#just... if I were him... I would be p stressed

[iwtv-theories]

What did Armand die of ? (analysis/theories)

So in the books , (pre-turning) Armand was dying of poisoning, while Daniel was dying of alcohol poisoning. But now in the show, they are both implied to have been dying of a terminal illness . Parkinson’s for Daniel, and some unknown illness for Armand.

I think the biggest (possible) hint of Armand's past illness - is the fact that his eyes shake from side to side (unlike other vamps). It looks almost identical to “pendular nystagmus” (which is usually caused by a neurological condition). And this symptom can be exacerbated by stress and anger ...

Theory 1) Cancer

This crossed my mind because when Louis mentions being buried by rocks , he says “if you took an x ray it would look like little cancers” (referring to the skin indentations left by the rocks). The camera pans to Armand looking angry as he retorts “he could remove them any time he wanted to.” Then there’s an awkward silence at the table as Daniel looks at Armand.

Daniel also in the 70s compared marriage to “cancer.” And then Armand pretty much says since he’d be so miserable getting married- he should just die then. If he did have cancer - it would probably piss him off when people compare their problems to it .

And karposi sarcoma ,which Daniel wrote essays about is a type of cancer . In s1 there was also the man with cancer who begged Lestat, Claudia, and Louis to turn him.

Cancer could have caused the loss of appetite, and loss of muscles /fat (that Armand already associated with his illness). And if the cancer was neurological it could have caused the pendular nystagmus too.

Also, I know Louis called Armand "metronomic" because his schedule was so regimented. But, metronomic therapy is also a treatment for cancer .

Theory 2) Syphilis

Syphilis was rampant during the Venetian- renaissance. And sadly given the fact Marius p*mped him out , he would have sadly been more susceptible to develop the illness.

“latent syphilis” can also remain dormant for years or even decades (so after someone is infected, they could be asymptomatic for years ). So sadly, Armand could have also gotten it in the brothel even before meeting Marius. 'latent syphilis' if left untreated will eventually lead to ‘tertiary syphilis’ (at this stage the illness is no longer contagious) . Tertiary syphilis can develop into 3 subtypes - one subtype is ‘neuro-syphilis’ which can cause pendular nystagmus (*eye shaking), mood swings, loss of appetite/weight loss , etc . (Armand did mention he lost weight when he was stricken with illness).

Also Armand developing syphilis would have interesting parallels to the aids crisis . Both were stds that many people at the time attributed as a 'divine punishment' for 'immoral sexual behavior'.

“During the Venetian Renaissance, syphilis was a significant public health concern... leading to widespread fear and social stigma.” (Similar to the aid's crisis). Dm was also set during the backdrop of the aids crisis, and Daniel even reported about the aids crisis in the show. Not to mention Daniel reported on karposi sarcoma - a complication of aids - which leads to lesions internally and externally (similar to the lesions that can occur with syphilis).

In the books the poison did cause burns/ swelling marks on Amadeo’s skin -that Marius healed right before his turning . And syphilis can cause skin rashes/ lesions(so Marius could have theoretically just healed that symptom before turning him ).

But if his skin appeared normal while ill (that doesn’t mean he didn’t have the condition) because not everyone with syphilis develops that symptom.

Theory 3) : Multiple Sclerosis (MS)

Probably, the least likely out of the 3. This thought primarily crossed my mind simply because Armand looks like he has episodes of “pendular nystagmus”. Which is most commonly caused by ms . And in the initial pilot , Daniel was supposed to have m.s. (but they later changed it to Parkinson's). So who knows... they could have decided to give it to Armand instead.

Contrary to popular belief (the most common time of diagnosis is between 20-50 years old). Depending on which variation of the condition you have: someone can appear asymptomatic, with episodes of the more classic symptoms occurring periodically .

It can also cause loss of appetite and weight loss .And since it’s an autoimmune disorder … I think if he did have ms he wasn’t technically dying from it - but couldn’t fight off an infection or cold. Since ms (in some not all individuals) can weaken the immune system.

Plus, there were no antibiotics/traditional meds back then for common ailements. People died of common illnesses that a lot of us could have easily survived today. Having a weakened immune system would have only made it more likely to occur.

Any other theories for what illness he had? Besides poisoning, like in the books?

Armand gif source: (x)

[shuamorollss]

I hate you, in ways I can't even fathom...

✩˖. ˖˙ ❝ As Mingyu sets up a farewell party before his leave for college. He finally gets the courage to have one last chat with the person who he dearly hates and deeply adores. ❝

Established e2l, best friend's brother trope, kinda angst with fluff ending, both of them being an overthinking mess, Gyuri as Mingyu's sister >_< Warnings— confrontation scene is kinda corny but bear w me, Sloppy writing but again, bear with me. + anything else I forgot :P

note — I've written this a year ago and finished it like a few month back portraying another idol(Sunghoon) but I changed it to Mingyu the last minute bc I haven't been updated w Enhypen nowadays and I wanna focus on posting svt-related fics :'( Did some small tweaks here and there since I genuinely really liked how I wrote this fic and thought, "Wow, I should post this." and I did. 😁

note 2 — I'm starting my college year in just a few weeks as psych freshie! Rlly excited for this new fresh of air and I'm already expecting my hectic schedule during this, but since I regained my enjoyment in writing, I might post more from time to time just to relieve my stress after writing countless of essays during my senior year. Actually, I've already been working on a S.coups fic recently and I'm really passionate abt this one! Anyway I'm rambling atp so just... Enjoy this fic! I'm officially back in tumblr nation! :P

© shuamorollss. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

Mingyu delightfully chatters with the guests, his eyes couldn't stop darting your way as you talk to his sister. The curves of your lips senses the enjoyment of your current conversation, the way your eyes sparkled at whatever his sister was saying, and the way how gentle you sip your drink as your eyes never left on his sister's talky figure. This observation felt odd to him since why would he take notice of you, sipping your drink? And why isn't he paying attention to what his mom's friend has to say?

Even if Mingyu’s eyes are forcing itself to glue onto the nice woman in front of him, the one who stuck mostly is you, in his mind.

He felt devastated, to say the least. The thought of not teasing and annoying you for a long time, and most importantly,

not seeing you for a very... long time.

As the thought progresses in his head, the more his heart sinks at every ounce of your presence dissipating into his life.

Despite that, what he fears right at this moment is you forgetting that very presence of him in your life.

As much as him slowly forgetting you haunts him (which is impossible now considering you have forever been engraved in this man's mind and soul), what trickles him more to despair is that if you forget him, he becomes a nobody into your vision. Possibly his life.

So how? How would he be able to tell you that he doesn't want you to forget him, and that you should be aware that he cherishes you, so much. Maybe even too much.

As the conversation came to its end, relieved that the woman didn't suspect the man's uninterest towards her blabber. Mingyu finally came to an impulsive courage to look for you, tell him how he feels, and probably start a relationship with you? Who knows? He'll make sure to maintain a long distance relationship with you even if things get busy.

As long as he's doing it for you, he won't hesitate for anything.

However, as minutes passed, he looked back to where he last saw you.

You were gone.

Mingyu's house isn't huge, so he might be able to spot you at some corner in no time.

Although he looked everywhere and every corner inside the home.

Still no sign of you.

Where are you? Did you go home?

…

..

.

Did he miss his chance?

Not even daring himself to ask anyone about your whereabouts, his emotions quickly transformed into a gloomy blob, in an attempt to remain wobbled down and never move for the rest of the event too much to his dismay of finally losing you from his life.

Though he couldn't stand the embarrassment of his emotions overcoming his actions.

So, he kept it in.

He explored everything within these house walls without receiving concern on the guests' ends. He knew every room and place by heart from childhood, yet he still had the initial thought that you must've gone home already.

As he felt his heart dripping tears, he made his way outside his house, in hopes to see you outside at the very least, if you left, just leaving, or you might be outside right at this moment. He would wonder if he would make it out in the same nick of time as yours, not wanting to expect your figure already gone so early in the evening.

When Mingyu twisted the knob and pushed the door, he was met with your gasp, "Huh!—” turning your head in a panic from the tense creak of their front door.

Mingyu's heart immediately quickens, a feel of an arrow penetrating his chest as he lays his eyes down on your intense state, sitting down on a stair.

A noise that quickly makes his heart leap. Thank goodness, really.

"I thought you left?" Mingyu calmly, yet his cheeky smile never seemed to fade.

"I was just about to.." You responded, eyes shifting to the other house across the street.

"Oh."

His eyes followed yours as it landed on the same house you were still looking at. Thus, creating dead silence within your bubble area..

The silence didn't seem welcoming to you, as if Mingyu was fed up with your presence. You have always felt that his uninterest for you was always evident. They all felt real, and the way his eyes look at you with pure intimidation gets off with barely ease.

Yes, the silly banters still happen. Yet as time passes by you feel convinced that he progressively decreases his fondness of you.

You only came to realize this when you started to notice every bit of his actions and demeanors.

The way he avoids you, the way his eyes barely look into your way anymore when you tell him a snarky comeback you feel proudest to even say…

And the way he barely even talks to you in general.

Which was already odd to say the least, you would never observe someone this close before.

Yet here you are.

These observations you had discovered within Mingyu completely changed how you were around him. Sure the bickering and playful hatred stayed, yet those times couldn't stop you from overthinking that maybe you have gone too far with your words? Gradually being aware about the peculiar feelings for the man.

You’re still aware, of course. However, you have no idea what you want to be for him.

In some certain aspects, you crave for his attention...maybe a lot. As humiliating as it sounds.

Subconsciously imagining holding his warm hands similar to what happened back to the day you exactly started to overthink how you see your dearest best friend's obnoxious brother.

