#ford x female reader

[laurfilijames]

The Devil You Know

Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Ford Lampton x female reader

Words: 4,141

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Unprotected intercourse. Swearing.

Summary: While enjoying a quiet morning with Ford, unexpected guests arrive and interrupt your domestic bliss, making you question his innocence and your safety again, and soon you find yourself giving in to how you really feel about him.

A/N: Nothing to say really, just constant Ford Lampton brain rot 🥴

---

He smells of me. The fresh scent of citrus from my body wash mixes with the smell of his warm skin as well as the remnants of the sex we had; our sweat combining to lure me into desire once more as I breathe him in.

He’s become mine; my liability, my lover, a risk I want to take again and again.

He snores softly as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I find myself for yet another time questioning how someone looking like this, so innocent and at peace, and who makes me feel what I do, could be capable of such horrors.

As my worries get the better of me, I lean closer into him, and he automatically drapes his heavy arm over my waist. I feel safe with him in this tender moment, even though part of me might believe it’s him I should be fearing. I vine my arms around his thick torso, tucking my face into his neck, seeking and finding contentment in the most unsuspecting source. His skin is hot and comforting, familiar to me now after the amount of times my lips and fingers have tasted and felt it, and I know despite everything that could come of this, I will crave him when I can’t have him.

Later, my tired body wakes up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and I stretch my aching limbs only to feel the other half of my bed that had been occupied for so many hours is vacant.

"Ford?" I call out in a voice that is raspy from sleep, although only him and I know that the hoarseness lacing it is actually from my endless cries of pleasure.

With light steps, I tip-toe my way to the kitchen to find the reason behind the smile that dresses my swollen lips, and keep quiet for a moment to admire what is before me.

Ford appears right at home in my kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards as if he knows exactly where everything is kept, busy putting the finishing touches on two mugs of coffee. His senses must be sharper than I expect, because although I was certain I hadn't made a sound, he glances over his bare shoulder at me and flashes me a warm smile.

"Ah, I was hoping to surprise you in bed," he admits, making my own smile grow and my thighs rub together as I take notice of the way his track pants hug the outline of his cock.

I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck, scratching my nails up his short hair so it causes him to place the coffees back down on the counter and clasp his hands on my waist.

His lips crash against mine as he pulls me flush against him, and I moan into his mouth when I feel the growing hardness between his legs press against my exposed flesh.

"Have I told you how much I like having you here?" I coo, feeling lost in this false sense of domestic bliss, the yearning we both feel to play 'house' together and ignore the reality of everything else outweighing my gut instincts.

Ford chuckles against my lips as he continues where we left off, deepening each kiss until I am clutching and grabbing at his back and he's leaning me against the counter top while spreading my legs apart with his thigh.

A commanding knock pounds on my front door, making me jump while Ford looks at me quizzically.

"Just a minute!" I call loudly enough that hopefully whoever is there grows patient, but as I quickly cross back over to my room to grab something to cover my naked body, the knocks come louder and more frequent.

I finish tying the strap of my robe tight on my waist as I open the door, my frustration at their rude insistence disappearing the moment my brain registers who the two people wearing dark coloured suits and serious expressions are.

"Officers," I stumble out, feeling my pulse quicken and a nervous worry flipping in my stomach as my shaking hands work to make sure I'm not exposing myself to them.

"Detective Da Silva and Detective Bennett," the female speaks in a cold tone, her eyes boring into me while her partner obviously glances behind me to get a look at my house.

"How can I help you, Detectives?"

"We're just here to ask some questions about your relations with Ford Lampton," Detective Da Silva says in a judgemental inflection, her eyebrow raised.

"Did I hear my name?" Ford asks, almost too joyfully, as he walks up behind me and puts the hand that isn't gripping my favourite coffee mug on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze that I'm unsure to take as a reassurance or warning.

"Mr. Lampton." Da Silva smiles smugly. "We were wanting to know your whereabouts over the last twenty-four hours. Seems things have been unusually quiet over at your brother's home and both Simon and Karen mentioned not seeing you."

"He's been here," I pipe up, doing everything in my power to steady my heart rate and even out my breathing.

Bennett and Da Silva give each other a look I know means they don't believe my statement that is half true, and in an effort to show confidence I open my mouth again.

"Would you care to come in for some coffee? Ford's just made some."

"No, that's fine, we won't be long."

She gazes at me as if the longer she holds eye contact, the faster I will crack, but with Ford's hand still sitting heavily on my shoulder I stay strong.

“When exactly did Mr. Lampton arrive here?"

"Yesterday evening, around 7," I lie. "Ford finished work and went for a run, ending up here. I made him dinner and he stayed the night."

Da Silva nods while Bennett scribbles in his notepad, and I offer a sweet smile as Ford places a loving kiss on my cheek; in thanks or as a ploy to aid our story I'm not sure.

"And you two have been having relations for how long?" Her index finger points from me to him and back again, making her demeanor come off more accusatory than it actually is.

"A couple weeks now, eh?" Ford answers, looking at me softly before giving the detective a dimpled grin.

"Right. Well, I think that's all for now," Da Silva says dryly, clearfly unsatisfied with the information she was just given. "Make sure you stay close, Ford," she warns, looking at him like she knows more than she's letting off. "We'll be needing to speak with you again."

Both detectives turn and walk down my front steps toward their car, leaving me stunned and Ford to move to close the door behind them.

I swallow thickly and rub my hand through my hair, the reality of what I've just done settling in on me. Even with my eyes closed I can feel Ford staring me down, and fearful of the look I'll see when I open them, I take a deep breath and exhale it through my mouth before doing so.

"Why would they come here, Ford?" I nearly spit, a wave of nausea flooding me as I begin to panic.

He dares to laugh as he looks down at his bare feet, tucking his lip between his teeth so his grin tilts crookedly, and my fear of him as well as what can happen to me for lying to the cops makes me feel paralyzed.

"Simon has done some bad things," he says quietly, taking a step toward me in a calm way that shouldn't feel as threatening as it does. "I know everything he's done and he's trying to pin it all on me."

He licks his lips as he looks me over, his eyes narrowing as he can see me working to try to believe him.

I suck in air and hold it in my lungs when he reaches up to cup my cheek, his thumb smoothing back and forth gently, and when he presses a kiss on my lips, I allow myself to breathe again as he makes me lose myself in him once more.

My eyes open when he breaks away from me enough that I can see how wonderfully blue his are, and his thumb slides down my face to land on my bottom lip where he applies enough pressure to pull my mouth open.

"I can't decide if I should reward you for being such a good girl, or punish you because you still don't believe me," he whispers, his dimples appearing in his cheeks as his grin matches the amused look in his eyes.

My heart hammers in my chest, sending a rush of pulsing blood down to my core when he continues explaining his wicked plans for me.

"I'll just have to do both," he promises, chuckling again as I moan and quiver to his touch as his fingers trail over my collarbone and begin to peel my robe from my skin. I curse myself for being so weak to his game, to wanting him so desperately despite knowing he is everything I should be running from.

His lips on my neck whisk that all away instantly, the way he is kissing and sucking my sensitive flesh tricking me into thinking he has my best interests at heart, that I am safe with him, that he loves me. The ache between my legs has caused me to become deluded and manipulated, a pawn in his game to be used as he pleases, and right now I can't think of anything better.

"I believe you, Ford," I breathe, saying it equally as much to convince myself.

His teeth nip at my neck and I gasp, clawing my nails into his broad shoulders as the slightly painful gesture sends goosebumps all over my skin and my arousal to spike even more.

"No you don't," he hisses, moving so I'm forced back against the wall, his hands planting themselves on either side of my head so I'm trapped between them and his strong body before me. "You might be half decent at lying to the cops, but I see right through you."

His eyes flicker from my parted lips that pant nervous breaths up to my eyes that I know show my fear, and deceiving me once again with a tenderness I'm still uncertain he actually possesses, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear while giving me a smile that makes butterflies explode in my stomach.

"Don't worry, I like you too much to let anything happen to you," he whispers, still looking at me sweetly. "And it's impossible for you to hide how much you like it when I hurt you a little."

He chuckles when he notices my pupils dilate and drives his thigh between my legs, nudging them apart as he forces himself on me, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss.

I whine against him, unable to disguise my arousal, and move my hips to grind on his thigh, knowing I'm staining his track pants with slick.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" he asks in a deliciously low, breathy tone, making my skin ache for more of his touch.

I shake my head side to side and move my face closer to him so my lips graze against his, hoping to tease him into kissing me more, harder, so he can steal my breath in a way I know I can get it back again.

