#for full warnings look at the AO3 version

[black-rose-writings]

Unexpected Consequences (Danny Phantom One Shot)

Also on AO3

Inspired by and referencing the events of this comic by @lilianade-comics

By the time Danny Fenton was four, his parents have gone through all of the available babysitters in the entirety of Amity Park and Elmerton. Well, technically not all of them, but apparently, there is a critical percentage of babysitters scared half to death, at best, which makes all other babysitters turn you down no matter how high the pay.

Of course, in this case, the problem was with the house, not the kids, but the Fentons would not be convinced that their house is anything but the safest place for their children to be. What if a ghost came to the babysitter’s house? How would they defend themselves? Do ignore the fact that their own house was a magnet for ghosts, because that’s exactly what they did.

And it brought them to him.

The last thing Vlad Masters expected to hear during his Thursday dinner was his phone ringing.

Well, that was not entirely the case. He was running a rather large company by then, and he was known to take after-hours calls. Not happily, but it wasn’t as if he had any sort of life outside of work – not one that he could be open about, anyway – and with the global expansion of his enterprises in the last few years, sometimes people simply forgot about the existence of time zones.

He didn’t expect to find his personal phone ringing. A small thing that he modified himself and was fairly certain only his mother and a certain annoying definitely licensed and absolutely not shady or paranormal in any way psychologist had the number for. This was neither of them.

He was sure Spectra would give the number to someone just to piss him off, but no living being (and very few dead ones) even knew of their connection. Which left his mother, whom he did instruct to not give the number to anyone, under any circumstances. Of course, telling a Masters to not do something was entirely pointless if said family member did actually want to do the thing.

He hoped to all Ancients his mother wasn’t trying to set him up with some pretty single girl or a recently divorced single mother from her church again.

And while that prayer had been answered, it was much like making a wish to Desiree – somehow worse than the thing he wanted to avoid.

On the other end of the line was Jack fucking Fenton.

It took considerable willpower to not immediately crush the phone and burn the remains to nothing. He did, however, transform before Jack even finished the first sentence.

What ghost wouldn’t get defensive, hearing the voice of their ghostmaker, for the first time after a decade of silence, talking cheerfully and excitedly? Like he hadn’t killed him with his impatience. Like he hadn’t left him to rot. Like he didn’t turn him into an abomination. Like no time had passed. Like nothing had changed.

How dare he talk like that? How dare he ask for favors?

His ghost half may have been the more emotional one, but there was also a level of confidence and power that it brought. Things that he was going to need if he was to talk to Jack Fenton and not let the oaf know anything was wrong. He was fairly certain the man wouldn’t notice either way, but there was no way to know when Madeline could be listening in.

Jack – no, both of them – were asking for a favor. They needed someone to babysit their kids.

Vlad was vaguely aware the two of them had produced two children – the thought of Jack’s clumsy hands anywhere near Madeline made him see red every time – focus, Vlad.

It seemed the couple had bought a haunted broadcast tower to work in and had transformed it into a livable house (or so they claimed). Unfortunately, it seemed that while the ghosts haunting the tower steered clear of the Fentons, babysitters had no such luck, and neither did their kids – though they taught the kids basics of ghost defense (Vlad didn’t know much about kids, but he was fairly certain ghost fighting skills of any sort were not standard curriculum for four and six-year-olds).

It took Vlad a considerable effort to not send Jack to hell and tell him that it’s their own fault. He thought of Madeline. They were her children too.

Of all the plans he had come up with, of all the ways he considered wooing her, this was not one that had come to him before. Things have changed. They weren’t in college anymore. His Madeline was a mother, now.

Perhaps all he needed was to show Madeline that he was a better parent than Jack Fenton. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

***

If you told Vlad Masters the day he (run from) left the hospital that there would come a day when the love he felt for Madeline was going to be but a distant echo or that he would love children sired by Jack Fenton as if they were his own, he would probably laugh at you.

If you said to him the day he received the notice of the birth of their first child, that he would one day destroy any creature that would even dare to look at her meanly, that he would endure any pain, put himself between any weapon and this child, he might have blasted you to pieces. He would endure. But she was so human. So fragile.

If you told him the day he found out about their second child that one day, that the child would be the first human to find out his secret, he might have just flown over and throttled the baby in its cradle, just to be safe, and felt exactly zero remorse about the action. Nobody would ever know. Babies die all the time. Especially with parents like his.

If you told him the day he received that fateful phone call that one day, he would be the first to hold Danny Fenton after his death, the only way he would imagine such a scenario happening would be he was the one to kill the boy. Why else would he hold Jack Fenton’s son?

If you told him, any time in those 18 years between his transformation and today, that the Fentons would make their own child a halfa with their negligence, he would have nodded along. Perhaps he would have even been excited about finally having someone be like him, someone he could teach, someone who would share the hate every ghost feels for their ghostmaker for Jack Fenton. It didn’t surprise him – they never changed in that way. And if there was some excitement, when he found out, he could never imagine how much it would hurt.

If you had told him how much the second fateful call would hurt, what emotions it would ignite with him, how irreversibly it would alter him, he would have never picked up the first one.

But he picked up both and there was no going back.

***

Danny’s hands were shaking as he carefully put in the numbers into the phone.

He felt so stupid. He knew it was stupid. He knew it, and he did it anyway.

And for what?

He had been so proud when his parents left him alone at home for the whole weekend for the first time, when Jazz convinced them to take a campus tour at one of her top choices for a university.

She was sixteen for god’s sake, she had so much time for that stuff.

So, of course he invited his friends over. Of course his techno geek and goth best friends wanted to see the stupid ghost lab his parents had in the basement.

Of course they dared him to go into the ghost portal. It wasn’t working. Danny knew that. He also knew it was dangerous. If he could avoid touching any of his parents’ stupid invention for the rest of his life, he would. Which was kinda hard when half of the house counted as one of those inventions.

They called him a coward.

Tucker was one to talk. He was afraid of hospitals for no good reason. Danny could name about a hundred reasons why messing with his parents’ tech or ghosts was a bad idea. It didn’t bother him that Tucker called him a coward. They were losers and cowards and that was one of the reasons they were friends in the first place. Okay, maybe it bothered him a little, but he would never admit that.

Sam, though, it hurt from her. The girl seemed to not be afraid of anything and she was fascinated by all things strange and dark. All the things that pissed off her parents. And as much as Danny told himself she was a friend and he didn’t want to make it weird, anyone with eyes could see the giant crush he had on her.

Sam wasn’t afraid of anything. And even though he could name all those reasons for why he shouldn’t do it, why they shouldn’t be in the lab at all, why he just wanted to spend the weekend playing videogames and raiding his dad’s snack hideouts and why that’s exactly what they should do, none of those words came to mind as Sam goaded him.

He never asked to have a weird family. He just wanted to be normal and deal with just the normal kid problems. He just wanted his friends to understand that unlike them, he wasn’t a weirdo by choice.

Maybe he snapped at them a little. Maybe he raised his voice a little. Maybe he called them just as shallow and image-obsessed as the A-listers. Maybe he called them boring and attention seeking. Maybe he cursed them out a little.

Maybe a lot more than little.

And they left.

He sat in the living room, watching the clock, alone.

Of course he was alone. He yelled at his only friends.

And for what?

Maybe they were right. Maybe he was just a coward. The portal wasn’t working. How dangerous could it be?

As the minutes ticked by and he felt worse and worse about what he did, he got up and headed back into the lab.

He put on one of the small hazmat suits his parents had for him. He had meticulously torn off and threw out all of the stupid patches with his dad’s face that the self-obsessed mad scientist put on them, months ago, in the off chance he was forced to wear one outside or near a camera. He knew that Sam would mock him for it. But with his parents inventions, he’d rather be safe than sorry. Or dead. Or worse – a ghost.

The thought terrified him. If his parents were to be believed, ghosts were nothing more than echoes of human minds, twisted, either entirely animalistic or evil. Monsters, wearing the face of the dead.

He didn’t even believe in ghosts. He had memories of them from when he was a kid, but they could have just been dreams. With how much their parents talked about the stuff, of course his mind would haunt him (ha!) with them in his sleep.

He realized Sam had left her new camera on the table. She had shown him and Tucker how to operate it a few weeks earlier when she bought it.

Danny turned it on, started recording and left it on one of the tables, pointed at the portal.

“Hey, Sam, Tucker… here’s to show you I’m not a coward. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

He waved at the camera, took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.

It didn’t work. How dangerous could it be?

How dangerous could it be?

He couldn’t get that thought out of his head as he stumbled out of the portal. It hurt. It hurt so much. And he wasn’t himself. Not anymore.

Twisted monster wearing his own face. A monster his parents would probably hunt and tear apart for stealing his face, for stealing their child away from them.

He sat on the couch and cried. He wished so much to just be himself again.

He couldn’t be dead, right? Everything hurt. He couldn’t be dead. Ghosts didn’t feel pain.

He looked at his arm, at the formerly black glove, now snow white.

He just wanted to be himself again…

He watched as white light appeared, first around his waist and then travelling along the rest of his body, turning him back into himself.

But his parents said ghosts could sometimes pose as living humans.

He felt his heart beating in his chest, now.

He couldn’t be dead if his heart was beating, right?

It didn’t just moments ago.

The rings.

A memory came up. A memory he dismissed as another dream.

He must have been really small, one of the first times uncle Vlad was watching him and Jazz. He was making smoothies in the middle of the night.

Danny wanted to see what was going on and he saw uncle Vlad, with those same rings around him. His normally silver hair seemed pitch black, before the black rings swept across him and turned him into his normal self. He was too young to have gray hair even now, and more so then. His parents explained that it was because of an accident back when they were in college. And accident with a portal prototype…

Vlad gave him candy to promise to never tell anyone what he saw that night. Danny did very distinctly remember eating it all at once, because he was a four-year-old given an irresponsible amount of candy, and how sick he wound up being after.

He thought the whole thing was just a dream. And maybe it was.

When he looked at his hand, he couldn’t see it. He still felt it there, it still made a dent in the couch pillow, but it was invisible.

Something was very, very wrong and he needed to solve it before his parents got home.

And there was only one person that might have the answers.

He called uncle Vlad.

***

Vlad told him to not panic.

That was easier said than done.

He tried to. He tried to keep himself occupied. He took off the stupid hazmat suit.

He other him was still wearing his.

He wanted to watch the TV, but after the remote phased through his hand and fell beneath the couch, he gave up on that.

He could just go to bed. Vlad lived a few states over. It would take him a few hours to arrive.

Maybe he would wake up in the morning and find out it was just a bad dream.

It couldn’t be. Bad dreams don’t hurt.

Most of the pain had faded by now, though he still felt sore, especially in his own body. The other him didn’t hurt that much – but Danny was scared if he fell asleep in that body, he would never wake up. Not as himself anyway.

He was staring at the living room ceiling as the sun set outside. His whole body felt numb. He was tired, but in a different way than needing to sleep. He didn’t have the energy to get up and turn on the lights.

As the darkness crept up more and more, he realized that he could see in the dark a lot better than he did before.

He felt cold, he realized. Not horribly so, just barely colder than would be comfortable.

Cold like the dead.

A horrible thought crossed his mind.

His parents said ghosts could possess human bodies. Maybe he was already dead, his body growing cold slowly, but he just refused to leave it.

Maybe if he closed his eyes, he would never wake up. He could just let go.

Uncle Vlad would arrive in the morning and find his dead body, laying here on the couch.

A shiver run down his spine, and he would swear a cloud of mist escaped his lips.

Maybe it was just cold in the house, and he was freaking out over nothing.

Then, the light turned on.

He jumped up to see who did it.

Uncle Vlad stood by the door leading from the kitchen, looking him up and down.

It took Danny a moment to realize he was floating and that he didn’t have legs.

Instead, there was a wisp-like tail, moving with a mind of its own.

He may or may not have screamed in shock and moments later, he was back to his old self and hit the couch.

He poked his leg. Solid. Normal.

He gulped and looked up at uncle Vlad.

“Danny…” the man whispered. Danny knew his uncle. His voice was always comforting. It was now, too. But there was something else, that he couldn’t put a finger on. Vlad breathed in as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

He sat down next to Danny and pulled him into a hug.

Uncle Vlad was always warm. Too warm. And he was always super weird about it. But right now, Danny felt the chill that had plagued him since he stepped out of that stupid portal melt away. For the first time since that scream left his throat, he still felt it hurt, he felt like he could breathe properly.

For a moment, it didn’t matter what happened, or if he was some kind of monster now. He felt safe.

He began to cry. He cried into Vlad’s stupid fancy suit, because the man apparently didn’t own any other clothes.

He felt his body tingle the same way it did when he dropped the remote and he feared he would slip from Vlad’s grasp. But he didn’t.

“If you don’t want to hug, you can just say that.” Vlad muttered.

Danny sniffled and looked up at him. “What… what do you mean?”

“Intangibility. But I think you didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Danny admitted. He didn’t want to let go, but he felt like a baby sobbing into his uncle’s chest like that. Vlad run his fingers through Danny’s hair.

“It’s okay. It takes time to learn to control it.” Vlad said. “And I’ll help you in any way I can, little badger.”

“Do you… do you know what…” Danny paused, looking for words, unsure of which question to ask first. “What happened to me?”

Vlad seemed to have just as hard of a time finding words.

“Am I dead?” Danny whispered after a moment.

Vlad sighed. “Yes. But you’re also alive.” Vlad run his hand along Danny’s left arm, where he still felt echoes of the electricity that went through it not so long ago. The electricity that killed him. Vlad let go of him and moved away. Danny didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to go back to the cold. “I want to show you something.”

“Oh… okay.” Danny muttered, letting.

Vlad took Danny’s hand and placed it over his own heart. Then, he laid his own over the center of Danny’s chest, where the cold was coming from.

“Like this, we’re still alive. Our hearts are beating. We need to breathe. We need to eat and sleep like any other human.” Vlad paused for a moment. “Can you transform?”

“I think so.” Danny nodded. He had tried turning back and forth a few times while waiting for Vlad. All it took was a thought.

Vlad turned, too.

If he looked closely, he could still recognize his uncle. The shape of the nose and face, the stupid goatee. But if he didn’t look for his uncle, he probably wouldn’t see it. The ghost had blue skin, red eyes with no whites or pupils, pointed ears and when Vlad spoke, Danny could see sharp fangs glint inside of his mouth. Even the shape of the body was different – mom said uncle Vlad had never fully recovered from his accident and the resulting hospital stay. It seemed that the ghost half of him had no such problem, and probably much more resembled the shape the man had been back then. And if his human body had been a little too warm, this one was basically a walking space-heater.

“Like this, no heartbeat.” Vlad whispered. “No need to breathe and no need to eat human food, either.”

“What about sleep?”

“Unless you’re in the ghost zone, yes.” Vlad nodded. “But you can’t stay in one form for too long. If you stay human for too long and don’t use any of your powers, they will simply happen on their own, whether you want it or not. And if you stay as a ghost for too long, your human body will weaken.”

“Will it go away?”

“No. This is you, now.” Vlad sighed. “But you’re not alone in this. I’ll teach you. I’ll help you.”

Vlad turned back to his human form again and Danny followed suit. He could now name the feeling that happened when he did. The suddenly loud thump of his heart, the need to breathe.

“What was that… tail thing?” Danny asked. It had been bothering him the whole time.

“Sometimes, ghosts do that, when we’re flying. Not all and not always, but it does make flying a little more effective.”

“Am I a monster, now? Mom and dad said all ghosts are monsters.”

“Your mom and dad are too obsessed with being right that they get a lot of things wrong about ghosts. Ghost are much like people. Some good, some bad, and most just kind of in-between.” Vlad said. “They are… different, though. Their society, their rules and traditions, it’s very different from human ones.”

“Why do I need to know that? I’m not planning on hanging out with any ghosts… except you, I mean.”

“Some of those customs and values are inherent to being a ghost. It will not be right away, but your view on those things will likely change to a more… ghost-like one.” Vlad explained. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Vlad… do mom and dad know about you? What you are?”

Danny saw Vlad’s eyes flash red. He had seen it before, though he was sure he was imagining things. Often whenever his accident was brought up. Or when dad said something stupid and insensitive – so most of the time dad talked.

“No.” Vlad said after a moment. “No, they don’t know what I am. And they must never find out about either of us. Nobody living can.”

“Why? I mean… yeah, they are ghost hunters, but I’m still their son and you’re still their friend.”

“Are we? Or are we monsters wearing stealing their faces?” Vlad shook his head. “Your parents have very hard time accepting they were wrong about something. What you are… what we are… goes against all of that, all that they think they know. You might be right. Maybe their love for you is stronger than their stubbornness. And maybe it is not. It’s better we never find out.” Vlad sighed, pulling Danny closer to himself again, seeing the boy shivering again. “And they are not the only ghost hunters out there. Even if they do accept us, the others would not be so forgiving. We must be careful to not leave any evidence of what we are.”

“The camera.” Danny exclaimed suddenly.

“What camera?”

“I… I was recording myself when I went into the portal. I wanted to show my friends I was not a coward.” God, he felt even dumber saying that out-loud.

“Is it still in the lab?”

“I think so.” Danny nodded. Vlad stood up and headed there immediately. Danny followed him.

He always knew Vlad seemed to make no sound while he moved. For the first time, Danny understood how.

“High ectoplasm can mess with electronics. If we’re lucky, the recording doesn’t show anything.” Vlad muttered, seemingly talking more to himself than Danny. The camera was still recording while he picked it up. That was not a good sign.

Vlad began to watch the playback of the video. Danny cringed at the awkward intro he did. And then, moments later, a piercing scream echoed through the lab. Danny felt a sharp stab in his chest at the sound. Even through the recording, it was awful.

Vlad’s features seemed to be made out of stone, but somehow, Danny was certain the man was furious. As the figure of ghost Danny emerged from the portal, Vlad closed the camera and his palm erupted in magenta flames.

Danny stepped back.

“You could have just deleted the video.”

“There are ways to recover deleted videos. This is more certain.” Vlad said, the poured the charred dust from his hand into the hazardous waste disposal. When some of it refused to come off, Danny watched Vlad’s hand change – it seemed almost like static on a TV, but in real life. Vlad’s hand was now perfectly clean. “I’ll buy you a new camera.”

“It was Sam’s actually.”

“I’ll buy her a new camera.” Vlad corrected himself.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Danny asked.

“It will not be possible right away, but once your core settles a bit, it should come naturally.” Vlad nodded. “I promise, I’ll teach you everything I know. But first, dinner. I’m sure you have a million more questions. You can ask them while I cook.”

***

Vlad Masters was not a father. Not that he knew of, anyway.

And Vlad Plasmius wouldn’t even consider exposing himself to such a weakness.

But cores are as fickle as they are stubborn.

Vlad wasn’t Danny’s father, and perhaps in a different lifetime, that would have mattered to him.

It didn’t in this one.

It mattered that the boy he had watched grow up was dead, because of his parents’ negligence.

It mattered that he was alive, stuffing his face full of pasta, badgering him with questions about a subject he had no interest in until that day.

By human law, he was the boy’s godfather and the assigned guardian, should something happen to his parents, just as he was for his sister. Some days, he was tempted to make something happen. Today was one of those days. But he looked at Danny, remembered the conviction with which he claimed his parents would accept him, both of them, even as the abominations they both were now. The boy would mourn. The boy would break. The boy loved his parents, because he was a child and that’s what they do. It was for that look, that conviction, that Vlad held back the inferno rising through his body. The Fentons were lucky their son Remained – had that scream in the portal truly been the boy’s final breath, Vlad knew there would be no holding back.

By ghost rules, however, the boy was his child. Nobody, living or dead, had a greater claim to Danny than he did. Danny couldn’t understand it yet, but the trust he had put in Vlad, the love he held for him, and whatever it was that Vlad felt for the boy in return, had bonded their cores. Perhaps the boy would never realize – his core was so soft and new when the bond formed and would be such a natural part of it by the time Danny would start to understand his core that he wouldn’t even notice it.

Vlad wasn’t sure what he felt for Danny could be called love in the human sense, but after ten years of fighting it, he knew it would be recognized as such by ghosts. Ghost love was like that. Possessive, obsessive, a powerful and unbreakable bond, built on strength and devotion.

Danny was his.

He had let go of his old obsession long ago, perhaps on that fateful night, but he knew the parts of him that still clung to the rage of death would rest easier from now on. In the battle between himself and his ghostmaker, he had won.

[shellshocklove]

i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy​, for proofreading this

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly ­– he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately. 

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all ­­– you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl. 

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention. 

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.” 

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling. 

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I­– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby­– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you ­– his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure­? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired­… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I­–” you started, but he cut you off,

 “You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring­– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure. 

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.  

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

[sundrop-writes]

Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did. 

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers. 

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.” 

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.” 

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.” 

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it. 

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever. 

It was you. 

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools? 

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully. 

You had a son. 

… 

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him. 

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep. 

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion. 

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief. 

Shock. 

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? 

“Y/N,” 

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over. 

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions. 

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret. 

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage. 

And that was when you finally spoke. 

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say. 

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time. 

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?” 

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure. 

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat. 

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out. 

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless. 

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception. 

… 

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well. 

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent. 

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips. 

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply. 

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly. 

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them. 

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind. 

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.” 

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?” 

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.” 

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off. 

You already knew what he was going to say. 

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’ 

“No.” You rushed to say. 

But it was a lie. You knew. 

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived. 

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember. 

And you knew exactly when. 

The night was so vivid in your mind. 

… 

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart. 

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question. 

“Do you have a condom?” 

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him. 

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward. 

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you. 

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.” 

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.) 

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this. 

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you. 

This was always his favorite part. 

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way. 

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other. 

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible. 

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t. 

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.” 

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’. 

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth. 

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time. 

… 

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why. 

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night. 

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were. 

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; they have a very obvious crush on you

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, & quackity

warnings ; language

y/s/n = your ship name

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

constantly donates / talks through tts when you're streaming alone

TommyInnit donated $10!

"Tommy, stop giving me money, just use TTS"

only uses tts when you tell him to each and every time, it's routine

if he's streaming when you compliment him, chat always points out his red face to both of you

"shut up chat! I'm not blushing. you guys suck"

after a while he gets invested in the shipping

"if I open wattpad and don't see three new y/s/n fics I'm gonna lose my shit, guys"

"Tommy, Tommy, check ao3"

"I found one and it actually looks good!"

reading fanfics on stream (with permission of course and being light on the jokes and whatnot)

you and Tommy make your own fanfic too

he gets your friends to read it on their streams too 💀💀💀

literally every bit he writes is something he wants to do with you

such a hopeless romantic

RANBOO

always doing you favors

never saying no to you

"yes sir/maam!"

always donos on your streams while speed running or playing horror games to tell you good luck

it rlly isn't a stream wo one of their donos istg

chat always asking where he is during one of said streams

editors go CRAZY with the misfits vlogs & tom simons vlogs with you two in them

the chemistry???

you react to / watch each sorry boys episode on stream when they come out

editors go crazy with your compliments to ranboo

they do too 😭😭

giggling and kicking their feet cause they're so funny to you

he's literally head over heels bruh

gives u free merch and stuff

FREDDIE BADLINU

he's usually nice/full of compliments but he's so extra with you

claims it's for the bit

lets you dye his hair

ylyl streams with him constantly LMAO

he wrote your name on his bi flag for some reason??? when you ask about it he just says "why not?" and you shrug it off

always helping you pick out clothes and shit when thrifting/shopping

always has to find a pair of sunglasses for you I swear

constantly asks his viewers to edit you guys

it's become a part of your relationship where he clearly has a crush on you but you can't tell if it's for the bit or if he's serious so you never say anything

the tom simons vlogs w you guys go hard

especially the ylyl irl with ran, tommy, charlie, james, and billzo

same with the ylyl american version w jack, tommy, james, harry, etc

editors and fanfic writers have field days with those

just straight up making out as "friends" for the bit????

even Tommy is confused and he's been supporting Freddie through the dumb shit he's been doing

supports the fanfics

he honestly reads them

if you catch him doing so he says he's just interested and he might read it on stream for funnies

QUACKITY

"accidently" sends you free merch nearly every drop

qsmp streams are never complete without you guys flirting or going on a date

basically old karlnapity but you guys on the qsmp

qsmp y/s/n streams go so hard, they're literally the best

cellbit, roier, and jaiden officiating your fake wedding

qsmp y/s/n edits and fanart went crazy

youre like "guys no fanfics or edits of y/s/n, only if hes comfortable with it, I don't want you guys to weird him out"

and hes begging people to make the fanfics, the fanart, the everything

daily tweets of "guys send me more y/s/n fanart" or "any good y/s/n fanfic recommendations??"

cellbit always replies to those tweets with some long ass dictionary ass response to fuck with you two

fitmc of all people makes you guys a little tumblr oneshot.