It's scary. It's dreamy.

It's everything you wish you never wanted.

Despite all this, you figured that anything close to being equals would be impossible to happen now. Since Mingyu seemed to not seek your presence around anymore. Even for just one small talk that consists of nothing but insults.

He was starting to avoid you for weeks, not even saying a word when you attempted to say hello.

It left an unhealed wound inside your heart. Even with this. You still attended his farewell party in hopes to see him one last time, even from afar(Also his sister invited you).

Seeing him again after weeks, makes you feel somewhat… humiliated.

As if every time you land a gaze at his way, you felt like falling to a pit once more. Rock bottom.

"We...Well, I...I should go now." You quickly stood up to your feet with anxious heaves of breaths, not wanting to prolong the awkward air.

He watches you, perplexed. "Huh— what? Already?" Mingyu stutters, his eyes shifting his gaze onto you with faint disbelief.

As he watches you about to take a step out of their porch, Mingyu mutters a word that you hear inaudibly.

You turn around subconsciously to see the man's figure startled as your eyes meet his, as if you had heard him mutter something about you.

"I'm sorry..."

"Huh? What do you mean?" you raised a brow.

"I said that you should go if you want but I also said I didn't want you to go and that—"

"You told me not to go?"

"Kinda..? I thought... you heard me say that…"

Your lips fight to plaster a small smile, still awkward, but still warm. "I didn't."

Mingyu inhales sharply, his heart thudding from the inside, "Well, don't go... just yet. We should talk."

Your body shifted to his direction, endeared by his bashful demeanor despite his body looking utterly intimidating to an outer view. Your chest feels relaxed at the thought of Mingyu finally having the means to talk to you even after his unexplained ghosting.

You joined him, your best friend, who's leaning forward onto their porch ramp beside him.

"Congratulations, by the way." You started, following his gaze into the nowhere streets of the neighborhood.

Mingyu felt the temperature rising in his cheeks, the genuine smile he shows at your greeting sets your heart at bay. Mirroring his sweet smile you always do enjoy and engraved.

"Thank you." He beamed, blinking onto your view beside him, then darting his vision in front.

Silence bloomed over once more. Subtly queasing over the small twists and turns your stomach was doing being just a few meters beside Mingyu.

"Congratulations to you too." he adds, finally dissipating the awkward feeling in your stomach and for what it seemed to be for the both of you. Receiving a questioning look shifting onto him.

"For what?" You laughed anxiously.

"You won't get to see this handsomely infuriating face anymore,"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at his response. It was typical of him to have thought about it anyway. Though, you’ll miss it. Miss these moments with him.

You fix your composure as you feel your back slightly aching now, maybe the posture wasn't that daring to see when Mingyu went out through the door and met with your figure. But oh well.

“Wow.” You sneak out a short chuckle. You didn't know why but something about reliving the banters with Mingyu just made this whole lighthearted talk quite upsetting.

Mingyu was quick to catch the light flickering out of your tone, just by the forced chuckle alone. It made him… visibly concerned.

He shifts his gaze onto you once more, all while you were set to check up on the cutes-y house down by the road. Watching Mingyu’s beam slowly falter from your peripheral vision.

“Something on your mind?” He asks, sounding genuinely worried that got you feeling all the more gloomy.

You whip your head to look at him with widened eyes. You clearly didn't want to set off that vibe but you did, and the man read that all too well.

“No… I mean, No.” You clarify, laughing off with a slight curve on your lips to disregard the small crack in your heart.

Mingyu scoffed, unconvinced and skeptical, “I know that tone of yours. You're not fine.” He said.

Since when did he know that? You ask yourself, furrowing a brow at him.

You were silent, the air between you was silent, and it only confirmed Mingyu’s assumption.

He heaves out a sigh, darting his gaze to the house across the street, relaxing his shoulders and elbows as he leaned comfortable by the ramp.

“Look, I don't know if you're sad that I’m leaving and all… Since we never really haven't been in talking for awh—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Mingyu blinked,

“I’m just, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Cause you're like that!” You exclaimed, raising your brows in defense. You felt a bit of heat rising through your temper for absolutely no reason. You were upset, yes, but in no way was it valid for you to let it all out on the guy who barely did anything to you.

If ever, you should be putting all this anger to yourself. On how long it took for you to realize that you might actually… I miss him too much.

“You hate me, right?” you asked, but the man knew that was a rhetorical question. “You don't like me. In fact, you hate me. You didn't like it when I'm within the walls of your comforting space. You hate it when I’m closer to your sister than you are with her. You hate me because I’m considered as someone who’d only give nothing but bad things to your sister who’s so pure and innocent.”

“And you know, I hate you too. For being so protective and always pulling me down a slippery slope. Calling me names to convince Sophia that I’m nothing but a pot of bad luck. I fucking hated it whenever you steal my favorite spot at my favorite café.”

“And you know… our reasons aren't all that bad. It’s nothing big, you don't hate me cause I made a huge mistake, and vice versa. And then we have our moments when we got along, shared a laugh, and worked together.” She scoffs out a laugh, it seemed sarcastic and demeaning that Mingyu sensed understandably.

“And then after actually getting along. You’d take a step back and pretend nothing happened. Like we’re back to square one of heated arguments and bickering.”

“I should hate you, I really should, but I couldn't. Not when I see your presence and feel myself fumbling through the clouds with a thudding chest. I hate you, but why? Is it because you see me as a bad influence? Is it because of your intended stealing of my favorite seat? Or is it that you made me feel things I don't wanna feel?”

There was another silence. Mingyu couldn't really speak out about his thoughts. It was all too sudden. You were all too sudden.

“And—And now we're here. I’m attending your farewell party and then we’re talking like old pals again.” Your lips curved into a forcing smile, at least you were finding a bright side in all of this. Yet… it still cost nothing.

Mingyu was just there, standing. His eyes staring with confusion alongside a plethora of questions. He understood your outburst well, but his mind is utterly conflicted whether or not you were implying something he hoped you were trying to imply.

“What are you trying to say right now?” Was all the man could muster. He was just as baffled as you are quite frankly.

You knew that quite well, since you also didn't expect those thoughts to become verbal. All for him to hear.

You took a deep breath. “What I'm trying to say is, I like you. I like you so much.” You pause, now keeping the time to gather your thoughts.

“And it kills me slightly that you’ll never see me that way, because all I am to you is that I’m your sister’s annoying best friend.”

Mingyu stares, opens his mouth and closes it once more. He didn't know what to say. The thoughts in his mind were scribbling elsewhere with jumbled letters he couldn't muster anymore.

All he knew was his heart was beating. Fast.

You look down to the wooden floor, then darting up to take a look on his face. A face that’ll confirm your rejection. A face that shows so much confusement and annoyance.

“Do you hate me?”

All that took was for Mingyu to finally hit himself in his own senses by the words left from your mouth. Your breath hitched, eyes glistening with worry and hope.

Mingyu was all the more baffled to have heard such things from you. Your doubts, your fears, your feelings.

It’s new to him. All of this was new to him. He swore to himself that you hated him, and that's what kept himself away.

And now you're here, telling him how you feel, telling him things you wish to have just kept to yourself if you just went home, or just not attend at all—

“I do.”

Crack.

“What?” You mutter, your breath shaking. Startled through his cold answer.

“I hate you. We both know that.” He says, removing the contact of his elbows through the wooden ramp of their porch. His stance facing you as you look at him with curiosity.

“I hate you because you’re always clinging to my sister. You’re always letting her do things she wouldn't normally do. For getting out of her comfort zone." He says, seeping the assumption of him telling a whole list of why he hates you.

It’s only going to shatter you right here, right now.

“I hate you because you're such a know-it-all. You know how annoying you are when you’re like that?” He chatters, taking small steps closer towards you. His eyes pierced through you with intention.

“I hate you because you know how to fight back. Ways so snarky and defensive. Your complaints are pretentious and deafening.” He scoffs. Taking another step closer.

Bit by bit, his words start to dig into your heart. Feeling all walls crash to you each step he has taken.

It’s suffocating, it's baffling.

Though, you couldn't be expecting a good outcome from the man who you never once deemed a friend.

…

..

.

“And honestly, that made me realize how cool you actually are. And that got me jealous.” Another creak on the wooden floor.

“It made me reasonably look up to you.”

One last step. As if you're completely towered by him.

“and worse of all. I hate you,”

and Silence. You couldn't ponder for a more rational approach. Hell, you couldn't even think of anything at this point. All the things grazing in your mind were countless blurs and just incoherence. You couldn't get yourself to speak up and spit a genius counter. All you could do against him was stay silent as he took a deep breath before continuing his words.

“Because it took years for me to finally tell you that I love you. For the longest time.”

That, you didn't expect.

Your eyes whip up to meet his mellowed eyes, staring directly at you. With intentions and wants.

He wants for himself to be closer…and more closer to you.

You could feel your chest pumping rapidly, your breath hitching at the overwhelming feelings stirring up in your stomach. Your mind was fully blurry at this point, nothing in it but him, Kim Mingyu. The menace he is.

You kept your gaze onto him, freezing your expression as he gently held your hand. The contact of his warmth sends shivers down your spine. Slowly holding it up as his head lowers down, his soft lips fervently pressing on the dropped down temperature of her hand.

“Telling you that I love you…the same time I have to say goodbye.” He whispered, adding to his previous confession.

This is where you processed it. The entirety of it. His words, his intentions, his own wants match to your needs.

The need to have him this close, that's what you need right now.

Because after all this time, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

And that is enough for you to know that whatever this is between you, isn't one-sided anymore. Or never at all at this point.

He holds onto your hand for dear life as he leans closer. His eyes drop down to gaze at your plump lips with fervent need.