I press my breasts out toward him, arching my back off the wall so my stiff nipples touch his skin through the curls on his chest, the divine sensation making me whine and rest my head against the support behind me.

Unable to handle how he has somehow refused to touch me, I snake my arms around his neck, scraping my nails through the short hairs on his scalp, down his neck to his shoulders, and slowly over his chest where I carefully follow the trail of auburn coils as they lead me below the band of his pants. I slip a needy hand in, smoothing it in a twisting motion over his already hard, velvety shaft, watching his eyes fall shut and his dimples flinch in his cheeks as he clenches his teeth.

I stroke him from base to tip and back again, repeating the routine that makes my mouth water every time my hand brushes against the dense, coarse hairs that surround his manhood, the heat coming from him matching my own.

My other hand slowly starts to tug at the waist of his joggers, my fingers creeping them down over the plump curve of his ass, and removing the hand that had been gripping his cock, I watch it spring out and bounce against his lower belly, sending me into an even more frenzied state.

"You want that don't you?" he purrs, smirking at me before he follows my gaze to watch as the head of his cock wags before my wet folds.

I spread my legs a little further, opening myself to him, my patience vanishing as a slightly pathetic feeling sets in at just how submissive I am to this man.

"How do you want it?"

"Hard."

I swallow thickly, closing my eyes as I hope he'll fulfill my wishes.

"Where do you want it?" he breathes, his voice deep with restraint. "Your mouth? Or buried in here?" he asks, driving two fingers inside me briefly before withdrawing them immediately. "Or do you want me to fuck that tight ass of yours again?"

He spoke in almost a growl, and my breath hitches at his lewd words, knowing without seeing him that he's enjoying the way my body reveals how much I revel in his suggestions.

"Everywhere."

I open my eyes when I hear him chuckle at my answer, the bright blue of his irises appearing even more vibrant with the presence of deep lust in them.

"Such a slut for me," he mutters, his mouth beside my ear where he tugs my lobe between his teeth, his cock pressing up against my folds where I shudder a reserved cry.

Ever the man to do as he pleases, Ford looks at me with a tender admission in his eyes before capturing my lips in a painfully slow kiss, his tongue probing against mine tentatively, his hands reaching to hold my face in a way a devoted lover would.

A whine that is half frustration and half relief pours from my mouth into his, my fingers clawing into his back to contrast how he is carefully smoothing my cheeks as if I might break under his touch.

Pushing my hips toward him, I rub against his engorged head, feeling the precum that oozes from it glide along my clit, the sensation only increasing my restlessness. My head falls back to thud against the wall, impatience for how insistent he is at taking his time with me growing by the second. It seems to only encourage him more, his lips trailing teasingly slow down my neck where his breath fans out over my skin as he inhales my scent and drinks it in.

"Ford…" I moan, unable to tolerate this treatment any longer, desperate for him to ruin me how he usually does.

He brings his mouth back up to mine, slipping his hand lazily down my waist to my hip until he reaches my thigh, and with a gentle squeeze, he prompts me to lift it to hook around his middle. He repeats the same with the other leg, his body supporting mine against the wall, firm enough to keep me steady, but still with a gentleness that goes against every way he's treated me up until now.

A needy moan blows from his mouth into mine as he finally pushes through my entrance, filling me inch by inch, his desire to savour each moment clear in his actions.

His hands leave my legs and wrap around my back, holding me against his body so tight as he begins to move his hips, his cock dragging slowly out, and pushing back in again, his kisses purposeful.

Soon, I'm equally as lost in him as he is in me, and the more I relax to the languid, loving motions, the more my body lets go of its fevered desires and listens to my heart drumming along to its deluded song.

Ford's tempo is unhurried, but each thrust is perfectly calculated to coax out my undoing, and it seems with each caress of my hands and lips on him that his emotions come barrelling through, leading him to a place it is clear he tried to ignore for so long.

I can't deny what I feel for him despite my best efforts not to, and the longer I'm left to my own devices, kissing and feeling his body with mine, the more I want to give him everything I know he's wanted and had to go without.

Continuing to melt into me, Ford deepens his pace, his mouth abandoning mine as it hangs open against my neck as he pants for breath, his guarded exterior fading quickly to reveal a side of him that makes me wonder if he actually does hold some version of love for me in his darkened, broken heart.

This thought alone sends me to a point of no return, and grinding on him up and down until I feel the heat dispersing from my core up my spine, making my limbs tingle and shake, I call his name as I collapse on his shoulder and chase my high.

"Ford!" I repeat, commanding him to fall with me.

Right as I am about to shatter, he pauses, delaying my climax that leaves me whining helplessly, planting me back against the wall so he can peel my head off of his sturdy frame and stare at me seriously.

That same uncertainty shifts in his eyes, his chest heaving against mine as he battles in his mind just as he has all the other times we've been together, and to help convince him to give in to what he feels, I reach up and smooth my fingers over his furrowed brow, watching his eyes close and sighing heavily.

I dare squeeze him within my walls, reminding him of what he hasn't permitted me yet, the sensation making him groan furiously and flex inside me.

When he opens his eyes again, any evidence of adoration is gone, and with a sharp thrust, he's buried within me completely again, reminding my body of the point of pleasure it was so cruelly abandoned at.

He pulls out of me, leaving me quivering and empty, and with forceful hands he removes my legs from around his waist, somehow expecting me to stand on uneasy feet.

Without the use of his words to give his order, Ford spins me around and pushes me against the wall, my hands splaying out over the plaster to stop my face from smacking into it.

My fingers grip at the texture, wishing it was his skin instead, trying to make purchase with something to ground me as he shoves his hand between my legs, fingering me from behind with two of his thick fingers, gliding in and out of my soppy channel until I'm crying with pleasure once more.

His chest flattens on my back, pressing me flush to the wall so I have nowhere to move, forcing me to turn my head to the side where my heated cheek begins to cool from the differing temperature of the drywall.

I feel his cock that is wet from me replace his hand, rubbing back and forth between my cheeks, hitting my entrance to tease me further. His hands grope my flesh, squeezing my hips and breasts in turn callously to demonstrate that any tenderness he was feeling toward me is officially gone.

Still, I moan to his touch, relishing in the way he handles me, craving more and more despite my dignity depleting with how terribly I enjoy his vulgar treatment of me.

Finally, his cock slams into me, making me gasp and slap the wall as his teeth bite at my neck and graze down the side of it. Goosebumps erupt over my entire body, and when his breath fans over the streak of wet skin he just created, I beg him in another plea with the use of his name.

"You need to stop this," he grunts, hammering into me in the same brutal way I've grown to love.

"Stop what?" I ask, my voice shaky from my climax quickly rebuilding to its full strength.

Continuing to pummel me, he remains quiet aside from his grunts of effort, and the lewd sounds coming from our bodies fills my otherwise silent house.

My nipples rub on the cold drywall, the roughness on my sensitive pebbles adding to the plethora of condemning stimulation, making me forget for a moment my curiosity in what Ford means. Sticking my ass out to meet each of his powerful thrusts, I feel my orgasm threaten me again with its presence, and as I clench in a tantalizing rhythm around his cock, I can feel him approaching his demise as well.

Turning my head to the other side in an effort to see his face, I glance over my shoulder, only to be slammed further into the wall, my cries of pleasure bordering on pain as he continues to fight with himself, and wrapping my hair around his hand, he tugs it harshly so my head tips even more and he can suck and bite at the spot where my pulse hammers.

"Stop what, Ford?" I repeat, my tone desperate in wanting an answer as well as relief from his endless, mind-numbing assault.

The way he handles me has me on the fringe of terrified, but if I'm honest, I'll let him handle me any way he sees fit and will beg for more when he's finished.

With a frustrated growl, he finally speaks, his voice teetering between anger and reserved emotion. "Making me feel what I do."

I smile victoriously, knowing exactly what it is he means, but selfishly, I want to hear him say it.

"What do you feel?"

He picks up his pace, ignoring my inquisition, choosing not to relent his vicious attack on my body that is eerily similar to the game of war our hearts and minds are playing with each other.

My mouth drags across the wall, hanging open as I give in to what my body needs, my spit smearing on the paint colour that is too innocent to have such an act taking place against it.

His tempo becomes erratic, and when he catches me smiling with lunacy derived from such intense pleasure, he slaps his hand against the wall beside my face, making me jump and somehow smile more right before I'm tossed into the torrent of rapture and scream through my high.

I drag Ford with me, feeling him stutter against my body as he pulses inside me until I'm full of his spend, his mouth hovering beside my ear so his unbridled growls resonate and eventually die out with the ripples of my climax.