[zanarkandskylines]

Sticky Heat

『♡』 fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ Senior year of UA | Aged-Up to 18 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: on a hot summer day, fem!reader is frustrated while studying for the written portion of finals during their senior year of UA High. bakugo has a simple solution to help her relax - just a quick trip to the vending machines outside for a "drink." tags & warnings: 18+ MDNI | CW; Smut - oral (give/receive), semi-voyeurism, dirty talk, cumplay (kind of), praise, minor dom/brat dynamic, lots of teasing | fluff, lovers (bf/gf), somewhat porn-with-plot, threat of getting caught, midoriya and todoroki are goofballs a/n: katsuki is the world’s biggest tease in my mind until you challenge him on it, then he melts over the competitiveness of who can unravel who first! ** this is also my first attempt at smut lmao so !! ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 3,111 ꒱

“Goddammit!” you curse abruptly, startling Bakugo out of his study trance.

“Th’ fucks your issue?” he asks, irritated.

You huff, slamming the textbook in front of you shut. “I’m never gonna remember any of this shit. I can’t even get my flash cards right.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, obviously annoyed that you’re being disruptive to his own study session. He couldn’t hold it against you, though, this shit was difficult to memorize.

He stands, the chair beneath him scraping against the floor.

“C’mon, break time.”

You look at him quizzically. “I’m not -“

“Don’t care. Get up.” He’s ordering you and no longer asking.

Fine.

Bakugo grabs your hand, tugging you out of the classroom and downstairs to the vending machine area - a small alcove under the stairs that sits just outside the first floor. He rounds back to the machines and stands there with you for a second. He seems to be…looking around?

“Kat, I’m said not thirst-“

He interrupts you with a devilish, toothy grin - pushing you through the narrow space between the vending machines, following close behind you. Both of you pop into the crawl space under the stairs. It’s large enough to allow you both to stand, but small enough that the machines block the view under the stairway.

With no hesitation, he’s boxing you into the concrete wall, slipping a knee in between your legs to keep them separated.

Oh. Oh. You understand now.

Bakugo’s closing the gap between the two of you, bending down to your ear as his hands greedily roam around atop your uniform. “Now, are you gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up for 10 minutes, or do I have to shut you up?”

The moan that escapes you is visceral, starving for his touch just at the sound of his husky voice. Fuck, you curse internally - he had you melting in the palm of his hands and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

He dives into your neck, nipping playfully at your skin as his left hand trails up your bare thigh, playing with the hemline of your skirt. He licks a stripe from your collarbone back up to your earlobe, a chill - and heat - traveling through you concurrently. His breath his hot against your ear.

“Mmm, there she is.” He growls as his hand leaves your thigh and slips underneath your skirt, teasing your clothed clit. “My good girl.”

You swear you could unravel right then and there, no physical touch needed. Bakugo’s praise is addicting - a high you know you’ll never be able to chase anywhere else. You quiver beneath his touch, sucking the air through your teeth to subdue another moan.

”Hah, Kat…,” you whimper breathlessly, face reddening with embarrassment.

“Yes, baby?” He’s purrs, drinking up every sound spilling from your pretty lips. You can practically feel outline of the shit-eating sneer creeping over his lips as he traces your jawline with his tongue. Hastily, his fingers leave your panties as he’s kneeling down, kissing the plush of your thighs and settling on his knees.

“F-fuck,” you squeak, daring to glance down over your skirt. Bakugo locks his gaze with yours, half-lidded eyes full of hunger - starved, even. Biting your lip, you nod, and that’s all the permission he needs to proceed to devour you like a predator eating his prey.

Before you can even blink, his fingers are tugging your panties down your thighs, practically ripping them from your legs as you hurriedly step out of them. He chuckles to himself as he shoves them in to the pocket of his slacks.

”Maybe you'll get these back later,” he teases.

You make a mental note in your heat-riddled stupor to grab them from him afterward.

Bakugo forcefully lifts your leg over his shoulder to access your already glistening sex, halting for a second before his mouth becomes flush with your skin. The gasp that escapes you as he gives sensually teasing licks to your sticky center fuels his own feral desire, enraptured with how your body reacts to his touch. You’ve been together long enough to know each other’s bodies by heart, but he’ll never grew tired of hearing how easily undone you become when you’re turned on - especially just for him.

His tongue runs over your clit daintily, goading a sensual moan out of you. He continues with lazy strokes, lavishly enjoying all of your mewling and squirming. The thick air of the hot day only added to the pleasure, a glimmer of sweat on your exposed thighs.

God, she tastes fucking heavenly, he heatedly thinks to himself. If allowed, he’d eat you out every fucking day of the week. Who gives a shit about sparring matches when he could be making a mess of you instead?

Lost in the moment, you can't help but roll your hips against his mouth, desperate for him to pick up the pace as your hand tangles in his spiky blonde locks. He groans at your demand, the vibrations edging you closer to your white-hot release. God, you loved when he moaned. It was so fucking hot and sent you catapulting toward your own orgasm on the regular.

"Someone's impatient today," he growls before diving back in-between your thighs.

He slides a finger into your aching heat, curling it inside of you as he continues to suck and lap at your clit at a tantalizing pace. Just as you feel your release approaching, you hear footsteps nearby.

You freeze, your grip in Bakugo’s hair tightening, motioning him to stay completely still. He pauses, leaning back on his knees to look up at you, panting silently. A breath hitches in your throat as you see your juices dripping down his jaw. It catches you so off guard that you only a few seconds to slap your free hand over your mouth - quieting the whore-ish moan that threatens to escape your lips.

He licks his own lips with a satisfactory grin, knowing full well he’s got you right where he wants you.

”Todoroki, what do you want to drink?” you hear Midoriya call out, presumably skimming the drink options in the machine on the other side.

The realization dawns on you that one wrong move - one noise - could draw his attention and catch you in the act. All Midoriya would need to do is peak in-between the machines at the right angle to see your silhouettes.

The thought of getting caught with Bakugo's face covered in your spend is thrilling. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly at the thought, willing it away before your lust-fueled mind can convince you otherwise.

Bakugo sees your reaction, grimacing as he shoots you a salacious glare. It sends another rush of heat to your throbbing center as you pleadingly shake your head ‘no.'

Of course, he doesn’t listen.

Katsuki Bakugo is not patient and always finishes what he starts.

Don’t you fucking dare, Katsuki, I swear to g-

Your thought is cut short as he wiggles the lone finger inside of you, dipping it in and out of your folds. His movements are slow, inaudibly coaxing you along - daring you not to make a sound. You bite your hand, throwing your head back against the wall with a soft thump.

You hear a second set of footsteps, assuming it's Todoroki joining Midoriya to browse through the selection of drinks. How long does it take to pick a damn drink?!

"Green tea sounds nice," Todoroki says, depositing coins into the machine while Midoriya ponders between four options. You pray that he'll become less indecisive in the next few seconds before you unceremoniously crumble where you stand.

Fucking hell, Izuku, just pick something! you scream in your head, cursing his inability to make a simple choice. Granted, he has no idea you are desperately wiling him to leave so you can...finish.

"I'll go with milk tea, then!" Midoriya beams, the machine whirring as the drink is dispensed into the pick up slot.

Please, for fucks sake, leave!

You're too focused on listening to boys that you almost let a whimper slip out when Bakugo stuffs a second finger inside you, greedily recollecting your attention. His fingers curl at your g-spot, reigniting that searing pleasure from earlier within your abdomen. 

This is torture.

"Alright, let's head back to the library. Uraraka and Yaoyorozu are waiting for us!"

Fucking finally!

You're almost in the clear, just a little longer...

He slips in a third goddamn finger, your chest heaving at the sudden intensity, eyes rolling in your head with silent ecstasy. You can feel the humidity radiating from his hands as he's knuckle deep, your trembling thighs threatening to give away at any moment. On instinct, you smack your free hand against the back of the vending machine to catch yourself from falling, a loud thud echoing around you two.

Your eyes shoot open in horror as you hear Midoriya from down the hall. “Hey, did you hear that?”

Bakugo ceases his movements, listening for any additional footsteps returning their way.

“It was probably from upstairs, Class B was moving desks around earlier.”

Holy shit - you could kiss Todoroki right now. You’ll have to thank the bastard later…without telling him about what you’re thankful for. They proceed down the hall until you think they’re no longer in earshot.

Not skipping a beat, Bakugo ferociously dives back into your mess of a cunt, removing his fingers with an audible squelch and tongue-fucking you with vigor. The stimulation draws you right back to your tipping point, just about to cross the threshold into orgasm as he bluntly withdraws his tongue. He rocks back on his knees again, shoving two digits back into your sweltering sex as he glares up at you.

“Go on baby - beg.” His words drip with carnality, a sinful gleam reflecting in his ruby irises as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you, your slick walls madly pulsing around them.

You have no will left in you to protest, not even playfully. You could faint with the way he’s staring at you, proudly displaying his achievement thus far all over his face.

”Oh my fuck-god dammit, Kat, please,” you plead, as hushed as possible. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Please what?” He leans forward, swiping a flick of his tongue across your clit.

God, you could punch him right now if you weren’t so fucking horny.

“Please make me come already, Katsuki - fuck!”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Bakugo replaces his fingers with his tongue for a final time, rotating from your clit to your entrance in fluid motions. His actions are getting sloppier as his own desire takes over, another moan pouring out of him as you clench your fingers in his hair. Your skin begins to prickle, a heat rash (in two senses) spreading flush all over your body. The noises spilling out of you are incoherent, no longer in control of your own volume. You smack a hand over your mouth a second time to muffle yourself when you feel Bakugo’s hand blindly smack at your arm.

“I wanna hear your pretty ass moans,” he demands as he bites at your thigh. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare shut up now.”

That’s more than enough to thrust you over the edge.

The thread tugging in your core snaps with one final roll of your hips against him, a wave of euphoria washing over you - leaving you feverish against the summer heat. He can feel your walls clench around his tongue as your body convulses. His fingers dig into your thighs, supporting your weight on his one shoulder as your body becomes boneless, legs shaking as he drinks in your arousal. You brace yourself against the wall with your free hand, the other still blissfully entwined in his hair.

The fireworks in your stomach begin to die down as your orgasm wains, trying to catch your breath as a bead of sweat runs from your forehead and over your temple. Bakugo laps at your slit unhurriedly before sitting back with your leg still whisked over his shoulder. He’s panting, and fuck, that will never not be hot, with a few drops of sweat emerging from his hairline and settling at his jaw.

You swing your leg off his shoulder with the shred of energy left in your body and stumble to a somewhat upright position.

“Christ, Kats-,” you begin to whisper as Bakugo stands to his feet, yanking you off the wall and flush against his own body. He cups your chin in his hands, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

You don’t even have a moment to process his words as he’s aggressively colliding his lips with yours, hands knotted in your hair to pull you further into him.

The kiss is electrifying, dripping with desire as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip to persuade you to invite him in. The taste of your own release on his lips and tongue is intoxicating, the tangy and salty essence driving you to wildly moan into the kiss. He pulls on your hair a second time, drunk on the lustful emotions swirling between the two of you.

That’s when you decide to surprise him.

He’d never ask for anything in return when pleasuring you, adamant on the fact that it never needed to be reciprocated. So whenever you did, it fueled a fire that only you knew how to ignite in him.

You break the kiss fleetingly, taking the second to catch your breath as you spin Bakugo around to the wall, his back slamming up against it with a heavy thud.

Shit. You may or may not have just knocked the wind out of him and ruined the moment.

Or so you thought.

Much to your surprise, his chest is heaving, cheeks ruddy - crimson stare fixated on you, anxiously anticipating your next move. Having him at your mercy never ceases to leave you mesmerized. His hands are on the wall behind him, bracing himself as if he'll fall through it at any moment.

Bakugo's about to say something until you leisurely lick from the bottom of his chin up to his lips, lapping up the leftover dribbles of your own climax off his face, biting at his bottom lip before moving to his collarbone. Lucky for you, he always keeps the top buttons undone on his uniform in the summer, leaving his collar loose enough to pull aside. You sink your teeth into the crook of his neck, eliciting a deliciously sinful moan from him.

You can't help but wonder if anyone heard, considering his natural volume is 110%. But at this point? You don't fucking care.

"Mmm, seems like I'm not the only one with pretty moans."

A slur of colorful curses are leaving his swollen lips as you trail your hands over his chest, and when he feels your fingers delicately trace the outlines of his clothed nipples, he jolts. He'd never admit how fucking hard he gets when you play with them, the stimulation shooting directly into his groin.

Before Bakugo can vocalizes the pleasure, you capture his lips again, suppressing the loud groan erupting from his throat. When you part, all he can mutter are hot pants of your name and a few mumbled 'fuck's between baited breath.

"God, Katsuki, you're so fucking hot when you're coming undone," you hum, fumbling with the belt of his slacks. He's speechless, his hands furiously pawing at his belt as he slides his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop. When you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, his entire body jerks forward. Not even a second passes before he's jutting his hips against your palm, desperate for friction.

"Now look who's begging?" Your sultry words have him biting his lower lip, eyes screwed tight as his cheeks now glow scarlet.

"I-in...yo-ah...fu-fuckin' drea-ah-ms," Bakugo stutters, making an attempt to regain his composure. It swiftly disintegrates when he notices you taking a knee to the ground. His jaw is clenched as you press your tongue to the underside of his cock, hazily looking up at him before taking him into your mouth.

Oh god, oh my fuck-

Overstimulation overriding his senses, he begins to thrust into your mouth at a stuttering tempo, eagerly chasing his own release and unable to control himself. He's gasping, grunting, moaning above you, and it almost gets you off a second time from hearing his pleasure.

You put your hands to his hips, stilling him as you slowly edge his entire length into your mouth, tongue sliding lazily along the underside of his shaft. You'll never get over how hot and heavy he feels in your mouth, each time better than the last. You flutter your eyes upward as you hum softly, completely stuffed full of him.

God. Bakugo was seeing stars and he hadn't even released yet.

Hollowing your cheeks, you suck - hard - and move in a fluid motion, mouth flooding with saliva as you continue taking him as deep as you can manage. His thread was ready to snap.

"F-fuh-fuck!" he stutters harshly, shouting a little too loud - but honestly, from far away, someone could mistake it for him being his normally bombastic self.

Bakugo snatches a handful of your hair with a trembling hand, shoving himself all the way into your mouth, down to the base, as you feel his explosive release coat the back of your throat. He smacks his hand over his mouth as he shudders, his grunts muffled in his palm.

You release him, brushing off your knees as you're getting up from the concrete. It might be a little hard to hide how red they are under your short-ass uniform skirt, but who's looking at your knees anyways? You patiently wait for him to readjust into his slacks.

Somewhat mimicking his earlier actions, you place a hand delicately on his cheek, thumbing away a drop of sweat.

"I love you, Katsuki." The words fall from your puffy lips effortlessly, giving him a tender smile before placing a soft kiss on the opposite cheek.

"Love you too, Y/N." Bakugo snaps you into a hug, cradling his arms around you as he kisses your forehead. "My favorite girl."

You gleam, radiating from his flattery. Stretching back in his arms, you run your hand through his bangs, un-sticking them from the sweat on his forehead. He snickers as you ruffle the small hairs into the rest of his spiky hair.

"Guess it's back to studying," you whine sarcastically.

He laughs. "There's always more study breaks, too."

no, you didn't get your panties back. ;) hope you enjoyed!! <3

Divider by : @/saradika

[oepionie]

— "MY JOLLY SAILOR BOLD." tweels

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

SYNOPSIS: You meet two mysterious yet beautiful mermen around your age and you ask them to sing for you. They agree—though there's one condition....they want a kiss in return. A fair deal and you decide that nothing could possibly go wrong....right?

⊹ [ cw ] — suggestive, making out, lovesick/slightly yan-coded behavior, both of them pin for you, drowning, the tweels deserve a warning themselves, fighting, mild blood and injuries, mentions of murder, everyone here is morally grey◞

⊹ [ tags ] — gn! reader, on my siren eel agenda, flirty pirate mc, siren-eels are not to be messed with but mc is reckless, jade and floyd having an ariel moment but they're…a fucked up version of ariel, typical siren-behavior, floyd calls you pretty◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 3.3k+◞

WHAT AN ODD LITTLE pirate you were.

Raised by your mother, horrific twisted tales of the deep were practically bedtime stories for you. She was a former ship's captain and a seasoned sailor who had spent more than half of her life at sea.

Mother weaved tales of glorious bloody battles, of thrashing waves, and, most importantly, of dangerous creatures in the sea. Hatred and fear for these grotesque marine creatures have been indoctrinated in you since you were young. It was imbued to the very core of your being, hammered and nailed into your head.

Alas, it appears that you have entirely disregarded the cautions that were issued to you. Any capable pirate knew better than to invite merfolk around.

Especially if you were all alone on a ship.

This year, spring had arrived a little earlier than usual, but you didn't mind at all.

It was at an obscene hour of the night when you were aimlessly paddling your little rowboat over the waves.

Floating a few feet away from your ship, you were gazing out over the sea where the waters were flat and serene, blue as far as your vision would allow. It was a sight you've grown all too accustomed to seeing.

You've sailed a hundred expeditions down this route and you were well aware of the carnage and bloodshed that’s been wrought here in the name of piracy.

A majority of which you've taken part in as—Captain (Y/N).

Young as you were, despite your youth, you had ambition. Already having established yourself as a living legend—or, as some have dubbed you, a living nightmare.

Sailors—young and old—have perished in your name, ships have sunk at your command, and your sword has spilt the blood of hundreds. You had amassed a great fortune from wandering merchants, and fellow pirates alike, all of which were misfortunate enough to fall upon your path.

These were tales and legends from bygone eras; the golden age of piracy had long since passed. Nowadays, you just cruise the sea anyway you pleased.

Adventure seldom found you.

In the middle of reminiscing, you abruptly became aware of a shimmering brilliance beneath the murky sea.

Oh?

'Maybe it was a trick of the waves? Or was it the moonlight's illusion?' You ponder to yourself as you stand at the stern of the boat and look out into the dreary waters.

The entire ocean sleeps when the moon is full. In the middle of the night, no fish or creature would dare remain thus near a boat...so what could possibly be out there?

Peering down, you make eye contact with a pair of glowing yellow eyes, slitted into diamonds.

Startled, the unknown creature slips back into the darkness with scarcely a ripple to disrupt the waves enveloping all about them. You're hypnotized by their shimmering skin as they moved smoothly and elegantly past the icy surfs.

In those short seconds while staring into the pitch-black sea, your mind conjures only one word.

Mermaid.

STRANGE AND STRANGELY FASCINATING, it was. "It" being the obsessive infatuation the Leech twins had for you.

Since they were little, the two brothers have been watching you grow up on that ship, peeping at you behind rocks and tall clusters of brilliant coral.

Curiosity and an interest for humans drew them to you at first, so they thought nothing of it. However, later, as they grew older, that interest developed into something more.

One that made their hearts feel like it was going to burst, a blood-curdling carnage of red and pink spills gushing out in a splatter. With the mere mention of your name, their stomachs sink and turn. The hems of love along their hearts diving into obsession—both feelings closely akin.

Jade and Floyd haven't run upon anyone who was courageous enough to meet creatures like them. Though, they shouldn’t have expected anything less from a pirate like you with an astronomical desire for adventure.

As you waved down at them from the ocean's depths, both of them swiftly swam up to the surface, eager to meet you. Their hands were clamoring and their hearts were racing to a tune that sang praises for you.

"There you are." You grinned handsomely, cocking your head to the side. The flowing fabric of your blouse blew wildly in the fresh salty wind, exposing bits and pieces of your chest and neck for them to see. "Hello~"

Big love-tinted eyes peeked up at you, drinking in every feature, blemish, and scar on your flesh. Occasionally, your gazes would meet and they would quickly avert their stare—a deep blue hue creeping up their cheeks, almost as if they felt bashful around you.

Even then, you thought it would be more appropriate if you were the one who was acting timid.

Because, by the gods, their beauty was such a sight to behold above the waters. In all your years out at sea and land, you've seen no maiden nor man with such features.

Such captivating features.

Teal-haired, with keen, slitted eyes that were veiled with thick, drooping lashes. Cheeks colored with a pale touch of death.

They were breathtakingly beautiful.

There was an urge, a pull at your heart to dive down and join them—drowning yourself in their embrace. Though, you resisted, almost immediately recognizing the sorcery that pulled on your carnal desires.

Mother and weather-beaten sailors had warned you of this. This overwhelming want. This spellbinding stare. Yet as they both drift closer, the forewarned dangers vanishes from your thoughts like mist. You're now left with little more than a hazy consciousness as you see them approach your boat.

You are in grave danger yet you are not afraid. Fear does not grip you as you raise a leg over the side of the boat, swing it over the top of the wood, and then sit over the edge, never taking your eyes off the mermen in front of you.

Their entire body, apart from their eyes, were submerged in the water which made it hard to determine what their species were. Though you could occasionally catch the flicker of their tail slapping against the surface.

Speaking of their tail, it was an utterly resplendent sight! Even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to explain its magnificience as it gleamed brighter than any of the gold or jewels your sullied hands have ever taken hold of.

Its lack of a single color and its vivid, luminous nature fascinated you. Depending on how the moonlight hit it, it radiated a wide range of shades, from the deep tint of blueish teal to a rich shade of bluish jade.

"First time away from your home?" You rasp, waving a hand in the ocean, watching as small ripples curved against the water's surface, tides of the blue abyss travelling outwards.

Minutes pass, and yet you get no response.

"Hmm…you two don't talk much, do you?"

Jade and Floyd knew all about pirates, heard every story, whisper, and tale of the bloodthirsty monsters fueled by lust for gold and glory. And yet, they somehow struggle to picture you as the avaricious captain you were labelled as.

Still, while you appeared free and jovial, both of them could sense that you yearned for the thrill of danger, for life-threatening adventure, and for the many fantastic yet perilous things the ocean has to offer.

They exchanged glances, and at that instant, their plan was set in place.

Appearing docile, Floyd shook his head no, hovering near you and spinning around playfully.

"Awe, aren't you a cute little guy?" You cooed, running a rough hand along his back. The mer shivered, preening at your compliment.

"I really shouldn't be so close to you, though. Us pirates usually avoid approaching any merfolk since…they feel your methods, your ways of living are…" You trailed off, waving a hand in the air as you searched for the right words.

"Spooky?" Jade spoke out, swimming closer to you with a sinister glitter in his eyes. Breath hitching in your throat, you leaned towards him, an amused smirk slowly stretching across your cheeks. "Oh ho? You do talk."

"I can do much more than that." Jade purred, the tone of his voice sinking into a sonorous lull.

