go home, take a shower — together, of course — and you rinse shampoo out of your hair with his cock nestled comfortably inside you.

He fucks you with your hands braced against the shower wall until you’re screaming, the echoes bouncing off of tile, and then you get back in bed, laze around in your towels until dinnertime. 

Joel orders takeout — sushi for you, lo mein and teriyaki beef for him. You sprawl out on the couch as you eat, your feet in his lap and the calming buzz of the tv on in the background.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a long time.

You easily fall into a routine over the course of the week: wake up, fuck, eat breakfast in bed, fuck, get up around noon, shower, eat lunch, grade papers while Joel cleans up or does yardwork, eat dinner, fuck, go to sleep. 

You almost forget that this isn’t permanent, that you’re going to have to get on a plane and go home soon, that this isn’t your home, here with Joel. That is, until Friday night, over dinner — when Joel abruptly pulls you back down to earth. 

You’re finishing your pasta, spooning the last remnants of sauce into your mouth. Some western flashes across the tv — Joel’s choice, and as you put your bowl down on the coffee table and snuggle up to him, he sighs. 

“This has gotta be the best vacation of my life — or, staycation, I guess.” He says it innocently enough. Still, you feel jolted. Vacation, you repeat in your head until your brain catches up with reality. You feel smothered, suddenly, warm, like your whole body is an ore about to be smelted. You extricate yourself from Joel’s arms and settle on the other side of the couch. 

“Just hot,” you lie. “Sorry.” 

“‘ts alright,” he murmurs, unphased, eyes glued to the tv. 

He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way your breathing picks up when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. But why should he? There’s no reason for you to be freaking out. 

Except there is.

Because the thought of leaving in a couple days, leaving behind Joel and this routine, not seeing him again for several more months, and even then, only having a weekend, or if you’re lucky, a week with him – it’s making you spiral.

You lock yourself in the bathroom. Close the lid to the toilet. When you sit down, your head falls into your hands, heaving breaths warming the skin of your palms uncomfortably. I can’t do this, you think. I can’t keep doing this.

You love Joel — you do, more than anything. And you can’t begin to imagine living without him. But you also can’t help but wonder, elbows digging into your knees, how this has become your life — all the leaving. 

Something heavy settles in the pit of your stomach. You feel nauseous.

You get up. Splash cold water on your face. Curse your reflection, all sunken eyes and tear-stained cheeks. So stupid. This is why you didn’t want to get into another relationship. The pain, the pain, the unbearable pain.

Why did you have to fall in love with him?

There’s a clanging on the other side of the door — Joel clearing your dishes from dinner — an act of domesticity that plunges the dagger deeper into your bleeding heart.

You wipe your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. Huff at how pathetic you feel.

It’s so stupid, so silly, crying in Joel’s bathroom when he’s right outside, right there waiting for you. Even still, you can’t seem to shake the dread that hangs over you like a storm cloud when you make your way back into the living room with dried eyes, back into his arms.

You hope, silently, that it’ll go away with a good night’s sleep. That this is just a minor breakdown, a hormonal thing, maybe, and you’ll feel better in the morning.

It doesn’t, it’s not — and you don’t.

Joel can tell something is wrong the moment he hands you your morning coffee. You’d slept in today, legs tangled under the sheets, trepidation still clawing its way up your throat. You’d been quiet, had only hummed in response when he’d told you good morning. 

That, he hadn’t noticed. But when he passes you the mug, steam billowing from the mouth, he detects the way you won’t look at him, your mumbled thank you. 

You catch the way he steps back with a dejected hmph, and rounds the bed to climb in next to you.

You feel awful.

The mattress springs creak as he settles, balancing his full mug in one hand, laying the other over yours where it sits on top of the duvet, resting on your covered leg. 

“Y’alright?,” he asks, even though you know he knows the answer. It’s why you don’t lie, shake your head. Your eyes flick up to his as a frown sets under his nose. 

You downplay it. “I’m fine, really. It’s just — I — I’m sad that today’s our last full day. I don’t wanna go home yet.” 

“Don’t have to go,” he drawls, drawing light circles over your skin with his index finger. 

And you know he means it — know he’d let you move in with him in a heartbeat. But you also know you can’t. Can’t leave behind the life you worked so hard to make in Vermont. 

“I wish,” you sigh, taking a cautious sip of your coffee. 

“Well…d’you wanna do somethin’ today? Go into the city? I know we haven’t done much’a anything this week.” He smirks. And just for a moment, the look on his face — that dopey smile and those sweet cinnamon eyes — makes you forget about the darkness fogging your mind. 

“We can do touristy stuff,” he continues. “Do anythin’ you want. To take your mind off things. Make the most of the day, ya know?”

His brows are raised as he anticipates your response. He’s so eager to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, and that makes your chest clench. More than you want to protect your own heart, you want to appease him. He deserves that, at the very least.

So you say yes, let’s do it; show me around Austin.

The cracks in your heart deepen when he nearly jumps out of bed in excitement. 

Joel is a great tour guide, for what it’s worth.

He brings you to his favorite hiking trail in the city. It runs along a lake, the water busy with kayakers and paddle boarders. 

The sky above is overcast. A sliver of sun cuts through the clouds, casting your forehead in a light sheen of sweat as you walk.

Every single passerby waves at you or says hello, all in the same singsong twang. Joel waves back, grunts a greeting. It throws you off, how nice everyone is here. You’ve grown used to New England, with its temperamental weather and even more temperamental people.

“Busy,” you note when another group passes you. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums. Wraps a sweaty arm around you, pulling you into his side. It’s awkward to walk like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Sarah used to love this place. We’d come all the time when she was little.”

You lean into his embrace. Nuzzle your face into the fabric of his T-shirt.

“I know you must’ve missed her this week. Is this the first spring break she hasn’t been home?”

“Yeah,” Joel’s other hand rests at the back of his neck, fingers absently working at a knot in the muscle there. “Gotta get used to it though, I guess, with her stayin’ north after school is over and all.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” you admit. “When did she decide?”

He sighs so deep you can almost feel it in your own chest. 

“Couple weeks ago,” he says. “Guess she got some unofficial job offer for after she graduates, from this research institute in Boston. She’s all excited about it.”

You know Joel is proud. He’s always proud of Sarah. How could he not be? But you also know his heart is breaking right now, the long-established plans for Sarah to come home to Texas, to come home to him after finishing undergrad, suddenly squashed. 

And then there’s you — leaving too — again.

The thought of hurting Joel is overbearing, more so than the thought of hurting yourself. He doesn’t deserve to be so far away from the woman he’s in a relationship with when his own daughter is already out of reach.

You feel selfish, suddenly. 