“I want you, Y/N.” He whispers. Filled with honeys and sweets and your heart makes mellow beats while you perk up a grin with evident anticipation.

“Please…” He adds, his voice lowering in tone. Shaking almost. Transferring your soft hands to cup the side of his face with ease. Slowly pulling him closer to your embrace.

“Mingyu…” You whisper mellowly, eyes meeting him, desperately seizing you in this distance.

“I have wanted you for the longest time.” He blurts out, interrupting your words for a few seconds until he couldn't get the right capacity in his brain to process any more words of longing as he lunges in and breaks the distance. “More than you think.��� His lips have finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Both mouths mold to each other in complete unison. He moves his hands up to your hips and pulls her even closer to him, pressing his whole body against yours too in order to feel her skin to skin contact.

He pulls back slightly, just so he can get a few words out in between his kisses on her lips. "I need you to be mine." he whispers softly, a slight desperation in his tone as he pulls you close again, kissing you once more. His tongue makes a leeway to explore your own as you feel your mind and stomach daze into wondrous bliss. Body suddenly feeling as if it fell from the clouds landing onto a pile of soft petals of daisies and tulips sending you into utter euphoria.

This is what you wanted. This is what you needed.

Now, feeling breathless under his grasp. You finally managed to inhale sharply, taking the initiative to pull yourself back from the contact with the close distance still intact. Panting from the pressure and brain cloudy from that whole instance. You felt your stomach churning and twisting as you took each breath to process that you really just kissed Kim Mingyu.

There was silence between the two of you. The only noise being the chatter and laughter happening inside Mingyus’ abode as the both of you stare into consciousness.

All you could play in your head were his soft whispers of being yours. He wants you, and you, and you, and you—

“Y/N.”

You snap out of your imaginative trance as your eyes dart up onto his face, looking down at you in another crave to taste your lips once more.

But he refused to dig it himself. Instead, he just held your face. Carefully. His thumbs rubbing your cheeks with soft grace.

“I want you. I love you. I don't wanna leave you.” He chanted almost everything he felt, causing your heart to mellow at his honeydew words. The edges of your lips creeping up into a smile, leaning close to him to have your foreheads touching.

“I don't want you to leave either,” you start, your smile slowly faltering. “But…we both know you have to.” You retort. Your tone lingering with disappointment, kicking back to the reality of it all. “This is huge for you.”

His thumbs began to rub extremely slowly as he muttered the words, “I’ll take you with me.” Causing you to slightly widen your eyes at him, startled.

“Mingyu, you can’t—”

“I know I can't.” He huffs, “Just please, stay with me for now. I’ll leave tomorrow, and I all I want to be with you right now…fuck.” He hissed by the end, transferring his hands as it held your waist. Pulling you into his embrace.

This is the first time you have felt Mingyu’s need.

And it’s solely for you.

Though you have known before that after this, and for the days leading on, you will have to endure the moments without his presence. He’s going to a prestigious university and you are left here with your best friend, who’s also his beloved sister.

One more year wouldn't be that bad.

“I'll come to you after I graduate,” You mumble through the fabric of his shirt, causing him to perk up a smile as he tightens the embrace.

“I promise you that.” You finish with a smile.

…

You and Mingyu finally made amends and had a passionate talk about your own futures and plans with mutual bonds and respect. Both of you finally decided to get back inside the party, with him opening the door for you. Taking a step foot into his home with giggles and smiles then immediately stopping at the sight that welcomed them.

Mingyu raises a brow at his sister alongside almost every guest within the party looking at their way with sly smirks and teasing grins.

“Uhm… Gyuri?”

Sophia widens her eyes, acting clueless. “What?”

“What's going on?” He questions once more. His hand lightly grazed up to hold yours at his back, wanting the people at front to see the contact.

But they already knew what's up.

“Well…” Gyuri widens a beam as she inhales before continuing. “Not only did you get into Harvard… But you also got yourself a girlfriend?!” She broadcasts with evident ecstasy. Causing almost all of his relatives, friends, and family to celebrate and cheer that caused the both of you and Mingyu to stare in confusion.

“Wait, what are—”

“Oh don't worry dear brother.” She grinned slyly, reaching ear to ear.

“I heard everything.”

[crowfish-brainrot]

Facing the Consequences Part 2

Mistakes Were Made, and now its time for you to start Facing the Consequences. Emotions run high as your involvement with each of the men is revealed, because casual was never something that would last. This is gonna be messy, but it will end in a healthy (poly!) place!

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Will eventually have MMF+. Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Zayne | Sylus (this part) | Zayne & Caleb | Xavier | Rafayel

Work, in short, turned out to be hell. Tara immediately picked up on your "strange vibes", and pulled you to the side to tell you that your uniform didn't quite cover the mark Zayne left on your neck. Always a good friend, she swore to keep your secret, but you could tell she had questions. Questions you didn’t want to answer.

As if that wasn't bad enough, you spent your entire day doing nothing but reports. You would've chosen field work any other day, but no wanderer attacks needed your attention. On the one day you itched for excitement, all was quiet. You needed something to distract you from your nerves about Zayne. He said he wasn't mad that you saw other people, but that didn't mean he'd want to continue seeing you like this. The thought of losing him broke through your mind every time your brain got tired of the reports, which was often. Sylus slept all day, and you had no one else you could talk to about your feelings. So, you simmered and waded through a day of reports with a short fuse.

You left work in a sour mood, and went home to take a short nap. Sylus had some work to do before he came to get you, a simple meeting you weren’t going to ask about. Not knowing was sometimes for the best. You barely slipped out of the leather corset before you flopped down on the couch, face-first, and passed out.

A warm, soft hand caressed the back of your head. The spicy, rich scent told you who it was before your eyes opened. You nuzzled up into Sylus’ palm with a content hum.

“You didn’t answer my calls, and Mephisto couldn’t see you from outside.” Sylus ran a thumb over your cheek. “I wasn’t sure what happened, but it seems my kitten has run herself ragged.”

You huffed and blinked your eyes open, giving him a sleepy pout. “I was just a little tired. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

Sylus smiled, his ruby eyes glittering in the low light of your apartment. He slipped off his leather jacket, and you sat up a little on the couch, giving him room to sit down. He settled beside you, then pulled you into his lap.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. You can go back to sleep.”

You frowned into his chest. “Won’t that be boring for you?”

“If you’re that worried, I’ll put on a movie.” Sylus pulled the blanket draped across the back of the couch over you, and held you close. “Holding you is all the entertainment I need.”

Your heart squeezed and you nestled closer into Sylus’ hold. He was all well-toned muscle, but relaxed like this, those hard lines of his body softened into surprisingly plush pillows. He was so massive you easily curled up in his lap and lost yourself to the scent, warmth, and feel of him. In his arms, the stress of the day waned, and things slowly became less bleak in your mind. His presence alone replenished your energy and brought you peace. You half-dozed in his arms for about half an hour before you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. You were about to mention that you didn’t eat dinner when a knock sounded at the door, announcing that your food had been delivered.

Sylus set your confused self down on the couch and got up, taking the food then setting it up at your dining table as if he’d done so a thousand times. Things with you and Sylus never were casual, but the sight of the biggest, scariest boss of the N109 Zone humming softly to himself as he set the table for dinner made your relationship with him feel all the more solid. You were blending into one another’s lives, and that eased the lingering tension from your body. You stretched as you got up from the couch and padded your way to the table.

“How did you know I would be hungry? Or what I’d want to eat?” You asked as you took in the spread before you.

“Your habits are predictable, kitten. This is the third time this month you came home, passed out, and ordered this exact meal when you woke up.” Sylus sighed as he made his plate of food. “The Association works you too hard. If you worked for Onychinus…”

You rolled your eyes and pointed your plastic fork at him. “Yeah, yeah. Better hours, a handsome boss, better pay, all the benefits in the world. I know. I do like my job, you know. I’m just tired. And stressed. But that’s not the Association’s fault. This time.”

Sylus remained silent. Giving you room to speak about what was on your mind or change the subject. You took a few bites of food instead.

“What’s the cause, then?”

“Nothing. Just the fact that I’m facing the consequences of my actions,” you said. “It was going to happen eventually.”

“I’m guessing the news of you having other lovers wasn’t well received?”

You took a sip of your drink, something fruity and refreshing, then caught Sylus up on what he missed over the last few days. You told him everything, from your conflicted feelings about what happened with Caleb, to how Zayne reacted. You undid your collar to show Sylus the mark he left, and spiraled about what it all meant. In short, you word vomited something that you doubted made much sense. You were out of breath by the end, but you felt lighter with it off your chest.

“Here I thought your dear doctor was too mature of such a petty show of ownership.” Sylus’ eyes landed on the mark on your neck and he licked his lips. “Though, seeing his mark makes me want to leave one of my own.”

You slumped forward on the table to hide your blush. “I guess I’m just worried. I don’t want to lose anyone. Even if it makes me greedy or a bad person.”

“Bad people don’t concern themselves with such things, sweetie.”

You hummed, the sound thoughtful. Sylus filled the conversation with other topics so you could eat, telling you all about his most recent weapon acquisition. Some historical model. Rare, of course. He was always so controlled, but with you, in the warmth of your apartment over shared take-out, his excitement was palpable. He was so damn cute when he got excited, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

You two finished dinner and you climbed back into Sylus' lap before he got up. You curled around him, and his big arms pulled you close. With him sitting and you standing, you were just tall enough to sigh into his hair. "Thank you, Sy."

"For?" he asked.

"Just being you," you said.

He chuckled, low and rich into your chest. "You might be the only one on the planet who would thank me for such a thing."