He attaches his lips to my neck again, the sucking and nipping quickly fading into softer kisses, his belly rising and falling against my back as he works to catch his breath.

We remain how we are, basking in the togetherness until he slips out of me, and tipping my head back to lay on his shoulder, he wraps his arms around me and holds me closer.

I clench my teeth together, wanting to open my mouth to thank him, but knowing if I do, my tongue will let slip the one thing I've feared this whole time.

His thumbs smooth back and forth on my arm and my stomach, and his breathing that has now slowed to a calm, relaxing pattern tempts me further. With a kiss to my cheek, my bravery blooms.

I've already committed a crime, what do I have to lose now?

"I love you, Ford," I announce, confident in my folly.

My eyes close, waiting for whatever reaction might come, my admission making me feel free now as opposed to fearful, and I exhale a long breath while my fingers languidly stroke the hair covering his wrists as they stay bound around me.

I can feel his heartbeat striking against my back, and after another moment, Ford scoops me up in his arms and carries me to bed where I pray we can be left to indulge in our ignornance of reality.

---

Taglist: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband @feeweeeee @missihart23 @fortheloveofdurin @i-am-still-bb @roobear68 @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @legolasbadass @spngingerbread21

[rangerbarbz]

Please

Author’s Note: Man, I am a busy bee. I apologize for how little I’ve been writing. I never catch a break, but I am so thankful for y’all. I hope the summer is treating you well!!!

“Please”

Summary: Ford lets out his frustrations on reader after a continuously failing experiment

You laid flat on you and Ford’s shared bed, stomach against the quilt that covered the mattress. Ford was downstairs finishing up an experiment while you were reading a chapter in your new book. The rest of the Pines family were on a daycation out of town leaving you and Ford by yourselves. It was nice to have this private time to spend with him. 

You flipped to the next page and shifted the weight of your head onto your other hand. It was no telling when Ford would emerge from the basement to join you. He had been down there for an hour now. At least you thought he had; you were pretty engrossed in this novel so who knows? You had changed into a tank top and shorts to make sure when he did get done with whatever he was working on, you’d be ready to fall asleep in his arms. Or so you thought. 

You heard Ford’s boots stomping down the hallway, your head perking up at the sound. You closed the book and placed it on the bed before standing up to approach the doorway. 

“Ford?” you called. Just as soon as you reached the door frame, he was there. His silver hair was tousled and his eyes looked more weary than usual. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. He was wearing stained jeans and a taut, black t-shirt and smelled of his musky deodorant with a hint of moss. 

“Honey, are you okay?” you asked gently, letting him bury his face in your neck. His body was hunched over to make sure he was holding as much of you as possible. You rubbed your hands up and down his back soothingly as he started kissing your jawline.

Ford’s eyes met yours; they didn’t look tired anymore. They were fiery.

“I’m fine. It…It was just a hard day,” he explained quietly. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You placed your hand on his cheek, letting him lean into the palm of your hand. 

“No, sweetheart. Not now.” He began kissing your wrist. “I just want you, please.” His words were mumbled against your skin. You felt your face get hot as he continued kissing down your arm, his eyes blissfully closed. 

You cupped his face to make him meet your gaze. “Take me then,” you whispered. Ford groaned in appreciation, his strong hands covering the sides of your face. He was kissing you with such a force that was uncharacteristic for him. His tongue flicked your lower lip, begging for a taste of yours. You let him deepen the kiss by opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around his neck. He was frantic trying to touch every inch of you. 

Ford suddenly broke the kiss. “I’m sorry. I forgot I had these damn boots on. Let me take them off before we get too far.” You nodded, unable to form actual words. He then bent down to start unlacing his shoes. However, his mouth was focused on something else. He began planting kisses from your knee, lips inching up your thigh. You let out a soft gasp; your fingers carding through his hair. His stubble was teasing the satin skin that was close to where you wanted him most. 

He suddenly stood up to place his lips on yours again. They never left even as he flung his boots and socks off making you giggle. You felt him smile against you. One arm then supported your back while the other snaked around your waist. You were gently laid on the bed as Ford kissed you passionately. 

He then lifted himself up, centimeters away from your face to look at you. His eyes were locked onto yours. After what felt like hours under his gaze, he leaned down to your ear. “I love kissing you,” he said in a low voice. He dragged your earlobe through his teeth, and your body shivered at the contact. His lips continued their journey down your neck, small moans escaping your mouth. Your legs had wrapped themselves around his torso.

He grunted against your chest, pulling down your tank top to expose your nipples to the cold air. His eyes darted hungrily across your breasts before tracing your areolas with his hot tongue. A sharp contrast to the temperature of the room. You cried out, once again holding his head in your hands. His right hand crept upwards to your other breast as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. 

“Ford, please,” you breathed, grinding against him to gain some sort of friction against your throbbing core. He was incredibly hard and straining against the zipper of his blue jeans. He groaned and bit your nipple to tease you back. You yelped a bit, face growing red from the sound you made. Ford didn’t seem to notice. Or, if he did, he didn’t mind. His hands grazed your waist down to your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your soft flesh. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about this.” Ford pulled down your silky shorts to expose your dripping cunt to him. He tossed the article of clothing to the floor, his attention never leaving you. His hands drifted up the sides of your thighs, pressing them around his head. He blew cold air against your sensitive clit; his eyes locked onto yours to see your reaction. You yelped and threw your head back which made Ford chuckle. 

“You’re so sexy like this,” he grumbled against your inner thigh. He peppered kisses up your leg. The tip of his tongue teased your opening slowly.

You gasped. “F-Fuck.” 

Ford’s lips wrapped around your clit and swirled his tongue gently. He lifted your right leg, putting it over his shoulder to give him better access. His once calculated licking began to turn sloppy as he dove into you. He slipped his big hands underneath you to cup your ass and pull your cunt closer to his mouth. He moaned into you while your hips grinded against his face. 

Just when you thought you were going to burst, his tongue slipped out of you. He gave your swollen labia a kiss. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I want to feel you around my fingers,” Ford admitted. He adored fingering you. You were almost positive it had something to do with the fact he had been made fun of his entire life for his hands. The hands he was once so insecure about were now able to evoke such pleasure from you. It made him feel powerful. 

His thumb grazed your throbbing clit as he slid one finger into you. His breath hitched in his throat at the feeling of your warm, wet entrance. You cried out how he filled you up so easily. Your nails dug into his shoulders; his finger began to pump in and out of you. 

Ford’s cheeks were tinged pink. He became so flustered seeing you write underneath him. “Oh, God,” he whimpered. “You feel so good…So beautiful.” He began to pump faster to hear more of your sweet moans. 

“Ford,” you breathed out. “Please, I’m so close.” He moved his other hand to your upper back, carefully lifting you up. 

“I know, baby. I know. I got you. Just let go, honey. Let me feel you,” Ford cooed. Your body did exactly what he said. You felt shivers run over your entire body; your cunt pulsating around his fingers. He hugged you against him, still fingering you but slowly now. Your head fell into the crook of his neck. You were breathing heavily, riding out your orgasm. 

“There you go. Atta girl.” He kissed your temple. “Do you think you got one more in you, honey?” You leaned back and looked at him, a grin on your face and a glazed over look in your eyes. 

“You betcha, Dr. Pines.” He smiled devilishly at you before standing up to swiftly remove his shirt. His pants and boxers were soon to go. You bit your lip as you watched him undress. He had such broad shoulders, toned muscles, and a painfully erect cock. 

You rolled over, showing your ass off to him. You looked back at him to see his mouth slightly agape, admiring your curves. To him, you were the most entrancing thing he’d seen in all his years. He kneeled on the bed behind you, running his hands over your smooth back. 

He caressed your ass before parting your flesh to expose your cunt once again. He breathed deeply, his cock teasing your entrance. He let your slick coat his tip before sliding into you completely.

Ford groaned, his head tipping back and eyelids fluttering. You whined at how he stretched you out. It hurt so good. He moved his hips slowly at first, letting you get accustomed to him. 

“H-how does it feel, sweetheart?” he asked shakily. 

“Harder, Ford. Fuck, I want to feel more of you,” you replied quietly. Ford sighed and laid his body against your back. 

“Don’t say things like that if you want me to last, Y/N,” Ford growled into your ear. His thrusts became sporadic, a bead of sweat dripping down his face. His hands reached around to hold onto your breasts. You could feel the build up of another orgasm already. 