It plagues your mind for the rest of the day — when you go to a diner after the hike and split a strawberry milkshake the size of your head with Joel — and still, later, when you wander hand-in-hand into a tacky gift shop. 

You try your best to ignore the ache in your chest as you scan the store.

The back wall is stacked top to bottom with cowboy boots of varying colors and styles. There are cowboy hats too, displayed on a long table.

Joel picks up an oversized straw hat, resting it on the top of his head with a laugh. “Looks ridiculous, right?” 

“Somehow, no,” you say. And it’s the truth. You think he’s the only person who could put that thing on and look hot in it. 

He grabs another hat off of the table, a more traditional one — brown leather with a braided band wrapped around the base of the crown. You let him affix it on your head. He steps back to get a good look at you and nods. 

“Looks good. Looks sexy,” he amends. 

“Yeah?” You dip your head in faux greeting, fingers pressed into the front corner of the brim.

He scans over you then, his eyes darkening. It looks like he’s pondering something, the corner of his mouth curving. 

“What?”

He steps closer. Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Think we should get ‘em. Wear ‘em later.”

Your breath pulls. The thought of Joel wearing that and nothing but that underneath you is enough to make you forget your quandaries, temporarily.

“Yeah,” you respond way too quickly. “Let’s get them, Cowboy.”

You watch his entire body tense at the nickname. And then he’s yanking the hat off of you, bringing both to the register in a hurry. 

The house is dark when you get home, bag of Greek takeout in hand.

Joel flicks a light on in the entrance. You squint reflexively, your eyes adjusting as you set the food down on the coffee table in the living room. Joel brings your new hats upstairs, then joins you on the couch. You pull out two styrofoam containers, passing the one with Joel’s name scribbled on it to him and leaning back with yours in your lap. 

“‘m starvin,” he mumbles as he cracks his open, squeezes a wedge of lemon over his rice. 

You eat quickly, something else clearly on both of your minds as you shovel falafel into your mouths. You even forget to turn the tv on. 

When you’re done, you insist you’ll clean up, bringing the trash into the kitchen as Joel disappears upstairs. Once everything is tidied, you re-situate yourself on the couch.

He returns a few minutes later — shirtless, that ridiculous cowboy hat fastened on his head, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. He’s holding your hat in his left hand.

There’s a dull throbbing between your legs. He starts across the room, toward you.

“Joel-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, bracketing you against the cushions, his hat bumping into your head. He pulls it off immediately, like if it’s going to interfere in any way, it’s not worth it. It falls onto the floor somewhere behind him.

Joel pulls at the fabric of your shirt. Your back arches, allowing him to pull it up and off before tossing it aside. His mouth moves from yours, trailing lower, lower, and settling at the column of your throat. He sucks a bruise there, the contact sending your hips bucking off the couch, the need for him to touch you already borderline painful.

And then that voice returns, the one that’s been screaming in your head since last night.

This’ll be the last time for a while. Maybe forever. Last time he touches you like this, kisses you like this. Don’t think about it — don’t. Just enjoy it. Just-

“Joel,” you pant. He stops immediately. Pulls back. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Tears well in your eyes, blur your vision. You can barely make out the look of concern plastered across Joel’s face as he kneels down in front of you and grips both of your shoulders. 

When you speak, your voice comes out shaky. “No, it’s not — I just.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What? What is it darlin’?,” he tries, massaging tense muscle under his palms. 

You hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You feel embarrassed that he has to comfort you like you’re a child who’s just had a nightmare, and not a grown woman with a PhD. You groan. Catch your breath. 

“Fuck. I’m fine,” you try. Joel clearly isn’t buying it. He quirks a brow at you. 

“C’mon baby, talk to me. I wanna help, whatever it is. Let me in — please” 

And you want to, you do, it’s just — you don’t know how to even explain how you’re feeling. 

“This is all so hard,” you start. Joel nods. He wants you to continue. “This whole — situation,” you try. “Being long-distance. It’s just — being here for a whole week and waking up together every morning, having coffee, watching tv at night, like a — fuck — like a real couple — and now I have to go back to normal?”

His face falls.

“Real couple? Is this not real to you?” 

“It is real,” you sob. “It’s too real. That’s why it hurts so fucking much. I just, I can’t —”

“Can’t what?” His voice is quiet. Low.

“Can’t do this. Can’t handle the pain. And it must be hurting you too, Joel. Between me and Sarah—”

“I’m fine,” he barks, suddenly jumping to his feet. He takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Sarah. This is about us. Do you not want this? Me?” 

Your hands tremble in your lap. “Of course I want you, Joel,” you sniff. “I want you more than anything. But-”

“But not like this. This is too hard.”

You nod weakly. 

He sighs.

“You know you can move here — stay with me.”

You do know. He’s said it so many times before. But you’ve worked way too hard to pack up and start over, to give up your professorship after only three years with the blind hope that you’ll land a new position in Austin. And now you’re mad — infuriated, almost, that he keeps suggesting it.

You scoff. “You know I can’t just give up my life, Joel.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna give up on us, instead?” His voice is strained. 

“I’m not giving up,” you clip, defensively.

“Certainly doesn’t sound like you’re tryin’.”

He stares at the ceiling. You watch as his eyes mist, his concentration palpable as he wills the tears not to fall. Your anger dissipates into guilt. 

This is exactly what you’d feared — breaking his heart. It’s like you can see it fracturing, chipping at the edges. 

“I don’t want to,” you whisper. “I don’t — I don’t know. I just can’t.”

His face contorts. A single tear slips down his cheek, which he wipes away quickly with the back of his hand. “Fuck,” he curses.

You stand from the couch, begin to move cautiously toward him. “Joel, I-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. Throws his hands up defensively. And then he’s turning, heading up the stairs, leaving you standing there in the middle of the living room with a ringing in your ears.

When you climb into bed twenty minutes later, he doesn’t acknowledge you.

You fly home the next day. Joel doesn’t say anything on the drive to the airport. 

Once there, he pulls over to the curb at the drop-off and puts the car in park. You’re not sure what to do — should you kiss him? Tell him you love him? Because you do, so fucking much. You’re just — not sure if he wants to hear that right now. 

He makes the decision for you, cradling your face as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. He lets his forehead fall to yours with a sigh, and then he pulls back. 

He doesn’t open your door for you, though. Doesn’t grab your bags from the back when you clamber down from the passenger seat. 

It’s as if he’s saying: I love you, but I’m going to give you space.

You pry open the back door. Pull out your suitcase and rest your new cowboy hat over the handle. You almost wish now that he hadn’t gotten it for you. It’ll just serve as another reminder of everything you’ve left behind once your home. 