You giggled softly and savored the warmth of his embrace, the steadiness of his hold, and the certainty you found in his arms. If everything else went to shit, you would always have Sylus as your anchor.

You kissed him. Slow at first, but it simmered into something more heated. Deeper. Like it always did when you two collided. This soul-deep ache to crawl inside his skin and consume him whole until you fused into one being. The kiss became something ravenous, something neither of you could, nor wanted to stop.

Sylus stood, lifting you into his arms. He carried you to your bedroom, kicking the door open and setting you down on your soft sheets. He went to pull away, but you clutched onto him and pulled. He followed your lead, covering you with his massive body. He pulled away to breathe, and you writhed beneath him.

"I thought you were tired, sweetie." Sylus teased, working his lips down your throat, before nipping at the mark Zayne left.

"I'm not. I need you, Sylus, please." You ran your fingers through his white hair, clutching him close. "I've needed you all day!"

"Is that so?" Sylus asked, his voice low. "Tell me exactly what you need from me, then."

His big, warm knuckles skirted down your ribs, over your shirt. He applied just enough pressure that you felt him, but you needed more. His palms settled just before the curve of your ass, and your head spun.

"Sylus!" you whined, the sound high and locked in your throat. "Please!"

"I'll give you anything you ask for, but you have to ask for it, kitten. If you don't tell me what you need, how can I give it to you?"

You made a frustrated sound. He always did this. Always made you tell him every single thing you wanted. Forced you to voice your desires, to own them. To demand them. Your other option was to control him, to pin him down and take what you needed. As fun as putting Sylus on his knees for you was, tonight you needed your head emptied, to not have to think or worry, or be anything but his.

"I need you to eat my pussy. I need you to stretch me wide enough to take your cock, then fuck me hard enough to shut all the noise out of my head. Mark me up. Leave bruises. Stake your own claim on my skin. Come inside me. Let me ride your face, then pin me in place with your evol until I forget how to speak anything other than your name. Please."

"That's my good girl." Sylus kissed you, hot and heady, then pulled away with a soft growl. "Strip for me, kitten. Let me see you."

You swallowed hard, but did as he asked, quickly unbuttoning your top and throwing it off to the side. You slipped your pants off next, and he peeled them off your legs. His garnet eyes trailed from your panties to your bra, then to your face, and he cursed softly under his breath. You sat up and scooted back on the bed, quickly undoing your bra and tossing it over his shoulder. He climbed up on the bed after you, making quick work of his clothing on the way. By the time you shimmied out of your panties, he was bare and throbbing before you.

Every time you caught a glimpse of Sylus' heavy cock, your head spun a little. He was so big. So achingly big you always felt him for days after he was inside you. How you managed to fit him, you never knew for sure, but gods, did you love the stretch. He settled down on the bed, lying flat. You sat over his face, facing the foot of the bed and your prize. Your knees barely sunk into the mattress before his arms bracketed around your thighs and pulled down.

You clawed at his chest, his name leaving your mouth in a breathy whine as you tried to find your balance. He didn't give you a chance. Sylus always ate your pussy like he was starving, like your taste and your taste alone sustained him. His thick tongue lapped at your cunt, then slipped inside, gathering the wetness you produced for him before he slipped back to circle your clit.

You reached for his cock, holding yourself up on one arm as you leaned over his body. He hissed when you took the head in your mouth. You moaned at the taste and weight of him, and stroked what you couldn't fit.

Sylus growled softly into your cunt, lifting his hips to feed you more of his impossibly long cock. Your jaw ached from how wide you had to stretch open, but you didn't let him fall out of your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks as your tongue rolled, and he moaned. Two thick fingers slipped inside your soaking pussy as his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked as his fingers hit the perfect spot inside you, and you couldn't help but rock into his face.

He held you still, keeping you in place as he worked you open. He sucked on your clit, the pressure sending sparks up your spine. You struggled to keep your focus on his cock from the sheer intensity of the pleasure. You sucked and squeezed at the pace you knew he liked, trying to make him equally as blissed out as you.

You broke first. Sylus hooked his fingers just right, sucked at the perfect intensity, and growled into your cunt. There was no holding back. Your cry of pleasure was muffled around his thick cock as you gushed around his fingers.

You pulled away to catch your breath, but the warm buzz of his evol wrapped around your waist. One moment you were hovering over his body, and the next you were laid flat on your back with your legs spread wide, pulled almost all the way back to your shoulders. Sylus appeared between your spread thighs and slapped his massive cock over your still-throbbing clit.

“You’ve teased me enough, kitten. I need to be inside you.” He leaned down and peppered kisses from your neck, to your chest, then up again to your lips. His massive hands gripped at your thighs, applying the deep pressure you needed.

“Please, please, Sylus!”

He shuddered as he slipped the head of his length inside you. Your breath seized and your back arched. No matter how many times you’d taken him, the first push always stole your breath. He slid in slowly, letting you stretch and open up. Each glorious inch sent your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and all you were aware of was him.

His evol held you down, keeping you spread exactly how he wanted you. There was no escape, no way to run away from the pleasure. You were his prey, pinned down, and his to devour. He sank all the way inside you, and you both groaned. He held there, stretching you wide open. You whimpered, and he moved.

Long, slow strokes. All the way in, then almost all the way out. Slow enough for every vein on his cock to drag against your walls. You couldn't roll your hips to chase the friction, all you could do was take it. Every blissful inch. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you reached for Sylus. Your nails scraped down his chest, leaving angry red marks behind.

"Look at me," he said. Your eyes opened, glassy and wide with pleasure, and he cursed under his breath. His thrusts became faster, each heavy slam of his cock punching the air out of your lungs in sharp, needy whines. He leaned down, holding your gaze as he thrust into you. "Good girl. Keep your eyes on me as I fill you up."

"Sylus!" you moaned as he rolled his hips, hitting your sweet spot just right as he slid into your depths.

"Don't hold back your pretty little sounds now, kitten. Let me hear you." Sylus picked up the pace again, moving fast and deep, jumbling your mind and sending any thoughts other than him melting out of your ears. You whined, almost in protest of how easily you let go of everything, how easy it was to submit to him, but this was what you needed. You didn't hold back a single gasp or choked cry as he fucked you out of your overworked mind.

His hands held you by your waist, his grip so massive his fingers nearly met around your middle. He thrust up and pulled you down, making you take him to the base again and again. His firm grip burned into your skin, and you knew you'd have bruises in the shape of his fingers. The thought spurred you closer to your next peak. Having his mark on your skin --proof of his presence on your body--sang to something that resonated as right in your very soul.

Sylus leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that melted you from the inside out. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as he fucked into you, both of you gasping and moaning into the kiss. He broke away from your lips, kissing down your jaw, to your neck, before landing over the mark Zayne left on your skin.

You cried out his name again, desperate, but unable to form the words to ask for his bite there, too. Your fingers threaded through his silken white hair, and held him against your neck. He chuckled against your skin.

"Need something, sweetie?" he asked. All you could do was say his name, the tone needier this time as you pulled him into your neck. He hummed softly, then trailed kisses across your collar bone to the other side. He kissed the sensitive skin of your neck and you clenched around him. "My mark belongs here."

He sucked the spot on your neck, and you came with a broken sob, shuddering around him. He growled into your neck, and his thrusts grew faster, more erratic. You chanted his name like a prayer, the only word you could find under the white-hot blaze of pleasure that seared through your body. He thrust hard twice more, then he filled you. Hot spurts of thick come hit against your walls, and you moaned at the sensation as he throbbed in you.

Sylus rested his forehead against yours as you two caught your breath. His evol faded away, and he slowly eased out of you. He held you close as he rolled onto his back, bringing you with him into a more comfortable position. He kissed the top of your head, and you hummed softly, content in his hold.

"Get some rest, love." Sylus pulled the blanket over you both and kept you tucked against his chest.

You blinked your eyes open and looked up at him. While it wasn't a straight non-stop marathon with Sylus, two or three rounds weren't uncommon. "Are you sure?"

He kissed your head again, and you nuzzled deeper into the warmth of his chest. "Yes. I'll be here when you wake up."

With his quiet assurance in your ear, you fell into sweet dreams wrapped up in Sylus' arms.

It seemed like you barely closed your eyes when your morning alarm blared to life on your nightstand. Early morning sunlight streamed in through your windows, and you blinked the sleep from your eyes. Sylus' heavy arm was draped over your waist, and his massive body curled around yours. Like a sleeping dragon curled up around their most prized treasure. Unfortunately, that meant you were all but trapped under his massive frame.

He didn't have to stretch to reach your alarm, and he hit the snooze button like it offended him. He huffed against the back of your head, and pulled you closer, inhaling your scent and making a sound that reminded you of a purr.

"Sylus," you said over your shoulder. "I need to get up."

"No," he grumbled.

"Yes." You rolled your eyes. "I have to go to work."

"Quit."

"No."

"Then call out."

"Sylus!"

He wrapped around you even more, trapping you in the warm embrace of his arms. His legs threaded with yours and his chin rested on your head. "Five more minutes."

"If I'm late, I'm blaming you," you said.

"You won't be late," he murmured.

You gave up, soaking in the extra five minutes of rest. His steady breathing, the warmth of his skin against yours, and the comfort of waking up in the arms of your lover. As much as you didn't want to be late to work, you adored the feeling of being wrapped up in Sylus.

Your alarm went off, and true to his word, Sylus let you go. Your phone was charging on your nightstand, and you turned to give Sylus a quick kiss on the cheek to show your gratitude for making sure everything was taken care of. He hummed softly under your attention, and your heart squeezed.

Bathed in early morning light, the sharp angles of his face softened. Mused with sleep and warm from your shared body heat, he looked almost delicate. You smiled, because he only got like this with you. This side of him was something only you got to see, and your chest warmed even further. You tore your eyes away from him because if you didn't, you wouldn't make it to work on time.