“Ford.” Your voice had squeaked from the intensity of his thrusts. Everything felt so good it was overwhelming. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“Inside.” Ford let out a guttural noise at that. You then began to feel his dick twitch and that familiar warmness spread inside you. One of his fingers sneakily moved down to your clit, applying just enough pressure to bring you to climax. You screamed his name and pulsated around him. Your body collapsed onto the bed. He rested beside you. He held you flush against his chest; your breaths became synced together. 

“Let me clean you up, hon,” Ford whispered. He stood up and walked to the bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth. “Roll over, sweetie.” You lazily flipped over with a grunt.

Ford giggled. “You’re so cute.” He started to clean up the evidence he had been there  from your inner thighs and folds. You gazed up at him lovingly. “There we go,” he said. “Good as new.” He placed the washcloth on the other side of him. 

He was smiling ear to ear down at you before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’m going to run us a bath.” He kissed you again. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” And you meant it with every cell in your body. 

[reareaotaku]

Teenage! Stan and Ford Pines Headcanons

I have conflicted feelings about this....

💸🎭 Your mother moved you both out to NJ after a nasty divorce with your father. It was something you saw coming a long time ago. You met Ford in your science class and immediately took a liking to him.

🎭 He liked you, because you shared an interest in science fiction and the supernatural. He never really felt understood by anyone besides his brother, so he felt relieved that he could talk to you and feel heard.

🎭 You were really interested in his 6 fingers. You had never met anyone with that many fingers and it intrigued you. You thought it was kind of badass.

💸 You met Stan outside of school when running an errand for your mother. You did not have a good interaction. In fact, he was quite rude to you. It wasn't your fault, you had just caught him at a really bad time. He had just gotten into it with his father and was trying to find a space safe he could let his anger out and you happened to be the target.

💸 When Stan saw you at school, a few weeks later, he decided to apologize to you. You didn't even realize him and Ford where twins- You wouldn't find that out until later. You weren't very open about his apology, but decided to accept because people have bad days.

💸 He wants to make it up to you, but isn't sure how. He finds out you're new to New Jersey, so he offers to show you around. You take up the offer, because you would like to know where to hang and stuff

💸 He takes you to a boxing ring to kind of show off. He's not good at it, but he's sneaky so he wins either way. You're not impressed, as boxing isn't something you're into, which disappoints Stan.

🎭 Ford slowly grows attached with you the more you hang out with each other. He finally feels understood and appreciates that you both share an interest in science/science fiction. He introduces you to books and his theories of the world. Loves sharing that with you

💸🎭 Ford invites you over for one of your projects and that's when you finally realize that Ford and Stan are related. You were surprised, but when seeing them together, you feel rather stupid. Ford kicks his brother out of their room when trying to work with you.

💸🎭 Ford is tired of hearing his brother talk about some girl. He finds it bothersome, because his brother doesn't know much about love. it's just some girl who will be gone in a week. Ford thought this until he heard Stan mention your name. When hearing your name, he's annoyed, because there no way his brother is good enough for you.

💸🎭 They won't fight each other over you, but will try and out due the other. They just want your attention, because they lack it from their family. They see you as a way out, because you're from a different family.

[thel0botom1zed]

THE ONE AND ONLY BILLFORD! MY FAVORITE SHIP SINCE I COULD REMEMBER!

[etclouie]

Do you think that you could do a drabble about the twd boys types? Or Alternatively if you don't like that one maybe what they like in people they date? Tyy -Anon

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 their type(s)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: age gap (negan), references to sex (shane), no bodily descriptions - just characteristics

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 includes; rick grimes, daryl dixon, negan smith, shane walsh, abraham ford, and glenn rhee

drabbles masterlist | main masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ rick - i think his type is someone with confidence, or someone who can match him. someone who is willing and confident enough to protect their family, is exactly where his heart lies. 

because in my opinion, when rick kinda loses his head, he doesn’t think straight so having a girl he can rely on to keep his family safe when he can’t is all he wants. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ daryl - someone he can be soft with is his type i feel. he’s always been an outsider, typically, and keeps to himself. so finding someone who he can let his walls down around is the best thing for him. 

personally, i think daryl loves being held. so finally finding a girl he can let his walls down around, and just let her hold him is all he truly wants in a girlfriend. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ negan - dare i say, younger girls. am i feeding into my own thoughts? maybe. however, i think it fuels some sort of power play he has and he revels off of it. 

the age difference gives him this dynamic of having power over his girlfriend and it gets to his head really. she has him wrapped around her finger, but he’s still in charge. wouldn’t have it any other way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ shane - i think his type would be somebody with the same sex drive, like sure a pretty face matters but it doesn’t bother him. he’s always horny and ready to go, so someone that matches his drive is perfect for him. 

obviously, he’s respectful if you don’t always feel the same level of horny as him, but someone that matches him is his ideal type.  

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ abraham - personally, i don’t think he has a set type, but he’s drawn towards loyal people. anyone who’s loyal has him hooked. 

after being so set on getting eugene to washington, and the loyalty he showed there, finding someone with the same willpower and being deadset just like him, i think that’s exactly what he looks for in a partner. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ glenn - a girl that’s kind, that’s all i think he looks for in a girlfriend. obviously with the fall of the world, kindness isn’t always something people show first or willingly, so having a girl that is kind regardless has his heart. 

even more so if she’s kind to kids, deep down i feel as if glenn has always wanted kids, so seeing the girl he wants being kind to kids clears any doubt in his mind. 

reblogs are highly apreciated !

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Maggie: I put the pun in punishment.

Abraham: I put the top in unstoppable.

Glenn: I put the cute in execute.

Rosita: I put the ass in class.

Y/N: Daryl put the D in me.

Daryl, swiftly walking away: I put the go in gone.

[timelessstardust99]

Except for you | ford pines & reader (platonic)

characters: Ford pines & the reader

summary: the reader had run away from Ford's watchful eye and hid in an abandoned shack after finding out he was gonna leave them behind in a dimension for her own safety, yet all she wanted to do was follow him, because he was her safe place.

This one shot (or a future story if y'all would like one) was inspired from TLOU Part 1, but it isn't gonna be word for word, just only bits and pieces like the abandoned shack and some dialogue I remember Ellie and Joel saying. Anyway, hope u like the one shot ^^

y/n sat on the window sill, her eyes looking out into the open and slightly broken dimension her companion and guardian dragged her into. It had many other creatures here, all refugees just like her before she ran into Ford. She scoffed at the thought of his name. He was supposed to protect her from the request of her mother, because of the attack on her planet and dimension. Bill had gotten there to destroy her world, he had no reason to, but he wanted to cause chaos. He liked chaos, and he wanted to watch the place burn. Ford had found herself and her mother huddled inside of a pocket inside of their home, and she had taken it up on herself to ask the man for help. Ford was hesitant, but took y/n with him in the end, the two leaving her dimension and planet to become nothing but rubble.

Their relationship from them on had been rocky, both of them were stubborn, and they always argued, but were there for one another, despite their clashing personalities. As their time together went on, the teen had grown an attachment to Ford, and had secretly thought of the older man as a parental figure she would come to look up to. But those were crushed when she found out he wanted to abandon her here because in his words, it was "too dangerous" for her to continue because she was only fourteen.

She still gazed out the window when she heard the footfalls of Ford, his breaths came out rapidly as he glared at the young girl who looked down in her lap at the journal she stole from him when she left. "Do you have any idea the hell I went through to find you?" Ford seethed.

She flipped a page in the journal, "is this what you were worried about in your dimensions? Finals and assignments?" She asked, ignoring his question. He quirked an angry brow. She looked at him.

"The hell are you talking about?" He questioned. She held up his very old and tattered journal from thirty years ago, the one from his college years. He thought he had lost that. Ford scoffed.

"come on, we're leaving," he said, turning around.

"what, so you can abandon me?" y/n stood from her spot by the window and tucked the journal away into her overcoat (the one Ford had gifted her when she turned fourteen). Ford turned around quickly, his hard cold stare present on his face.

"they are good people, they can protect you more than I can." Ford said. That made y/n even angrier.

"that's bullshit Ford, and you know!" She exclaimed, glaring at him. She didn't want to stay, she wanted to go with him, "everyone I care for in this lifetime has either left me or died, fucking everyone except for you!" She shoved him when she got close, which caused him to stumble a bit in surprise and shock. She could feel the tears already gathered at the corners of her eyes. "So please, don't tell me I'll be safer with these people, cause the truth is Ford, I'll just be more scared."