“Text me,” he offers once your things are all gathered on the curb. “Let me know when you board, when you’re home safe.”

“Yeah,” you nod. Search his eyes for something. Some indicator that he’s okay. But he’s stoic, his lips set in a straight line. “I will. Promise.”

His mouth opens, like he wants to add something else. But whatever he’s thinking, he decides against saying out loud. Instead he just tells you safe travels, and then he’s pulling the passenger side door closed from the inside.

You stand unmoving. As his truck disappears down the roadway and out of view, a list of all the things you should’ve said rolls through your brain like the end credits of a film.

You send Joel a message when you get home. Let him know you got in safe. You don’t call, like you normally would, because that’s not what he’d asked of you.

Then you climb straight into bed, still in your clothes, and let the tears consume you. You wallow in them for what feels like hours, the natural light in your bedroom gradually sinking into the floorboards. You welcome the nightfall, the way the darkness soothes the pounding in your head, the way it feels like nothing. 

Morning comes before Joel responds. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, the time on your phone reading 11:09, and the notification from him just below it nearly jolts you: 

Okay. Thanks. 

No love you, no miss you. 

You curse under your breath. 

Why did you have to say anything? Why did you have to ruin this?

The pain of possibly losing Joel for good makes the pain of long distance feel like a papercut. All you want is to go back in time, take back everything you said, tell Joel you love him a million-and-one times. Anything to undo this.

You fleetingly consider quitting your job, handing in your resignation letter the second you get to campus tomorrow. You’ll take your unpacked suitcase and head right back to the airport.

You don’t let the temptation win. But it lingers, sits at the top of your chest like a threat. Like if he asks one more time — you’ll do it.

He doesn’t, though. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything — which you should’ve expected — but it still stings. You hadn’t broken up, not technically, so you’re stuck in this weird limbo, one in which neither of you wants to talk about what happened in Austin.

Instead, you text each other once a day or so — weird, surface-level messages, ones you’d send to an acquaintance, not someone who literally knows you inside and out.

Finally above 60°, you say, on Monday morning, attached to a screenshot of your weather app. 

Your walk to campus must’ve been nice today, he replies.

And the next day:

Guy at the job site today was talking about that show you like. 

Parks & Rec?!

Yeah, that one.

It’s barely enough to keep you going, to keep you sane. You feel pitiful, looking forward to Joel’s text-of-the-day like it’s a re-up of your drug of choice. Better than heroin, you tell yourself.

Two weeks pass with no phone calls and minimal messages. It’s 5:45 pm on a rainy Tuesday when you sit at your dining room table with a pile of papers to grade in front of you, some low-fi playlist on in the background, unable to focus.

Because Joel hasn’t texted you all day.

Usually he’d send something by now. And it’s not like you hadn’t texted him — in fact, you’d double-texted, one message sent this morning about how you burned your tongue on your coffee, and another after your final class of the day when you’d seen he still hadn’t responded:

Busy day? 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, the gears in your mind whirring as you debate whether or not to send the words punctuated by a flickering cursor on your screen:

Can I call you later?

He’ll probably say no. Or worse, continue to ignore you. Maybe this is it — maybe weeks of dancing around residual tension have driven him to call it quits. He’ll block you, and then you’ll never hear from him again. 

The thought has bile rising up your throat.

You close out of the app and put your phone down before stalking over to the living room, letting yourself fall stomach-first onto the couch. You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream.

You almost don’t hear it over your muffled yells — the rapping at your front door. 

You still, lifting your head from the pillow. Listening intently. It comes again — rapraprap.

Ugh, you groan, lifting yourself onto your elbows, then your feet. You pull your cardigan tighter over your front. Drag your feet across the hardwood to the entranceway, wondering who the fuck could be at your door on a Tuesday evening, unannounced. 

Is it the property manager?, you speculate as you reach the door. Was there an issue with my rent?

Your fingers wind around the handle apprehensively. You peer through the peephole and your heart plummets into your stomach.

Because Joel is standing right outside your apartment.

You wonder if you’re seeing things. If you’ve gone full-on hysterical. But it’s him, it’s unmistakably him — in his favorite flannel and his workwear jacket, which is smattered in rain spots. His gaze is trained on the floor by his feet and his hands are fidgeting at his sides — just like the first time you met him.

You throw the door open. Joel’s eyes shoot up. For a long moment, you just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something — do something. 

When your breath pulls, he rushes forward and crashes his lips into yours. He backs you into your apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. 

You barely hear it, still registering that Joel is here, he’s here and he’s kissing the hell out of you. And just minutes ago, you’d been sulking on your couch, convinced it was over between you two. 

You feel dizzy. You pull back, only because you fear if you don’t, you’ll literally topple over. Joel’s breathing is heavy — it matches yours.

“What are you — fuck — what are you doing here, Joel?”

“I need to talk to you,” he pants. 

“Could’ve called,” you say, as if there’s any universe in which you’d prefer that. 

You lead him to the living room. Fall back onto the couch. He sits down next to you, taking both of your hands in his. You get a good look at him for the first time since he’d barreled into your apartment, and he looks wrecked.

“Are you okay?,” you ask. 

His response isn’t much of an answer. “’m selling my house.”

Your head spins. “You — what?” 

“Listed it last week,” he says. “Already got a couple offers.” 

“Oh,” you blink. “Okay.”

“‘m gonna move up here.”

Oh. 

Your heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of your chest. You’re — speechless.

“I put an offer on a place,” he continues. “‘ts a ranch with some land. Room for sheep. I’m sellin’ my half of the business to Tommy. Leavin’ Texas.”

He exhales. His eyes search yours with tangible desperation. “Say somethin’.”

“I — fuck, Joel,” you breathe. “You’re — when? How?”

“Found the place a couple days ago. ‘ts about thirty minutes Southeast of here. Just went and saw it in person. Sent my offer letter before I came here.”

“Right,” you nod. “But Joel, you can’t just leave-”

“Sure I can,” he interrupts. “Nothin’ there for me anymore. Not Sarah, not you.”

A beat passes. And then he adds:

“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart swells in your chest as you imagine Joel this past week, making all of these plans to rectify the distance between you, to be sure he doesn’t lose you. And still — you’re not sure if you deserve it after the way you hurt him.

“You — you still want me, even after what I said?” 

“Darlin’,” he says, in that honey-sweet drawl. “I love you. There’s nothin’ you could do to make me not want you. You were right. This isn’t feasible. We can’t do this forever.”

“Joel,” you sigh, “I just — you’re sure you want this?”

“I want you,” he says plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world — like nothing else matters. “And you need to be here. So it’s a no-brainer”

The rain picks up outside. It patters against the windows.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll retract my offer. Go back to Texas.”