Well, you certainly can’t deny that something draws you to these two.

The predictability of your life on these seas has gotten boring to you. Gone were the days of bloodthirsty glory instead, it was always the same routine. Poring over the same ancient yellowed maps, loitering about the deck, and secluding yourself away in the vast sea.

You know your mother would be horrified by your actions, disgusted to see you mingling and, Poseidon forbid—flirting with these…mer.

Though you couldn't bring yourself to care. Speaking with these two was the closest thing to excitement you've felt in a long time.

"That's a pretty voice, love." The grin on your face lacks any of the warmth it had in the past few moments.

You tip your head back and giggle, raspy and brittle, "I heard a mer's song was, um, what did those bards call it? Ah, yes—A voice that is so alluring that men and women jump overboard in squadrons."

"Hauntingly beautiful, that's what the poets call you mermaids…" You hum, watching them slyly from your row boat while reclining back against the wood.

Gaze drifting down their body, your arms folded around your chest and your gaze turned half-lidded, lips curled up in a sensual, cat-like smirk. "…and I can see why. Haunted, I am."

Both of them go abruptly silent and you chuckle, staring at them through the wreaths of grey smoke that curled into fanciful hazy whirls from the foggy environment.

Floyd and Jade squirmed as they both felt the strong pull of their instincts, screaming at them to just drag you into the waters already.

Your conniving praises and silver tongue was starting to get to them. One more push and—

"Say…I've been meaning to ask," You murmur, and seem to take a moment to stare into their innermost souls.

"Can you sing for me…?"

Something snaps.

Floyd makes a low sound, somewhere between a trill and a growl, while Jade's eyes darken considerably. Beneath your piercing, ice-cold gaze, the twins felt their nerves prickle up like the flickering electric stings of a jellyfish. 

This is a dangerous game you're playing. 

"…You're quite the flatterer," Jade—ever so composed—is quick to snap out of it and smiles simply, tapping his talons along the wooden deck. "…I suppose I could grant you your wish. Though, there is to be an exchange for it."

"Hm? What's that, mate?" You looked up at your ship from your little boat, eyes darting to the windows of your chambers. "That ol' girl isn't new to the seas so there's quite a lot of stuff there. Maybe some of my treasures will catch your fancy—"

"No." Jade interrupts you, the shadow over his eyes returns. "…I do not wish for any treasure or gold. All I want is a kiss."

"A kiss?" You parroted, an eyebrow elevated and amused laughter peaking from your lips. "I have chests of golds and heaps of ruby-eyed jewelry; yet, all you want is a kiss, is that truly what you desire?"

"Yes."

"Nothin' more?"

Jade ponders and pauses for a while, before turning to face his brother. "Floyd, perhaps you want something as well?"

"I wanna kiss from pretty shrimpy too!" Floyd cooed, pursing his lips at you and imitating kissing sounds by hollowing his cheeks. His strong arms, taut with ripping muscle, are crossed over one other as it rests upon the rims of your boat.

"So, what do you say, Captain? Is it a deal~?" Floyd stretches out a hand expectantly.

And you take it.

"Deal." You smirk. "One kiss for each of you, in exchange for a song. Pirate's honor."

Not like the honor of a pirate was worth much anyways.

The melody lifting from Jade's lips was somewhat familiar to you, yet it was of a faraway nostalgia. You couldn’t remember where you'd last heard it, but it felt…right. He had a voice that was velvety smooth; thick, and deep like a dream.

"Upon one summer's morning /  I carefully did stray," Jade sang, deep voice flowing off his lips in a sweet honeyed song—its melody lathering itself on your tongue. The saccharine taste of its imbricating rhythm obliterating every bit of skepticism you held towards them. "Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay."

"My heart is pierced by Cupid / I disdain all glittering gold." Jade continued, tucking the long dark strand of his hair behind his ear—leaning his head atop the rickety rims of the boat's mossy wood. "There is nothing can console me / but my jolly sailor bold."

"Come all you pretty fair mers, whoever you may be / Who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea." Floyd hums along, lovingly tracing a hand up your arm. His voice was a lovely little thing; echoing deep throughout the air.

As expected, they sang beautifully, hauntingly; with an accent in a tongue native only to the sea. There was a mystical lull weaved into their voices—fitting to their titles as bewitching creatures of the sea.

"My heart is pierced by Cupid /I disdain all glittering gold." Jade stares straight ahead, his sapphire gaze alluringly fixed on you seated in front of him.

"There is nothing can console me…" Pushing himself up the wooden edge of your boat, the eel lures you over and you followed. "…but my jolly sailor bold."

As Jade's song came to its finality, he leaned in close and pressed a swift warm kiss atop your agape mouth, such tenderness in his affections—and that of heavily masked lust. The eel parted from you, nipping at your bottom lip and watching with unbridled delight as a flicker of pink hue glazed over your diluted eyes.  

"Come in the water, shrimpy~" Floyd cooed at you, claws reaching out to trace against the curve of the ships side. "We don't bite~"

Songbound, you leaned in towards the two and plunged in.

You don’t think about holding your breath.

The water was ice-cold and it strikes at you like a venomous bite. Yet before you could sink, two strong hands grasp at your waist, keeping you afloat in spite of the rough rocks of the sea. Jade was cradling you close to his chest, his hold firm and uncompromising while his tail encircled and bound your legs together.

"Hello, shrimpy~" Crooning, Floyd moved to rest his wet cheek against your tangled hair, talons pushing past the fringes of your damp torn-up shawl to rest against your thighs.

The slippery pads of his fingers trailed up to your torso; Travelling from your hips, past your corset, all the way up to your chest. The eel toyed with the drawstrings of your poet shirt before grasping it tight and yanking you forward.

"You're so pretty~" Floyd trailed his other hand up your neck, sharp talons feathering over your pulse dangerously. The eel craned his head down to meet you eye to eye. 

"I could just eat you up." The silky strands of his lashes fluttered against his lidded gaze as he leaned in close, breath fanning across your burning cheeks. Floyd pulled you into a deep kiss, loving the way you groaned against his mouth.

Chuckling against your lips, Floyd tightened his hold on your neck—his claws almost breaking skin, "You like that, shrimpy?"

You return the kiss, dazedly smiling against his lips before pulling away, lungs in desperate need of oxygen.

Floyd could see drops of water resting atop your swollen lips, and as your tongue darts out to wipe them, a fiery desire ignites in the deep curves and crooks of his heart. It didn't take long before he was diving in once more, lips pressing against the side of your neck.

While his brother was fixated on marking your skin, Jade hugged you from behind—affectionately cuddling into your hair.

The eel ran his hand up your throat and grasps your jaw with webbed hands to tilt your head backwards. He presses his lips against yours, the thick muscle of his tongue prying your mouth open before it darted in.

Floyd glides away from your form after a few minutes, leaving your neck sufficiently bitten and marked. He grinned excitedly and took your hands in his webbed ones, whisking you away from Jade.

You couldn't help but notice how he was gently dragging you away from the rowboat. "Say, shrimpy~ You ever wondered what it's like to swim under the sea?"

A flash of clarity hits you, shattering the enchanting spell that both mermen had cast upon your heart. You sensed danger as both eels started to close in, grinning ominously which revealed their fangs—long and dripping with thirst.

It seems that your fun little swim was over.

"I can't say I've ever experienced the pleasures of drowning—" you muttered. "And I don't intend to do so very soon."

The texture of their tails may appear solid and rough, but when you kick your legs at Floyd's, you immediately discover how the skin is supple when touched.

The sharp end of your worn boots cut at his silky luminescent skin, dragging along the scales of his flesh and leaving a deep cut in its wake. A small trickle of blue blood spreads into the waters and the eel hisses, darting away from you.

You try to swim away, but something—or rather, someone—gets in your way.

"My my, leaving so soon, pearl?" Jade quips, grin all-to-sharp.

In hindsight, it was foolish to interact with two mermen you hardly knew, especially ones who were taut with sharp teeth and firm muscles. Any pirate with half a mind would know to turn the other way and flee if these two approached them.

The mer both advanced to surround you, a mysterious glimmer swimming behind the haze of their duo-colored eyes.

A startling epiphany rushes over you.

As slippery as they might be, there’s no hiding the lethal sheen of pink in their eyes—especially not from you, a pirate who’s spent a fair number of their days hauling the cold dead bodies of lovesick sailors away from their watery graves.

These two weren't your run-of-the-mill mermen, no. You have heard about them before—in tales and legends.

Mermaids. Vampires of the sea. Water nymphs. Naiads. Sirens.

Many names, yet they are all the same.

A sighting like this is not unusual. This species of mer is mostly found in the deepest, darkest sections of the ocean, and they only come up to hunt at night.

It seems that you've walked right into their trap. Sailors were their easiest prey.

"Ah." You grit your teeth, a low, breathy snarl slipping past your swollen lips. "I should've known."

There’s a warm yet strong pressure against your shoulders and arms; followed by an odd feeling of heaviness as you were suddenly propelled down the water's surface. Webbed hands keep you pinned beneath the waves and you're suddenly all-too-aware of your body's exhaustion; of the salty liquid flowing past your tongue and the scorching gurgle that ignites your lungs as water fills it.

There's a ruckus around you, and you can barely hear Jade's voice, who was eerily calm in the midst of your murder. A bottle is then abruptly forced into your mouth, the potion within it spilling down your throat and leaving you disoriented.

It appears that today is the day that the monotony in your life finally ends. The pull of unconsciousness becomes too strong to resist, and the world darkens.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

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[aspirationalpeony]

Finding Beauty

Summary: You accidentally uncover an insecurity of Melissa's one night when you're in bed, and reassure her just how perfect she is. Content Warnings: Lots of body image talk, references to weight, and a brush with misogyny (thanks, Joe). Also, lots of smut. AO3 Link (also contains an author's note!)

Melissa Schemmenti isn't shy.

You can think of a lot of things she is: brave, intense, smart, intimidating, sexy. But shy? No, never. Still...

There are some times when she withdraws from you--almost cringes away, like you've touched some invisible bruise. A wall comes up between you then, and her eyes--their volatile green always so full of close attention and fierce emotion--go sallow and gray and remote. Her chin ducks to her chest. Her smile vanishes.

Then she hides it, or tries: "What, you think I'm an idiot?" she'll say, bluffing, embarrassed, and you'll understand you've accidentally nudged that hurt child who thought she was stupid for years. "Oh, yeah, thanks for your opinion," she'll tell you dryly on another occasion, when you've told her that you love the way her blouse shows the soft curve of her belly, and you'll know she's thinking of all the times Joe and Kristen-Marie and everyone else in her life called her fat.

Those moments are rare at first. Just a glimmer, here and there, quickly forgotten in the early fun of your relationship. Then more. More, because you're getting closer to her. More, because Melissa Schemmenti never lets anyone in, and she's letting you in, and you can see how much that scares her.

In bed, though, you've never seen that version of her, retreating, nervous, afraid. When Melissa has her hands on you, it's heat and lightning. Her confidence is unreal. She initiated your first kiss, not the cautious thing you'd have given her if you were in control; she'd just grabbed your face and gone for it, straining on her tiptoes to meet you and slotting her mouth against hers, and all you tasted at first was the slippery gloss on her lips. Then you felt her tongue, and you melted. You were hers, right then.

There was never any time for you to be timid about it. From the first night you spent together, she just yanked off your clothes and went for it, the same way she'd kissed you, touching you with intent and urgency and focus. Her fingernails scratching lightly at your scalp, her mouth biting and sucking at your clavicle, her breasts pressed hard against yours, her hips rocking, rocking, and you couldn't get enough; you could never get enough of her fingers buried inside you, of her lips on your nipple, her cunt riding your thigh, drowning in the mingled scents of skin and hairspray and perfume and sex.

Then, one night--then, she gets shy.

You've always reciprocated in bed with her, but usually after she's put you through a few pulverizing rounds; when you're exhausted and the lights are already low and it takes little for her to come. She usually needs a little lube to help her along ("when you're my age, hon...") but it's not a detraction; far from it. You like trying flavors and letting them mingle with her taste, or slicking your fingers and stroking her so slowly that even with that hair-trigger clit, she can't quite come, not until she's cursed you out to hell and back.

Tonight, though, you're hungry for her; craving in a way that speaks to the long weeks of standardized test prep that have eaten both of you alive with mental load and exhaustion. You need her. You need to have her, in the same way she usually has you, turn her pliant and desperate and needy and make her melt across the mattress. The overhead light is still on when you're peeling her panties down her legs and kissing her belly and hips and ready to settle between her thighs, to lick her until she passes out. Then she squirms. Not in the sexy way.

You look up her body. She's picture-perfect like this, all plump hips and thighs and belly and her crinkle-tipped breasts, so sexy you can't get enough, but she's staring up at the ceiling like she's lying in the chair at the dentist's office.

"Mel?" you say.

She looks down at you and you see the closed door behind her eyes. She's gone shy.

"What is it, baby?" You push yourself up on one elbow and her leg slides off your shoulder. "You okay? You want me to stop?"

Her eyes go back up and search the ceiling. The pink in her cheeks isn't all arousal, you know that. "Maybe we can turn the light off?"

You frown. She loves fucking you with the lights on: lets her map every inch, every freckle, coo over old hickeys and leave you some new ones.

"You know, just, you're gonna be..." She clears her throat. She's struggling, you can see: can't smother her vulnerability with bravado, that old war between honesty and tactical retreat showing on her face. "You're gonna be lookin', and, well..."

"I love looking at you," you say.

"I mean," she says, "at my--you know, you're gonna be lookin' at my pussy, and--"

"What's wrong with your pussy?"

She groans, putting her hands over her face.

You imitate her a little, trying to coax her out from behind those hands, voice tender and warm with humor. "Still works, don't it?"

"That's not what I mean," she says, voice muffled by her palms. "I mean you're gonna be lookin' at it, and I know it's sort of--busted-lookin', I mean, Joe always said, all the guys before him, you know, kinda fucked it up, so it's ugly, and--"

"What?" You gape at her. You know she's really scared, really humiliated, when she peeks at you from behind her hands then swiftly retreats again, burying her bright-red face in them. "You--what?"

"It's ugly," she repeats. "I don't want you to have to... See it."

Something clicks into place. You've had sex plenty of times before--on her terms. That always seemed natural to you; she was older, her personality stronger, and she loved to boss people around. Why not you, too, especially when you enjoyed it so much? But suddenly you're realizing just how stage-managed sex has been between the two of you: moments picked by Mel, lingerie sets under her daily clothes, her toys, her lube, usually her bed, too, and she decides when the lights go off. Rarely anything in broad daylight, rarely her getting off first, except when she'll take your hand and tuck it into her jeans or rub herself on your hip for fun. Usually she wears you out before you ever touch her.

Because she thinks this intimate part of her is ugly? Because Joe told her something--and maybe other people in her life--and it's stuck, about a part of her body that should only bring her pleasure. All that planning so you'd never be face-to-face with a piece of her that might repulse you.

Anger flows down your body in white-hot rivulets. You hate Joe. You're going to rip his stupid dick off. You hate him and every person who ever told Mel something so stupid, like having sex could alter her body that way, could make her look busted, as if there was any wrong way for her pussy to look.

She peeks at you again from under her hands. The look is so un-Melissa, so sensitive and uncertain, that your anger dies all at once. Suddenly all that matters is protecting, loving, that tender piece of her that's showing on her face right now; a little node deep inside that's vulnerability through-and-through, her secret, sensitive heart. The feeling swells inside your chest.

You lean back down and slide your arms under her thighs, slotting yourself back into place, right where you want to be. She makes a little "uh" sound, surprised and uneasy. Now you're where she was so scared to have you, face to face with her cunt. You've explored it before, but in the dark, by feel or in glimpses.

She shaves, but keeps a patch of curls on her mound; it's as much gray as dark auburn, hinting at the real color of the hair on her head. Below is her flushed, swelling cunt. You can smell her, musky and saline. The lips of her pussy are big and plump; they have a natural spread, showing their tender interior like the open petals of an orchid. Her clit crowns them, already reddening. You know from experience how incredible this part of her body is, made for pleasure.

Maybe Joe meant her labia, that they were too long or something. Busted. Fucking busted? You lower your head and rub your face right into her. She gasps aloud and her hands go to your hair, grabbing hard. She's not dripping--won't be without the lube--but she's plenty wet enough for you to know she's turned on, to have slick to ease the way you drag your nose up through her folds and against her clit, making her buck and whimper.

"Oh, shit," she says feebly as you run the flat of your tongue up the same path, flicking her clit with the tip. "Oh, shit--I--baby--" you start to play with those labia, sucking them into your mouth with a hum, one then the other, tasting and feeling, loving their texture, the delicacy of the skin. Then you have to put your tongue inside her, even if all she feels is the drag of it over the sensitive nerves at the twitching entrance to her sex, have to feel her from the inside, velvet walls gripping you hard.

"I, I," she's saying, but you're not paying attention. You can't help it. Everything's focused to a fine point right where your face and her pussy intersect.

You love this part of her. Every part of her, even when she doesn't--all those parts of her body that are soft instead of taut and slim, all the places where cellulite shows on her thighs and her perfect ass, the way her stomach folds into tender rolls, how the delicate skin of her neck records her age--and you love this perfect pussy, how much of her there is to fill your mouth, how sensitive she is, how you don't even need to touch her twitching clit for her hips to buck and her body to writhe.

You drag your tongue up and circle her clit. She arches like you've touched her with a live wire. You moan into her and nose that little bud; she keens. Her hips start to grind, trying to find a rhythm against your face. It's classic Mel, trying to take control. You shift so you can throw your arm across her hips and pin her down and you feel more than hear the way she gasps, your face still bracketed by her soft thighs. Her hand scrabbles at yours and when you offer it up, she grips it hard.

Love you, you think, trying to paint the words into her with your tongue, to make her feel loved in a way she'll believe. Love you, love you, love you... You have mercy and suck her clit into your mouth. The hand still in your hair yanks hard. It won't take much for her to come: get her worked up far enough and Mel barely needs anything to go over the edge. Someday, maybe, when she feels more okay about this, you'll play with that--play with working her up and up and up, denying her the thing that will tip her over.

You suck on her, rock your mouth against her twice, three times, and she's gone. Her thighs close around your head but you can still hear her wail, loud enough to wake the neighbors, voice cracking, going hoarse halfway. You tilt your head and try a few more experimental sucks, feeling the jump of her hips in answer. She starts babbling somewhere over your head, "Baby, baby, I, oh, oh--" and you've never heard her like that, ever, voice faint and airy and desperate, so you keep going. "Oh God!"

She's over the edge again; you can tell by the way her back arches and strains, and that powerful grip she's still got on your hair. You hum into her and she answers with a broken little sound you want to hear every night for the rest of your life. You give her clit an experimental lick--third time's the charm?--but she lets go of your hair and pushes a little at your forehead, feebly, so you take the hint and move back down to slide your tongue back into her.

She's so delicious, so good. You just want to taste her like this forever, tease her and play with her until she can't take it. She's giving you little moans and whimpers from above, but her body has relaxed down onto the bed, the tension wrenched out of her by two orgasms. You can't help it, you give her clit a little kiss before you let go--it makes her squeak--and let her legs slide off your shoulders.

She looks so good when she's just-fucked, her hair damp at the hairline and starting to frizz a little, her face bright red and glistening, a patchy blush showing on her chest. She has a look on her face, though, that you can't interpret, almost like the person sitting up between her legs wasn't who she expected--like you're a stranger. She's panting, staring at you, green eyes full of all that feeling, and a little knot of doubt starts to tie low in your belly. Did you cross a line?

"C'mere," she croaks. You move up the bed. She reaches up to take your shoulders and pull you into her and she licks a broad stripe up your wet chin--her juices, your saliva--and puts her tongue right in your mouth. It's so sudden, so direct and intense, so Mel that you moan aloud.

She wraps her legs around you to hold you securely against her body. For good measure, she grabs your ass, too, and her nails prickle at the soft flesh. You relax against her. You could spend forever like this, right here, cradled against the abundance of her curves, her breasts pushing against yours, her teeth on your lower lip.

You part for air. The look of bewilderment on her face has eased, mellowing into something that's still a little confused, but tender and open, too. She might close up again soon--that's just Mel, and you understand it; she can't be vulnerable for too long, can't let her weakness show. You know there are stories to explain it, and someday she'll trust you enough to tell you all of it; the same way she trusted you, tonight, to hear what she really felt. To let you help, even a little, and make it better.

"I love you," you tell her. Her gaze stays on yours, trusting. "I love you so much." You peck a damp kiss onto her jaw. "And for the record," you add, sliding into your gruff imitation of her thick South accent, deepening your voice to do it, "this thing--" you drop your hand between her legs and cup her swollen pussy, squeezing; she actually squeals. "Is so pretty, Georgia O'Keeffe would'a begged to paint it."

She laughs aloud. You don't know that you've heard that exact laugh from her before, so free and happy. You turn it into a gasp when you thread your fingers into the coarse curls on her mound and gently tug. "Okay, okay," she says weakly, breathlessly. Obligingly you stop; she follows up with a slap to your ass that makes you squeal and laugh.

Her head rolls back onto the pillows. She looks exhausted, as much by the emotions of the night as by the sex itself. Exhausted, but happy. You lean down and nuzzle her cheek.

"I really love ya," she says, very softly, like a child whispering their secret. Her hand rubs up your back. "Th--thank you." She says it even more timidly, like you might make fun of her, reject the simple gratitude she's offering.

"It's okay," you tell her gently. Her eyes search yours. You see her smile start there, before it comes to her lips, when you tell her, with all the love in your heart, "You're safe."

[katiexpunk]

The Art of Noticing | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary:  In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. That was until it almost got you killed. And Joel Miller hates you for it.  Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.1K Warnings: This one is full on corn with plot; plus lots of emotions. No specific age gap mentioned. References to loss, grief, death and sadness. Reader almost gets her throat slit, until Joel saves the day. I mean, canon-typical violence. Joel is an asshole in the beginning. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Lots of hatred towards a bird lol. Lots of film/photography references. Ellie is a gem, as per usual. Size kink. Reference to a gun/knife. Alcohol. Use of pet names (darlin', baby, good girl, sweetheart, etc.). Unprotected P in V. Oral (M and F receiving). There's a titty fuck. Grinding/dry humping. Fingering. Nipple play. There are no physical descriptions of the reader except that she has hair long enough to whip over her shoulder. Please let me know if I missed anything. A/N: This one has been in my WIPs for months. It started off as an entirely different story, but after going through and re-reading what I originally wrote, I hated it. I have all the feels about this one. Special thank you to @sydneyinacoma for being my emotional sexy support blanket and holding my balls on this one, as per usual. And to @papipascalispunk for originally editing the first version of this story, although it looks totally different now. Iris, you're a gem. Thanks for believing in me even before I did. I hope I make you proud with this one. Masterlist | Read on AO3

Tumbling at the edge Of disaster,  This is how I lived. Oh see how the chrysanthemums  Are dry now, Yet still beautiful.  ~ Noelle Kocot

In the hushed corners of this desolate world, where whispers of yesteryears linger among crumbling ruins, you find a peculiar kind of peace; just like you did when you fell asleep in the darkroom for the first time. Your mother had always told you there was beauty in capturing the poetry in the often-ignored details, and she made sure you were given the tools you needed to do so. She was kind like that. Sometimes it's as if her presence still lingers vividly in your viewfinder, her radiant smile eternally illuminating your memories.

Your film helps you to hold on to the details that no one else is around to remember anymore, details you might one day forget; details like the color of your best friend's eyes, the warm hue of orange of your grandfather’s favorite recliner, and even the nearly lime green color of the fresh green tomatoes from your garden.