He ignored the gathered tears and gave her the same cold stare he's adopted on his travels to escaping Bill, she took a small Shakey breath, clutching her sides as she looked at the older man. "In the journal, I read about a man named Stanley. He's your brother, isn't he?"

It seemed all they knew how to do was scoff, "that has no concern to you kid, stay out of my family business." He said, going forwards to grab the journal from her pocket.

"well, I'm not Stanley, you can't treat me like how you treated your bother..." She wasn't sure if she should bring another point up for the man, but she was already digging herself into a bigger grave. "... I'm, also not her, you know."

"what?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"I wasn't the only kid you decided to pick up, was I? I saw it in one of your other newer journals when you weren't looking. I'm not Lizzie." She said. He looked ready to go off on her. She knew she had crossed a line, but she couldn't help it. All these people and he only saw her as Stanley or Lizzie, not as her own person. He continued to glare at her.

"You're right, you're not like Stan..." He trailed off, "... Or my daughter... And I sure as hell ain't your dad." He spoke, his voice wavering as tears gathered in his eyes. He could see how broken she looked, and it had shattered his already crumbling heart from the way she was looking at him. He could tell she was beginning to lose hope in surviving. "After we get back, we go our separate ways." He said, his voice hardening.

"whatever you say... Sir." She growled.

He should've expected a response such as that to leave her mouth, but he couldn't help but be hurt by the lack of emotions behind her voice. She reverted back to calling him sir, from when he first took her under his wing after the destruction of her home world because of Bill. And now he regrets ever coming up with the idea of leaving her behind.

so, how was it? Would y'all like a full story like this for a Ford and Daughter Reader? If so, would u like it to be on Wattpad or AO3?

[angelyuji]

You say “goes with you to doctors appointments” but I hear “lurks outside with a listening device” like a true nerd 😭 also bet he’s getting a copy of your medical records for “”””emergency”””” (aka obsessive curiosity) oh my god you can’t convince me he wouldn’t have a few of your x-rays saved somewhere too. just the worst combination of nerdy, dangerous and in love

tw // kidnapping, stalking, general yandere stuff, sort of breeding kink and pregnancy under the cut (also implied noncon) (kinda dark)

18+!!!! minors dni!!!!!

absolutely he would use listening devices and cameras when ur at the doctors (before dating/kidnapping/wtv) after tho, i feel like he’d be insistent on going with u to the doctors and generally being a freak.

i believe ford to be more biology, evolution, and space kind of nerd than technology however, he’d probably make whatever he needed to keep an eye on u.

also imagine ur doctor getting weirded the fuck out by ford’s insisting to be with u during the check-up that they’re gonna pull u aside and ask if everythings okay at home. which pisses ford off so much that he decides the doctors are stupid and u dont even need to go anyway like u have him!! plus, now he gets to conduct more experiments to better understand how u work. he convinces stan to rob ur ex-doctor’s office so ford can have whatever he needs to look after u.

also smth else ive been thinking abt, i feel like ford would be super interested in pregnancy. in like a “how does it work” way. not in a “i want kids” way. like he would get u pregnant to see how ur body and mind changes. he would monitor u with his own tech and the stuff from the doctor. but also i dont think he would want kids.

kinda super dark but imagine he gives u smth that imitates pregnancy and u dont find out until its ur “due date” and u go through all that just to give birth to nothing…. he would definitely use that mind-breaking situation to continue to use u as his personal guinea pig

[rubydracogirl]

HAHAHAHA REMEMBER I SAID I WAS GONNA MAKE GRAVITY FALLS CONTENT?

Well here's a very short one-shot.

Rated T for descriptions of making out

Stanford PinesXReader

'False Hope'

"You know, I think about kissing you a lot." 

Ford was startled from his book at your sudden declaration and his eyes snapped to your face as he blinked, trying to process what exactly you said. He wasn't successful.

"Er, apologies, I must have misunderstood. What did you say?"

"I said, 'I think about kissing you'. Often." You repeated without preamble.

"... Is that a joke?" He asked in a doubtful tone.

"Not at all. Would you be opposed to it?"

Ford gulped, feeling his face grow hot under your gaze. You had some of the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, and he was only fooling himself to say that he'd never thought about you that way.

Embarrassingly, he found his mouth dry as he tried to reply coherently.

"I uh, wouldn't, um… no."

You scooted a little closer to him, and Ford felt his heart pound in his ears at your sudden proximity. Your eyes drifted to his lips, and he heard himself swallow obnoxiously loud.

"...May I?" Your voice murmured softly.

He couldn't bring himself to speak again, so he nodded. His skin tingled as he felt your fingers caress the underside of his chin, drawing him close.

Your lips brushed against him in such a gentle motion, he found himself leaning a little closer. He couldn't have imagined how soft your lips really were, nor how sweet your breath would feel on his face.

The moment felt like it stretched into eternity, and yet, it ended all too soon as you pulled back, looking at him with a dreamy expression. 

"Was that ok?" 

"Very. Yes. I…" Ford wasn't sure where it came from, but suddenly, he was holding your face in his hands, kissing you again and eagerly pressing you for more.

Your voice hummed sensually and he shuddered as he felt your lips part before a soft, wet surface lightly stroked over his bottom lip.

It was an invitation, one he accepted with avarice as he opened his mouth.

The warmth of your mouth was an incredible experience, and he explored you eagerly. You indulged him as he tasted you, allowing his tongue to roam freely as he angled your face to the side. You were so warm, sweet, and the contrasting textures of your tongue and teeth were nothing short of addicting.

For a moment, Ford felt as if he was drowning in you, completely taken in like a fish caught on a hook, and his lungs burned as he reluctantly pulled back, breathing heavily while he looked into your hazy eyes. His cheeks were red and hot to the touch, his hands trembled against your face as he affectionately swept his thumbs over your cheekbones.

"I take it that you really liked that?"

Your lips pulled into a teasing smile and he gave a short, awkward laugh.

"Er, sorry, I uh, got carried away." He said sheepishly.

"I didn't mind at all, Ford. Thanks for letting me kiss you."

"Um… you're welcome?"  His voice was flustered and he shyly let you go as he looked away in embarrassment. You touched his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately.

"If you liked it, you're welcome to kiss me any time. I wouldn't mind."

"R-really? But… why?"

"Well… the thing is, I really like you-"

8~8~8~8~8~

Ford's eyes snapped open and he gave a soft groan.

"Damn it." He growled. Another dream of you… this was unacceptable. He knew how unlikely and impossible it was that he would ever have such a relationship with you and besides that, he treasured his friendship with you too much to ruin it with such a selfish desire… and yet, that didn't stop him from dreaming of you like this; touching your face, kissing your mouth, holding your hands without fear of a negative reaction…. Like disgust. 

He almost preferred his nightmares of rejection because at least they reminded him of the reality of his situation instead of imbuing him with false hope.

As he lay in the dark, looking up at the ceiling, he gave a short, bitter laugh, covering his eyes with his hand.

"You're a damn fool." He muttered softly to himself.

[security-chief-odo]

The Gala Job - Chapter 2

Eliot Spencer x Reader

click here for chapter 1

Description: Celebratory drinks with the team, but you can't keep your mind (or your eyes) off of a certain hitter.

• • •

As you entered, the whole team was sitting at a table, Parker and Hardison seated next to each other across from Nate and Sophie, leaving you to sit across from Eliot.

You walked to the bar to get your first drink before settling in next to Sophie. Nate leaned behind her and said “Great work today.”

It wasn’t much, but that little reassurance made you smile. Nate was a good man and it meant a lot to know he thought well of you too.

You both leaned back into the rest of the conversation. As if he had been waiting for his cue, Hardison began detailing the files found on the flash drive.

There was mountains of evidence against Whitehall and Apex. They had been falsifying records, evading their taxes and embezzling funds. This should bring them down for good.

They deserved it. They had hurt so many people.

He deserved it. He almost hurt you.

You glanced over at Eliot, watching the way he subtly wrung his hands together. Those hands could fill your thoughts for days, but the way they pulled against each other portrayed too much stress. He deserved better.

Hardison broke down file after file, detailing every way this company was screwed. This would guarantee they would lose the ongoing lawsuit and get Whitehall plenty of jail time. As you listened to him talk, your eyes drifted around the bar. This pub felt weirdly like home to you. Maybe it was just the people that felt like home.

Conversation started to drift off of the current case and onto past cases. Parker regaling you with stories of theft, that you may have heard dozens of times, but impressed you nonetheless. Sophie detailing some lavish jewelry that she managed to steal.

“I’ll be right back” you said, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

As you exited the stall to wash your hands, you saw Sophie by the sink, clearly waiting on you. “So I wanted to ask” she began “are you doing ok? I know Whitehall had you cornered and you seem a little out of it tonight.”