“I do Joel — want you here more than anything, love you more than anything. But-”

“Good.” He cups your face in his hands. You stare into his eyes, your future.

“It’s settled, then,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers twisting in the fabric of your shirt. “I’m movin’ to Vermont.”

“This is crazy,” you laugh. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he beams. “No gettin’ rid of me now.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Cowboy.” 

end notes: ty again for reading! pls consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you liked it <3

tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading a part 2 (lmk if you don't want to be included going forward): @anoverwhelmingdin, @joelalorian, @lol-im-done, @bensonispunk, @sereindreams, @survivingandenduring, @stevie75, @vee-bees-blog, @brittmb115, @casssiopeia, @bbyanarchist, @janaispunk, @barbellpedro

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

[marleyybluu]

Another Man's Treasure

Oscar Diaz x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k (I am so sorry lmao)

Warnings: 18+, shitty husband, smut, p in v, unprotected (but pls don't be this stupid), creampie, dirty talk, cheating (but is it really if your husband is an ass), flirting, fluff, love at first sight type shit, Spanish/English pet names (pretty lady, hermosa, cariño), limited use of y/n(I literally used it once) idk lmk if I missed any.

(I only mention the first song but the other two are more for the… spicy scene😏)

——

The only escape from reality you had was the small moments of disassociation you had between the screaming of your children and the-

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

The shouting of your overgrown child of a husband playing his stupid games on his stupid PS5 that you wanted to set on fucking fire. This is not the life you pictured as a stay-at-home mom, yes the piles of dirty laundry were expected, and the mountainous dishes in the sink but you never predicted you'd be doing this alone. Your own mother stayed at home with you and your two brothers but your dad would still help her around the house so that she got the time to kick her feet up and relax.

You never got that.

You were living with this dark cloud over your head and deep regrets in your mind, why did you marry this man? You did think he was the love of your life, three years together before you got married proved your theory but never did you think it was going to end up like this. The amount of work you did was overwhelming, just one look at the number of toys on the floor made tears sting your eyes. You were tired, exhausted, drained and absolutely depleted.

If this was a job, you'd quit, you would take your children and quit. You wanted to so badly but the small hope of him changing clung to you like a piece of lint. You sighed holding your eleven-month-old on your hip while you made him a bottle, anything to keep him from wailing in your ears-- Jesus, half the time you couldn't hear.

"Babe!"

Your eyes rolled, you loathed his voice at this point. "What?"

"Can you pass me a water bottle?"

"Get up and get it, I'm making Malakai a bottle."

He groaned. "For fuck sake, you're in the kitchen already."

Your nostrils flared, and your eye twitched. You wanted to cuss at him, shout at him until your voice box shattered but you kept whatever calm you had left and ignored him. A small hand landed on your nose and you smiled kissing the tiny palm. "I love you too bubba."

He flashed a little smile and your heart sobbed at the fact that your last baby was growing so fast, teeth already emerging from his gums when just months ago he didn't have any. You could never regret your three little creatures, you loved them dearly, so much so you were willing to put up with the man that helped you create them just so they could have a two-parent household but you didn't know how much longer you could take this.

Heavy footsteps trailed inside the kitchen, you could tell he was angry at the fact that he had to pause his little game just to grab some water. He looked over the sink, utterly disgusted by the site in front of him and instead of just keeping his mouth shut or for once volunteering to do them he decided to spit out a sentence that made you want to knock his head off with the glass bottle you were holding; "You need to wash the dishes."

Your blood was boiling, if life was a cartoon you'd have steam coming out of your ears. "Why don't you get off of the game and do them?" You bit.

He cracked open the bottle cap. "Hey, I'm the one that works all week, you just stay home and do nothing."

Nothing? NOTHING!?

That was it.

That was the tip of the iceberg.

Your shoulders dropped and he left the kitchen, there was that ringing in your ears again that came and went every time you zoned out. Ever since you got married you'd felt nothing but unappreciated by him, you quit your job to stay home with your children and not even a thank you, you made sure he had a good meal when he went to work and all you got in return was an "it was okay." And the disgustingly dirty dish tossed right in the sink you'd just emptied. You were at the end of your rope.

You held back your tears and lightly kissed your son on his head handing him his bottle and putting him on a beam bag so he could lay down and drink. You trotted upstairs to check in on your oldest twins who were in their room colouring and getting along for once. Then you headed to the bathroom locking the door behind you, your body sliding down to the floor, you curled up in a ball burying your head between your knees you let out a long and heavy sigh before your river of tears took over.

A cry session your body and mind were so used to. You wailed into the void, muffling your weeps so that your children wouldn't hear you and come asking what was wrong, a question you couldn't answer without them turning on their father and you didn't want to ruin that relationship they had with him.

You were just so tired.

--

As night fell you remained mute when it came to your husband, whatever he had to say you didn't respond to, you were just happy that it was Sunday and soon he'd be out of your face for a few hours.

With the kids all asleep you were in the kitchen on FaceTime with your older brother. "The kids are great, they're sleeping." You conversed.

"And how have you been?"

There was no hiding how you felt when it came to your siblings, you were the baby and the only girl so when you were hurt they knew and they'd do whatever they could to fix it. "I'm okay... I'll be okay." You reassured. He was the only one who knew some small details about what you were going through and you begged him not to say anything not even to your mother until you figured out how to deal with everything yourself.

"Hey, listen, Jordyn is going on vacation next week, she's hitting Fiji, and I think you should go with her."

You squinched up your face, you didn't have a problem with your brother's wife, always so thankful for the sister you never got but what about your kids? Could you even trust that man to take over your duties even for a day?

As if he read your mind he continued. "I mean it'll be summer break next week, and they can stay by me if you want. I just, I really think you need time away from life. I want to see my little sister happy."

You pouted, it really touched your heart how concerned he was. A vacation would be wonderful, it was all you could dream of after the kids were born, you loved them but you just wanted to be by yourself.

"I'll think about it."

"Well, don't think too hard." He joked. "Whatever. I gotta get their lunches together, I'll call you when I make my decision."

"Sounds good, night."

"Night."

The call ended and you finished packing the twins' lunch placing the bags on the only empty spot on the counter. You huffed at the dishes and your husband's words replayed in your head. Nothing. You do absolutely nothing.

The longer you stared a vengeful plan began to brew. You were about to show him what doing nothing meant.

--

You decided you were going on that trip, Jordyn was excited and your brother was happy with your choice. The week flew by quickly, you kept up your normal appearance of keeping the house clean and to your husband's liking and by each day you grew more distant from him not like he cared in the first place.