In a place where the larger story has faded, you still revel in the tiny tales—the vines reclaiming forgotten streets, sunlight gently embracing relics of the past, and the murmurs of tales etched into the decay. You think about the scratches carved into the dining room table of your childhood home and often wish you could once again find your seat around it. 

But that reality is gone. 

No longer is the girl who liked to swim or play with dolls. No longer is the girl who fought with her sister for stealing clothes from her closet, or her brother for hitting too hard. 

Like many others, she’s gone. They’re gone. 

She was whisked away to make room for the woman you are today; the person you’ve had to become to survive. 

Still armed with your camera, even in this new world, you try to keep your heart attuned to the silent narratives of a forsaken universe. You used to think this was your strong suit; to be able to immortalize the unnoticed, to preserve the beauty around you, even in a world of darkness. 

That was until it almost got you killed. 

And Joel Miller hates you for it. 

++++

Months after your patrol that went wrong, you bump into Joel outside the Tipsy Bison, giving him a cursory glance before turning around. 

The idea of saying sorry crosses your mind, but for whatever reason, you don't. Your kindness, once a vibrant tapestry, is now a threadbare token. Besides, it’s his fault. He shouldn’t have been standing so close to the doorway. If anything, he should be apologizing to you.

You’re in a rather grumpy mood this evening, having wasted the last of your film only to overexpose the prints earlier in the day. Every single one – ruined. Sure, before the outbreak, this might not have bothered you as much, but now, finding film is like striking gold, and your stash is dwindling at an alarming rate. The frustration hangs over your head like a cloudy day. All you want to do is go home and sulk – forget about the mistake – at least if you were at home crying over your photographs, you wouldn’t be subject to prying eyes. 

“Watch it,” Joel says, voice low and even, a sharp hint of annoyance behind his tone. 

You stop in your tracks. You know you should walk away from this. But your temper is already on edge, sensitivity on hyperdrive, and something about the sneer of Joel’s voice gets under your skin. You spin around in a huff and toss your hair with annoyance. “Maybe next time don’t block the door,” you bark.

Joel retorts, red-hot at your audacity. “‘Scuse me? Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?

The pet name is patronizing; you’re a real stick in his craw. 

"You heard me," you snap back, punctuating your annoyance by crossing your arms over one another across your chest.

Joel turns around and takes a large stride toward you, closing the gap between your bodies so he’s nearly chest-to-chest with yours, his imposing figure towering over you, and his eyes narrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist tonight, hmm?” Joel asks, voice dripping with sarcasm and void of any genuine concern. 

“You” you say, “you’re always so fucki–” before you can continue your sentence, Joel stops you by placing his large index finger onto your lips to hush you. "You've got one helluva smart mouth, darlin’," he says, voice low, almost menacing. 

You freeze, looking up at him unsure of what to say as he brings his face inches from yours, the scent of whiskey heavy on his breath. The flecks of amber that dance around the edges of his irises catch your attention. As you swallow, your eyes momentarily flicker down to the thin line of his lips. Abruptly, he withdraws his hand, leaving an echo of intensity lingering in the suspended moment.

He isn’t particularly nice, but you have to admit, he is fucking hot. Since his arrival in town, he's been a magnetic force, his somber aura unmistakable to even the most casual of onlookers. A silhouette of brooding intensity, with shoulders that carve the space around him and biceps that speak of strength. His voice, a rasp in the wind, adds another layer to his already large presence. 

“I’ve been told,” you pause. “Just – just get out of my way,” you say firmly, walking away as your shoulders brush against him. 

"What's got your panties in a twist?" you scoff in your best imitation of his voice. You exhale sharply, fully aware of the true reason behind the agitation. You haven’t been fucked in years, and the heat that Joel stirs low in your belly is an incredibly frustrating feeling, knowing you’ll never get to do anything about it. 

God damn infuriating man. 

++++

As you lay in bed that night, you can't help but replay your encounters with Joel, the scenes repeat like an annoying commercial that won't leave your mind. Memories of your patrol with him keep playing on a loop, embedding themselves in your thoughts, refusing to fade away in the darkness of the night. "You could’a been killed," Joel's words still ring in your ears, the weight of his tone and the intensity in his eyes seared into your memory. You remember the sounds  – the bone-crushing crunch and the grim, wet thud as Joel swiftly dealt with the raider who tried to slit your throat for your backpack, all while you were innocently looking through the lens of your camera, attempting to take a picture of a bird on a tree branch. 

“I told you to follow my instructions, to listen, and you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” he said, trying to get you to see his point of view. Of course, you’ve apologized. Profusely, even, but it falls on deaf ears. 

Ever since that moment, Joel hasn’t looked at you the same. You're certain all he sees is a stupid little girl, unable to protect herself. Nothing but a burden. Dead weight on his already sore shoulders. 

Just go to sleep and forget about it, forget about him, you think to yourself, stirring in the scratchy fabric of your sheets. 

As you drift off, you wonder what the bird saw that day. 

++++

With a grunt, Joel manages to kick off his boots in the entryway, and they land with a loud thud against the floor. The worn wooden stairs creak beneath his weight as he ascends the steps, the dim hallway leading to Ellie's room. Pushing the door ajar, he finds her peacefully asleep. A small smile tugs at his lips, grateful to see her warm and safe. 

Retreating to his room, Joel sheds the remnants of the day – his jacket, the weight of exhaustion, and the lingering sensation of your soft lips under his finger. As he settles into bed, the worn mattress groaning beneath him, he remembers the sound of your sweet voice; your puffy, teary eyes looking up at him as you apologized; and the sticky feeling of the blood on his hands from the man who tried to hurt you. 

He wishes he would have pulled you close; and held you in the safe embrace of his arms. 

He’ll never admit it, but he forgave you almost immediately, and it terrifies him more than anything in this new world ever could.

He’s already lost so much, and he’s not sure how much more he can take. 

Surely it’s easier to hate you, rather than admit the truth, rather than lose you. 

“Fuckin’ bird,” he mumbles before drifting off to sleep. 

++++

"Come on, you've gotta be there! It's gonna be a total snooze without you," Ellie pleads, practically begging you to join her at the annual community holiday gathering.

Whereas Joel mostly acts like a grade-A jerk, Ellie is like a breath of fresh air. From the moment you met her, you’ve had a connection  – you taught her the ropes of film exposure, and she's good company in a world where friends are a rare commodity. Despite your initial reluctance, you eventually cave. It’s not really your thing, but it’s a taste of normalcy, or what passes for it in this broken world, that you crave; plus, you convince yourself that you might even get a few good photos out of it. 

Standing alone at the bar, you try to relax. You fiddle with the strap of your camera that rests on the bartop as you reminisce about how before the world turned to shit, you would have been quick to capitalize on an opportunity like this – to meet a nice guy, maybe have a drink or two and then end the night between the sheets. 

You close your eyes and try to recall the last time you were touched, but it’s fruitless. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the gentle caress of a man or anyone for that matter.

You huff your residual irritation at the thought as you notice Joel talking with Tess in the distance. Tess. She’s rather new to town. You’ve only spoken once or twice, but you’ve gathered that she is a formidable woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, but still somehow kind. 

Plus she can hunt, a welcome skill around here. As she converses with Joel, you take the time to drink in the details about her that you hadn’t noticed before. You guess she’s in her mid-40s, her hair is a mousey shade of brown with small shiny threads of gray in the mix, but she wears it well. Her complexion is soft, and her smile is nice. She’s pretty. You try not to color yourself too hard in the various shades of green as you wonder if Joel thinks the same.

“Another,” you signal to the bartender, and he fills your glass with amber liquid. 

Maybe it’s the booze or the thick air from the crowded room causing your brain to go fuzzy, but you find yourself lost living out an alternate reality in your mind – one where Joel doesn’t hate you. One where he calls you a good girl, voice thick like honey, as he fucks you within an inch of your life. 

Ellie’s voice calls you back to reality as she yells your name, signaling you to join her at the other end of the room. Downing the last of your drink, appreciating the subtle warmth it brings to your insides, you carefully place the glass on the bartop, shooting a subtle nod of appreciation to the bartender as you do; you grab your camera and place the strap around your neck. As you navigate the space toward Ellie, your keen awareness catches Joel breaking from his conversation with Tess, his gaze searing into you as you walk past both of them. His face is unreadable, but that doesn’t stop your pulse from quickening under his attention. 

++++

After hours of socializing, all you crave is the comfort of your bed. Exhausted, you stumble out of the building, your balance betraying you on the gravel beneath your feet. Shit. You stand up, brushing off the lingering dirt from your knees, inadvertently smearing a small fleck of blood into your skin in the process. Of course, the one night you decide to wear a dress, the only one you own, you would end up injured. 

“Really don’t have much spatial awareness, do ya, Darlin’?” Joel says, appearing out of the darkness, his dark and husky voice rings in your ears. It comes out a little harsher than he intended. 

You shoot him a glare, half-hoping your eyes could actually launch daggers and finish him off right then and there. "Why do you always have to be such an asshole to me?" you demand, your frustration boiling over. “I’ve already apologized as much as I can, it’s fine if you don’t like me, but you could at least be cordial,” you say, voice defeated.

His mouth opens like he has something to say, but he doesn’t respond. "Right. Screw this, I'm going home,” you sigh as you walk away, thoroughly done with whatever messed-up game of cat and mouse the two of you are playing.

Joel watches you walk away, wishing he dared to go after you. 

++++

Months go by, and despite the shifting atmosphere, as the crisp embrace of autumn gradually succumbs to the biting chill of winter; the air between you and Joel remains unchanged. His indifference is as unyielding as the encroaching winter snow.

“Tommy, please don’t make me go,” you beg. “He doesn’t even like me,” you cry, hoping he’ll have some sort of mercy on you.  

“Sweetheart, he doesn’t like anyone. ‘M sorry, but it’s gotta be you two this time, ” Tommy replies, the sentiment of his voice echoing that there is no other option. 

As you’re packing your backpack, you consider taking your camera but decide against it. Joel’s words pierce through you once more, “you almost got killed on my watch – f’what? A picture of a fucking bird?” You stash it in your dresser drawer, exchange it for a beanie and gloves, and walk out of the room to head to the stables. 

Underneath the dappled morning sunlight filtering through the trees, you tread the familiar path to the barn, a soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots. The earthy scent of hay and the distant sounds of horses create a tranquil backdrop. As you approach the stables, your gaze catches Joel's silhouette – he stands, a rugged figure, in a weathered leather jacket and denim jeans with a knife sheathed at his side and a gun slung casually over his shoulder. 

"Hey," you utter, your voice a gentle cadence, drawing closer to him. His gaze assesses you with a measured scrutiny, and with a subtle nod, he responds in a low murmur, "Ready?" The acknowledgment of your greeting remains absent. 

Once inside the barn, you see the stable attendant readying your ride. 

“‘M sorry, but you two are gonna have to share a horse,” he says, matter of fact. “Good ole bessy here has a lame foot that we gotta take care of before she’s back in commission,” he adds, patting the horse on the side. “And every other horse already has a rider for the day,” he adds. You think you hear Joel groan, but you can’t be sure. 

You give the horse a friendly greeting, running your hand along its sturdy neck, a silent bond of understanding. Climbing onto its back, you settle in comfortably. Joel, without a word, positions himself behind you. The feeling of his thick chest pressed up against your back causes your breathing to hitch in your throat. Your eyes flutter closed as Joel reaches around you to grab the reins and he gently nudges the horse to go. 

The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the path fills the air as you and Joel ride in tandem, a shared silence enveloping the space between you. The warmth of your body pressed against him, and the faint scent of your strawberry shampoo mingled with the earthy aroma of the trail, causes Joel to stiffen behind you. He adjusts his hips, subtly pulling them back, so you don’t notice.

You ride like that for what seems like an hour or more, until Joel breaks the silence, "So what’s the deal with the camera,” he asks as the horses continue their steady pace. His question throws you off. Is he being friendly?

“Oh, uh – well, my mom gave it to me when I was a little girl,” you say. Your voice goes an octave higher as you continue, “It’s all I have left of her now. All I have left of anyone, really,” you say. You bring your gloved hand up to wipe away the bead of snot that has gathered at the tip of your nose, sensitive from the cold, as you wait for his response. 

“Hmm,” he adds, sensing the sadness, the grief behind your words; a hard truth almost everyone left alive has had to live. His heart hurts for you, hell, it hurts for him, too. 

“Must be hard, reckon there’s not much worth takin’ a photo of these days,” he says, his head scanning from right to left to look out for any potential threats. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you pause. 

“When I was younger, I used to think the sound of thunder was just the sound of god rearranging the furniture,” you say, slightly angling your head back to look at him, “it’s all about perception, Joel.” 

He peers down at you, a furrow forming on his brow as he considers your words, his eyes tracking down to linger on your lips. Before you can say anything more, your attention flickers upward to the sky, the clear blue sky has been replaced by dark, ominous-looking clouds, and a raindrop falls to your cheek. 

++++

By the time you find shelter, far from the comforts of Jackson, you’re both completely drenched.

“Stay here,” Joel says, hopping off the horse and swinging the rifle over his shoulders into his thick hands. You brush away the beads of water collecting on your lashes as you watch him enter the home to make sure it’s safe. He’s gone for what feels like forever, and after he returns, the rifle is slung over his shoulder again. It’s safe.

“Alright, darlin’ – all clear, let’s get outta this mess,” he says, offering his hand to help you get off the animal. Once steady, he takes the horse by the reins to lead him into the garage for shelter. 

The rain-soaked chill clings to your skin as you and Joel step into the abandoned home, seeking refuge from the biting cold. Droplets cascade from your clothes, leaving a small puddle beneath your feet. The air inside is still, the only sound is the soft creaking of the dilapidated structure, the percussion of the raindrops falling on the roof, and the whip of the wind beating against the siding of the house. 

Without a word, you both start shedding your damp layers, your shivers becoming more pronounced in the cool silence. You stand in the dusty living room, clad in only your bra and underwear, as you hold your arms crossed over your chest partially to warm yourself but also to shield yourself from Joel’s eyes, slightly self-conscious. 

Joel briefly walks off before he returns from the bedroom off the side of the living room, having managed to find an old blanket among the remnants of the forgotten lives of the people who once lived in the home. He holds it open wide to you, an offering, and you turn your body so he can drape it around your shoulders. Once secured, you find a little bit of relief in its thick fibers. 

You turn around to face him, and he stands there, rubbing his hands together in front of him in an attempt to warm himself.

“Joel, you’re freezing,” you say, slightly taking the blanket off of your shoulders as if to offer it to him. “‘M fine, Darlin’ – I’ll be fine, keep it, you need to get warm,” he says, but you see the way his body shakes as he says it, his tender curls plastered to his forehead; weighed down by the water collecting in them. 

At that moment, you witness a fracture in Joel's stoic facade, the rugged exterior showing hairline cracks. The formidable walls he's meticulously built begin to crumble. 

"Joel, seriously, we can share – come here," you insist, extending the blanket open with one arm, inviting him into the cocoon of warmth. The gesture carries an unspoken understanding, a truce. You might hate me, but I don’t hate you. 

Joel hesitates for a second, his eyes tracing over your skin; as if he’s committing the sight of your hard nipples and damp skin to memory. 

At last, he acquiesces, closing the gap between your bodies. His hands encircle your waist, drawing you close as he wraps both arms around you. You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, and the blanket falls around both of your bodies. With him this close, you notice the subtle scent he carries with him, a touch of rain, a dash of cinnamon, and a hint of sweat. You’re not sure how, but he smells good. 

With a long exhale, he tightens his hold on you, enfolding you against the sturdy warmth of his body. You melt into him, your cheek resting on the soft skin of his chest, and your breathing returns to a steady rhythm. You both pause there, letting the warmth swallow you up; eventually, the goosebumps that once littered both your bodies, begin to fade.  

Your stomach flips as you listen to the subtle pitter patterns of his heart and the rhythmic sounds of his breathing. You had forgotten how good it feels to just be held; to have another body pressed up against yours. You realize Joel must feel the same, your attention flickers to the hard stiffness pushing against your stomach. 

Tilting your face up to meet his, your arms still entwined around his neck, you whisper "Joel," your voice suggestive and questioning at the same time. His name hangs in the charged air.

"Darlin'," he responds in a low murmur, and before you can formulate a response, his lips claim yours in an unexpected yet tender collision. Joel groans and forces his tongue into your mouth. The intensity surges, and he begins to pull you back towards the couch. Joel pauses when the back of his calves meet the edge of the cushions, and he deepens the kiss before sitting back, pulling you with him onto his lap, the blanket falling to the floor leaving you almost bare on top of him. 

The air in the home is still cold, but you don’t care, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins and your red-hot desire for him is more than enough to keep you warm. He’s as hard as a rock under his underwear, and you hum, noting how good his cock feels beneath you. You haven’t seen it yet, but you can tell he’s big. 

 “Are you sure you want this? What about Tess?” you ask, grinding against his erection. Joel grunts as he gropes both of your breasts with his hands, his lips meeting yours once more. 

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters, leaning back to look at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he says, his hands leaving your breasts to find your hips, and he pulls you down harder onto his clothed erection. “And Tess and I are just friends,” he adds, “You’re the one I haven’t been able to get outta my head.”

Joel closes his eyes, and his mouth hinges slightly open. It has been a while since you’ve been laid, but god were you glad to see you could still render a man speechless. 

Joel’s long, firm fingers find their way up your back to the clasp of your bra. He begins to unhook it. “Take this off,” he says, and you do as he says, throwing the damp lace onto the floor, leaving yourself completely topless on top of him. 

“God damn, Darlin’ –”, Joel responds to the sight of you. 

“Like what you see?” you say, feeling confident, and less intimated now that Joel is beneath you. Of course, he could overpower you in a matter of seconds, but in this moment, you have the upper hand. You grasp his chin, admiring the feel of the coarse hair on your fingertips, and lean down to kiss him hard. 

His cock throbs against you, and your pussy drips in response. You stay there, kissing him, grinding your clothed cunt into him, enjoying the desperate sounds he makes as you do. His firm body, soft tummy, and compact muscles spur you on. You grin as you trace your hands down his smooth chest, noting the scars -- from what, who, you can only imagine –  until your hands eventually make their way down to the band of his underwear.

Joel stops you, firmly gripping your chin to look at him. He pauses there and then pulls your face towards his, firmly sucking your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. “Mmm, Joel,” you mutter, the words leaving your lips fumbled and sloppy. Joel intensely stares into your eyes for a moment, and you stare back, eyes wide in disbelief that this is happening. 

“C’mere,” Joel says, breaking the silence with another kiss, as you rock your hips against him again, the movement sending sparks straight to your core. God, you’re so fucking wet for him – a dripping mess. 

Joel presses his face against your chest and works his way to your pebbled nipple before daring his tongue out to lick it. You push a still slightly damp curl away from his forehead, before clenching his hair in your fist. His breath is almost desperate as he laps at your tender nipples, alternating between sucking and little flicks of his tongue. “Joel,” you moan, pulling his face into your chest.

He growls softly, and sucks at your nipple harder, then rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You make a little noise in response. He trails the flat of his tongue up the valley of your breasts and over your exposed throat before kissing it, his hips lifting to you a bit as he does. He can’t wait to be buried inside of you. 

“Up, baby. There’s a bed in the back room,” he says, tapping your thigh. You shimmy off of him, and he rises to full height. It doesn't take long for his lips to find you again. Kissing in a way that’s almost as violent as he is, you walk backward this time, making your way to the bedroom with Joel’s guidance. 

It isn’t much, just skeletal remains of what was once a sanctuary. A duvet rests on the creaky old bed, its once vibrant pattern lost to time and dust. The room is mostly bare apart from the bed and a half-falling apart nightstand. Joel sits down on the bed and you fall to your knees in front of him. Your fingers hook under the elastic of his underwear, and his hips cant up to help you pull the fabric down and off his legs. 

The cock that springs free is thick and long. You’re intimidated only momentarily until the need to feel him overwhelms you. 

You spit into your palm and take his heavy member in your hand, before beginning to jerk him off. You slide your thumb across his swollen and red tip, your other hand gripping the thick, dark coarse hair against the base of him. 

Joel’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation of him in your soft palms. You bend forward and place his cock in the space between your breasts, you tilt your chin down and open your mouth so a long line of drool dribbles down to the cleft of your chest for lubrication, and then you squeeze the flesh around his length, rubbing up and down the entirety of him. 

“Fuck nghh — that’s, ugh, that’s so good baby,” he grunts, his hands grabbing the nape of your neck. 

And it is good. Almost too good. 

“Darlin’, shit – ah, you gotta stop or I’m gonna come,” he says, his voice low. 

“Maybe I want you to,” you purr, torn between making him coat your tits with come, or letting him fuck you first. 

“No,” he says, voice more firm this time, “Gotta feel that perfect pussy before I do, baby girl,” he says, rising to full height, his arms wrapping under your armpits to bring you up with him. In one swift move, he has you turned and your back hits the mattress while a soft oof escapes your lungs. 

Joel has a hazy, dark look in his eye as he hovers over you. His pupils are blown open wide with lust. You think he might fuck you then, but he looks down and notices that your pussy is still covered by the thin lace of your now-soiled panties. He kisses down your chest, your tummy, and his head eventually finds its place between your thighs. He plants a soft kiss on your mound, and he mutters how sweet he thinks you’re going to taste. 

“Think we oughta find out,” he says, and he hooks his thumbs around the fabric and pulls them off your frame. Within seconds, his soft lips are on your wet folds. 

"Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good. "Taste so sweet, Darlin’, knew you would," Joel breathes, his breath hot against you. 

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit. 

You pull at your nipple with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you. 

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and he works to throw you over the cliff of your orgasm. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are primal and filthy. 

“Be a good girl for me,” he demands, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me taste your sweet release.”  

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my god – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop" you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.  

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. “Kiss me, darlin’,” he says, and his lips find yours. You savor the way it tastes; a hint of tang, but just so. You reach your hand in between your bodies to grab his cock, and he takes the hint. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, lining the entrance of his cock, the tip of it weeping with pre-cum, up against your wet and waiting hole. He presses his hips forward gently, and you begin to relax and flutter around him, feeling the subtle sting of an unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, stretch. 

“So big, feels so full, Joel,” you cry, “I know, baby. But I know she can handle it,” he coos, pressing impossibly deeper into you, until eventually he’s buried in you to the hilt. Underneath his solid frame, skin to skin, his cock firm inside of you, you feel your skin prickle hot and blood rushes through your ears. He fucks you equisitely, his chest crowding yours, but he bears the brunt of his weight on his forearms so as not to crush you too much. 

He steadies like this for a while, before he eventually pushes himself up and grips the back of your knees. You follow his cue and pull them up, feet flat on the mattress beneath you. He folds them cross-cross onto your chest, obscenely stretching your needy hole around the girth of him. 

You can’t breathe. He’s so big you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His cock drags in and out of you, making you shudder and your toes curl. The way he fucks you is so much – hard, deep, and passionate. 

“You feel so good, Darlin’. Gripping me so fucking good, being such a good girl,” Joel moans. 

“God, don’t stop, ugh I’m so close,” you say, eyes closing. 

“Eyes open, baby. Want you to look at me while you come on my cock,” he says, as he takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger, demanding your attention. 

Something snaps inside you, and your whole body tenses, and then releases in a sweet gush. “Jesus,” his blunt nails dig into the flesh of your hips before his jaw falls slack. With one more thrust, he loses himself, buried deep inside of you, your walls coaxing his balls empty.  “Fuck, baby,” he growls as he empties everything inside you, finishing his climax with a guttural groan. 

Joel pulls out, and you sigh at the loss of being full of him. He bends forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling sharp breaths, before falling to your side on the mattress. 

You sit up onto your forearms, and a dribble of his release comes out of you. You grin down at him, surveying the damage. Joel’s complexion is pink, and his eyes are closed – he’s successfully been fucked into oblivion. 