You ran through your morning routine, gathering a fresh uniform as you scrolled through your notifications. Anxiety prickled under your skin when you saw no message from Zayne, but it was still early.

You sent a quick text to Rafayel to remind him to eat something since he was terrible about skipping breakfast. He responded immediately asking what if he hadn't gone to bed yet, and you sent a glare emoji in response. He promised to eat something before going to bed, and he insisted both would happen "soon."

Xavier sent his daily "proof of life" selfie, and promised to be home soon. You told him you'd treat him to dinner once he woke up from his nap once he got back. Your daily "proof of life" selfie was a nude this morning. You covered the dark marks on your neck with your hair and positioned your arm to hide the bruises on your waist. You snapped a quick picture, and damn. You looked good. Xavier lost his mind, sending rapid fire texts about how unfair you were being, how you must be trying to kill him, and how you should just wait for when he gets back and punishes you for being a tease. You sent an innocent little smile emoji back and left it there.

Caleb texted you some weird meme at three am, and you sent one back. Then you asked him to verify that he was still coming in a text that bordered on threatening.

After all of that, Zayne still hadn't texted you, but you didn't want to break the silence first. So, you turned on some cheery music and hopped in the shower as you tried not to think about him. You showered, quickly got dressed, and applied a little bit of makeup to the marks to make them less visible under your uniform. Just as you were about to blow dry your hair, a text came in.

Dr. Sweetcheeks: I'll pick you up from the Association tonight so we can talk more, but I am comfortable continuing as we have been. Have a good day at work, and please be safe.

You didn't relax entirely, because the conversation likely wouldn't be the most pleasant thing, but it was something. You told him you couldn't wait to see him tonight, and you promised to be as safe as you could be. When you returned to the bedroom, Sylus was gone, and you opened the door to the rest of your apartment, catching him humming in your kitchen as he made breakfast like he lived here.

"What's for breakfast?" you asked.

"Eggs, toast, and sausage," Sylus said. "I would've made more, but someone hasn't been grocery shopping."

"I've been busy," you said.

"Clearly," Sylus chuckled. "Any news from your dear doctor?"

"I'm pretty sure everything will be fine. I'll see him and Caleb tonight," you said.

"Have fun and be safe, sweetie." Sylus plated your breakfast and passed it to you. "Eat. We didn't get a chance to go for our ride last night, so I'll have to settle for dropping you off at the Association on my way back to the N109 zone."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he smirked and you knew it was useless. He obviously didn't care about being caught by the Association, and as much as you wished he did, there was no stopping him.

"Fine, but I'm getting a coffee on the way."

"Whatever you want is yours, kitten." Sylus kissed the top of your head, and you wiggled from side to side. You hoped the rest of the day would go as well as your morning so far.

--

A/N: I struggled a bit with this one because it's a bridge between two biiiiiig parts, but I think it was so important for MC to have a safe evening with Sylus at this point. Next part is going to be the long-awaited Zayne/Caleb/MC 3way, and I'm both intimidated and excited about what that will look like!

I've had a bit of writers block, so I hope that goes away so I can get the next part out soon!

series taglist: @maraveree, @boom-boom-back, @teriyaki-calm, @yuurisfavblog, @plzdonutpercieveme,

Sylus taglist: @liz9898, silver--47,

[arionaleilani]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[neo-nomatrix]

EAT IT UP !

HOW THE JJK MEN EAT P*$$Y

Multiple x reader

-> GOJO, NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, SUKUNA, CHOSO

warnings ⚠️ smut… duh. pussy eating… duh. 69 in getos. talks of bondage. talks of choking (on dick) overalll smut idk

GOJO SATORU AKA “kid in a candy store”

On his tummy, feet in the air, humming. His legs are swaying back and forth but you’re way too busy to notice. He’s looking up at you with those unmistakable eyes watching you fall apart on his skilled tongue. His hand use your thighs as handles and makes out with your sloppy, cute cunt. He’s trying to tease you but the words come out as gurgled mumbles since his mouth is basically superglued to you.

You’re throbbing on his lips and he slurps it up like honey. Sometimes he dips his fingers in but usually sticks with his mouth. Fucks his tongue inside of you and he’ll probably start gagging because of how far he gets. He has to hug your thighs when you cum because of how squirmy you get. Nips at your clit when it’s all sensitive and giggles.

“You’re so fucking cute squirming”

“Oh wow… feels that good huh?”

“Is this how it feels when you gag on my cock?”

NANAMI KENTO AKA “use me like a chair”

Wants all your weight on his face or else he’s not happy. And no- it’s not an option. Maybe you’ll suffocate him, but who’s to say that’s not the goal? He cups his hands around your thighs and pulls you down on him, immediately getting to work. He’s so sensual and romantic about it. Slowly licking from your entrance to your clit. Definitely kisses your clit before starting anything.

Gathers a whole bunch of spit before and globs it onto you. There should literally be bubbles when you get off of him. Tries his best not to snake his hand down his pants so he can focus on you. As much as he loves you grinding down on his face he always stops you. This is for him to do all he work, he should be making you feel so good you don’t need to think about grinding down.

“Let me do all the work, just sit there.”

“I know i’m hard, sweetheart. I’ll get to that later.”

“Stop hovering, do i need to tie you up?”

TOJI FUSHIGURO AKA “this is for him”

Even though it’s an activity meant to pleasure you, it’s for him. For him to melt away his worries into your sweet cunt. He uses it as a stress reliever, massaging your ass like a stress ball. will literally ask you why you were squirming so much, it disturbed his peace.

Never stops after you come. More flavor for him. Has you on your tummy, he’s spreading you apart and eating it. His hands are never still. Always running up and down your back or playing with the skin of your ass. Moves up to grope your tits and play with your sweet nipples.

“Put your face into the pillow and bite if it’s to much”

“You take my cock every day but my mouth is too much?” oh wait, that’s also too much

“Maybe i should leave some marks on this ass too.”

GETO SUGURU AKA “34 + 35”

SixtyNine KING. Can’t decide between being on bottom or top. On bottom he can get the pleasure of you sitting on his face. The only downside is your squirming with so much pleasure that you forget to suck his cock. He doesn’t care that much, eating you out is plenty of pleasure, but it would be nice. But he does hate it when your strokes get sloppy and they become borderline teasing.

On top he gets the added bonus of fucking your face. Thrusting in and out of your moaning mouth as much as he pleases. He loves hearing you choke while slurping you up. He just doesn’t like the blood going to his head while eating you out. He’s pretty simple when it comes to pussy eating. Loves to suck on your clit and use his fingers. Definitely makes you lick your own cum from his fingers. Finger fucks you until his hands are pruned.

��C’mon baby, at least stroke me baby. Look how hard he is for you.”

“I know it’s so much, huh?

“That’s fine, i’ll just throat fuck you with my cum soaked fingers,”

RYOMEN SUKUNA AKA “stop running”

Eats you out until you’re rolling around on the floor. And still keeps going. He hates it when you squirm, but also doesn’t do anything to stop it. Locks his arms around your thighs and presses a hand against your tummy. Sloppily eats your cunt with no technique. Spits soo much on it. The noises that come from your cunt and his mouth are insane. Dips his tongue real deep into your mess to get every drop.

Has you on the verge of passing out when you cum. And you guessed it, still won’t stop. He definitely pushes your thighs to your chest and wraps his arms around your whole body to keep you still. Loves it when you push on his head in desperation. It makes him so much harder.

“You keep fucking running and I’ll go for longer.”

“You’re only making it worse for yourself by squirming.”

“Fucking take it or I’ll make you.” yeah he definitely makes you

CHOSO KAMO AKA “kitten licks”

He eats you out like he’s scared. He’s so fascinated by your slippery pussy that he unintentionally goes super slow. Giving soft kisses to your clit and licking at your entrance like a popsicle. You have to tell him to go a little harder so it feels better. and once he does, no going back.

Starts to eat it like a starved man. He gets so mad he’s never done this before because he’s in heaven. Ruts his cock into the sheets because it feels so amazing. Moaning like a slut into your pussy. So much spit and his tongue is going wild on your pussy. He’s definitely making this apart of your routine.

“Oh my god it’s so wet baby.”

“Faster? but when i go faster with my cock you cry…”

“It feels good right, baby? Am I doing good?”

[cityselcouth]

it isn't midnight yet

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: when you realise the shift in your feelings for Caleb isn't as new as you thought and nowhere as fleeting as you hoped, wanting him turns unbearable. now, it's fifteen minutes to midnight, his birthday is almost over, and all you know is that you don't want to spend any more time avoiding what could be.

themes: childhood friends to lovers, complicated relationship dynamincs, fluff, explicit smut, so much sexual tension and build up, yearning, canon compliant, petnames, profanity, lots of making out, implied first time but whatever, nipple sucking, fingering, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, floor sex like seriously they fuck all over it lmao, a smidge of edging, multiple rounds, yapping during sex, praise kink, mentions of events from farspace deprivation and references to his other cards, mc is painfully desperate which is accurate for this card, they match each others freak

wc: 16.3k (don't look at me i'm ashamed)

playlist: why by shawn mendes, i wanna be yours by the arctic monkeys, dress by taylor swift, ride by somo, birthday dance by josh levi

lyns notes: IGNORE HOW LATE THIS IS PLEASE AND THANK YOU. remember when this was supposed to be short? yep. this is my very self-indulgent adaptation of no-return night! i've watched the kindled so many times it should be considered shameful and needed to be insane about it. i've unlocked levels of down bad previously unknown to man, and i have channelled those exact vibes into mc. happy birthday caleb. god bless.