On the last day of school you explained to the twins that you were taking a trip with Aunty Jordyn and they, unfortunately, couldn't come but they'd be staying with their uncle and they'd loved that man to death so they were excited either way. Your house was a mess and for once you smiled at it, you'd been letting everything pile up for the last two days, packing the clean clothes they did have in advance. The only explanation you gave your husband was that they were all staying by your brother for the week but you didn't mention that you weren't coming back.

You were leaving tonight and there would be no stopping you. You loaded the van with their stuff and yours and hollered for them to get their little butts in the car. "Last one in the car has stinky feet!" You laughed at the building volume of stomping feet coming across the hall and down the stairs, your twins were out and your youngest sat on your hip giggling at their antics. You happily wrote a short note.

Bye.

That's it.

You showered your baby in kisses and grabbed your keys before heading out the door, you locked it and made your way to the car, buckling in your baby and making sure the other two were in securely. You closed the door and first time in a long time you felt a weight off your shoulders, you smiled in satisfaction at how you left the house knowing you were not going to answer a single phone call from that man.

--

Jordyn squealed. "Ugh! I am so excited I don't even know what to do with myself!" You laughed at her enthusiasm as you put your hair up in a ponytail. It was day 2 of your trip and you were living life, you couldn't remember the last time you felt this relaxed. Now, of course, you missed your children it'd been the longest you'd ever been apart from them so you were a bit clingy with the calls but it was all understandable.

You two were hitting the beach today and you were a bit nervous, nobody had seen your body in almost a year not even your husband but Jordyn had persuaded you to find your behind in a two-piece bikini and you argued that you'd wear it as long as you could wear a cover-up so it was a deal. You looked yourself over in the mirror, you felt oddly confident. You looked fucking good. Three kids did your body right.

"You sure you want that cover-up?" She teased watching you admire yourself. "Hmm," You angled your lower half so you could check out your bum, how plump it had become over the years. "Maybe not."

She winked. "That's my girl."

You two grabbed what you needed and headed down to the beach which was right in front of the hotel you were staying at. The slight wind brushed against the water sending a cool and comforting breeze your way, your ears wiggled at the sound of the waves, and the giggles of other vacationers enjoying their time like you were.

The cushiony sand had greeted your toes after overflowing onto your sandals. You two travelled until you found a decent spot, it was close to the bar and the body of water. You set up your area as best as you could but you were in a battle with the beach umbrella Jordyn insisted on bringing. She watched with her hand covering her mouth to camouflage her laughter. "Okay, you know what, I'll handle this and you go handle us some drinks."

You childishly stuck out your tongue and strutted your way over to the bar, you hopped on an available stool. The bartender noticed you asking for you to just give him a minute. "No worries." You responded. You went on your phone and checked the many pictures your brother sent of your children, you smiled and a bit of sadness tugged at your heart. You missed your babies dearly.

The number of messages went up and it could only be one person. You promised you wouldn't look but you just had to, you swiped and tapped on your husband's name.

Where the fuck are you!?

The house is a fucking mess!

I'm not cleaning up, I hope you know that.

Baby, come on, we can work this out. Please.

You scoffed at the last message and put your phone down casually being greeted by the bartender who watched your various emotions while you went through your phone. "Everything's okay?"

Oh. Wow.

He presented a sweet smile, your eyes slightly widening at the sight in front of you. He was handsome, scratch that, he was fine as fuck. The shaved head didn't usually work on a lot of men but it did him justice, the scattered tattoos on his pretty and tanned skin, his broad shoulders that looked like they were made for legs to be hooked on and not to mention his big arms that looked like they could hold you snug and tight all through the night.

"Uh, yeah, everything's... everything is good." You stammered, a queasy feeling crept through you as it settled in your lower stomach. Butterflies? But you couldn't even remember what that felt like in order to come to that conclusion.

"Good to know. What can I get you, ma?"

You shuddered at his voice. He could talk to you all day.

"One Long Island, and one Piña Colada please."

He nodded. "Starting off slow I see." He chuckled. "Eh, we're on vacation, gotta soak it all up before we go back."

"I see," He multitasked making your drinks and conversing. "And when does the pretty lady go back?"

You blushed, should you even tell this literal stranger when you're actually leaving? But he felt... comfortable, easy to talk to and it's not like you'd ever see him again. "End of the week."

"Oh, you have plenty of time to get shit-faced." He encouraged. He'd finished your order and placed the liquored-down drinks in front of you. "Don't worry about paying yeah? It's on the house. Enjoy your vacation pretty lady."

"Y/n... you could just call me Y/n."

Not like you wanted him to, pretty lady was working just fine

"Nice to meet you. Oscar... Diaz." He winked. "Thanks, for the drinks."

"Anytime, pretty lady."

Your legs felt wonky as you walked away, and your breathing quickened. You did your best to walk back to Jordyn without looking back, if you did you were pretty sure you'd fall, just clumsy as fuck. "Girl, that man was watching you walk away." She whispered. "Stop." You poked, shoving her drink toward her. "Oh please, his eyes were on you." Jordyn gazed over to the bar, "He's still staring."

You casually whipped your head around and sucked your teeth when you noticed he wasn't. You glared at her. She snickered taking a sip from her Long Island. "Makes good drinks too."

You sighed, "Shut up."

The topic was silenced, you downed a few more drinks but sent Jordyn to get them instead while you swam around in the cooling water, floating around enjoying the peace the water brought you. But you couldn't help but occasionally look over to the bar. Oscar Diaz... nice name. Nice face. Cute little moustache that sat above his lips and a goatee that sat below. Pretty rosy pink lips...

Your eyes darted away. You're married.

Are you though?

You swam back up to the beach, it was beginning to get dark and the patrons on the beach became scarce. You wrapped yourself in a towel and collected anything Jordyn hadn't packed up yet. "You want one more drink before they close up? Maybe your new friend will allow it." She teased. You took off your flip-flop and threw it at her but your reaction only made her laugh.

A familiar voice was heard behind you. "So she's beautiful and she's got good aim, better watch out." 

You quietly gasped. "Hi... Oscar."

"Hey, uhm, listen I own a club not too far from here and you know it's a decent hangout for the locals... and the visitors." He winked. "Wanted to know if you two would like to come check it out?"

You fought back a smile. "We could try." You answer without even thinking. "I'll take that," He reached into his pocket handing you a folded piece of paper, you assumed had the address of the place he owned. Your fingers brushed against his, prickles felt like they were forming on your skin and those weird feelings returned in your lower stomach.

He sent you another wink and headed back off to the bar to close up.