“Cmere, darlin’,” he says, eyes still closed, opening one arm open to welcome you into the warmth of his chest. You lay there, once again listening to his heart and the sounds of the rain on the grimy window in the room. You trail your index finger down his sternum. 

“You know, I thought you hated me,” you say, your voice a little sad, but you know you need to get this off your chest. “I know you had to kill that guy because I wasn’t paying attention, and I really am sor–” Joel once again silences your sentence by placing his finger on your lips. 

“Never say sorry to me again, Darlin’,” he says “‘sides, I’m the one who should be apologizin’, I’ve been a real asshole to you,” his voice sincere. “I just – I don’t know what I would ha’ done if I didn’t get to that guy in time, I’d never forgive myself if I lost you and could have prevented it.” His head drops to the pillow and he stares at the ceiling; your head finds it’s place once again the crook of his arm, nuzzled up against his side body for warmth. 

There’s still so much more he wants to say, but he knows that he’ll have the time to do it later. He stares at the rough texture above him for a moment longer, before he quickly gets up, as if to remember something. 

“Be right back,” he says and walks into the other room. He returns with a pack and pulls from it a little black container. “Found this during a raid the other day – thought of you,” he says, handing it to you. You jiggle it up by your ear and smile. 

Film.

Joel Miller may be an asshole.

But he’s an asshole that most definitely doesn’t hate you.

END

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @untamedheart81 @darkheartgatita @endlessthxxghts @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @bastardmandennis @dins-riduur-anthe @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @nosesitter @pedroswife69 @morallyinept @milly-louise @toxicanonymity @javiscigarette @planet-marz1 @anavatazes @dugiioh As always, please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag lists.xx

[softpascalito]

Here cums Santa Claus - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Jackson needs a Santa Claus - and Joel is the perfect fit. Getting to have you on his lap is just a bonus.

aka

The one where Joel is dressed up as Santa Claus and you get to ride him.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader WC: 1800 Tags/Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Christmas Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Unsafe Sex, Established Relationship, Costumes, Lap Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, Creampie, Female Reader, No use of y/n, Alcohol (one glass of whiskey), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Miller as Santa Claus, Age Difference (not specified) Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: pun intended. this is smut. beware.

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“Is that all of them?”

You try to keep yourself from giggling as you take in the grumpy face of the man beside you. It's half hidden by the fluffy, white fake-beard that's already starting to come off at the edges. His salt-and-pepper hair is hidden by a white and red Christmas hat, matching the rest of his Santa Claus Outfit. It's a little improvised, put together from what you could find in the small clothing selection that Jackson uses to make sure there's enough to go around.

You're still not quite sure how you managed to talk him into this: Dressing up and letting each and every kid in Jackson climb onto the chair and tell him their wishes. The first time he stepped out of his room after changing, you could barely hold it together, the way he looked like the most  miserable Santa Claus you've ever seen, pouting even under his fake beard.

But when the first child comes in and practically storms into his arms, you see the way he changes, a version of him you've rarely been witness to before. He's amazing with the kids, even maneuvering around the more difficult wishes with a smile and a joke that makes them laugh.

Now that you're alone, a small groan leaves Joel's mouth as he gets up, glaring at you and one hand reaches out to pull you a little closer, the green skirt that comes with your own Christmas Elf outfit giving him a way to steer your body towards him. When you're flush against him, his gloved hand gently squeezes your thigh, inching upwards.

“You're supposed to be Santa Claus, not some pervy old man touching his elves,” you mutter as you take in his gaze that has somehow shifted to one a lot more mischievous than it was a minute ago.

“Santa is a hard-working man. I'm sure he is allowed some fun once the kids are gone,” Joel smirks, a low grumble vibrating in his throat as he gives your thigh another squeeze before letting go.

You can practically feel Joel staring at your legs as you hurry back to your house, the red tights under your skirt doing almost nothing to protect you from the cold.

Joel grunts as he kicks off his snowy boots and makes a beeline for the whiskey, sinking into his favorite armchair by the fireplace as he pours himself a glass.

“You want a drink?” He calls through the house and smiles to himself when yell back, “Dying to have one.”

Joel's smile widens a little more when you reappear in the doorway a moment later, carrying a small plate with cookies and placing them on the small table in front of him, muttering “Maybe this stupid outfit has its upsides.”

He hands you your whiskey and you let your glass linger in the air for a few seconds, gently toasting with Joel before you take a few sips.

You're more than aware that the gaze Joel had earlier is back and he shamelessly lets his eyes roam over your body, taking in the way the outfit frames your curves just perfectly. He will never be caught saying it out loud but seeing what you'd wear as his helper if he were to agree to be Santa- it affected his decision more than a little bit.

“They were all really happy, you know? The kids,” you say gently, reaching for a cookie and eating it in one bite.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Joel mumbles, softening a bit. It brought back memories of Christmas before the Outbreak for him as well. His gaze is still on you when he nudges your knee a little, “You didn't get your turn.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, immediately catching up on what he is asking for, “I may be a littler younger than you but I'm not a child anymore.” Joel chuckles softly, taking another sip from his whiskey as he watches you, waiting.

His legs are slightly spread, his broad thighs catching your gaze and with a small sigh you give in, lowering yourself onto his left leg, “Fine.”

“Now, what would you like for Christmas?” Joel asks, his deep voice lower than it was before. You're still naive enough to think that that's all he's trying to do, possibly coax out some wish that he can fulfill for you. It's absolutely not what he’s trying to do.

“Let’s see- a new dress would be nice. Or some coffee,” you answer truthfully and Joel nods. His gaze is focused on his whiskey, the way he balances it on one and you on the other leg, “Anything else?”

You shake your head no as he puts his glass away and reaches for you instead, hand sneaking up your thigh like it had done earlier. A small breath of surprise leaves your throat as you feel his fingers inching over your skin, painfully slowly traveling into the direction of your core.

“And you've been a good girl this year, hm?” He mutters. You open your mouth to reply- when the tips of his fingers finally reach your crotch and despite the tights you're wearing being non-see-through, he knows your body well enough to find your favorite spot instantly. His finger flies over it, teasing you with a gentle, calculated touch and whatever answer you would've given turns into a whiny moan instead.

Joel smirks a little as he sees your body reacting and he uses his free hand to grope your breast, the thin fabric of your costume leaving practically nothing to the imagination.

Your own hands begin wandering as well, cupping his face before you realize he's still wearing that stupid fake beard. A little rougher than you intend, you rip it off. Joel doesn't mind. It only stings for a moment- until your lips are on his, pressing your tongue against his lips eagerly.

“Fuck, Joel-” you whisper when you come up for air, already out of breath. He just grunts slightly, the smirk returning to his face.

“Think you can be a good girl for me now?” He mumbles, focused on twisting your nipples through your shirt and you whimper, nodding at his question.

Maybe you’d make it to the bedroom for once, if you both weren’t so fucking impatient.

Joel is hard in his pants, the erection creating a more than visible bulge on the velvety, red fabric and you massage him gently, fingers ghosting over his cock as you clench down on nothing at the thought of having him fill you up.

The hand on your breast leaves to join the other one between your thighs and in one swift motion, Joel rips your tights apart, growling like an animal as he is met with the sight of your already dripping cunt.

“You're so wet already, darlin’,” he praises, sliding one finger through your folds, “Fucking killed me to see you in that skirt and not be able to do anything about it.”

Your hands almost automatically fly to his belt, your body already shaking with the need to feel him inside of you, to have him as close as he possibly can. Joel pushes his pants down with one hand, just far enough for him to pull his cock out.

He's already fully hard, an indication that he wasn't lying about the way he felt about your skirt. It only makes you more eager.

“Can I ride you?” You ask breathlessly, running your finger down his veiny cock and gently cupping his balls below.

“Fuck, you have to ask?” Joel mutters, chuckling a little at that. He helps you change your position so that you’re hovering above him, his hands placed firmly on your hips for support.

You both groan in unison as you lower yourself onto him, his dick sliding into you with little resistance. It's perfect. You can feel the way his skin brushes against yours inside of you, pushing itself further inside until you're fully seated.

“Taking me so well, darlin’,” Joel whispers, running his hands up and down your sides as he waits for you to adjust to the intrusion. It's a lot, he knows that much, but you've reassured him time and time again that it's the good kind of a lot.

His lips find your throat, nibbling softly on the skin he can reach, occasionally sucking on it and eliciting a few sharp gasps from you. You both simultaneously begin to move, finding a shared rhythm. You bouncing up and down while he moves below you, pistoning himself further into your depths.

“ ‘tis all I need for Christmas,” he breathes, pulling you down onto him with a little more force. “Just need this sweet pussy around my cock, squeezing me so goddamn tight-”

He knows you're already close by the way your muscles are becoming more tense with each thrust, the pleasure that's building in your stomach physically mirrored in them. There's a small sting on the back of his head as you carelessly push his Christmas hat off to bury your fingers in his hair and pull on it, matching his pace.

“Fuck, feels like it’s already Christmas-” You agree, your voice shaking with the way he’s fucking into you. Joel licks a stripe up your neck, “Gonna be a good girl now and come for me?”

Your answer turns into a drawn-out moan as you feel Joel hitting your cervix and a few moments later, you're clenching down on him like your life depends on it, muscles seemingly drawing his cock in further and further.

It feels delicious, the way your body so clearly wants him, wants the one thing that he can give you and Joel fucks you through your orgasm as he too feels himself tipping over the edge. Your walls are painted with ropes of white cum as he finishes inside of you, his arms wrapping themselves around your body to pull you in closer.

His head is buried in your chest as you both slowly come down from your high, your fingers and nose in his hair. He feels the way your breath goes fast on his skin, sighing softly, so content with the way you are so impossibly entangled.

“I love you.”

It's quiet, so quiet that you almost don't hear him. The pleasure that was in your stomach a few moments ago appears again, this time in your chest. You pull Joel a little closer, feeling him soften inside of you as you place a gentle kiss on his head.

“I love you too.”

notes: if you liked this, please consider leaving a little comment or reblogging, it makes me grin just like joel <3

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 51

part 1 | part 50 | ao3

Knowing the weirdness is coming doesn't make it less weird.

Steve clings to Jeff's warning like a lifeline in the days after the attack, as Eddie swings wildly from withdrawn and paranoid to brash and itching for a fight. One second he's tackling Steve in a public park, sweeping him off his feet and swinging in a wide, reckless circle, the next he's shooting dodgy glances over his shoulder and suggesting they come up with some kind of tapping code when they want to communicate the urge to kiss or hug in public.

His face is a mess for weeks.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

Hardly wants to look at it — takes to avoiding mirrors and fucking Steve from behind, or turning off all the lights, or hiding his face behind his hair when he gets between Steve’s legs. Plays it off like he’s just being sexy, trying something new, ‘isn’t this exciting?’ But Steve’s pretty sure he just doesn’t want to see the worry in Steve’s eyes when their kisses hurt his face.

So Valentine's Day comes and goes, and Steve doesn't say it; doesn't say 'I love you,' because he's never sure he's going to get the version of Eddie who’s brave enough to say it back. They don't even do anything for the holiday, really, which kind of kills Steve, even if he won't admit it.

He can't help it; he's a sap.

They do share a heart-shaped box of chocolates in Eddie’s bed the day after, though. Led Zeppelin crooning softly from the record player, and Steve plays it off like he only bought them because they were half off, and Eddie gives him a gooey look and pushes him into the pillows. Blows him within an inch of his young life; smiles up at him at the end, lips slick and full and pretty. Steve thinks, maybe they're okay.

They’ll be okay.

Eddie may still be a little off, a little wobbly, but he’s laughing again, he’s silly and animated again, he’s playing guitar and making jokes, and—

And who is Steve to judge how a person, like, processes or whatever? At least Eddie’s not doing any late night demolition.

They’re gonna be just fine.

The last of the sickly yellow bruising slips away from Eddie's eye as the month comes to a close, so Steve decides to risk it. Asks Eddie out. A movie night, a proper date where Steve can pay for the milkshakes and let their thighs brush against each other when the theater lights go down.

And sure, they'll have to pretend it’s just two straight guys hanging out — do their tapping thing and keep a healthy distance, two bros being pals being buds being dudes — and that shit sucks, but it’s better than nothing.

Steve's never had to worry about PDA before. One more thing he won't admit is kind of slowly killing him; rope burn around his heart when he thinks about it too hard.

"What do you say?" he asks Eddie. They’re lounging on his couch, propped on opposite ends with their legs tangled in the middle. "You want to let me take you out to the city?"

Brookhaven isn't exactly the city so much as the closest suburb whose mall didn't get torpedoed by the commies, but there's a theater and some decent diners, and it's far enough away that they shouldn't run into any classmates looking to cause trouble.

Eddie gives him a wary look. “I don’t know,” he hedges, fingers coming up to worry the thin sliver of a scar under his chin.

Steve swallows the hurt. The twine chafing behind his ribs. "It's okay," he starts to say, but Eddie's eyes flare with defiance.

“Actually, fuck it,” he declares, slapping his knees as he stands up. Gets up onto the couch cushion, spreads his feet wide and puts his hands on his hips; Steve’s little metalhead superhero. Steve can't help his grin when Eddie shakes his hair out big and says, "Take me out and woo me, baby!"

—

part 52

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[quirklessidiot]

title: Y/N and her boys [sneak peek] pairing : Upper classman/popular kid!Gojo Satoru x F!reader, Exchange student!Eren Jaeger x F!reader, MMA Fighter/Celebrity!Ryomen Sukuna x F!reader, Childhood Bestfriend!Aki Hayakawa x F!reader, Varsity football player!Itoshi Rin x F!reader (use of she/her pronouns) Genre: Alternate Universe-University setting, romance, fluff, angst (if you squint), slice of life, drama, all cliche romance genres unite! (Based on the Manhwa, Bunny and her Boys)

Summary: Y/N’s denied the existence of pretty boys and god forbid she’d ever end up dating one yet with one horrid break-up, she decides that relationships aren’t just meant for someone stupid like her but the problem is — five of them suddenly appear and god, why does it seem like they can’t get enough of her?

General warning for the story: mild sexual content, cliche tropes (help), mahito is his own warning, minor character death, mentions of depression, a lot of second-hand embarrassment from y/n's part (shes not a cool girl, SHE IS A BUBBLING MESS AND THATS OK <33), insecurities, bullying, and mentions of cheating Notes: english isn't my first language! (dont judge me) this multi-chaptered story will probably be 20-30 chapters (idk) in ao3. you can totally tell this story is rooted from self-indulgence LMFAO. Im not sure if i should cross post it but im leaning towards ao3 more either ways, can't wait to release this on friday!

also can u guess who she ends up with :P rb’s are appreciated yay FULL VERSION IS RIGHT HERE!

SNEAK PEAK

“Maybe…Maybe we should break up.”

There's another round of silence between you two, and you know that you can’t exactly take it back anymore since you had said it loud and clear, “Woah, woah, I told you I wasn’t with Misa.” his voice turns louder, and the background noises are good as gone as if he had left the noisy place, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you-”

“I said,” you try to control the stammering of your voice, trying to avoid the stares of the people who cast odd glances, “We’re done. I don’t want to see or hear from you again.” and before he could let another excuse out of his mouth, you end the call. It is only now that you notice how your legs have been quivering and your mouth has gone dry, seemingly like a pup who had just been born and trying to walk. You lose your footing and sit down on the dirty pavement.

No tears were shed at that very moment, probably because you were only stupefied, and it was written clearly on your face that this wouldn’t be something you’d recover anytime soon. Heck, you couldn’t even grasp the idea entirely that someone you’ve been friends with for years and, eventually, a lover would do that to you.

Was it as easy as a snap of a finger?

“Miss? Miss?” someone calls out, but it only bounces back to him like an echo in a cave. You remain still, eyes blinking rapidly while the rest of your face is slack. Everyone around you continued to move, but you remained there like a decorated statue.

“Miss? Christ, you’re about to be–” the husky voice also stops, and it’s only now that you look up to find a man. He seems stocky but, simultaneously, smaller, as if he didn’t want to come off as intimidating when he maintained eye-to-eye contact. 

He is incongruous with everyone who walks by since he desperately tries to hide his features with a baseball cap and a dark face mark. The only thing you can see are strands of his bleached hair, his eyes that resemble the sunshine that peeked through the glasses of whiskey, and the swirls of ink becoming visible underneath his coat when he stretches out his arm.

If this were any other day, you’d run in the opposite direction because he looked like an unscrupulous loan shark, but your body remains in a state of unknown fatigue that you just wanted to stay still. 

You watch as his face softens, the lines on his forehead somewhat disappearing when he watches the color bleed from your face. “...Alright…” he stops, squinting as he crouches to your level. His thick thighs encompass the rough expanse of his straight jeans, and you wondered if he had been an athlete or something. Aside from his built, his presence was rather invigorating,  “oh…” he continues, “Sorry, you-uh…” The confidence he had to throw you off is gone like the evening dust as he motions his index finger up and down his face.

At that moment, you feel something wet running down your cheek. It seemed like the waterworks were late.

You didn’t want to be a pity party in front of anyone, and you’d expect there to be only bystanders, not ‘good samaritans’.

You sniffled, violently wiping the tears away as you felt your ribs were too tight when you took one long breath, “I’m fine…” you respond monotonously.

Who were you even fooling? 

“Right…” you carefully watch him take out a handkerchief, “Fine, sitting on a dirty pavement near my car doesn’t make you look fine, Miss.” he prodded.

“Well, what do you care, anyways?” you tried to keep your voice from cracking, but the stranger showed no qualms of anxiety or fear, nor did he seem mad at your snappy attitude. The blue handkerchief is laid on his palm, waiting for you to take it, yet you exhibit no signs of accepting his kindness. Instead of forcing you through like the usual status quo, he returns it to his pockets.

The odd man.

“Well, for one, I don’t want to run your feet over since I’m parked over here,” he thumbs towards the black jeep that’s parked in front of you, “And my mom didn’t raise me to leave a girl sitting alone, crying her eyes out…”

“Well, did your mom tell you to mind your own business, as well?” your body remains heavy and distant from the stranger, not minding if it came off as rude, but you’ve always been wary of them, especially the ones who claimed to be nice. You wouldn’t be swayed even if you were in a vulnerable place.

He sucks in a deep breath, quite surprised that you had the energy to exchange a vehement response to him. Weren’t you just about to bawl your eyes out?

“Well, you honestly looked like you deserve some niceness after whatever happened.” he conceded, remaining suspiciously friendly, “Piece of advice, though, if it’s a guy, he’s not worth it.” 

“I-what makes you think it’s a guy?” there it goes again, the unknown tightening of your throat and the way the gummy lids on your eyes would heat up as if a pipe of water was about to burst and flood the segways any moment.

“It’s always an asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a woman right.” he lamely explains, and slowly but hesitantly, as if he was waiting for you to move away, he places one hand on top of your hand. 

Unlike a while ago, you weren’t as hostile, but you were confused about why the stranger suddenly did this and didn’t seem to tilt away like you usually would, “So go home tonight, Miss. Cry it out and wake up tomorrow for yourself. You’ll be fine.”

You don’t even see his entire face, but the way he gently caresses your hair as if you were a long-time friend had your lips quivering, and without even realizing it, your torso bends forward. You bury your face in your arms, finding solace in your makeshift fetal position.

The stranger says nothing more; honestly, you didn’t even mind. His newfound presence is comforting.

[anto-pops]

The Hypothesis - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: The hand on your throat was gentle but firm, and your stomach flipped at the vulnerability of it all. You weren’t even sure you had it in you to do what he was asking but Merlin, did he make it sound enticing. Somewhere in your brain the sixteen year old version of yourself was combusting. How many times since starting school had you fantasized about Sebastian? About the two of you tangled in sheets and lost in the euphoria of one another? You could scarcely believe some of the fantasies your hormonal teenage mind had conjured up, but you had never considered anything as bold as this.

Alternatively summarized as pure, shameless Sebastian smut

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit content

Full fic can be found here on Ao3

It was easy for you to tell when things were getting bad again. 

At first you had chalked it up to your menstrual cycle, as embarrassing as that was. It wasn’t unusual for you to get headaches or chills, or even act outright cruel when it was that time of the month. But the more time passed, the worse things got, and you knew the night you woke from a nightmare with red bolts crackling over your arms that this was decidedly not your period. 

Isidora’s magic now lived inside you, as volatile and unpredictable as it was powerful. Absorbing it had changed you on a molecular level- you were no longer the sixteen year old girl who had arrogantly believed she could wield a magic darker than the Unforgivable Curses. You knew with each passing day you were drifting further and further from the person you used to be, falling victim to your darker impulses routinely. Less of your excursions beyond the castle walls ended peacefully. In fact, you often sought out fights. While most of the Ashwinder camps and Poaching Rings had been taken care of in the years since Ranrok, there were always stragglers. 

You took a disturbing amount of pleasure in ripping those people apart. 

All due in large part to Isidora’s magical goodie bag you’d elected to open. The accumulated power demanded to be used, and at this point it took everything in you not to lose control in the middle of your classes. Despite the sheer magnitude of your abilities, you had never felt weaker. Your magic had never been something you had to war against in your own mind, and you certainly had never perceived it as a threat to yourself. 

Now though, you weren’t sure. 

The only person you’d been able to confide in about it all was Sebastian. Sebastian, who had made good on his promise to you and Ominis to stay the good course. Sebastian, who had worked harder than anyone to coexist with the demons you knew still raged in his head. He was, quite literally, the only person you could imagine sharing your turmoil with. Picturing Ominis’ particular brand of disappointment at your revelation had made you sick to your stomach for a week before you had banished the idea entirely. 

Sebastian, though. His sharp eyes had darkened when you’d told him the truth of what you’d done below Hogwarts and how you feared losing control. The way you tamed the raging fire inside of you with fighting and blood. The piercing regret you felt at ever taking this cursed power out of the repository in the first place. He had only looked at you with curiosity, maybe even a little admiration, before gathering you in his arms. 

“I won’t tell a soul, you have my word.” 

The Slytherin boy had come to you with an idea shortly thereafter. A hypothesis if you will, he had said. With instructions to meet him in the Undercroft after ten, you’d made a point to fly out towards the Clagmar Coast in the hours before dark. Regardless of Sebastian’s so-called ‘hypothesis’, you didn’t want to risk feeling… overwhelmed, when you met with him. The power from the repository had a way of buzzing in the back of your mind, steadily getting louder if you chose to ignore it. If taking out a few scattered Poacher camps quieted it down some, you would happily do so. 

By the time you returned to Hogwarts, there were no students milling about. It made for a peaceful trek to the Undercroft, allowing you to gather your bearings and blink the fog from your mind. While you didn’t plan to put much stock into Sebastian’s unknown idea, the least you could do was hear him out. If whatever he wanted to suggest was something that could make existing with this power more bearable, you were willing to try. It scared you to think about what you would become in a few months, or in a year. Would you even be the same? Or would you end up a husk of your former self, controlled by the very magic you had been hell bent on taking in the first place? 

It seemed like the most plausible outcome. 

The iron gate clanged back into place behind you as you stepped into the Undercroft. Noting the dim lights and rearranged crates towards the back, you scanned the room and found no sign of the boy who had summoned you. 

“Sebastian?” 

Footsteps sounded to your left, and you looked in time to see Sebastian push off the wall and make his way towards you. Immediately you noticed he was missing his cloak. Then you saw his white button up and dark trousers, and you realized you had never seen him so dressed down. His stride was full of purpose, a predatory glint in his eyes as he came to stand less than a foot away from you. 

Instinct screamed at you to move back. In your experience, anyone getting that close to you usually meant they were going to try and kill you. But this was Sebastian, you reasoned, and mentally chided yourself for even letting the thought cross your mind. So instead you tilted your chin up to meet his penetrating gaze. 