“Sorry to have worried you. I’m ok, just a little lost in thought is all.” You chuckled softly, adding, “In fact, I was enjoying this job until things went south. Whitehall is a terrible gut, but –”

“He was nice to look at?” Sophie chimed in.

“Not my type.” you sighed “The food there though was wonderful. I kind of wish the case had taken a bit longer. Didn’t even make it past the hors d'oeuvres.”

“Not your type?” Sophie asked incredulously. “The man looked like he walked straight in off the runway or straight out of a catalogue.”

You shrugged, “Rich, pretty boys just aren’t my type.”

“You had the undivided attention and admiration of an incredibly wealthy man and all you have to say is that he isn’t “your type?’”

“Well we both know how he got that money, so that’s hardly a selling point.” you tried to laugh it off, knowing damn well why you weren't even slightly enamored by the affections of Edgar Whitehall. Regardless of your moral objections to the man, he never stood a chance.

You both headed back towards the table. You glanced at the table from across the bar, looking at your friends, and perhaps lingering on Eliot longer than you meant to. You heard Sophie add an excited “ Oh!” you turned back to look at her as she continued “He didn’t catch your attention because someone else already has it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sophie” you tried to brush her off, rolling your eyes as you walked back to your seat.

“Whatever you say” she replied, taking her seat next to you. Hardison continued his story, though everyone at the table was eyeing you and Sophie suspiciously now.

Eliot shot you a curious look. You mouthed “It’s nothing” back at him and hoped that would be enough to get everyone to drop it. You looked back to the table and the moment you caught Parker’s eyes, that hope was lost.

“What were you two just talking about?” She pointed between you and Sophie.

“Nothi–” you tried to rush out before being promptly cut off by Sophie.

“Our Y/N here has a little crush”

You tried to avoid looking at Eliot as you replied “Or Sophie is just jumping to conclusions and has no idea what she’s talking about.”

This didn’t help much as Parker and Hardison took turns asking you rapid fire questions.

“Is it someone we know?” Hardison started.

“Is it a guy?

“A girl?”

“Can we meet them?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Why haven’t you just asked them out yet?”

“Who is it?”

“That’s enough guys!” Nate snapped at them both.

You mouthed “Thank you” at Nate. You weren’t quite sure they would have backed off nearly as quickly for you.

“I’m gonna go grab another round of drinks.” you said, excusing yourself once again.

Both Parker and Hardison mumbled “Sorry” as you stood up. You know they were just excited. They didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but as you stood up you caught Eliot still looking at you.

You ordered everyone’s drinks. As the bartender walked away you felt someone walk up behind you.

“I figured you could use a hand in carrying those all back.” Eliot’s voice rang through your ears . Shit.

“I appreciate it.” You thought that if you didn’t bring it up, maybe he wouldn’t either, and the silence you were met with briefly let you believe that.

“So who is this new lover of yours?”

“He’s not my–” you cut yourself off realizing you’d said too much.

“So Sophie was right. There is someone.” He grins, clearly satisfied with himself. “Who is he?”

“Why do you care, Eliot?”

“Because I care about you sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart” you retorted.

“Why are you keeping it a secret hun? Is it one of us? It’s me isn’t it?” The joking tone of voice at the prospect of you having feelings for him stung more than it should have. Luckily, this conversation could come to an end as the bartender handed you the drinks.

“In your dreams Spencer.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’m in yours.” He winked at you as he sat down across from you.

The night went on, the topic of your love life no longer being of interest. The team was now discussing plans for hypothetical vacations, and places they legally couldn't vacation. They waxed poetic about dream purchases, and dream thefts.

Nate was the first to leave. He had been nearly dozing off for probably the last fifteen minutes.

Sophie followed him out the door saying “Well, I better make sure I get him home safely before I head home.” The rest of us looked at each other knowingly. She wasn’t heading home. She never did when she took Nate home. They would stagger their entrances the next day to be almost exactly five minutes apart, and, like always, we would all pretend not to notice.

Hardison was the next to stand up, looking at you and Eliot, “I can drive you both home before we head back, if y’all would like.”

“Thanks Alec” you said, gathering your things. The others stood up too, and you all headed out into the cold wintery night together. Hardison took the wheel, while Parker sat shotgun. You and Eliot sat behind them. You glanced up at Eliot to find him already looking at you. It took so much restraint to not just stare into those beautiful blue eyes, but you managed nonetheless.

The van came to a stop a few blocks from your apartment building. Eliot chimed in, looking at you, “This would be my stop, but if you want, I can walk you home first.”

You hesitated for a second, not wanting to make him go out of his way just to walk you home. Maybe it was something in the air, but between that southern accent and his puppy dog eyes, there was never really a chance of you turning him down that night.

You got out, telling Hardison to drive safe. Stepping into the bitter cold, you started to regret letting Eliot talk you into this.

Staring daggers at Eliot as you shivered harshly, you asked “Damn it Eliot. Why Did you talk me into this? It’s so damn cold”

The amusement in his smile as he turned to face you was both the most infuriating and endearing reaction he could have had. It took everything in you to maintain your anger, if only as your only guard against melting as you looked at him.

Eliot shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. Chuckling, he added, “You know, you’d be a lot warmer and maybe less grumpy if you dressed for the weather.”

You tried to laugh off the butterflies forming in your stomach as you sunk into his jacket, “Then why is it that you’re always so grumpy?”

He rolled his eyes at you and you walked in contented silence until you approached your building. “Let me walk you to your door?” he offered.

“Yeah, come on up.” You led the way up a few flights of stairs, had you looked back you would have seen Eliot Spencer, international criminal, looking at you with a look of pure softness. You didn’t look back, and you didn’t see a thing.

Faster than you had hoped, you reached your door. “This one’s mine. Thank you for keeping me company El. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He started to turn away as you put the key in your door, then you felt his hand gently grab your wrist as he said “Wait, Y/N. I wa—”

You cut him off, “Oh shit, your jacket.” You started to slide it off your shoulders as he looked at you in confusion.

“No, not that sweetheart.” He laughed nervously looking at the ground. “What I was trying to say was that I like you Y/N. I think I might even love you.”

“That isn’t funny Eliot”

“What? I wasn’t trying to be funny”

“Eliot, I don’t know what Sophie told you, but this isn’t funny. Yes, I have feelings for you, hell, my heart races everytime I look at you, but I can push past that. I don’t need your pity or for you to pretend to have feelings for me.”

Stepping closer, he gently grabbed your face. Mere millimeters from your lips he whispered, “Darlin’, I ain’t pretending and I sure as hell don't pity you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me.”

Hesitating for just a moment, you steadied yourself with a hand on his chest and you kissed him. It was a chaste, tender kiss. You pulled away with a groan of disapproval from Eliot.

You unlocked your door before looking back at him, “Are you coming?”

• • •

Let me know if you want to join my taglist for this pairing or my general taglist!

Smut in chapter 3!

[fizzyxcustard]

Fear and Loathing - MASTERLIST

Fandom: seaQuest 2032

Summary: (Part 2 of The Right Thing - this will be a chaptered fic) Captain Hudson knows that you and Lucas are more than just friends, and after changing your shift rotations to make sure you’re not on duty together, you take things into your own hands and request a transfer from seaQuest. Before your transfer can be processed, officers and crew begin showing signs of extreme anxiety, anger and paranoia. Some are worse affected than others, you being one of them. Can you fight for not only your relationship with Lucas but your state of mind?

Pairings: Ensign Lucas Wolenczak x FemLieutenant!Reader, Commander Jonathan Ford x Lieutenant Lonnie Henderson (only slight)

Warnings: Language, violence, insecurity, angst, paranoia, anxiety, mental instability, very mild sexual references, age difference/gap. 

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10) (Chapter 11) (Chapter 12)

[laurfilijames]

Ford Lampton

The Devil You Know (Ford x female reader, 1st person POV)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Spite In A Sundress (Ford x female reader)

[rangerbarbz]

Losing Bets

Disclaimer: So this is not a Ford fanfic because I need to show my man Stan some love. Sorry about that. Also, I’m going to post the whole thing just to tumblr and to ao3, so you won’t have to click on a link to read it. This is a smut btw

Summary: Reader bets that Stan can’t go a whole day without touching them. It’s a win win situation 😉

If there was one thing about Stan Pines, he was a handsy man. You had been dating him since you first got a job at the Mystery Shack working the check-out counter when Wendy wasn’t working. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t squeeze your butt as he shuffled behind you or grab your hips while you restocked. You didn’t mind it one bit, though. Stan always made you feel sexy and loved. He was a good man, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. However, you also knew he was a gambling man, and you were looking for fun.