--

Of course, Jordyn was down to go. You groaned internally as you two pulled up to a crowded place, looking up at the illuminated sign reading Cloud 9. Hmm, cute. You pulled down your dress as it rose up with each step, your heels clicking against the cold ground, the music booming so loud you could feel your body vibrating the closer you got to the entrance, flashing lights of different colours beamed through the door every time it opened blinding whoever entered. "Where's your friend?" Jordyn asked. "Have patience, I just told him we got here."

"Mhm." She sassed. Your heart thumped in your ears, it pounded against your chest. What were you doing? It was a question you asked yourself from the moment you got back to your room and began to get ready for tonight. You shook off your thoughts and shifted your eyes over to a black door that slowly began to open. "Hey, over here." Oscar waved you two over and you followed. "What's going on, pretty lady?... And pretty lady's friend."

Jordyn nodded at him as a silent greeting, she was just here to observe your anxious behaviour for her entertainment. "Come on," You followed him through a dimly lit hallway and up a flight of stairs, your nerves building and sudden regret forming in your bones until you entered a brighter atmosphere, the loud music returning to your eardrums. He had led you two to a section that only had a few people, you could assume it was the VIP section.

"Anything you two want to drink just let me know and I got you."

Jordyn raised her eyebrows at the tempting bottle of unopened champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. Oscar chuckled granting her permission to open it, she shimmied her shoulders in excitement and got to work. You shook your head at her, you travelled over to the balcony and looks down at all the patrons having the time of their lives, a few familiar faces from the resort and others that weren't recognizable which you could only assume were locals.

Oscar found his place beside you and nudged your shoulder with his. "You want anything to drink?"

"No, not yet, I'm good."

He slowly nodded. "So, what are you doing in Fiji? Besides vacationing."

You huffed, "I just needed time to myself... to get away from shit."

"I hear that." You could just feel those sweet and curious brown eyes boring into the side of your head, you poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue and looked down at your shoes, just anything to not make eye contact with him. You were shy, you were never shy not even with your husband when you first met him. It's like this was a new feeling, you were queasy and nervous and it honestly felt good in a weird way-- it felt good to not be comfortable, to get all flustered over someone like a schoolgirl crush.

"You really own this place?"

He scrunched up his face. "Half own, I guess. My brother and I came here for an escape just like you and we ended up staying. Now, we own Cloud Nine and I work down at the resort once in a while."

"Oh, you're a busy man."

"I try to be." Oscar chuckled. He was so easy to talk to, why was he so easy to talk to?

You found yourself moving a bit closer. "What were you trying to escape from?"

"Life. I wasn't happy where I was living and I wanted better but... given the circumstances, we just couldn't get it. So I threw a dart on a map, so to speak, it landed on Fiji and we've been here ever since."

"Where are you from then?"

"Originally born in Mexico, we moved to LA, and then out here."

"Would you ever go back to the States?" You asked finally looking up at him knowing he hadn't taken his eyes off you all night. He leaned forward, officially entering your bubble. "If I had a good enough reason... yeah."

You looked up at him through your lashes and softly smiled, meanwhile, Jordyn sat on the couch sipping and shaking her head at the sight in front of her. She would playfully scold you in the morning but tonight she'd let you have your harmless fun.

As the party went on you were getting a bit bored being upstairs so you grabbed your girl and headed downstairs to where the crowd was and of course Oscar was right behind you, he felt a sense of protection over you two tonight given this was your first time out here and inside his establishment. You had found enough confidence to start dancing around, a little two-step from left to right to get you going, but soon the constant flow of drinks Jordyn handed you helped you loosen out of that as well.

The DJ was beginning to play all the oldies, and that was your specialty. Oscar watched in adornment as you killed every lyric, every adlib and every beat to whichever song came on. It had transitioned from a bit of Hip-hop to something a lot slower.

  "Right now, we're gonna slow it down a bit, so grab your lovers and take your time."

The lights changed to blue and a recognizable first note had you close your eyes.

Mmm ooooh, my my my my my my my babyyy ouuuuuu

Jordyn had already found herself dancing with a random woman. She looked widened her eyes at you and quickly flicked them over to Oscar, trying her best to encourage you to make your move. But he was faster. You felt yourself being pulled into his warm embrace, his strong chest against your exposed back, his hands carefully snaking around your waist as if he was worried about you rejecting his touch but you gladly welcomed it.

Melting into his hold you two swayed side to side, he leaned down comfortably nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. You were lost in the vibes of Keith Sweat's Right and a Wrong Way. You reached back hooking your arm around his neck lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. "You smell so good, mamita." He whispered, it was a miracle that you heard him. Your lips parted slightly as you felt his warm breath tickle your skin. His swift hands ran up your sides resting right under your breasts and gliding back down to your hips.

A thumping began between your thighs, now that was something you hadn't felt in a long time. You put that feeling to the side no matter how hard it was to do so. The rest of the night it felt like all the songs were targeted for just you two, you hadn't eased up on him once-- always in close proximity to him. He touched you in simple ways, ways you hadn't been touched in almost a year.

It was getting super late, almost three in the morning and you couldn't recall the last time you were out like this, it'd give you hell when you woke up but it was worth it. You and Jordyn rode back to the resort with Oscar, she exited the car first thanking him for the night out and wobbling her way inside. You giggled watching her walk away, "I should get in there before she tries the key on the wrong room."

But you didn't want to leave him.

And he didn't want to leave you.

"Thanks for tonight, I had a lot of fun."

"No problem, anything to help a pretty lady escape." He bit his lip. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Recovering," You laughed, "But other than that nothing."

"Can I see you again?"

You gulped and nodded. "Mhm."

He laid out his palm your eyebrows furrowed as you rested yours on top of his, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and placed such a gentle kiss on your skin. "Goodnight, mamita."

You wanted to scream. You left the car putting a little swing in your hips as you walked away, you looked over your shoulder and sent him a cute little wave before disappearing behind the doors.

— —

And that's how you spent the rest of your trip, shamelessly flirting with Oscar. You got to know each other a lot more, when you weren't spending time with Jordyn you were with him. Giggling like an airhead and blushing red like Rudolph's nose.

Jordyn constantly teases you about the crush you'd seem to quickly develop.

"Is this stupid?" You ask shoving your face in the pillow. This all felt too good to be fucking true, a guy that you met only four days ago was treating you so much better than the man you married four years ago. Oscar had flowers for you at the front desk of the resort every morning and sent you the sweetest messages throughout the day about how he was thinking of you, how he caught a glimpse of you today and you looked stunning, calling you the prettiest woman he'd ever seen step on this island.

You convinced yourself they were all lies, sugarcoating you like he probably did every woman but who were you fooling? Certainly not yourself and certainly not Jordyn.

"It's not."

"I'm married." You argued tiredly to which she fake yawned. "I don't see a ring on that finger and I don't see that man treating you any better than Oscar has. Just saying."