For as long as you could remember, Caleb had always been just out of your reach. 

In a literal sense, that was completely incorrect. Growing up with him under the same roof meant that all your earliest memories had him embedded in them in some way or another. He had always been around, always ready to catch you if you fell or show you the way back home if you ever got lost. Older, dependable, constant; there was no end to the number of ways you could describe his presence in your life. 

But for the past couple of months, the one you’d say fit the best would be confusing.

“Sooooo, when are you going to be in Skyhaven?”

You gripped your phone a little tighter, pressing a finger to the scanner of your door and pushing it open. “Who said I was coming to Skyhaven?”

“You’ve asked me about my schedule, and my birthday is this week. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” Caleb’s voice took on that teasing lilt you were so familiar with, and you knew the face he was probably making right now: a knowing grin paired with a raise of his eyebrows. 

“So much for trying to surprise you,” you muttered, kicking off your shoes by the doorway and walking into your apartment. “Can’t you let me at least think I’ve succeeded for once?”

“No can do. Let me know when you’re arriving so I can pick you up.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. You unzipped the front part of your hunter uniform and tossed the corset into the laundry basket, rolling your shoulders to release the tension you had been carrying around. 

“No.”

A pause. “No?”

“The least you can do is let my arrival be a surprise.” 

He chuckled softly, and for some maddening reason, the sound made you stop whatever you were doing and listen. “Alright.” He relented, light and airy, “I can’t wait to see you.”

The drop in his tone, the way he stressed the word, something about it all made you bite the inside of your cheek hard. “Me too,” you admitted after a second, ignoring how your throat had gone dry. “I uh….gotta go. Bye, Caleb.”

“See ya.”

Ending the call, you heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed onto your couch. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes and stayed like that for a couple of minutes, trying your hardest to calm the hammering of your heart. The feeling was similar to when you were running high on adrenaline while facing a particularly dangerous wanderer.

But why on earth were you experiencing that now? 

Well, it wasn’t just now. He’d say something sweet, or stare at you for a beat too long, and it would feel as if all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, which confused you to no end. You had always known Caleb was a charming person; it was pretty obvious from how popular he had been in school as well as during his university days, but for the most part, you had been fairly immune. 

Lately, however, it seemed like that immunity of yours had worn off, and with it, the rose-tinted glasses you had been wearing your entire childhood when it came to him. As a child, you had thought that his tendency to hover around you and need to always be by your side was simply because he was fond of you. He was the older kid who had to take care of you, and for a while, you had assumed he looked at it as some sort of duty.

But now….

Caleb was the most important person in your life. When the explosion took place and he had been ripped out of it, the grief you felt was insurmountable. You could hardly process the fact that the boy you had turned to for everything was gone, leaving you with a gaping void in your heart that you couldn’t fill, no matter how much you tried. Even throwing yourself into your work hadn’t helped soothe the pain of losing him, because he was so intertwined with everything that made you you, from the way you carried yourself to how you held your gun. 

And then he returned from the dead, except he hadn’t ever actually been dead. The light in his eyes had dimmed, and he donned a uniform that turned him into someone you hardly recognised, but it was still him. The very same Caleb who faced danger with you now tried his hardest to keep you from it, terrified that he’d lose you. He held you tighter, kept you closer, and the way he looked at you was the same as it had always been, but there was something much more intense about it. Less subtle.

It wasn’t like you were any better. All the secrets he seemed to be keeping drove you crazy, and even when he was right in front of you, it still felt like he was worlds apart. You did everything you could to keep him as close as you could, to understand him better, even when it consisted of putting yourself in danger. The fiasco with the chip had been impulsive and risky, but he had gotten you out of it and still didn’t know you remembered everything that had happened. 

Perhaps it was the shock of losing him and then getting him back that caused something to shift inside of you. Now, you noticed how he lingered, feeling it in your bones every time he was around. His touch would have you freeze and hesitate in ways you never would have before. It wasn’t just innocent admiration you held for him anymore; it was much deeper than you thought it could be. At first, you told yourself it was just because you were so relieved to have him back, but as they grew more intense, you knew that those feelings were here to stay.

The territory you were navigating was so unfamiliar, and as a result, you shied away from your feelings time and time again. He’d get closer, and you’d take three steps back, forcing yourself to turn a blind eye to what was right in front of you in order to avoid messing up what you already had. You so badly wanted him to let you in, but constantly stumbled back whenever you felt yourself getting too close to the truth.

And Caleb never crossed the line. It didn’t matter how long he stared or how close he’d pull you, the moment you hesitated, he’d let you go. 

You weren’t as hopelessly oblivious as you let on; you were aware of how he felt because his feelings were a mirror of your own, even if you refused to look at them. You could see it in his eyes, how they’d narrow and go slightly hazy when he looked at you for too long. How his jaw would clench and his throat would bob, like he was fighting a war with his mind. 

Being with him was the most natural thing in the world to you, but it was moments like those that made you feel greedy for more. Your feelings for him weren’t platonic anymore.

And maybe they had never been platonic in the first place. Not really, anyway. Just friends didn’t use your body wash because it smelled like you, or promise not to get a girlfriend because you and Gran were all he needed. Friends didn’t pretend to date each other to ward off other people, and they definitely didn’t get jealous when the other paid attention to someone else. 

Opening your eyes, you aimlessly stared at the ceiling as thoughts of Caleb rolled around in your head. Thinking of him like this had originally filled you with immense guilt, considering the history you shared and how fragile everything had seemed when he reappeared. It felt almost forbidden to want more, a fruit you desperately wanted to taste but were instructed never to touch. It hung from a tree whose branches were much too high for you to reach, even when you stood on your tip-toes.

Just out of reach. 

Sitting up, you pulled yourself together and decided to focus on the task at hand. Caleb’s birthday was in less than a week, and you still had absolutely no idea what you were going to give him as a gift. Frustratingly enough, Caleb was the type of person to never talk about the things he wanted. The two of you had spent almost every birthday together, so you had pretty much given him every gift you could think he’d like, and you didn’t think he needed another three thousand-piece model to put together.

Your life would be so much easier if he were straight with you and just said what he wanted.

About gifts, of course. Nothing else.

“Should I call Gideon?”

Caleb sighed, leaning back in his chair as he examined the hologram reports in front of him half-heartedly. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? He’s your friend, that’s why.” You snickered on the other end of the call. He could hear you shuffling around in your apartment, knowing how you could never stay still for more than ten minutes. 

“And?”

“I’m trying to plan a party for you.” You said, so obviously exasperated by his demeanour. “Can you not make my job harder?”

He smiled to himself at your grumbling, “Where's the fun in that? Besides, I don’t even want a party. Who else would I even call? Liam?”

Your silence spoke louder than your words ever could. “Right, but I still want to do something big for your birthday.” The pout that was undoubtedly on your lips was audible in the way you spoke, stubborn and insistent. “I want it to be special. It’s the first time we’re celebrating your birthday after… you know.”

Of course, he knew. 

“Have you considered that I only want to celebrate with you?” 

The statement was reckless, but he couldn’t help but indulge in that selfish wish. His twenty-fifth birthday had been one he spent up above the clouds in Skyhaven, alone, and supposedly dead to all who knew him. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about other people, but not having you by his side was the thing that hit him the hardest. Now, most of the people he had once called friends still thought he was dead, and his old life was nothing more than a distant memory.

You were all he had.

“Are you sure?” 

You sounded uncertain, like you couldn’t fathom the idea. When you were younger, he always had a party of some sort, and with his high school popularity, he was constantly surrounded by friends, but none of them ever held a candle to you. At the end of each birthday, it would always just be him and you, sneaking off to be away from the crowd and only with each other. As time went on, this tradition dwindled until the chance to get away from it all disappeared.

Even now, it sometimes felt as if he was running out of time; every second with you felt fleeting and precious. He wanted so badly to make up for the ten months he had been out of your life for, because when he found you again, there was so much he realised he didn’t know anymore. 

“It’ll be special if you’re there,” he swiped the reports away. “That’s all I want.”

There was a time when he was sure he’d never be able to let himself want more, even when he subconsciously let himself have it. Every time he pushed against the boundaries he had set for himself, you let him through without a single complaint, even pulling him closer when you didn’t quite understand what you were doing. 

“You’re always so greedy when it comes to my time.” The affectionate lilt in your voice made itself known even through the forced annoyance. He smiled

“You always let me be.”

To say you were frustrated would be an understatement. 

Caleb’s birthday, on all accounts, should have been considered a success. He wore the outfit you had gotten him, he loved the cake, and even the movie screening you had planned worked out pretty well, even if the movie was pretty boring. He seemed overjoyed at every little thing you had done, but to you, the day had felt like a repeat of every other birthday you had celebrated in the past. 

And as a result, as any well-adjusted person would, you had acted like a total lunatic the entire day. 

Instance number one: When he hugged you and said that the new outfit needed your scent on it for people to know you were together. You heard those words and instantly froze, your brain running at a mile a minute at the implication of it, even when you knew that the two of you weren’t actually together. 

Number two: “Eyes on the road.”

Getting caught staring at his chest had to be one of the top ten most embarrassing moments of your life. Honestly, who could blame you when that robot had announced it so loudly? Curiosity was a natural thing, and you were simply fulfilling that, but you were sure he hadn’t missed the follow-up glances you had taken, even if you had done your best to be subtle. Perhaps he hadn’t called you out those times for your sake. 

You didn’t even want to think about the way you shivered when he confessed he was always jealous. Pathetic. Mortifying. You were sure you were going insane, or something along those lines. 

Number three: your incessant questioning. Asking if he was enjoying his birthday, if it had all been to his liking and if he was having a good time over and over again, so anxious. He even asked you if the answer to that question was important to you for some reason. 