It was a slow day at the Mystery Shack, and you were putting snow-globes on display when you felt a hand snake around your waist. “Lookin’ good, sugar.” When you weren’t expecting Stan’s voice, it always managed to give you butterflies. You smiled and set the one in your hand onto the unsteady wooden shelf in front of you.

“You talking about the snow-globes or me?” you teased, looking over at him. His eyebrow raised as his hand moved from your waist down to your ass. He cupped one clothed cheek in his big hand.

“Both,” he answered. “I love these shorts on you. Can’t help myself.” He had a devilish grin on his face and was staring into your eyes. God, he was so handsome. He had an almost intoxicating aroma of cigars and cologne that you wanted to drown in.

You giggled and patted his chest. “Stan Pines, you’d still find a way to get your hands on me even if you were handcuffed.” You picked up the empty cardboard box at your feet and carried it to the check-out counter to break it down.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Stan purred, following behind you as you flattened the box. You shot him a look that caused him to chuckle.

“You need to behave,” you playfully chastised him, bending down behind the counter to get your to-do list out. You set it next to the register and checked off the box next to “Unpack Snow-globes.” “There we go, that was the last thing I had to do.”

Stan set his elbows on the counter across from you. “Ah, I actually added something else for you to do. Should be at the bottom,” Stan stated.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Really?” You picked up the notepad to see “Stan Pines” scrawled at the end of the lined paper with an empty box next to it.

Stan burst out laughing at his own joke. “See. I put my name there because I want you to do me,” he explained while you rolled your eyes.

“You’re so dumb.” You couldn’t help but laugh with him, though. “You know this reminds me; I have an idea for a bet. That is if your up to it.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief. You and Stan were always betting on trivial things, so this was a normal request.

“I’m all ears, dollface. Shoot.”

“I bet that you can’t go a whole day without touching me.”

Stan’s head perked up. “I better get something really good if I have to go the whole day without touching you,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“If you can go a whole day without touching me, I will do that thing you’ve been begging me to do for an entire week,” you declared.

He gasped. “You mean you’re going to cook me stancakes naked every morning for a week?” he asked incredulously.

You chuckled. “Yup, but if I win you have to come to karaoke with me at Greasy’s every Friday for a month.” At that, Stan groaned and rubbed the part of his nose where his glasses sat.

“Jeeze, you had that one ready didn’t ya, kid?”

“Oh, yes,” you replied. “You accept the bet, old man?” You extended your hand towards him. He flashed that million-dollar smile at you before shaking your hand in agreement with the bet.

“Deal.”

                                                                                ~ The Next Day ~

You looked in the mirror at your outfit you had prepared to tempt the “Man of Mystery” himself. You were prepared to play dirty to get karaoke nights with Stan. You were wearing a tight t-shirt that was tucked into some daisy dukes. You also were wearing some boots that went up to your knees that you knew drove Stan wild. He was a confirmed leg man for sure. You fluffed up your hair and applied some light makeup. It was nothing too crazy but just enough to have you singing BABBA with him Friday night.

When you were satisfied with how you looked, you walked out of your bedroom and down the hall to the gift shop. Stan was giving a tour outside, so he had no idea what you looked like just yet. You went about your job as usual restocking the freezer, sweeping the floor, and pricing new items. It was about thirty minutes later when Stan entered the gift shop with a group of tourists behind him.

“Step into our gift shop and marvel at the quality of the Mystery Shack’s merchandise. Such beautiful craftmanship is deserving of your money, so make sure to spend a lot of it,” Stan’s voice echoed throughout the room. Some tourists “oohed” and “ahhed’ at the new shirts you had just hung up on the wall while the others piddled about the store. You sat at the register waiting for customers pretending not to notice Stan ogling you from the other side of the room.

When you finally decided to give him your attention, you gave him a coy smile and a little wave. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyebrows were raised. He looked you up and down as he approached you.  It was go time; you got him.

“Y/N, you look smoking!” Stan exclaimed, his hands reaching for your hips. They stopped just inches away from them. He frowned and let his hands drop to his sides. “Damn. Forgot I can’t touch you.” He sounded disappointed. You were about to respond when one of the tourists got his attention by asking him about his newest taxidermy creation. This might be harder than you thought.

You exhaled through your nose in defeat. You couldn’t ponder on your plan too long, however, because a line of people had quickly formed in front of you. They held fistfuls of cash and novelties waiting to be paid for. It took a while, but finally everyone had picked an item they wanted and purchased them successfully. You couldn’t see him, but Stan had been eyeing you all over.

Once the last person left the shop and Stan reminded them about his “No Refunds” policy, he turned the “Open” sign on the door to “Closed.” You tilted your head at him and walked from behind the counter towards him. “Stan, why are you closing the shack? Are you-‘’ You were interrupted by him quickly turning around to face you and throwing you over his shoulder. You yelped in surprise as he bolted down the hall to your bedroom. You were not expecting this. He kicked the door open and dropped you on the bed.

“You like to play dirty, don’tcha?” Stan growled, grabbing your ankles and dragging you to him. “Dressing like that in front of me knowing I can’t touch ya. You’re such a tease.” His lips crashed into yours, his beard tickling your neck. You moaned into his mouth, letting your hands explore his thick, gray hair. The passionate kiss turned into a hot, open-mouthed one. Stan’s tongue slipped past your lips as you gripped his back. You grinded against him to get some friction going but to also see how hard he was. He was rock solid, his bulge pressing against your thigh. You wrapped your legs around his waist to bring him closer to you, earning a groan from him.

His lips parted from yours and he began to pepper kisses along your neck, stopping to suck at your collarbones. “Stan…” you whined.

“Use your words, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

You felt Stan’s lips curl into a smile. “That can be arranged. But these,” he tugged at your shorts, “will have to go.”

You looked him in the eyes. “Then why don’t you take them off for me?” you asked, grinning at him.

“With pleasure,” he responded. He removed your boots before undoing the zipper of your shorts and pulling them off. You lifted your hips up to help him get them fully off your body which revealed lacy red underwear. He wasn’t a huge fan of any particular color, but he loved red on you. He let out a low whistle. “Sweetheart…You shouldn’t have.” Stan’s tone caused blood to rush to your throbbing clit.

His hands slid up the side of your legs to grab your thighs. “God, I love these legs,” he whispered, his thumbs rubbing into your inner thighs. His long, calloused fingers were splayed over the side of them as he admired the way they dug into your flesh. He adored the softness of them.

“Can’t wait to have them around my head,” he breathed, moving his hands over your underwear and under your shirt. “But first, I gotta get this off. Been wanting to get my hands on these.” You blushed as he pulled your t-shirt over your head. You were revealed to be in a matching red bra that pushed your breasts up to make a delightful cleavage.

“Fuck,” Stan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come here, sexy.” His hands found your waist and guided you to his lap. He began peppering kisses on the top of your breasts as his hands fumbled to remove your bra from the back. He eventually succeeded causing the straps to fall down your shoulders and exposing your hard nipples. His pupils were dilated and filled with lust as he gazed at your body. He took his time, letting his eyes wander.

Stan slowly exhaled before letting his lips make contact with your skin once again. His tongue licked across your nipple gently and cupping your other breast. He massaged the tender flesh and let his thumb drag over the nipple as he began to suck the other one. You hissed, raking his hair between your fingers. He repeated the same action but on the opposite breast causing your hips to instinctively grind down on him. You were so turned on you were becoming light-headed.

Stans arms encased you as he lowered you onto the bed, kissing in a line down your stomach. You knew what was coming next, and butterflies were already beginning to form. “Mind if I take these off, doll?” Stan asked gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You nodded your head in response. His fingers hooked around the band of your panties and removed your last garment of clothing. He began to bury his face against your thighs, giving them little pecks. Your eyes rolled back in your head from how his mouth and stubble felt against such a sensitive area. He then removed his head away from your core to look at you.

“Let’s see how much I’ve riled you up,” Stan said, letting one of his fingers enter you. He slid in easily due to your wetness. He let out a shaky breath. “Shit, baby.” He began to pump his finger back and forth. You cried out in pleasure, letting your nails rake along his muscular forearms.

“Oh, God, Stan,” you whimpered. If he kept going like this, you were going to cum before his dick was inside you.