The fingers on your right hand brushed your vacant ring finger, you'd taken it off the minute you got on the plane, you didn't want to be reminded of him on this trip at all and yet there was that piece in the back of your mind that reached out to him. Checking his messages once in a while but never responding, he was giving you the attention you wanted but it didn't feel right.

The fact that you had to spontaneously leave to get even a fraction of what you were asking for was bullshit. Downright bullshit.

You groaned sitting up the pads of your fingers now rubbing your temples, tired and stressed. The trip was almost over and you dreaded going back to that house that was no longer a home. He'd sent you pictures that he'd finally cleaned up but you had a feeling once you returned home things would go back to the way they were and you did not want that.

"I think your brother would agree with me, you've smiled more in these past few days than I've seen back home, I mean you two are always so distant when you come over. And don't think I don't hear your rants when you and your brother are on the phone. Now I don't condone cheating but, hey, I didn't see shit."

You sighed checking your phone for any recent texts from your husband but Jordyn caught wind of what you were doing and snatched your device. "Enough with him. Flirt and have fun before you have to go back to normalcy."

You heard your phone buzz in her hand, she looked at the message for you. "Speaking of, someone is downstairs."

You felt nauseous. "Where are you two going anyway?"

"Down to the beach, said he has to restock the bar... and I wanted to spend time with him so I offered to help."

"Mhm." She winked. You grabbed your phone back from her grasp and told her you'd be back soon. You left your room, entered the elevator and headed downstairs where Oscar was happily waiting for you. "Hola querida." He become more comfortable speaking Spanish around you, especially when he noticed how the little nicknames got a reaction out of you.

"Hi," Oscar noticed the shaky tone in your response and made note of it You had comfortably slipped your hand inside his, he immediately hooked his fingers in the spaces of yours. Like he was your puzzle piece.

You two headed down to the decent-sized Hut, your eyes widened at the number of boxes sitting on the sand. "Don't worry, I got the heavy bottles, you just get the small ones." He reassured pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You loved those, so innocent and sweet, although you wish sometimes he'd kiss you on your lips or you had to courage to kiss his. "Think I can't handle the big boxes?" You scoffed walking inside after him.

"I think you can, I just don't think my pretty lady needs to."

My pretty lady.

ugh!

With music playing in the background you two got to work, "Do you still think about running your own restaurant?" You asked sparking a conversation, you squatted down to the lower shelves and propped the glass bottles in an organized fashion, eyes tearing through the material of your sundress and you could feel them. "I do, yeah. Why?"

You bit your lip. "Would it still be down here?"

There was a beat of silence. "Most likely."

Another pause in the moment aside from your soft humming to the music. "You excited to see your kids?" He asked. You smiled at the mere thought of them. "I am. My three little headaches." Oscar found himself next to you, leaning against the counter, you stopped your movements and looked up-- he had one arm folded over the other and a bit of a scowl on his face.

"What?" You innocently question standing up to match his eye line, well more-like chest line. "Nothing, just trying to take my time to remember this face." He reached for your cheek, his fingers ghosting your flesh. "You flirt like this with all the girls here?"

A question that was supposed to come out jokingly but you were a bit serious. "Nah," You squinted at him watching his lips press together, his chest stuttering as he held back a laugh. "You asshole, I knew it." A dramatic hand to your heart as you playfully pouted at him and fake cried. Oscar's arms enveloped you in their warmth, you attempted to push him off but it was no use, your feet suddenly off the ground, you squealed and giggled as he switched positions with you plopping you on top of the counter.

He placed his palms flat on the side of your thighs while he was positioned comfortably between them. "To be fair, hermosa, it is kind of my job. But believe me when I say I've never spent any time with them. And I've definitely never brought them back here after hours." His thumb and pointer finger pinching your chin. "Just you, princesa."

You melted, your whole body could be seen physically slumping in his hold. His eyes sparkled while he looked at you, the crinkles in his eyes appearing as he smirked. Before you could comprehend anything his lips brushed yours, your head suddenly becoming foggy with the inappropriate images of him that you'd conjured up these past few days.

His nimble fingers danced along the hem of your dress, a rush of heat passing over you as he hiked it up further exposing more of your flesh.

This was no longer a want... it was a need.

Your hands landed right under his jaw as you pulled him in crashing your lips onto his and he happily reciprocated your energy, his hands wandered up to your hips tugging you closer to him as if it were possible. Your lips moved as one, tongues passing by in the heat of the moment, the only thing on your mind was him and you wanted it to remain so for as long as possible.

Tingles scattered around your body, both of you flushed with lust and arousal. Your hands travelled to the bottom of his shirt quietly begging for him to take it off, you needed to feel his skin, thankfully he got the message-- pulling away for a brief moment to remove his top. Your eyes glazed over his lightly tanned skin, little scars here and there you can only presume he earned before he got here.

You smiled at the strewed ink on his torso, chest and ribs. "What are you thinking about?" He inquired. You looked back up into his brown iris'. "I wish I had met you first." You mumbled drawing him back down, this kiss was a lot more passionate and slow unlike the first.

Oscar's hands gently tugged at the neckline of your dress, your breasts spilling over and his calloused hands finding them. You softly moaned against his lips, your nipples hardening from the cool breeze and his fondling. He pinched and rolled them between his fingers, your head tipped back and his teeth nipped at the column of your neck.

You were forming a small pool in your panties at his teasing. His tongue grazed your neck continuously licking and sucking a specific spot that was getting a squirming reaction out of you. You felt his devilish smile, he knew what he was doing to you and he liked it.

His hands moved from torturing your swollen breasts back down to your thighs shoving your dress up until your little black panties were on display. You sat on the edge of the counter making it a bit easier for him to remove them, the cool air hitting your soaking slit.

"Touch me, please, touch me." You whined not caring about how desperate and needy you sounded. Oscar listened to your pleas and dipped one hand between your legs, his fingers quickly finding your slick folds. You shuddered as he glided two fingers up and down, dipping them inside you once in a while.

You were soaking, you were throbbing, and you just wanted him inside you where he fucking belonged. He slowly plunged his fingers inside, you clench around them happy to have something pleasuring you. Your eyes are closed and your legs spread further for him, nails digging into his shoulder blade hopefully leaving little indents.

He pumped them in and out of you with the squidgy noise of your wetness to follow. "Yes... oh yes, like that."

Oscar felt himself twitch under his boxers using his other hand to undo his belt and pulled down his materials. His dick is hard and his tip a rosy pink turning cherry red oozing with a bit of cream, his hips buckled once his hand brushed over it-- equally as desperate as you were. Your erotic moans were like music to his ears, so much sexier than he could've pictured. You whined once he removed them your hole flexing around nothing as you caught your breath.