Damn him for being able to read you so well. As always, he was right, but it wasn’t the question that you felt was important, but rather the answer that would follow. You desperately wanted to know if he was content with how his birthday was going so far, or if he wanted more. 

But then you glanced at his shelves and caught sight of all the frames, each one having pictures of him and you. You on his back, another with you kissing his cheek at your graduation, him holding the back of your head as he looked down at you with a look in his eyes so achingly familiar that it made you snap out of it. You recalled how, instead of telling him why the question was important, you began talking. 

“Before…” you trailed off, swallowing the knot that appeared in your throat every time you spoke of the explosion. “I took you for granted. You were like the sun, and the sun is just in the sky, always shining. It’s a part of my life, so I assumed it would always be there.” In all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were making any sense, but you couldn’t exactly stop now.

A half smile laced his lips. “I see we’re talking about a very serious topic now.” 

You did your best to appear as casual as possible, ignoring the way your heart hammered in your chest as you shrugged slightly. He instantly saw through the facade, and in typical Caleb fashion, poked your cheek playfully, leaning down just a little bit. “The sun doesn’t cease to exist just because you forgot to look up. It’ll always shine wherever you can see it.”

You stared at him when he said that, taking in everything about him. The reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, the gentle way he said it, and in that moment, you saw the Caleb you grew up with. The boy who did his utmost to protect you at every corner, the one whose hand you held onto whenever you had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep without him crawling into your bed and holding you. Admirable, dependable, something worthwhile looking up to. 

“But back then, I never thought about how the sun might feel a little lonely, up there all by itself.” Always waiting on you to catch up, but never making it an expectation. You glanced down at your lap as he exhaled in surprise at your revelation, thinking of how even now, just like the sun, he felt so out of reach, even though he was right next to you, forbidden for you to touch. 

“Maybe what drew me in was never the sun or its light. It was just you, Caleb. Even if you’re a dim white dwarf, a supernova, or a bunch of ruins….I wouldn’t care.”

Everything you said felt wrong. Too heavy on your tongue. A confession that would burn your tongue if you ever stripped it back and spoke the truth of it out loud. You didn’t even know if it was okay for you to say all this, however much you draped it in metaphors and flowery language. 

He seemed to be stunned into silence, and taking advantage of this, you forged on. “No matter what happens in the future, I just want us to stay like this.” You wrapped your arms around him, settling into the familiar cocoon of his embrace. “To be able to hold you close.”

There was something so painfully delicate between Caleb and you. A fault line of sorts that you usually tread on as carefully as you could, but today, you had stomped all over it without any grace whatsoever. 

“Y/n.” He breathed out your name after what felt like ages, leaning down until his mouth was just by your ear. “Time and time again, you’ve always allowed me to want more than what I thought was possible.” You could feel his breath on your skin, making your mind go completely blank with its warmth, your own breath hitching as he hugged you back. 

It still wasn’t enough.

That conversation replayed in your head, frustration churning around inside of you until it felt like it was at a boiling point. How else were you supposed to explain any of that behaviour, other than chalking it up to utter lunacy?

Freshly showered, you now stood in front of the mirror, feeling more ridiculous than ever. A sense of restlessness simmered in your veins like an itch you couldn’t quite reach, warming your skin with an insatiable heat. Moonlight streamed through the windows of your room, illuminating the space enough for you not to have to switch any lights on as you inspected your reflection. 

The dress you had on right now was a gorgeous baby blue number that stopped a little above your mid-thigh, made of tastefully shimmery fabric. The straps were black ribbons, tied in pretty bows on top of your shoulders and wrapping you up like a present, deliberately chosen by you for that very detail. It matched the outfit you had picked out for him, but you hadn’t dared to wear it earlier. You even had shoes on, a pretty pair of black Mary Janes that tied the look together.

So there you were, all dolled up after showering and feeling like a total idiot, because what insane person made themselves a gift for someone they weren’t even with? The decision to purchase it had been an impulsive one, the result of another night filled with pent-up yearning and a need for your best friend that you still didn’t dare acknowledge.

Because he was Caleb,  those violet eyes you’ve grown up being watched by and that mischievous grin you had imprinted in your mind, completely impossible to forget. Your Caleb, but not exactly.

If Caleb was the sun, then you were Icarus.

And now, it was eleven forty-five p.m.

Fifteen minutes to midnight. Fifteen minutes until his birthday was over, and as the seconds passed, you could feel yourself being pulled away from the magic of the day. Your cowardice had won, keeping you from acting on all the feelings you had for him out of fear of ruining what you already had. 

Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. What you were so afraid to want was an idea you had only ever let yourself entertain in your dreams, and dreams belonged to the shade of night. Tomorrow would come, those dreams would be forgotten, and everything would go back to normal. Briefly, you allowed yourself to wonder if he was thinking of you right now, like you were thinking of him. When he closed his eyes tonight and fell asleep, would he dream of you too?

You turned away from the mirror and looked around the rest of the room, feeling extremely foolish. Crouching down, you began to unbuckle your heels when–

Footsteps.

You stilled, knowing that the only person the footsteps could have belonged to was Caleb. You had thought that you were the only one awake, but it seemed like he couldn’t sleep either. 

Was there a chance that he was awake for the same reasons as you? Momentarily, you wondered if he was just as frustrated as you were with how today had gone; exactly the same as all the years that had come before– all except for one little thing.

He hadn’t called you Pipsqueak. 

All your life, you had been his Pipsqueak, Pips, his one and only.  You couldn’t remember where the nickname had come from or when he had started using it, but it was a constant in the same way his presence was. You didn’t think you’d tolerate it from anyone but him, but now that you thought about it, he hadn’t called you that for a good while. It had just been your name, plain and simple.

Shutting your eyes, you let yourself be pulled back into that moment from an hour ago, with him holding you in his arms like letting you go would be a crime. You could still feel the warmth of his body through the layers of his clothing, and his heart beating in his chest. You could smell his cologne, and feel the sensation of his breath on your cheek as you held you close, so painfully aware of him as he overtook your every sense. 

The memory wasn’t enough, and right there, with fifteen minutes left for his birthday to be over, you knew that it would never be. 

Greed was a sin, and you were guilty. You wanted more than just the fleeting stares and charged tension that drove you crazy with anticipation for something you knew was never going to come. You were sick of waiting around when it was so clear he wanted what you did, too: to cross that line you had been balancing on for so long now. You wanted to feel his skin underneath your fingertips and sink into your emotions instead of hiding them. 

You wanted him.

The moonlight reflected off the candy tin that sat on your bedside table. Refusing to let yourself overthink this any longer, you picked it up and made your way to the living room.

Caleb was leaning back on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over a cushion as his fingers drummed against it, and the other toying with the dog tag of his necklace. He hadn’t noticed you standing in the doorway just yet, his eyes trained on the tag pendant with something akin to reverence. He hadn’t even changed yet. 

The sight made your breath catch.

How many nights had he sat like this, looking at that necklace the same way he looked at you? You didn’t want it to be the only part of you he thought he had, because you wanted him to have it all, just as you wanted all of him. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you padded over to him. Immediately, his attention snapped to you as he let go of the pendant, a faint smile tickling his lips at your intrusion. 

“Is this the post-credits scene?”

Of course, he’d make a movie pun. Typically, his goofy one-liners would soothe any frayed nerves, but nothing of the sort happened this time.

“I just….remembered I haven’t given you your gift yet.” You said, mentally chastising yourself for how awkward your voice sounded. His eyes trailed over your figure appreciatively, taking in the sight of you in the dress that so obviously matched what he wore. 

“Right.” He sat forward, rested an arm on his knee, and looked away from you to collect himself, before that easy-going demeanour of his resurfaced once more. The switch was so subtle that if you weren’t so well-versed in every little thing about him, you might not have caught it.  “Well, I’m here.” 

Biting your lower lip, you took another step forward and held out the tin of candy. A minute ago, using it as your excuse had seemed like a good idea, but not anymore. More than anything, you just felt silly. 

Caleb blinked, taken aback at the way you thrust the tin in his direction. Scepticism bled into his expression as he stared at it, and then up at you, trying to figure out what you were playing at. He knew you like the back of his hand, and that included your tells for when you were hiding something, all of which you were currently exhibiting. From your shifty eyes to the way you were biting the inside of your cheek, he had seen it all before. 

He took the candy tin from your hand but kept his eyes on you. The intensity of his stare made that hesitation you were fighting against surge back, and suddenly, you were once again questioning if this was a good idea at all. What if it was too soon? 

“Now that you have your present, I should get to bed.” 

You stumbled over the words clumsily, wanting to get them out as quickly as possible so you could leave and abandon what you had started. Honestly, why on earth did you never think turning yourself into his gift would be a good idea? More importantly, where the hell did you get the short-lived confidence to go through with it? Spinning on your heels to leave the room, you felt an embarrassed flush of heat curl up your neck and travel to the apples of your cheeks, ashamed of yourself. 

He caught your wrist.

All these years, and nothing had changed about you when it came to wanting something but being too shy to ask for it. He had played dumb the whole day, despite being well aware of why your behaviour was so erratic. You were a language he was fluent in, and if there was one thing he was well-versed with, it was wanting you, and from the familiar look in your eyes that reflected what he so often saw in his own, he could only assume one thing. 

But he didn’t do a damn thing about it. At the end of the day, assumptions were just that, no matter how glaringly obvious the answer might have been. He held you close, but he had the patience of a saint and would wait as long as you needed him to.

For a moment, he loosened his grip on your wrist, giving you an out. The silent question was crystal clear through his actions: you could leave if you really wanted to and go to bed���.or you could stay.