“Care to enlighten me as to why we’re down here after hours?” 

His eyes flicked between yours for a few seconds before they began roaming, wandering down your stiff form. You still wore your travel gear, a black cotton ensemble with a small leather chest plate for protection. You’d crafted a sheath for the modest dagger you kept strapped to your thigh in case of emergencies, and the scarf you’d wrapped around your neck for the evening hung precariously off your shoulder.

Sebastian brought one of his hands up to your cheek, his fingers hovering slightly over the scar left from your battle in the repository years ago. “I told you. I want to test my hypothesis.” 

“Right,” you rolled your eyes and willed the churning in your gut to subside. “And we would get so much farther with that if I knew what you were talking about wouldn’t we?” 

A ghost of a smirk danced across his features, giving you whiplash. What was he thinking? And what the hell was he planning? 

He finally brushed the back of his finger down your cheek, the touch barely there. The featherlight feeling caused goosebumps to break out all over your skin. He trailed it lower, under your chin and skimmed the line of your jaw before you felt his digits splay across the slender column of your neck. There was no stopping the startled gasp that left your lips at the brazen action, and Sebastian seemed to take a deep rooted pleasure in it. 

“I want to believe that you’re out of control because you’ve been in control for too long,” he started to say and tugged you closer. “All that power simmering beneath the surface, it's all you can focus on, isn’t it?” 

There was no chance in hell you trusted yourself to speak, so you nodded. 

Now he was smirking, “I want to see what happens when you give up control. When you stop holding the magic back and just let it flow through you instead. Don’t be afraid of what’ll happen if you let yourself feel it— rather, open yourself to the experience. But I think we both know you’re far too uptight for that, and you’ll fight tooth and nail against your better urges, so I want you to let me take control. Let me steer the boat for a while. You just sit pretty and relax, sound good?”

The hand on your throat was gentle but firm, and your stomach flipped at the vulnerability of it all. You weren’t even sure you had it in you to do what he was asking but Merlin, did he make it sound enticing. Somewhere in your brain the sixteen year old version of yourself was combusting. How many times since starting school had you fantasized about Sebastian? About the two of you tangled in sheets and lost in the euphoria of one another? You could scarcely believe some of the fantasies your hormonal teenage mind had conjured up, but you had never considered anything as bold as this. 

Dumbly realizing you’d been gaping up at him like a fish, you gave his wrist a testing squeeze before nodding. “Alright… how?”

He smiled down at you in earnest, that lust filled look in his eyes deepening by the second. “Now where would be the fun in telling you?”

---

Butterflies was no longer an appropriate term to describe what you were feeling. No, at this point it was more akin to a hurricane tearing you apart from the inside, your anxiety heightened at having been rendered so helpless. Sebastian had wasted little time in whisking you over to the chaise lounge tucked behind the rearranged crates after you’d agreed to essentially let him fuck you. Because that’s what this was, right? He had yet to speak the words but his eyes communicated his intentions well enough. He had gotten to work quickly, tugging his tie from his pocket and coming to stand behind you. You had felt the silky material drift over your eyes before Sebastian knotted it snugly behind your head. 

Blindfolded. 

It hadn’t even been a full minute with it on and you were already shaking, the unknown aspect of everything you were about to do riddling you with undue stress. Sebastian zero’d in on your discomfort right away, sliding his arms around you from behind and pulling you against him. 

“Just relax, I promise you’re safe with me. We can stop at any point and if you don’t like something I do, tell me.” 

His thumbs traced burning circles against the thin cotton of your shirt. With him holding you this way, it was impossible to overlook the hard expanse of his torso pressed against your back. You were overcome with the unique scent of him; cedar and pine, and that telltale musk you could only identify as Sebastian. Unable to see, it felt all the more intimate having to rely on your other senses. 

You forced a shaky breath into your lungs and held it for a second before exhaling. “Okay.”

One of his hands abandoned your waist to trail under your shirt, relishing in the soft skin he felt waiting there. Deft fingers skimmed over your ribs, then your breasts, and you inhaled sharply as he took one of your nipples between his fingers and pinched. “So responsive. Have you ever let anyone touch you like this?” 

As though to punctuate the question, Sebastian moved down your breasts to feel along the plane of your belly to your nether region. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your trousers, his fingers ghosting over where he knew you wanted them most, and he chuckled at the disappointed sigh you let slip. He nestled his chin into the crook of your neck so his breath tickled your ear as he asked, “Has anyone ever touched you here?” 

Shamelessly your hips twitched closer to Sebastian’s hand, desperate for some kind of stimulation. You were pathetic. Crumbling in his hands— as if you had even been put together in the first place. He drew his hand away from your aching core, clicking his tongue at you, and slowly guided you towards the chaise lounge. He continued to feel over your abdomen with his arms securely wrapped around you before stopping short of the cushions. “Good things come to those who wait,” he chided. “Or are you so desperate to be filled that you’re content to ride my fingers?” 

“Fuck, Sebastian.” You didn’t recognize your own voice. It sounded reedy- airy. Like you were already out of breath and he’d simply been whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

You felt as he untangled his arms from your waist, then he spun you around and gave you a light shove. The backs of your calves connected with the lounge behind you, and with a barely contained yelp you collapsed onto the velvet surface. 

Sebastian was on you in an instant, his lips claiming yours like he had been starved of your very essence as he hoisted you further up the cushions. His hands were demanding, gripping your hips with such fervor as he kissed you that you were certain he’d leave bruises. You felt him slot his knee between your thighs for better leverage over you, but when he leaned forward to trail wet, hot kisses down your jaw, his leg pressed against that bundle of nerves at your core. 

There was no helping it, you moaned into Sebastian’s mouth at the sensation. Your sounds seemed to stoke the fire, given how he tightened his grip and practically rolled his hips against yours. He was clearly as eager as you were.

Sebastian broke the kiss first to sit back on his heels as he perched on your lap, your body effectively caged beneath his strong legs. His hands roamed over you, taking loose articles of clothing with him as he went, starting with your scarf. “You’re so fucking perfect like this. So willing and pliant.” 

He let the flimsy fabric flutter to the floor before his fingers were tugging at the strings that attached your leather chest plate to your shoulders. That was pried away and discarded along with the rest of the strappy accessories that littered your form. A gasp ripped from your throat as Sebastian’s hands found your breasts beneath your shirt again, kneading and squeezing the skin in a way that had a familiar feeling building within you. 

“I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to lay with you. How you would feel, what you would look like falling apart on my cock. I want to see that facade slip- I want to watch you flustered and panting and full of my cum, begging for more.”

Without a shadow of a doubt, your brain was short circuiting. To hear such raunchy and filthy promises dripping from Sebastian’s mouth was enough to have you clenching your thighs around his knee, desperate for any kind of friction to accompany the wetness pooling there. He took note of your wriggling instantly and pulled his leg back, leaving you aching and mewling like a mongrel in heat. 

“Ah ah ah, that’s not very patient behavior now is it?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he slid away from you. The chill of the Undercroft covered you instantly, goosebumps breaking out over the exposed flesh of your torso. 

“P-please,” you heard yourself moan. You had no idea what you were even asking for, but you felt Sebastian’s warm hands begin to trail up the tops of your legs, towards the waistband of your pants, before swiftly yanking them down to your ankles. You could feel your face flushing red, the sheer intimacy of being exposed to him in nothing but your undergarments enough to make your heart pound against your chest and drown out the incessant buzz of magic in the back of your mind. 

His ministrations were thoughtful, seeing as he didn’t skip over an inch of skin. Soft, plush lips pressed against your inner thighs, eliciting a shiver from you, before he moved up higher to your naval. He placed another kiss there as his hands roamed up to remove your thin top. It took no time at all, and before you knew it you were laid bare before your most trusted companion. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said to you, causing you to flush deeper. “I’m serious. You’re perfect. All of you is perfect–”

You felt his thumb roughly press against your clit through your underwear then, and you gasped as you arched your back into his touch. “Right here especially. This perfect pussy, so wet for me and we’ve barely even started.” 

The slow, easy circles he traced against your most private area wasn’t enough. He was holding back on purpose, deriving some sort of twisted pleasure in denying you yours. Fighting the urge to buck your hips into his hand, your chest heaved with the massive breath you took in. 

“Questions? Comments? Concerns?” 

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t get on with it, Sallow.” 

You felt his body rock above yours as he barked out a laugh, removing his hand entirely from your clit, much to your dismay. “Is that so? Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead.” 

“No! Merlin, please— don’t stop, I just… I want—“ you blushed from embarrassment as you tripped over your words. The effect this man had on you… 

Sebastian chuckled and started to move so that he no longer caged your body to the lounge, and you instantly missed his weight and warmth. It didn’t last long, however. Before long he had slithered down to kneel in front of you, and you felt as he grabbed your waist and pivoted you so your legs dangled over the edge of your seat. The spark of arousal you felt at being so easily manhandled didn’t escape you. 

“I know,” he finished for you. “Believe me, I know exactly what you want. But you’re letting me steer remember? It wouldn’t be very nice to go back on your word now, would it?” 

You almost told him to hell with it, screw his hypothesis. You foresaw yourself flipping the two of you over so you could take exactly what you wanted from him whether he liked it or not. But then you felt his mouth dance over the thin cloth separating your wet heat from his soft lips, and the fight evaporated from you as the tip of his finger slipped under the fabric and tugged it away gently. 

This damned tie would be the death of you— you’d never wanted to look at someone this badly. The urge to snatch it off was intense. 

Sebastian trailed his fingers around your sex, the teasing touches working you into a frenzy as he took his time toying with you. His other arm came up to press down on your hips, preventing any unwanted jerking or bucking on your part. You were completely at Sebastian’s mercy, your mouth hanging open in a silent plea. 

When his lips closed around your swollen clit, you kicked your head back with a cacophony of sounds. Your cries seemed to fuel Sebastian as he kissed and licked at your center with reckless abandon. The feeling of your muscles tensing beneath him— because of him— drove him wild with lust. The arm bracing your hips pressed down harder as he probed your entrance with his tongue, and there was no stopping the drawn out moan you released at the feeling. 

As you fell apart before him, Sebastian drank in the sight. Your cheeks were flushed with desire, chest heaving with the sharp gasps and pants that fell from your lips. He could see the hair along your arms standing on end, and your kiss-swollen lips mouthed a slew of words that never came out. 

He knew then he was addicted to you. There would be no stopping what was to come after this. 

Quickly, and rather mercifully you might add, Sebastian replaced his tongue with one of his slender fingers, curling it upwards. It reached far deeper than before, the feeling making your toes curl. Letting your head tip back so hit the back of the lounge with a thunk, you heard and felt Sebastian chuckle against you. Taking your relaxed posture as a good sign, he pumped his finger a few times before tentatively adding a second. The stretch was uncomfortable at first, but with his skilled mouth making quick work of you, the discomfort vanished. 

“F-Fuck Sebastian, I can’t much longer, I’m— fuck—“ he silenced you with his tongue, never lessening his attention against your center as he felt you progressively get tighter around his fingers. The grip he had on you would surely leave bruises, but the thought of Sebastian’s marks lingering on your naked body pushed you clean over the edge. 

With a cry of ecstasy you came around Sebastian’s fingers, the stars dancing in your eyes blinding against the steady darkness of his tie. He held you through your orgasm, relishing in each tiny twitch that slipped through your limb body. His mouth stayed on you, overstimulating you until you found the strength to palm at his shoulder. 

He broke away with a wicked strand of saliva dangling between the two of you. The sight sent another bolt of arousal through him, his neglected cock straining against his trousers. 

A few beats passed, the only sound in the Undercroft that of your ragged breathing. Sebastian finally released your waist and scaled the lounge, caging you between the cushions and himself. Cupping your jaw he brought your lips to his, and the taste of yourself on his mouth had you sighing into the kiss. You felt like putty as Sebastian’s warm hands roused you from your post coital state. His tongue delved deep into your mouth, exploring and tasting every inch he could as he lightly pet your hair back. 

Breaking apart took an eternity, but at some point Sebastian opted to get on with things and stepped away from the lounge. You wanted to protest, but then you heard the metal buckle of his belt clink in a way that told you more was yet to come. The muffled sound of clothing being shed had heat pooling in your gut once again. Your knees pressed together instinctually. 

Watching you fall apart was as magnificent as Sebastian had always imagined it would be. Better, even. Seeing your body overcome with pleasure had imbued him with a sense of self-fulfillment that he only wanted to expand upon. Recalling your trembling legs on either side of him, your nails digging into the cushions of the lounge, and your unruly hair tumbling all around you; it only made Sebastian want you that much more. 

“So fucking perfect,” he murmured, and you whimpered.

In a split second Sebastian was ravaging you once again. You gasped as he curled those strong arms under your hips and yanked you down so you were flush with his achingly hard cock. Fuck, did you want to see him. The sheer size of him felt intimidating, his thick shaft pulsing with obvious desire against you, and you heard him groan at the feeling. 

You were positive his hands left scorch marks along your thighs as he gripped them, willing himself to maintain his composure and not slam into you all at once. An inherent, primitive part of him demanded that he fill you, mark you, claim you, all for himself.

On cue you wriggled in Sebastian’s grip, and your slick rubbing against the sensitive head of his cock was all the go ahead he needed. 

Despite his baser urges, Sebastian moved slowly as he aligned himself. He teased along your entrance a few times, committing your stuttered breathing to memory, before gingerly pressing the head into your tight heat. 

“F-Fuck darling, you feel incredible,” he breathed the quiet praises along the smooth skin of your leg, leaving a chaste kiss there before inching his cock in deeper. “Feels amazing.”

The intrusion felt so right in a million different ways. You could barely keep one thought in your mind before twelve more came and replaced it. At this angle you could feel every part of Sebastian sheathed inside of you. His fingers were nothing compared to his cock; it filled you in all the right places, rubbing tantalizingly along your sweet spot as he pulled out nearly all the way, and plunged back in. 

“Fuck! S-Sebastian, you’re so big—“ his hips snapping against yours dragged a cry from your throat, and your hands fisted uselessly against the cushions beneath you. 

Sebastian took note as he set a steady rhythm, grinding his balls against your ass with each rough pass of his cock. He released his hold on your leg, letting it fall against the seat as he gathered your wrists in one hand before pinning them against the back of the lounge. 

You were spread wide for him like this, with your hands restrained above your head and both legs knocked to the side. Sebastian’s free hand came to fist in your hair, tugging your head to the side to lick a wet stripe up the flushed column of your neck. He bit and sucked at the skin there, the sensation of teeth and his tongue laving over the bites too much for your fried brain. 

When he released your hair, you momentarily missed the sting of his grip before you felt the pad of his thumb press down on your clit. 

You didn’t even know what the hell you were saying. Words were definitely falling from your lips but aside from Sebastian’s name and a flurry of curses and moans, the rest got lost in translation. It was too much— without your eyes to take in the scene, your other senses were working in overdrive. Your sweat slick skin prickled, and you felt a shock pass between your and Sebastian’s conjoined hands above you. His grunts and shouts of your name pushed you closer to that familiar coiling in your gut. 

“Please please please— Sebastian I need to see you, please let me look at you. I can’t much longer— fuck—“

You heard an animalistic growl reverberate from deep in Sebastian’s chest before you felt him let go of your wrists and tug his tie over your head. The sight that greeted you was nothing short of sinful, as far as you were concerned. 

Gone was the lanky, boyish-cute Slytherin who you’d first met in your fifth-year. Sebastian was wholly a man now. His broad shoulders were well defined from years of dueling, and the muscles along his back were rippling with each concentrated thrust of his hips. The taut stomach you could now see made your mouth water, your fingers itching to trail down that patch of hair that led to where you were connected. His dark stare was trained solely on you, watching how you reacted as he drank in the hazy, fucked out look in your eyes. You reached for him then, and Sebastian let his fingers intertwine with your own before he shifted so you were flat across the lounge with his delicious weight pressed against your core. 

He began to move faster then, the force of his cock ramming into you causing you to slide up the lounge until your head bumped the arm rest and he was fucking noisy cries of his name right out of you. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, your second orgasm being dragged out of you, and you frantically began rutting back with the slightest give you were allowed. 

“More darling?” Sebastian sputtered out a broken moan in your ear, “You want more?” 

“Yes! Yes yes, please Sebastian please, give me everything— fuck—“

With a rough growl, Sebastian was pulling out of you entirely, leaving you whimpering and mewling your displeasure before his hands were back on your waist. You were boneless and completely at his mercy as he dragged you back down the lounge, looping one of his strong arms under your back so you were arched towards him as he rammed his cock back into you, not even pausing to draw breath before he was fucking you straight through the surface, brutal in how rough he was pounding into you but fuck— if it isn’t exactly what you needed. 

Your spine rounded further off the lounge as you flung your head back and wailed for Sebastian, your nails coming up to claw at his back and over his shoulders then down his arms, leaving angry red stripes in their wake. Your voice was so much needier, so much raspier than Sebastian ever remembered hearing it. As he thrusted into you with reckless abandon, his free hand trailing up your chest and gripping your throat again, squeezing just hard enough to pull you on to his cock with more force, and when your eyes flew open with a choked gasp, he saw the red sparks crackling behind the irises. 

When you finally came, you screamed, long and loud, and Sebastian knew better than to stop now, so he picked up his pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he chased his own. It didn’t take him much longer, the tight heat of your pulsing cunt more than enough to send him spiraling over the edge with you. 

Sebastian came with a grunt, the tempo of his hips faltering before he ground his cock deep within you and you felt him empty inside. The final sensation brought you higher than you ever thought possible, and through your closed eyelids you saw flashes of red all around you. 

Sebastian opened his bleary eyes and was greeted by one hell of a sight— you were glowing. Literally. Red sparks of lightning seemed to dance over your entire body, fizzling out at the top of your head and the tips of your fingers and toes. You were so caught up in the euphoria of your come down that you barely noticed Sebastian had stopped moving until you felt his hand on your cheek. 

You cracked an eye open at him, the blissfully fucked out look on your face overshadowed entirely by the unique coloring to your eyes. They were glowing red, too. 

“Holy fuck,” Sebastian whispered, his voice gravelly. His eyes were unblinking as they roamed your naked body, taking in the sight of Isidora’s power slipping out around you both, charging the air and tickling his skin in the areas you were still connected. 

You realized it then too, raising your hand to your face in time to watch the bolts of magic recede back beneath your skin. The residual glow behind your eyes faded, leaving a calm silence in its wake. Your head felt clear, the constant buzzing you’d grown accustomed to nowhere to be found. When Sebastian took your hand in his you found yourself searching his expression for any signs of fear or repulsion at your unintentional revelation. 

Instead you simply saw pure adoration. 

“That was incredible,” he practically purred as he pulled out, and you instantly missed the feeling of being filled by him. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.” 

Despite your better judgment, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious that he had seen anything at all. You pushed yourself up, drawing your knees to your chest to wrap your arms around yourself protectively. 

“It’s not incredible,” you murmured. “It’s unfortunate. It’s a terrible reminder that I should have left well enough alone. I’m a freak.” 

“Hey,” his hands were so gentle, so at odds with the rough nature they had exhibited not even five minutes earlier. “Don’t say that, please. You’re not a freak. You did exactly what you thought was right– if you hadn’t we would all probably be dead right now. But if it’s any consolation, I meant the sex was incredible. Not that you glowing wasn’t incredible too– I mean, you’ve always been beautiful. The magic just gave you a little extra flare.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his reassurances. Of course Sebastian of all people would find something positive to say about the unknown, ancient magic that thrummed in your veins. 

He let his hands drift from your shoulders to cup your cheeks, pulling your half hidden face out of your knees to kiss you deeply. The action said everything words couldn’t, and you found yourself leaning further into his touch, chasing the warmth that you so desperately craved. 

After a few languid moments Sebastian asked, “How do you feel?” 

You knew what he meant. “Better. A lot better, actually. Usually it feels like there’s something… sentient at the back of my mind. It’s always there, but not now. It’s quiet.” 

That trademark grin of his appeared in a flash, and you knew then that you had fortuitously inflated his ego. “So you’d say my hypothesis was valid? Does that mean this can be considered a treatment method in the future?” 

A bark of laughter escaped you as you reached up to swat his shoulder. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sallow. Some things have to be earned.”

Sebastian leaned forward to kiss you again, the feeling of his lips on yours chasing away any lingering doubts or concerns. Maybe your magic would worsen. Maybe it really would change you entirely if you gave it enough time. But until that day came, so long as you had Sebastian with you, the thought didn’t seem quite as scary. Perhaps with him by your side, you could find an alternative and right the wrongs of the past. 

Only time would be able to tell. 

[ravenelyx]

Strained - Ominis Gaunt

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Fem!Reader

Word count: 0.97k

Warnings: Fluff, headaches, Ominis is worried and cute

Summary: Exams have taken a toll on you and your health - especially your eyes. Thankfully, Ominis is there to take care of you.

A/N: I've been suffering headaches for a week because of exams, so here I am - indulging.

Masterlist

You can find the full fanfic on ao3 as well :)

Sebastian's version

"Love? Are you alright?"

The two of them had been lounging together in the Undercroft for the last hour. She laid on the ground, her head on his lap as he gently ran a hand through her hair and let his fingertips drift on her face, imprinting her in his memories like he did every day.

That was until she squinted her eyes and squeezed them shut, wincing slightly.

"Headache," she simply replied, for what felt like the millionth time that week. His heart dropped in concern.

"Don't you think it's time to pay a visit to Nurse Blainey?" He asked and pressed his thumb on the centre of her forehead, between her eyebrows, to rub soothing circles.

"I'll be fine. I'm used to them," she replied. That only heightened his worry.

"I don't want you to be in pain, love. Please promise me you'll pay her a visit," he sighed, his tone pretendedly calm and collected, although she knew it was only a façade.

He glided a hand on her scalp, gently massaging her head.

"I just need an analgesic, is all," she sighed, leaning her head further into his lap.

"You've been taking an awful lot of medication lately, all because of these headaches. I'm sure the nurse will see to it and decide the best route to take. Why won't you–"

"There's nothing to worry about Ominis, it's just my eyes," she interrupted, slurring her words a bit as drowsiness gradually overcame her body at his gentle ministrations.

He stopped in his tracks, his hand stilling as he took in her words, and she groaned in displeasure.

"Y-Your eyes? Are you—? Did something happen to your eyes?" He asked, now even more worried as his fingers slowly found her eyelids. "Are you losing your sight?"

She looked up at him and gave him a small smile, and he felt her cheekbones bump the side of his palm as she did so.

"No, love, I just…" She sighed again, taking his hand in hers and placing a kiss on his knuckles. "I've been studying a lot lately for our exams, you know, and I think I've been straining my eyes quite a bit."

He nodded in understanding, his chest a little lighter, but he still felt that same dejection, learning that she had been in pain for the last week.

"You need to rest, love. Close your eyes," he whispered, resuming his massage on her scalp and forehead. "So what do you feel when it happens?"

She hummed, letting her head fall back on his thighs. "They simply get very dry, and it's hard for me to keep them open. The light hurts, and before I know it, I feel the back of my eyes hurting."

"Ah," he nodded again, his hands slow and steady and he attempted to soothe her pain. He didn't know what it was like to feel pain in his eyes because of straining, but he tried to imagine it. He recalled the time when Marvolo poked his eyelids with his wand as a mockery for his blindness, and the pain he felt back then, and he shivered. If that was what she was feeling, then he would not have her suffer like that.

"Come on, I'll take you to the Hospital Wing," he said earnestly, ceasing his movements and motioning for her to stand up.

"I don't need that, Ominis, I simply need a pain-relieving potion or pill and I'll be fine," she said quietly. The relaxing atmosphere had brought her to a slumber, and despite her nerves burning, she felt the pain slowly wash away as her eyes rested.