Oscar hooked your legs over his arms spreading you to his desire, you reached between your bodies firmly (but not too tight) grasping his length and guiding it to your entrance, his swollen head prodding inside you as the rest of him followed.

Your jaw slacked at the feeling of him deliciously stretching you out, he was so thick and it felt so nice. Oscar croaked out a moan while burying himself deep inside your warmth-- coating his dick with your sticky walls, so slick and welcoming that he didn't want to move.

You caressed the back of his neck as he pressed another kiss on yours, trailing it up the side and finally landing on your mouth. You giggled into the kiss, Oscar pulled back with a questioning look. "I can't tell the last time I felt like this." You mumbled under your breath but he heard you. He didn't want you to leave, hell if you didn't have kids he'd probably try to convince you to move out here with him.

He didn't say anything in response just pulled out and pushed back in. "Fuck." You both moaned.

His head dipped back down, nibbling on your sweet skin.

You whimpered through every tantalizing stroke he gave you, his tip poking right at your hot spot and you knew you wouldn't last. "You feel so good!" A sentence broken by little gasps. Oscar grunted, violently gripping your thighs as he pounded you, pulling the filthiest sounds from your pretty little throat. So loud and erotic he was sure they could hear you back at the resort.

Your eyes squeeze in absolute bliss, your head hazy from the constant pleasure you received, quickly feeling a sensation in your lower belly a wave of heat threatening to take over. Your palm lay flat on his back while the other gripped the edge of the counter.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oscar!"

He lifted you off the counter a bit, relentlessly slamming into you now. Your high getting closer and closer. "I can, shit, I can feel you mamita. So fucking tight."

Your toes curled and your eyes rolled. "Baby, ohhh, I need to..."

Oscar smiled. "You wanna cum for me, baby? Come, mi amor, all of it."

His words tipped you off the edge, your back arched and your body trembled from the shockwaves of your orgasm, he held you closely revelling in your pulsating pussy dripping down his shaft.

He quickly brought you off the countertop, your wobbly legs barely holding your support. He turned you around, you barely recovered from the first position.

You were sensitive and extra wet just how he wanted you. You flinched when he pressed himself against your entrance once again, pushing in ever so carefully. "Fuck... you."

He laughed menacingly, his hands squeezing your hips. "That's what I'm doin' pretty lady."

You wanted to give him a smart-ass answer but it was cut short when he began to move. Your nipples were hard against the surface, you rested your head down and whined. "So fucking good."

"Yeah?" He chuckled spanking you. He was enjoying the pornographic sounds that you provided, all going straight to his dick.

He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you up against him, back pressed on his chest, his warm breath in your ear. "Can't get enough of you I swear." He admitted.

He poked and prodded against that familiar spot, tears of overwhelming pleasure threatening to spill when he pinched your nipple. "Fuck! I'm gonna miss you, so fucking much."

"You gonna think about me?"

"Yes! Oh!"

You felt him twitch inside you, you smiled egging him on. "I won't stop thinking about you, when I touch myself I'll picture it's you-"

"Fuck, cariño,"

"Ou, you're the only one I want inside me."

You convulsed around him feeling another orgasm quickly building and getting ready to fall apart. A few more thrusts and Oscar held himself still inside you, your body shivering at the warm cream he just spilled inside you. His high triggering yours. You reached behind hooking your arm around his now sweaty neck.

The sound of the wind against the water and the waves crashing describe exactly how you felt right now.

"Oh... my god." You said breathlessly.

"You're okay?" He asked with a laugh. You giggled tipping your head back on to his shoulder. "Better than okay."

He sighed kissing your back. "I meant it..." You said.

"What?"

"I'm gonna miss you."

He smiled sheepishly. "I'll miss you too."

--

Those moments replayed in your head constantly, it was the only thing getting you by once you came back home. You two still talked every day, called and FaceTimed but it wasn't enough. You would stare at the prices of tickets and sigh, you couldn't afford to go back right now.

Your life was the same, unloved and unappreciated, despite the embarrassingly desperate messages your husband had sent when you were on your trip. You stared at another pile of dishes, your shoulder sinking with exhaustion. With your two older ones at school and your son almost an hour into his nap you decided to just relax. You clicked on Netflix and attempted to finish Bridgerton's, Queen Charlotte.

Your eyelids felt heavy, sleep threatened to take over but the doorbell had them shoot open. It wasn't just one ring it was multiple and it was annoying so you assumed it was your brother. You groaned trudging to the door. You swung it open aggressively, ready to give him a piece of your mind. "You're going to wake-"

There he was. Standing in front of you, on your doorstep... at your house. "O-Oscar..." You poked his chest to see if he was really there. "Said I'd come back when I have a good reason." Your eyes softened, your arms reaching for him. His lips immediately find yours. "I," kiss, "fucking," kiss "missed you."

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he stepped inside closing the door. He carried you over to the couch and plopped you on the cushions. You laughed, your mood immediately changing with him around. "Jordyn told you where I lived didn't she?"

He nodded. You rolled your eyes. "Of course."

"Not happy to see me?"

You pulled him down for another kiss.

"Beyond happy."

I was going to wait until the weekend to post this but I am a little too excited to get this out.

Shoutout to my girl @darqchilddaydreamz for her input on a few things and her encouragement. Holdin it down ✊🏾

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Alsooooo thank you for 800 followers, yall cool as fuck thanks for fucking with me and my antics.

Peace and love see you in the next one✌🏾

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit

[slytherizz]

Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest. 

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?" 

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly. 

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin. 

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged. 

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?” 

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest. 

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges. 

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams. 

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight. 

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical. 

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly. 

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom. 

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs. 

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was. 

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand. 

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach. 

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat? 

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work. 

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been. 

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm. 

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?" 

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears. 

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race. 

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder. 

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath. 

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes. 

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned. 

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect. 

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success. 

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they. 

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her. 

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four. 

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat. 

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child. 

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled. 

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for. 

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other  reasons it appeals to me.” 

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him. 

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle. 

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity. 

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl. 

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment. 

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed. 

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall. 

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently. 

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs. 

“Sebastian - please,” she whined. 

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a  groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke. 

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers. 

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree. 

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach. 

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian. 

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress. 

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation. 

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh. 

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress. 

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips. 

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock. 

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.  

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft. 

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach. 

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust. 

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately. 

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out. 

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined. 

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.” 

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear. 

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her. 

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke. 

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard. 

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock. 

Willing it to take root. 

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take. 

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away. 

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one. 

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her. 

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval. 

“Care to test the theory?”