“As hot as it is to see you like this, I just gotta taste ya.” Stan muttered, removing his finger and lowering his head back down to your bottom half. “I’ve been craving you all day.” His tongue slid into you as his big hands held your legs around his head. He moaned into you as you gripped the bedsheets behind you. One hand travelled upwards to play with your breast as he used the tip of his tongue to manipulate your clit. Stan continued to lap at you, bringing you closer and closer to an orgasm. He knew you were close too. You were bucking your hips on his nose to help relieve yourself. He loved it when you did that; he wanted you to use him to get all the way.

“I want you inside me,” you pleaded. “Please, babe.” Stan stopped what he was doing to give you a sloppy kiss. His mouth and nose were covered in your slick which was now partially on you. He stood up to unbutton his shirt while you scrambled to unbuckle his belt.

He laughed cockily. “Someone’s eager,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

You glared at him. “Shut up,” you retorted, taking off his boxers to see his painfully erect dick. You slid off the bed and onto your knees. You started to suck on his balls and rub along the bottom of them. Stan moaned loudly; his hands were now in your hair. You licked a stripe of the base of his dick to his tip before taking him into your mouth. You went slowly at first, creating a suction with your cheeks.

“Y/N…” Stan breathed, pushing your head onto him, wanting you to go faster. “Okay, okay. I can’t go anymore. I wanna feel you,” Stan interrupted, holding your face. “Put your boots on. Those were so damn sexy.” You chuckled and put on the shiny, leather boots from before. You were entirely naked other than your feet.

“Alright, hot stuff, you ready to ride the Stan O’ War?” Stan asked, throwing your legs on his shoulders. A boot was on either side of his head.

You giggled in response. “Yes, captain,” you answered.

He lined up with your entrance, and finally was inside you. He stretched you out painfully good. He wasn’t the longest, but, God, he was wide. That’s how you like it. He held onto your boots for leverage as he pounded into you. His breathing became ragged as he went back and forth inside you.

“You feel s’good,” he groaned. “So fucking good.”

His voice sent you over the edge making your body start to quake and pulse. Your legs shook around his head which, in turn, caused Stan to cum. Your convulsions were enough to make a “dead man come back to life” as Stan would describe. As you both rode out your highs, Stan laid on your chest as you twirled his hair. You laid in blissful silence until you remembered something.

“So…does this mean karaoke Friday?”

His face scrunched into his signature grumpy frown. “Can you just let me enjoy what’s left of my dignity until I lose it all?” You giggled at his answer as he laid his head back on your chest. You kissed the top of his head and leaned your head back on your pillow. Little did you know, he was more than happy to sing cheesy songs with you in public. He would just never let you know that.

[reareaotaku]

Hot & Sweaty

Summary: Ford's having a hard time coming to terms with how he feels, so he tries to avoid you... TW/CW: NSFW Themes, [Male] Masturbation Pt I: Enemies 2 Friends to Something More Taglist: @winterhi09, @leo4242564, @walmartjim, @valinbean, @meiraloves2dmen, @bubblegupyy

Linktree 4 the People of Palestine [This is shorter than the first one-]

Ford began avoiding you, not knowing how else to deal with his emotions. He had never had a crush before, so these feelings were foreign to himself. For a man so smart, he couldn't figure out how to handle such intense emotions. He just wanted to push it down and pretend it didn't exist.

He felt rather pathetic avoiding you. You were making it hard for him to attend his classes. God, he wishes he could get you out of your head.

---

You had missed multiple classes, not knowing if you would have to confront Ford. You liked him- Sure, but there was a part of you that thought you would never get anything from him.

He was... different than most men. You liked that. You had never met someone like him, even with his annoyance from before. There was something so different about the way he was and you were fascinated. Sometimes you wondered why a man like him was going to BMU.

---

Ford facepalmed. It had been almost 2 weeks since he had started avoiding his feelings. He was better than this- But just the thought of you made him feel all hot and sweaty.

He had thoughts he had never had before and he tried to rid himself of such things. He couldn't help it- His mind was stronger than he ever gave it credit for.

---

You looked over when Ford usually sat, disappointed that he wasn't there. You hadn't seen him around the campus either, which made you think that he was possibly avoiding you. As the thought occurs to you, your eyes are drawn to Ford's roommate- Fiddleford.

Fiddleford was quick to pack of his stuff, especially when he saw you staring at you. He was hiding something, you could tell. He was quick, but you were quicker; He froze when you cornered him before he was able to leave.

"Oh- Uh, Y/n, I uh, wow. You look nice."

"Cut the act, where's Ford? Is he avoiding me?"

"Uh- What? N-no? I don't- I have to go to class." He tries to go around you, but you block his path.

"Yeah? Last time I checked, your next class isn't till 10. So, we have plenty of time." You step closer to him, causing him to gulp. "What's your room number?"

It didn't take long for you to push it out of him and you were heading to their shared dorm.

---

You tended to avoid the male dorms, because- Well, it was full of college-aged men. They were usually rough housing and fighting each other, while also have tons of old food in their sinks. It was disgusting. Men were disgusting.

You finally came upon his door, before taking a deep breath. You froze for a second, realizing you didn't know what you were going to say to him. You were sure that the words would come to you when you saw him.

You knock on his door, but don't get a respond, so you decide to open the door, but you were quickly stop when seeing Ford with his hand down his boxer and was seemingly jacking off. You quickly slammed the door catching his attention as he yells at you.

"I'm so sorry!" Your face was a dark red as your back was against his door. You couldn't believe your eyes- Much less being caught catching someone else.

"Why are you even here?!" Ford yelled as he quickly got some pants on and leaned against his door. He couldn't believe not only did he have his hands down his pants, but you had caught him- Thankfully he wasn't a big moaner or you would have known he was thinking about you.

---

You sat across from the male, trying to avoid the topic of what had just happened. You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and your tongue was twisted.

When you looked up at him, it seemed he too was at a loss for words. What was he even supposed to say after being caught like a teenage boy?

"So-"

"Don't. Let's not... talk about it." He hums as he taps his finger against the book sitting on his lap.

"Yeah... I mean, sex is a natural thing. You're not to cloud minded to not realize or acknowledge this, are you?"

He looks up at you with a tiny smirk. "Of course not... But," He looks away from you, a light pink dust overtaking his face. "Doesn't make it more embarrassing."

"Well, if it helps you feel better, I've seen a lot worse."

"What are you even doing- No, actually how did you get my room number?"

"I stalked you."

"What?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I asked Fiddleford."

"And he told you?"

"With convincing..."

He hums and you decide to finally ask him the question, so you've been avoiding me?"

[etclouie]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 them + their opinions on hickeys

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: innuendo towards sex, hints at age gap (negan), mentions of giving and receiving hickeys

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 includes; Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Negan Smith, Shane Walsh, Abraham Ford and Glenn Rhee (x fem! reader)

prev | next - drabbles masterlist | main masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚  rick - he’d like giving them rather than receiving, due to his role as leader he deems himself as someone who needs to look professional, even during the apocalypse. 

loves seeing his girlfriend covered in hickeys, and chuckles to himself as she attempts to cover them - especially in the summer months 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ daryl - not the biggest fan of them, likes to keep the intimate details of his relationships a secret. he’ll give and receive them as long as they’re not visible. 

after awhile together though (say a year or two), he’ll grow more appreciative of them - as long as they’re still hidden. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ negan - a big fan of them, although he prefers giving them he’s not opposed to receiving them. if his girlfriend wants to put on a show of bossing him around, he’ll indulge, allowing her to mark him up a little

loves seeing his girlfriend covered in hickeys, will show them off too. let’s her walk around the sanctuary in whatever she wants, doing whatever she wants so if she interrupts a meeting to sit in his lap, he’s showing off the hickeys he painted her neck with 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ shane - he likes them, sees them as a form of indication that you’re his. will happily mark you up; neck, chest, thighs, anywhere he can he will. 

he’s not the biggest fan of them on himself, but will wear them with pride if they’re visible over the neckline of his shirts

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ abraham - couldn’t care about them on himself, but adores seeing them on his girlfriend especially when she’s enthusiastic about having them

he’s okay with a couple on himself across his chest, but prefers giving them. likes seeing your neck and chest covered in them, shows him that he did good taking care of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ glenn - he’s 50/50 with them, depending on the place. if they’re somewhere that won’t be seen easily, he’s fine with them on himself, but if they’re above any neckline of his clothes he feels iffy. he sees it as a sign of displaying your intimacy with others. 

but with you however, he likes seeing your body covered in them - the neckline thing still applies, but doesn’t completely cloud his feelings with hickeys on you. 

requests are open here !

[sugugasm]

☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.