"I won't take no for an answer."

She exhaled softly and let her eyelids flutter open, wincing at the light of the torches around her. As she stood up, she felt the pain come back like a boulder falling on her retinas. She sighed and ignored it, standing up and feeling that familiar sense of nausea she grew accustomed to.

"Let's go, then."

She followed Ominis as he zealously guided her through the corridors, her eyes falling shut every once in a while when the lights were too bright or the chattering around them too loud.

As expected, Nurse Blainey scolded her for being careless with her health, and gave her a Pain-soothing Potion, just as she had previously told the blond.

"You need glasses, Miss," the Nurse said curtly, before leaving the room and muttering under her breath.

"Glasses? You have never told me you had an eye condition," Ominis said, quirking up a brow, silently demanding an explanation. She sighed again.

"I've had myopia for a while, and it can't be cured with magic for some reason. I just… My glasses make my eyes hurt even more, so I don't wear them," she shrugged, hoping he would drop the subject. He didn't.

"Perhaps you need to switch your prescription, or buy new lenses that fit your eyes," he said gently, taking her hand in his again. "You can't carry on like this and be in pain everyday. I hate seeing you unwell."

She nodded, "okay," and rested her head on the pillow of her hospital bed. The blond sat on the chair next to it and began caressing her hand soothingly.

"Next time we go to London, we will pay a visit to a muggle eye doctor. And don't protest," he added as he heard her breath hitch as if about to answer him. She bit her lip.

"As you wish. If it makes you feel better or…" She squeezed his hand slightly, "...less worried."

"It does," he then gave her a fond smile. "You'll be well again in no time."

They stayed like this for a while, with Ominis caressing her hand and massaging her temples as she drifted off to sleep, finally relieved of her pain.

[starchaser5]

Would you still love me if I was a worm?

Ao3 version

Jegulus microfic | Words:474

It all started with a stupid question made by his stupid brother about his stupid boyfriend. Sometimes it appalled Regulus how much people can be stupid.

He didn't think much of it, sure James's pout was adorable and his whines about deserving to be loved even as a worm endearing, but it was an exchange easily forgettable for Regulus.

That, until he entered the Gryffindor common room. ( Knowing the password thanks to his boyfriend. )

"Sirius, can you tell James to hurry up? I promised to help him in potion" Regulus barely glanced at Sirius.

"I don't think Prongs can study as of now Reggie" his brother tone was definitely sarcastic which made Regulus look at him with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius put his hands upward towards Regulus and smirked, he was holding a little worm, "Say hi to James!"

Regulus was stunned for a moment, but quickly rolled his eyes, not believing his brother. He couldn't have been so stupid to transfigure James into a worm and James couldn't have went along with it...right?

So Regulus did the most reasonable thing and searched the Gryffindor tower for James, then looked at his brother.

"You didn't really transfigure James...did you Sirius?" 

"Yes! Look at him! He is so cute and tiny" 

Regulus was shocked. "Turn him back right now!" 

Sirius grinned, "Not until you admit you love him even as a worm" 

"Sirius..." Regulus voice had a warning in it. 

"Reggie" 

Regulus sighed "Fine, I do love him even as a worm, please turn him back" his voice had a pleading tone which he immediately despised.

"Sure, but at least pet him a bit!" In the rush to get to Regulus, Sirius stumbled, dropped the worm and accidentally stomped on him, definitely killing the poor worm.

"Uh oh..." Sirius says with a concerned expression.

"Uh oh?" Regulus voice is nothing like Sirius has ever heard. Its scared, terrified even and Regulus eyes...they lost all the life they had, becoming full of sorrow. It's like Sirius stomped and killed his very soul.

"It's a prank! It's a prank! He wasn't supposed to kill it." Regulus barely registers the voice, fixed on looking at the dead worm on the floor, but he does see James taking off the invisible cloak and looking panicked while trying to explain himself.

As soon as Regulus regains himself and internally checks that he is not having a heart attack, he growls "Sirius".

"You better run mate" is all James says.

As soon as Regulus sprints for him, Sirius screeches and runs to the dormitory, Regulus is about to follow him when he stops and looks at James, that is enjoying his best mate's probably murder with an amused look, icily.

"You're not getting even a kiss from me for the next two months".

James's amused look vanished immediately.

[lipstickghoulie]

Crimson Plots

•Astarion/female Tav (lots and lots of menstrual and blood talk, period oral, period sex, dirty talk, Astarion being manipulative since this is set around act one, PIV, creampie. Over 5k words. Could be seen as a sequel to my “Loss of Innocence” drabble or not. Version with breeding kink is available on my ao3)•

The first time that Astarion had sniffed out that Tav was on her menstrual cycle was the same night that they made camp after their rather tumultuous initial impression. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, beyond being moody since it was clear that she was on the tail end of it since the smell was so faint as to be nearly imperceptible even to Astarion’s nose. He knew that, even as charming as he could be under the right circumstances, there was no possible way that he could see himself talking his silver tongued self into her pants before the time had passed for him to try such a rare treat… especially since he had been holding a dagger against her neck earlier that day. His luck, or lack thereof at the time, had made him even more broody even though it was doubtful that he would have gone against Cazador’s edicts that early on.

Cazador’s rules about not drinking from thinking creatures, unfortunately, had extended to women on their periods. The few spawn that had been willing to test how serious that their master had been about that warning were found out very quickly and been made into violent, stomach-turning examples that still made Astarion shudder to think about to this day. How exactly the bastard had known that those unlucky spawn had indulged on the fine red between someone’s legs was anyone’s guess and not something that Astarion had felt wasn’t worth his time to poke the boundaries of personally when he was already frequently on Cazador’s shit list in those days anyhow. Why add more tortures and indignities on the pile?

But a few weeks later, Astarion was still a free man and away from Cazador’s rules and compulsions. He had already fed on Tav’s lovely neck and nothing had happened. He had finagled himself into her bed and hopefully her loyalties. Things were definitely looking up for him… and he began realizing that this chance might come up again with him having full opportunity to lap at a different source of her blood. Why not break this rule too? He liked eating pussy, especially Tav’s sweet pussy, so he couldn’t stop thinking about how much more delicious it might be while juicy with her sanguine fluids.

Some might uncharitably call what Astarion started doing as scheming. The fact that in the days leading up to when he guessed that her period might be starting, he became a lot more amenable to Tav’s do-gooding inclinations. That he had a placidly encouraging smile on his face instead of his typical scowl when she glanced at him after helping some pathetic and downtrodden soul for free, that he would give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder (even if half-hearted) instead of crossing his arms over his chest at the thought of Tav assisting these people who didn’t deserve her generosity. She didn’t seem to catch on that he might be up to something and merely seemed grateful to not deal with any pushback on her decision making. Some people would definitely call what he was attempting as plotting when he started squirreling away the choicest food supplies when they would be looting all of those thousands of tedious barrels and wooden trunks during their adventures. A cinnamon roll here, a shiny apple there… all tucked away into Astarion’s pack for him to kindly present to her later with a tender smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

When she responded with a huge hug and watery, appreciative smile that seemed a bit too emotional for the gift of simple snacks, Astarion could barely hide his grin. She seemed hormonal, even her scent changing into something headier and muskier, and hopefully that meant that his desired goal wasn’t too far off.

And when the next day came around and he could catch a whiff of blood coming from Tav’s tent after they started making camp for the night? The smile on his face was definitely predatory and sharp. Astarion ducked into his own tent just to grab a fluffy towel, that he had nicked for this express purpose the last time that they had traded with a merchant, before sauntering over to her own canvas enclosure.

He almost felt bad when he lifted up her tent flap without greeting her first and walked right into Tav getting changed, her nudity on full display. Every soft curve of her physique, every enticing muscle, all calling to him as she yelped Astarion’s name in shock at the intrusion.

“Sorry, my love,” Astarion said immediately, though his inflection spelled out that he was anything but sorry and was, in fact, enjoying the view. The iron rich, cloying scent of blood was even stronger in here and it was enough for his mouth to feel parched in sheer, reeling want. Hells, if that’s what her moon’s blood smelt like, it must taste even better than he had been imagining. “I caught the scent of blood and I thought that I should come check on you, make sure that you aren’t injured?”

Tav winced, both in embarrassment and in pain, touching a spot on her lower stomach as she seemed to prioritize that over trying to be modest over her bare frame. She paused before stuttering out quietly, “Ah, uh, no. I’m not hurt. I mean, not really. It’s my… period? And while I have cramps, I’m not, like, dying or anything…”

She stopped talking and chewed on her bottom lip, face pinking in humiliation. Tav was so adorable in his eyes right now. So bashful over normal bodily functions and clearly having no idea that this was practically catnip to a vampire.

Astarion stalked forward, giving her his most sympathetic pout and sheepdogging her over to where her simple and plain bedroll lay sprawled out. He murmured, “Oh, pet, that is so unfortunate. I really hate to see you in pain like this. If you’d permit me to, I could help you out, chase those mean old cramps right away? I have heard that pleasure can make them subside for a while.”

The towel was already being unfurled in his hands and laid out over her bedroll to protect it from any messes that may occur. Astarion was nothing if not benevolent about spilled blood. Tav blinked at him a few times in confusion but didn’t protest as he took her shoulders in his hold and delicately guided her down to sit on the protective layer of cotton.

“You mean… like sex? I thought that men didn’t like doing that when women were in this state,” Tav squeaked out, puzzled and blushing even harder at his offer. “I would hate it if you were disgusted by me after this, Astarion.”

Obviously he meant to do a lot more than sex but as always, Tav’s naivety was so twee.

Astarion crooned, nearly sugary in tone, “I could never be disgusted by you, dear Tav. I want to do this and I’d love to help you out. Consider it a favor between lovers. But only if you want to, of course.”

That last part was one that he actually could say that he meant. Astarion might have been a tad grumpy if she said no but he’d accept it with no ill will. But how he hoped that she’d say yes and he knelt in front of her in anticipation, unable to stop his heated gaze from flicking over the apex where legs met and where all of her tempting sanguine offerings pooled where he couldn’t quite see yet.

There was a beat of silence, then two, then Tav nodded and laid back a little. Her movements seemed unsure but it was more out of self consciousness than reluctance to let him do this, which was good enough for him. Astarion hastily pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it into the corner of her tent to recover later. It wouldn’t do to stain it when they both knew already that he was already a messy eater when it came to only her neck. With a beaming and victorious grin, he tapped her knees apart so he could survey his prize.

She was even more jawdroppingly stunning than he thought she’d be, with her center tearing up with the most impressive red drops, like rubies calling to him and glimmering under the light. Some of her blood hued darker in some areas, almost black, and he couldn’t wait to test out if the difference in color meant a difference in flavor. Astarion scooted closer until he was close enough for his breath to ghost over her responsive folds and cool the liquid there, making Tav shiver.

His tongue chased the thick river of blood up her upper thigh, clearing a path up her skin that revealed a cute little vein in her flesh. Astarion immediately nipped at with his sharp teeth, unable to resist marking somewhere that he knew he would return to later, like a reminder to himself. Tav’s moan broke off in an admonishing shriek of surprise, though it quieted when Astarion soothed the bite with another long, lingering lick and batted his eyelashes at her contritely from his spot between her legs.

Gods, he knew that he should be careful. With the metallic and deliciously bright pop of her monthly blood coating his tastebuds, it was getting harder and harder to pretend that he was doing this solely for Tav’s benefit and simply doing her a favor that she would have to repay to him at a later time. All she’d have to do is look below the waist and she would catch on to how Astarion’s straining erection pushed at the front of his breeches and begged for relief, precum dotting the dark fabric in a way that he couldn’t ever remember happening before. Normally his arousal was not dripping down the length of his dick as if it was crying with want at the mere thought of being buried in a tight, needy hole.

“Is this helping at all, pet?” Astarion asked in a carefully put-together tone of concern. He was just trying so hard to help her out, after all. “Or do you need a bit… more?”

And without waiting for an answer, just to give Tav a small taste of what he was offering while he received a taste of his own in return, Astarion made confident eye contact with her as he slowly dragged the tip of his tongue up the frills of her clit.

The way that Tav moaned out his name was more beautiful than any song he’s ever heard, more of a masterwork than the best blade forged by the most skilled of blacksmiths. The breathless and shocked undertone was something extra that made his dick twitch against the fabric prison of his pants. Thankfully he had been too eager when plotting out this excursion and had foregone his usual underwear so that was one less barrier. Resigned now that he needed to free himself, Astarion hastily reached down and unlaced the front, finally letting his cock spring free with a sigh of relief. It leaked a few stray drops of clear precum onto the towel underneath them but with how Tav was already starting to paint it crimson as she dripped under his steady attention, he wasn’t too worried about her noticing.

Astarion sweetly pressed a kiss against her clit. Tav tried to jerk away instinctively, her knee almost knocking Astarion in the cheek as her leg reared out. His hands shot back up to grasp her by the upper thighs and firmly hold her open for both his eyes and mouth to devour at his leisure. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more delicious sight as Tav trembling, eyes wide and pupils dilated, as he spread her apart to admire the way her arousal and blood mixed together and drenched her lower lips and down the curves of her ass.

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t it feel good? Aren’t I helping your pretty pussy feel so loved?” Astarion asked innocently, his thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of her thighs as he stared up at her from his kneeling position. “It would be rude to stop me now before I’ve even gotten enough of a taste to satiate me, you know…”

“P-please continue, I just got startled-“ Poor Tav stammered out, cheeks turning an adorable shade of bright pink that made Astarion want to make her even more flustered, just to see how far down that blush might travel.

Astarion was already leaning forward to deliver another mockery of a chaste kiss to her swollen clit. Though he couldn’t resist flicking his tongue out before he pulled back this time to trace the pearl slowly, making sure that some of his saliva drooled out past his smiling fangs to coat it until it was glistening. Oh, it really felt right to him for her to be coated or filled with Astarion’s spit and cum. As much as he was using her for his own purposes, he really did love marking Tav up as his in any form that he could. A traitorous part of his mind slithered and snickered and pointed out how awfully obsessive he was over a woman that he was just using, but Astarion ignored that voice in the back of his head as well as he ever did… if a bit uneasily.

Enough playing with his food. Tav was turned on enough that she was pliable, distracted and surely wouldn’t notice how much fun that Astarion was having. He would prime the pump, so to speak, and then have the sweetest meal that he could ever look forward to. One of his hands fell off of their holding position on her leg to slip between her folds, two fingers sliding right into her slippery, inviting core. Even with how sensitive that Tav probably was right now, he met no resistance so after a few unhurried pumps into her, he added another finger.

Tav’s cunt struggled to take the width of three fingers but much like she did with his cock usually, the greedy slit still stretched and sucked his fingers in wetly. Astarion never forgot in moments like this that he was the only one to ever touch her like this, the only one to ever defile her holes and fuck her, and pride swelled inside of him at the thought. He would make damn sure that he remained the only one to ever possess her so completely too, if he was able to continue using his cunning to stay in her good graces like this even after the illithid threat was taken care of.

Her hands reached out desperately, trying to grab onto Astarion’s forearms so wildly that she nicked him with her nails, her voice shaking and high pitched as he worked at her with his wicked fingers, “A-Astarion, that feels so nice, please…”

“Aw, I know, I know, you poor thing,” Astarion tutted in false sympathy, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head; I’ll take such good care of you and make those pesky cramps go away.”

Tav’s crimson liquid was drenching Astarion’s hands, a mixture of it and her juices running down the planes of his palm and wrist by now. The metallic and animalistic scent of sex and blood was so heavy in the air that Astarion could feel his mouth watering. He knew he’d have blood packed deep under his fingernails after this for days and normally, the thought of anything messing up his perfectly manicured nails would have infuriated him but now? The idea of seeing the reminder of this delightful excursion even while putting a dagger into an enemy’s spine during battle was very appealing indeed.

On the next come-hither movement into her pussy, Astarion’s fingertips glanced upon that spongy section that made her twitch and keen out his name again. He couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips as he immediately pressed forward harder, increasing his speed between words as he crowed out triumphantly, “Right there, darling? Show me just how great it feels when I touch… you… right… there… my good girl.”

Astarion had made thousands upon thousands of people come before; he had it down to a precise science what he could do to make someone, anyone, lose their composure in minutes. But it never had felt like this before as Tav’s walls squeezed around his fingers and she found her climax. He usually never felt anything at all but with her, he felt smug, excited, hungry… he tried his best to chalk it up to being starving and surrounded by blood even as that small voice deep in his brain laughed at him.

Tav didn’t even have a moment to catch her breath before Astarion was spreading her open again and descending on her. He had delayed his gratification as much as he was willing to now, he wasn’t a patient man and he had been practically saintly in the restraint that he had shown tonight (at least in Astarion’s opinion). He took a few testing licks of the leaking trails of Tav’s cum and life force mixed and gods above and below, it was a good thing that he wasn’t standing otherwise his knees would have buckled and he would have crumpled like someone being released from a ‘hold person’ spell.

Her blood was always the best that he had ever supped and that went beyond simple-minded sentimentality at how she had been the first thinking and humanoid creature that he had fed from. It made him feel more awake, almost alive, in addition to tasting like the most bubbly and effervescent (if metallic) wine he had ever enjoyed. It tasted even better right now though and while Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because it was coming from her pussy or because of her orgasm, all that he knew was that he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then caught a clot of blood on the flat of his tongue, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment as he swallowed thickly. It slid down his throat like some sort of exotic jellied syrup and he knew in that moment that the time for teasing was over. Any former illusion that he had of restraint was gone and as dead as he was.

Astarion’s mouth dove to seal over her as he moved now to bully as much of his tongue into her as possible. Her voice seemed far away now, partially because of her thighs trying to push themselves closed around his ears, though that just added to the pleasure for him as her soft skin rubbed against the erogenous points of his ears. Thankfully she seemed to still be very much into this if the garbled cries of “yes” and “Astarion” were any indication. Though the way that her hole clenched and kindly produced more liquid of both arousal and the crimson variety was definitely another sign that Tav did not want him to stop. Not that Astarion was sure that he could, not when he felt drunk on her, addicted past all logical reasoning and rationality, his tongue pistoning into her like something more machine than vampire, his grip desperately trying to pull her closer as her blood ran down his chin and neck like juices being let loose from a freshly bitten peach.

After these dreadful business with the Absolutist cult and everything else was done and dusted, Astarion decided (rather deliriously), that he would have Tav tied up and spread open for his feasting pleasures during her monthly menstruations every month for the rest of their lives. Just a perfect treat, helpless to the ravages of his mouth as he drank his fill of her until his stomach was full and she was limp and mindless from countless orgasms. She was rather squirmy right now so he thought she might even thank him next time if he restrained her and licked at her while he placed her on his face to sit on it. Why not take advantage of how Astarion didn’t need to breathe? Yes, this seemed like a fine plan to him, even if he was normally adverse to planning things out at all.

This was a fantastic position too though, with Tav on her back and Astarion looming over her, even if her hands had become too weak to grab at him further and just clutched at the towel still doing its best to absorb any falling bodily fluids underneath her sweaty frame. Astarion already knew that he would spirit that towel away later under the guise of being helpful and trying to help launder it. Really, it would end up disappearing into his tent for him to hold up against his nose and inhale during the times that he would jerk himself off to this memory, to let the lingering traces of Tav’s fluids guide his mind back to this place mentally when he was alone.

Astarion nudged his nose into the swollen ridge of Tav’s clit on the next thrust of his tongue into her and unexpectedly, that was enough to make her cum again. She whimpered this time instead of wailing as his mouth was rewarded with a gush of sticky, aroused blood. Astarion had enough volume for both of them though as he groaned so loudly into her cunt that he was sure that his tongue vibrated where it was happily trapped within her spasming, gummy walls. His precum was dribbling off of his erection in persistent streams now, even wetting his heavy and wanting balls, and he truly knew that if he didn’t bury his dick deeply and thoroughly into her soon, he would go mad beyond help. She had bewitched him with the tang of her gifted blood and now his brain swirled with nothing but thoughts of Tav, of owning and taking and ravishing her in every position possible (and some that probably weren’t, anatomy-wise).

Almost regretfully, Astarion backed up slightly and let his tongue free from her wonderful cunt, taking one last lap of enjoyment at a cheeky river of blood that had escaped his notice. Tav was starting to sit up, giving him a dopey and grateful smile as she said, “Oh, Astarion, I already feel so much better, my cramps feel like they’re nearly gone, thank you!”

“We’re not done yet,” Astarion growled darkly, pushing Tav back down with an impatient hand shoving between her perky breasts until she flopped onto the bedroll bonelessly. Any pretense of amused condescension and helpfulness was gone as if it had never been there at all, he no longer cared if she thought he was doing her a kindly favor now. He did briefly soothe her shock by running the same fingers that had returned Tav to her laying down position over her stiffened nipples, pulling on them until they ached and her spine arched. She had the cutest tits, Astarion mused to himself almost fondly. He would enjoy spraying his cum over them one day, covering those sensitive nipples with white pearls, if he could ever convince himself to blow his load somewhere other than her welcoming holes.

He couldn’t wait any longer to fuck her though. Astarion yanked off his pants the rest of the way, uncaring as he heard stitches come undone in complaint at the brusque way that he got disrobed. He could always repair any rips later, he reasoned, but he didn’t want to waste any more precious seconds instead of being balls-deep in Tav’s eager and weeping slit. Grabbing the damp base of his dick, Astarion lined himself up with her hole and stuffed himself inside in one brutal motion. Tav cried out, mouth slack and cheeks still so adorably flushed, but didn’t protest at his rough treatment even though she had to be overstimulated by now. Fuck, her pussy was even hotter than normal with it being heated further by both her production of menstrual blood and his amorous attentions and Astarion had to shut his eyes for a moment and just exhale for fear that he’d go over the edge in one embarrassingly short thrust.

“You are so perfect, every time,” Astarion said lowly, giving an experimental push of his cock and smirking when he was reassured that he wouldn’t cum right away. “I could spend the rest of my unlife attempting to stretch out this little cunt and never tire of it.”

“Astarion, you can’t keep talking to me like that, it’s too much,” Tav complained, voice simultaneously pleading with him to stop and to keep going. Poor darling didn’t know what she wanted, Astarion thought to himself, entertained. It’s a good thing that he knew exactly what her body needed.

“Oh, it’s too much? It’s too much for me to tell you how I love how needy and desperate that you are for me and only me? How I love how gorgeous that your pussy looks when it’s trying to fit around my cock?” Astarion purred out, smirking, manhandling her a bit to tilt her hips up just a touch and go back to his former position of holding them open as securely as if his hands were iron manacles. His bruising grasp left stains of her own blood behind on one of her thighs as a pointed reminder of how he had fingered her open and bathed his hand in the generous bounty that the very center of her had offered him.

Tav only cried out shrilly in response and when he felt her flutter all around him, Astarion lost interest in bantering at her much more anyways. Pussy this fantastic, this divine, was surely how Strahd met his downfall, Astarion thought to himself, crazed as he watched blood bubble and well up in the crevice between them as he fucked her. The notion didn’t deter him even a little though as he picked up speed, his hips a blur as he pounded his dick into Tav again and again. He knew she would be feeling this for days to come, struggling to sit down and even walk on their trek to the crèche, and that made a strangled, lustful whine erupt from his throat. He was humiliating himself now with how he was practically drooling as he took her, his hair messy from her thighs ruffling up his typically styled curls, at how shaky his pants of exhaled breath were. To distract her from how much she was driving him to ruin, Astarion looped her legs loosely over the juts of his hips and dragged his hands up her arms until they intertwined with hers.

This wasn’t something he usually did either; holding hands during sex. It felt oddly right, here with Tav, though. Their noses bumping against each other as he lay almost prone on top of her, driving his cock into her with mindless abandon as their eyes locked desperately, as if they could connect with more than just the tadpoles in their skulls, fingers entangled with hers even as one of his was still wet with her blood and desire. Astarion leaned forward and gave her a hesitant kiss for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, unsure if she would be turned off by the remnants of the drying bodily liquids there either but no. She met his kiss as openly and without reservation as when she would ask him for a kiss anywhere else and it made something pinch in his chest where his heart lived.

A few more frenzied thrusts and Tav was grabbing his fingers just as tightly as her pussy clutched at his cock, her eyes wide and surprised as she came yet again. This was the time that pulled him along with her, unable to resist any longer and unwilling to stave off his own pleasure for even a minute further. He could feel his length pulsing seemingly for ages as his hips slowed, spilling what felt like an ocean of semen into her until it spurted out around the sides of his dick. As he delicately started to pull out, it wet her pussy lips so well that Astarion longed to lap at them again and gather up their combined essences in his mouth and experience how they tasted together. He could tell by how disheveled and cock drunk that Tav looked that she was too overstimulated for that right now so he just resolved to try it next time, chuckling at the idea. Instead, he gathered up some of the escaping white strings of his cum, swirled beautifully in some spots by the ruby color of her blood, and pushed it steadily back into her puffy, slick hole where it belonged. She mewled at the sensation on her sore walls but let him do it, too exhausted and fucked out to do much than give Astarion an exasperated look.

He settled back in over her and tucked the top of her head under his chin, rolling them both slightly so then they could both lay on their side comfortably. Astarion couldn’t help but be amazed at how happy he felt in this moment. His vampiric hunger wasn’t completely gone (as it probably never would be as long as he remained a spawn) but it was placated enough to just be a tiny rumble instead of the ravenous, quavering earthquake that it usually was. Even as messy, blood-sticky and cum-tacky as they both were, Astarion felt content and peaceful.

Tav’s voice was small and drowsy as she murmured against his neck, “Thank you for all of that, Astarion. It feels like my cramps are gone completely, you were so right.”

Oh. Yes. He had nearly forgotten that had been his ruse for doing this in the first place.

“Well, I usually am right about most things, darling,” Astarion sniffed haughtily, pulling her in closer against his side as he basked in her warmth and grateful adoration. “Maybe we should make this a frequent occurrence whenever your period comes to visit. I do hate to see you suffer so…”

Tav muttered her agreement and nuzzled further into him peacefully. Astarion smiled and allowed himself to close his eyes and enjoy the snuggling. He had earned it, being so selfless and helping her out so thoroughly… Astarion couldn’t get through the thought without chuckling. Still, he had manipulated his way into what he wanted yet again, he had Tav at his side and devoted and what more could he want than that?

[ghulehunknown]

Mistletoe’d: Papa Emeritus III x F Reader

“Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (coming soon!)

**WARNING - NSFW CONTENT - MDNI**

Summary: After the Ministry Christmas party, you join Terzo in his bedchamber for some festive activities.

CW/Tags: characters drinking alcohol, established relationship, clothed female nude male, blowjob, penetrative sex (P in V), condom use, cunnilingus, face-sitting, face fucking

Word Count: 4381

Available on AO3! Primo | Secondo | Terzo | Copia

Author’s Note: This is the third day of the four-part series XXXmas at the Ministry, a collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat, @molly-ghuleh, and @bupia - please read their works too!

Happy Hornidays! ❄️

xoxo, the Naughty Ghulehs 💋

Primo | Secondo | Copia

A HUGE thank you to AlexandrMcQueer on Twitter for the accompanying artwork! Check out the full NSFW version on her account.

Tonight was finally the night of the annual Ministry Christmas party, and Christmas Eve. Papa needed your help to pull everything off, so all week you were scheduling with the bakers, the cooks, the cleaning crew, and decorating.

But after this evening, you could relax. Well, aside from tending to Papa’s needs and making sure the ghouls didn’t get too soused that it ruined their unholiday in the morning. But after the party, you could enjoy the festivities.

Everyone began milling about and socializing in the main hall, picking at the large charcuterie spread and ladling punch or eggnog into glasses. It looked like everyone from the Clergy was there. Even Imperator and Nihil showed up, though they did not seem too sociable, seating themselves at a table in the corner. Primo immediately sat himself in one of the few chairs scattered around the hall with a large mug of something warm.

Suddenly the ghouls began whooping and you turned your head to see Terzo enter in a lavish looking Santa suit - it was made of crushed red velour with flecks of red sparkles and appeared to be trimmed with white feathers.

“Nice suit, Terzo,” you quipped, eyeing him up and down as he approached you.

“That’s Papa Claus to you, principessa,” he said with a snarky grin and giving you a smooch on the lips. “And you’re Santa’s little helper.”

That you were. He’d ordered you the shortest green elf dress, although the skirt was more like a tulle tutu. The outfit was a whole ensemble, complete with an elf hat with ears, pointy shoes with bells on the end, and candy cane patterned tights. You felt ridiculous, but ’tis the season.

Everyone was in their best holiday attire - anything from ugly Christmas sweaters to formal wear. The ghouls were all dressed in elf costumes, with the exception of Dew, who was dressed as Rudolph - an antler headband fitted over his mask and a red nose strapped to the front of his mask.

Cardinal Copia was wearing an old Saint Nick red and gold cloak over his red cassock, and a poorly made attachable white beard. Secondo was dressed in an all black 3 piece suit that had a subtle fleur de lis pattern, and was chatting with one of Primo’s ghouls.

The night went on, and you were actually managing to have fun. The ghouls turned one of the snack tables into a flip cup station (much to your dismay as you shuffled the catering staff carrying fresh trays of food back into the kitchen) and several of the Siblings started Christmas karaoke, with a very drunk-looking Copia taking the lead.

Terzo flitted between you and the rest of the guests, chatting with various Clergy members (and skillfully dodging Imperator each time). He snuck up behind you, squeezing your ass.

“Make sure these old fucks are having fun, eh?” he said lowly in your ear, nodding backwards to the senior members of the Clergy.

“And just how am I supposed to do that?” you said, one eyebrow raised, his hand still under your skirt.

He winked at you, handing you a bottle of opened bourbon before cupping your ass cheek in his hand and rubbing it. “We’ll cheers soon, then I can have you all to myself.” He leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

He clapped you on the ass then darted between people again. “Everybody - eggnog!” he shouted towards the crowd, raising his arms up. He was herding everyone to the center. You thought you might die on the spot from your cheeks burning red, but everyone was paying attention to him - thank Satan.

As everyone poured themselves another glass and gathered, you went around and splashed a bit of bourbon in everyone’s cup.

“Some bourbon for your eggnog, Cardinal?” you asked Copia, approaching him with the bottle.

“Eh, none for me,” he said, hiccuping and covering his glass. “It’s strong enough as it is! I’ve had th-three already.”

“It’s nonalcoholic, Cardinal,” you responded, blinking at him. He looked puzzled and walked away.

You made your way over to Primo who was almost snoozing in his chair. “Papa Primo?” you asked, holding the bottle out, gesturing towards his half empty mug. You weren’t sure if he was dressed like Scrooge on purpose or if those were just his pajamas but he mumbled something that sounded like “Bah,” and shook his head swiftly, the tassel at the end of his nightcap swinging around.

Everyone was standing in a semicircle around Terzo, who for once seemed just slightly lost for words. “Well, uh - shit,” he began, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. “I do not know what else to say, other than it’s been a fucking great year. We had two fantastic tours, and we’ll be continuing into next year… I, eh - met someone very dear.” He glanced at you briefly before continuing. “We won a motherfucking Grammy…!”

The ghouls whooped and cheered while the Siblings and other Clergy members clapped. You glanced over in the corner. Even Imperator seemed pleased - maybe.

“Sì, sì it has been phenomenal. You should all be very pleased with yourselves. So pleased in fact I think you should all celebrate, in eh, whatever means you choose to do. And if I do not see you all before the New Year, have an unblessed holiday. Now, we toast! Tomorrow morning we will celebrate our Savior’s birth. But for tonight, we sin.” He held up his glass and the others did the same. “To Lucifer!”

“To Lucifer,” you said, chiming in with a chorus of voices. You swallowed your bourbon-eggnog concoction - mostly bourbon by your heavy hand, you found as you winced slightly, the liquor burning down your throat. You didn’t drink much and this was your first holiday gathering at the Ministry. Next month would mark your first full year here, and the first time you laid eyes upon him - your Terzo.

“Eh, see you next year, Papa!” piped up Copia, still hiccuping as he nodded and ducked out of the crowd. You smiled at the Cardinal’s little joke. Terzo stopped in his tracks for just a moment and acknowledged Copia before walking away.

He rolled his eyes as he walked towards you then his face brightened. “Hello,” he said, standing very close to you.

“Hi, Papa,” you said, smiling at him and holding up the last bit of bourbon, swishing it in the bottle. “Saved the last for you.”

“Mmm,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “How much? I need to keep my stamina for later.”

You took a swig and shuddered - Satanas, you still couldn’t drink straight liquor. “Not much now.” He chuckled at you and took the bottle from your hand, knocking back the rest. You coughed a couple of times and reached for some party punch, completely forgetting the one you reached for also had alcohol and coughed again.

He patted you soothingly on the back and asked, “Are you okay, tesorina?”

You nodded, finally grabbing the nonalcoholic punch and chugging some.

“Will Papa have to take care of his little elf this evening?” he said, trailing the back of his index finger over your cheek.

“No, Papa,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ve barely had anything.”

“Good. I have a surprise for you tonight, amore.”

“Hm. Any hint?” you asked coyly.

“Not a fucking clue. Come to my room in five minutes just as you are.” He picked up a handful of hard candies from the snack table and popped a few in his mouth, staring at you while walking backwards a few paces before turning around and heading down the hall.

You continued to mingle with the other Siblings, trying hard to conceal your blushing cheeks but to no avail.

“Someone’s excited about something,” one said.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured.

“Come on - spill!”

“Well, Terzo and I -”

“Terzo?” said another.

“Oooooh!” the others said in a singsong tone almost in unison.

“He said he has a surprise for me, in his room.”

“So you graduated from office visits to home visits now?” asked the first Sibling, looking impressed.

“Well…I’ve seen his bedroom a few times,” you said, not willing to divulge the full truth just yet. You’d been spending most of your nights in his room and sneaking back into the Siblings’ quarters early in the morning. Even though each Sibling had their own room, you knew your Sisters would hear the door to the suite open.

“I think this is the most serious he’s been with anyone,” said the second Sibling. “I’ve been here a few years and usually he’s done with his fling after two months. But you’ve stuck around.” You shook your head, not willing to believe this hype only to be let down. You just wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what you had with Terzo. “You should go - you don’t want to keep him waiting.”

You smiled and bid your fellow Siblings goodbye as they all made lewd gestures to imitate various sex acts and waved you off, wishing you luck.

You walked down the silent and dark corridors, passing ghouls and Siblings alike shrouded in the shadows to have their midnight dalliances, no doubt egged on by the holiday cheer and the alcohol. You smiled, thinking about not having to hide in a hallway like when you first started dating him. Now you had his entire bedroom to have your sultry romps.

You opened his door and walked into his Papal suite, the familiar lush decor and smell of mahogany filling your senses. You passed by the small and elegantly decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace. You wondered just what his surprise might be when you saw him propped up against the wall, a rose in his mouth and —

What was that?

He was dressed in his Santa jacket and hat, with nothing else on - save one thing. Your eyes trailed along his upper body then snapped to what was in between his legs. On the end of his throbbing hard cock was some mistletoe, tied around his shaft by a red ribbon and a little gold bell below it. He waggled his eyebrows and at the same time isolated his pelvic muscles to make his cock bob up and down, tinkling the bell.

“How long have you just been standing there all hard waiting for me?”

His face fell momentarily and he took the rose out of his mouth. “I thought you would like it.”

“I do!” you said, suppressing laughter as best as you could while stepping towards him. You held onto the lapels of his jacket and leaned in. “I do.” He smiled again, a smug look of satisfaction washing over him.

“Good,” he said, handing you the rose. “Because you’re going to get stuffed and glazed just like Secondo’s honey ham.”

You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “But I don’t think it’ll be quite as delicious as you, amore.”

“It should be. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple for this.”

“Really? Then I’ll have to taste it for myself,” you said, feeling the heat pool at your core.

He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue in. You weren’t sure where to place your hands so you held onto the rose with one hand, the other in his hair. He swiftly brought you closer to him, his quivering cock poking at your thigh under your tulle skirt.

“Mm!” you said, surprised at feeling his hardness brush against you.

“Well,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “It’s not going to kiss itself, tesoro.” He twitched his cock again, making it bob up and down and wagged his hips side to side, making it shake the other direction and sounding the bell.

You eyed him slyly as you bent down, gently falling to your knees before him and placing the rose on the floor. You took his cock in your hand and began stroking his length, eyeing the perfect pink tip at the end. Each time you stroked him, the bell would chime.

“Oh cazzo,” he sighed, leaning his head back, his lips parted.

You flicked the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock and watched his abdominal muscles contract. He was like putty in your hands.

“You like that, amore?” you asked teasingly, his shaft in your palm.

He glared at you from the corner of his eye. “Stai zitto,” he said through moans as you continued to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. But you could swear you saw a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he said this.

You closed your eyes as you took his entire length in your mouth, sliding him in and out and clutching onto his hips. The little leaves on the mistletoe tickled your nose each time the bottom of his cock reached your lips.

Clink! Clink! went the bell each time you slid him in and out of your mouth.

He started to whimper and moan quietly, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand was on the back of your head, gripping your hair tighter the faster you went. At one point he began thrusting into your mouth, probably no longer able to contain himself.

Clink! Clink! ClinkClinkClinkClinkCLINKCLINK

“Mmm!” you mumbled around his cock as the greenery around his member assaulted your face over and over, scratching your nose and cheeks a little bit each time. CLINK.

Your eyes welled with tears as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. CLINK. At this point you were hardly doing any work, just kneeling there and being used as a vessel. CLINKCLINK

“Satanas you’re going to make me cum like that,” he panted as he continued pushing his hips into your face.

You smiled around him - well as best as you could - and brought him closer by gripping his ass cheeks.

“Ah - cazzo!” he exclaimed, suddenly pulling out of your mouth and panting.

“Terzo?” you asked, trying to look up but you were unable to as his hand remained on your head as he used you to prop himself up and regain composure.

“I can’t cum too soon and ruin the evening, no?” he said, standing up straight and helping you up off the floor. “Not when I haven’t even taken care of you.”

You kissed his laughter lines around his mouth as he spoke, his Papal makeup smudged from your kisses earlier. “You always take such good care of me.”

He turned to face you and held you in an embrace, kissing you passionately again, his hands roaming all over your body. He began to massage your breasts through your costume, building the arousal between your legs even more. Your breathing quickened as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck this fucking blouse,” he said breathlessly, breaking away and tearing at the front of your green cardigan, the buttons flying across his floor - eliciting a ‘Shit!’ from you. “Mmm!” he mumbled, kissing you again, pawing at your chest.

He fumbled around your back at your bra clasp, unhooking it after a couple of tries. You urgently slid the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the floor. He bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it and sucking. He alternated, pinching the other one between his fingers.

“Oh Terzo,” you sighed, running your hands through his hair, fiddling with the silver strands peppering his raven hair. He’d never admit to it, but you saw the box dye left on his bathroom counter.

Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, alleviating some of the need to touch yourself. You felt your heart race and a shiver run down your spine.

“Fuck me, please Papa,” you sighed, breath trembling.

“Mm?” he said, glancing up at you between your breasts with a glint in his eyes. He kissed all over your chest, up your neck and finally, your lips. “Is la mia principessa ready for her Papa to fuck her brains out, hm?”

“Yes Papa, please,” you said, still in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me.”

He nodded his head towards the bathroom and glanced over. “Go get a condom and meet me in bed. I’ll get the lube.”

“Why are there none in our nightstand drawer?”

“‘Our?’”

“Shit. You know what I meant.”

He grinned. “Ti stai dimenticando? We used them all last night and I didn’t have time to take some more out.”

Slightly embarrassed at your gaffe, you made your way into the bathroom and started opening drawers. “Where did you put the box?”

“Bottom drawer!” he called out.

Did he think differently of you now? Would he think you were too presumptuous and want to call the whole thing off? Or potentially, were you just overthinking things as usual? “Found it! Oh fuck, shit!”

“Sorella?” He sounded concerned and rushed over to find you on your hands and knees kneeling near the toilet.

“Almost got it!” You had dropped the roll of condom wrappers behind the toilet and had wedged yourself between it and the vanity. “Help me, Terzo!”

“Ah, I see now,” he said slyly. “Call for me in a panic just so you can entrap me.”

“What? Terzo, no, I really do need help, I drop- ”

“Sì, I can help,” he said, kneeling down behind you, his cock right up against your ass.

“It’s just, argh!”

“Argh!” he imitated you, running his hands all along your body.

“It’s right there I can’t - reach - !”

“Has anyone told you how sexy you look with your ass in the air in candy cane tights?”

You rolled your eyes but you knew he couldn’t see. “Er, no - um, thank you. But I dropped the condoms behind the toilet.”

He craned his neck to see. “Ah. This is quite the pickle we are in. You with your hand behind the toilet and your ass against my cock.”

“No, I believe it’s your cock against my ass.”

“What am I to do, tesorina? What should a Papa do when finding his lover in a compromising position, hm?” He leaned down and trailed kisses along your back, momentarily freezing your arm from the continued search of the condoms.

“Fuck…” you whispered, feeling his mouth move further south and his hands finding their way around your waist.

“What’s that, bella? You think Papa should fuck you? You called me in such a panic earlier that I did not bring the lube…mmm, what should we do?” he said, kissing you just above your ass. “Is la mia principessa ready?”

Your body ached with desire. You needed him inside you. He trailed his finger along your tights-covered behind, poking around where your entrance was. “Darling, I think your tights are just a little wet. Let’s see just how wet you are inside.” He gripped the fabric and you heard it ripping apart.

You let out a surprised gasp as the chill air hit your warm, now exposed nether regions. He entered you with a finger and your body shuddered against him as you whimpered quietly.

“Oh yes,” he said in an amused tone. “You are very ready.” He slid out and up to your clit, playing with it gently as you moaned and rocked your body back and forth to feel the friction against his fingers. “So responsive. Una così brava ragazza.”

“Please, Papa,” you said under your accelerated breath. “Please fuck me.”

“Don’t worry amore,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the sleeve of condoms that you were having trouble getting just moments before. “I will.” He tore off one and ripped it open.

You readjusted yourself on the tile floor so you wouldn’t bang your head against the toilet or the side of the vanity as you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and the clinking of the little bell still attached to his dick.

“Oh FUCK!” you both said in unison as he entered you. He slammed into your dripping cunt with such ease, you felt him bottom out immediately. The tingle of the mistletoe against your clit heightened the sensation.

Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! In and out, in and out. You both moaned each other’s names in pure, unadulterated passion.

“Ah - merda Sorella, you turn me into a teenager again. Fucking on the floor out of sheer desperation for one another.” Now he was so deep inside you the bell muffled against your body. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.

“So - mmm! - you’re d-desperate for me?” you said teasingly against the cold tile.

“La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca.” With that he fucked into you so hard, so fast, you couldn’t say another word. He pushed your head against the floor roughly, your cheek pressed against the cool marble so hard you could feel the grout indent. He nearly knocked the breath out of you as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time, a relentless grip on the back of your head.

“Ohhh - !” you moaned as he rammed into you over and over. CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK. He was thrusting faster, riding out his orgasm, his nails digging deeper into your hips.

“Fuck - I’m going to - cum - Sorella - !” He pounded into you, tapering off his speed as he came, his cock twitching a final time before he slumped over your back, breathing heavily.

“Satanas,” he breathed, his chest heaving wildly as he pulled out, your body shuddering under him at the loss. You heard the snap of latex and the condom hitting the trash can liner.

You turned around and sat down, leaning against the toilet. You watched him untie the mistletoe and take it off, tossing it aside. “So how was it, with that?” you asked, nodding towards the discarded plant.

“Honestly? It was a little itchy. It might just be a novelty.” He tossed himself on his back against the floor. He looked at you, his chest still rising and falling from being out of breath. “How was it for you?”

“Honestly? It was a little itchy,” you repeated. You both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Come here Sorella, I did not intend to leave you wanting. Hop onto Santa’s lap.”

You crawled over to him and straddled his lap, gazing into his eyes.

“What do you want this year for being such a good little girl?” He asked, caressing your arms and looking at your breasts before flicking his eyes up into yours.

“I want…endless kisses…and a mind-blowing orgasm,” you said, leaning down to kiss him.

He returned the smooch. “Mm, I did not know a present for you would also be a present for me. Come closer and sit on Santa’s face…that’s it, Satanas yes please.”

You moved up his body until you were straddling his face, then delicately lowered your body on him, doing your best to move your skirt out of the way.

He sputtered, spitting out the tulle from his mouth and pulling your hips towards his face again. He batted at the layers of fabric, cursing in Italian, before finding your cunt.

Your eyelids flitted closed as your lips parted in a silent “oh.” He took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it between his lips. He alternated between that and flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. You looked down to gaze in his eyes but his face was completely hidden under a green tutu.

You began to buck your hips against his face as he used the flat of his tongue, building up the friction and feeling yourself closing in on orgasm. He switched up and deepened the suction on your clit, flicking his tongue against you simultaneously.

“Oh fuck Terzo - fuck, I’m so close!” You rocked back and forth as you pinched your nipples, heightening the sensation.

His fingernails dug into your hips again as he sped up his ministrations. Grabbing ahold of your waist, he slid you along his mouth faster and faster.

“Oh, Terzo!” you cried out in ecstasy, trembling on your knees above him as you came hard and fast in his mouth. He didn’t let up the motions or the intensity until you pulled away, giggling from the overstimulation. You climbed off of him and sat down next to him, both smiling at one another.

“How are you feeling? Good?” he asked, stroking your thigh.

You nodded your head. “Yes, very. But can I lay down next time? I’ve been on my knees an awful long time.” You both laughed.

“There’s Papa’s little hoe hoe hoe,” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course, amore mio. Anything for you.”

You held onto his hand, playfully caressing all his fingers. “It’s been a very good Christmas so far,” you remarked.

“Mmm. And you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”

“There’s more?”

“What, you thought this was it? No Sorella, go look under the tree.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you stood up, legs still a little shaky. You walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

You hadn’t noticed the presents under the tree earlier, but there were a few. A lot, actually. Somehow even your gifts for him were under there. One of the ghouls or housekeeping staff must have moved them for you.

One caught your attention - a gold envelope poking out from the middle branches of the tree. You reached inside the tree, accidentally sending the package spilling onto the floor. Two plane tickets splayed out on the floor.

You picked them up in wonder - your name was at the top of one, and his on the other. You walked in a daze over to him.

“You did not truly think I would leave you with just my cock for Christmas, did you?” he said, following you out of the bathroom and now leaning against the wall. “I love you, principessa. I call you princess because to me you are. My sweet little thing. I want to give you the world, my world…would Italy be a good start?”

You flung your arms around him, tears in your eyes. “Yes, Terzo. I think that will be an amazing start.”

[Stay tuned for a continuation of this story!]

Italian to English Translations

(la mia) principessa ((my) princess)

tesorina (little treasure/darling)

amore (mio) ((my) love)

cazzo (fuck)

Stai zitto (Shut up)

Ti stai dimenticando? (Are you forgetting?)

Sorella (Sister/nun)

bella (beautiful)

Una così brava ragazza. (Such a good girl.)

merda (shit)

La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca. (My little devil girl thinks she’s so smart, eh? It’s time you shut your mouth.)

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