The two of you had spent your lives running after one another, pulling and pushing, locked in a stalemate of your own making. This was the first time you had ever tried to break free from it, and the first time he had ever tried to keep you there with him. Every other time, he had taken a step back the moment you were spooked, but now….

You didn’t take another step.

When he sensed that you had made your decision, he tightened his fingers around you and pulled you back, closer, until you were perched on one of his legs. You flailed for a second, steadying yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder, the sudden closeness making your mouth go dry.

“You used to always watch me open your gifts.”

He was too close. He wasn’t close enough. The low, knowing timbre of his voice made your head swim, and you barely even noticed how he wrapped his right arm around your waist until he tugged you even closer while he spoke, “And say how much I like them.”

Suddenly, your nose was right by his, almost brushing against each other. Your sharp intake of air wasn’t lost on him, nor was the way you rushed to compose yourself, readjusting your position on his lap so that you weren’t all up in his face. His arm remained secure around your waist, helping you maintain your balance on his thigh. 

Caleb popped open the lid of the tin and held it out to you, pinning you in place with a single look. “It’s not midnight yet. Don’t leave me, not until my birthday’s over.”

Keeping you close had always been of utmost importance to him. You had grown accustomed to him asking you to stay, not to leave, as if he lived every day thinking that you might. 

You were determined to prove him wrong. Picking up a yellow piece of candy from the scatter of other colourful ones inside, you pressed it to the seam of his lips and fed it to him, not daring to break eye contact even for a second, lest it break the spell both of you seemed to be under. Caleb winced once it was on his tongue and narrowed his eyes at you playfully, but there was no mistaking the heat that lay just under the surface of his gaze.

“Lemon flavoured,” he scoffed, equal parts disbelief and amusement, placing the tin on the coffee table. “Whenever you give me candy, it's always the sourest one.” 

Hand back on his shoulder, you succumbed to his gravitational pull and leaned a little closer. “Don’t you like sour things?”

Growing up, you had watched him always grab the sour-flavoured things, from candy to even the sodas he had. Every time he needed to concentrate on something, he’d chew on a lemon slice. He had even suggested that little trick to you several times, insisting that it worked, and you watched and took it all in, just like you did for everything about him. You tucked the information away in your mind and subconsciously made use of it. 

So now, with the way he called you out, you found yourself wondering if he even liked sour things. Caleb saw through your misconception immediately, biting back a smile at your evident uncertainty. The tartness of anything sour helped him focus and grounded him to the moment, but it was by no means a preference. If anything, it was a reflex, one he had developed over the years of denying himself anything sweet.

And the sweetest thing of all was you.

“I think I’ll look forward to more changes after we celebrate this birthday.”

Emboldened, you brought your hand to his mouth, gently brushing the pad of your thumb over the plush of his lower lip. “You can give it to me if you don’t like it.” 

This was as explicit as you were going to get when it came to asking for what you wanted so bad, and he knew it. The ball was in his court, and there was no turning back from here, not anymore. You watched as his gaze sharpened, peering into his horizon coloured eyes as his pupils dilated at the invitation concealed in your words.

His palm found your jaw with such gentleness that it astounded you, causing you to stiffen under his touch. It wasn’t as if he had never touched you before – your relationship (or lack thereof) had always been pretty physically affectionate, so the proximity should not have made you so nervous, but this was so starkly different from every other time he had invaded your personal space. This felt far more intimate than anything you had ever experienced before, and your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned in, a quiet sound escaping him. 

Helpless, frantic even, needing you like he needed air to breathe. It encompassed everything you felt for him and more. For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. Time wasn’t real and didn’t have any impact on either of you as your breaths mingled and a heavy silence settled. His gaze, dark and telling, dropped to your lips, ones you had swiped lip gloss on in naive hope of this, his own parting as he looked into your eyes once more. 

And then, when the clock of life resumed its course, Caleb dipped his head and pressed his mouth to yours. 

You had imagined this happening dozens of times, even before you fully understood the depth of your feelings for him, but your little daydreams didn’t come close to the real thing. Your mind screeched to a grinding halt the moment it happened because holy shit, Caleb was kissing you. 

But the rest of you? The rest of you acted on instinct, all that pent-up yearning for this exact moment coming out all at once. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care. There was an unmistakable sense of tentativeness to the way he kissed you, only going so far as to press his lips to yours over and over.

You could hardly believe he was actually kissing you, after all the times it had almost happened, only for him to pull away last minute, and that disbelief translated into your body language. Hesitantly, you lifted your hand from his shoulder, letting it hover there awkwardly for a couple of seconds as you kissed him back. Your scattered thoughts slowly came back to you, coalescing until all you were thinking of was him.

When you were sure it was real, you curled your fingers around the nape of his neck and pulled him closer.

Something shifted in that moment, something that neither of you could ever come back from and didn’t particularly care to. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he slanted them over yours, before pulling away just enough to be able to look you in the eyes, half-lidded and swirling with longing. He dragged his thumb over your cheekbone, caressing you like you were a work of art, a marble statue that he was lucky enough to touch, and tilted his head to the other side, capturing your lips once again.

There wasn’t a single trace of his earlier hesitation in this kiss, and the contrast made your head spin. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you melted into him, hyperaware of every little thing he did, and how he tugged you into him. Caleb sucked your lower lip in between his, his tongue sweeping across the plush of it and chasing after yours. You could taste the sour aftertaste that lingered as he plundered your mouth with a desperation that mirrored your own and was still, somehow, controlled. His grip on your face tightened ever so slightly, and you faintly registered him gulping. 

Did he just–

Did he just swallow the fucking candy?

When the two of you broke apart, you knew right then and there that everything had changed. One glance at him revealed to you just how wrecked he was from the kiss, breathing heavily and eyes burning with an intensity that had your lungs empty themselves of all the air inside them.

“Y/n.” Caleb’s voice had gotten lower, huskier.  “I know that’s not your gift.”

Of course, he had figured it out. It wasn’t like you had been subtle about it, but you felt caught nonetheless, cheeks flushing with tell-tale warmth. Your flustered state only seemed to egg him on further, with him tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear as he continued. “I’ll twist your words on purpose and use them to catch you.” 

Although he phrased it like a confession, it wasn’t like this was the first time he was doing it. You were well aware of his habit of driving you into a corner to get you to speak your mind, after all, he had done it all day today, and yet you still indulged him. He and you were two sides of the same coin, crazy about each other in ways that others would never be able to understand, but unable to let it show outright for the longest time. Now that it was all out in the open, a newfound sense of confidence surged through you.

“Go on then,” You pushed him onto his back by his shoulders, your hair falling around your face and framing it like a halo as you gazed down, savouring the surprise that flickered in those all-consuming eyes of his. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Caleb’s earlier self-assuredness seemed to fade at your assumption of control in that moment as he stared up at you, wide-eyed and wanting. You took advantage of the moment, for it wasn’t very often that you left him tongue-tied, your palm cradling the side of his face. 

“Wherever you are, what I always want is for you to be drawn to me…” The words left you in a delicate whisper, like a sinner confessing to her wrongdoings, kissing him chastely as if you were trying to imprint the moment into your memory. “With the weakest gravitational pull.”

Now that was a real confession, one that he had spent most of his waking moments wishing for but never expecting to happen. One edge of his mouth curled upwards in a half-smile.

“Gravity can’t be held responsible for people who fall in love.” The statement took root in your very soul, and it was like a weight had rolled off your shoulders at the acknowledgement. You loved him, so deep and true, and had spent what felt like an eternity fighting against those feelings. In this moment, however, you felt as light as a bird, as if that gravity he had so rightly accused you of blaming had vanished. He reached up, tracing the side of your face with such devotion that it made your chest ache. 

“I’ll remember more than just this.” A promise that he sealed by pressing your knuckles to his lips affectionately. “I’ll always remember that these things came from you.”

You, who were his every dream and wish for as far back as he could recall. All those years of wishing for you on his birthday, hoping that he’d one day have you like this as he blew out the candles, had turned into reality. When morning came, he wouldn’t have to hold onto rapidly fading memories of that fleeting dream anymore. 

You descended upon him eagerly, resuming getting lost in him before he even had the chance to hold you properly. While Caleb had years under his belt when it came to practising restraint and keeping his feelings in check, yours were painfully fresh, effervescent in ways you couldn’t control just yet. They bubbled over the top, bursting forth like soda from a thoroughly shaken bottle.

When the two of you inevitably rolled off the couch, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but he didn’t give you the chance with how demanding his kisses were. One hand cradled the back of your head to make sure that you didn’t get hurt, because he was your protector first, and everything else came after. You barely registered one of you hitting the edge of the coffee table, causing the candy tin to fall off, all its contents scattering around on the floor. 

Nothing else mattered, just you and him. 

Caleb braced himself over you, pulling away from the temptation that was your mouth to look down at you. Fingers intertwined with yours as he pressed the back of your hand against the floor, he couldn’t stop doubt from rushing back in, because how could this be real? It felt too good to be true, even though the warmth of your hand under his told him that he was wide awake. He focused on how your hands looked when interlocked, thinking back to all the times he had only let himself hold your hand in secret, when you were asleep and none the wiser.

A single piece of hard candy rolled over to where your hands lay – lemon flavoured, because of course it was. A scoff escaped him at the irony, but its clattering pulled him out of his scepticism-addled mind. 

“See?” He lifted your other hand and pressed it to his chest, the spot right over where his heart lay. “This is how you draw me in every time without fail.” 

He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, not allowing you to respond as he kissed you again, but it was different this time. It was slow, like he was taking his time to memorise how you felt against him. The pendants of his necklace clinked against each other and grazed your collarbone, the cool metal serving as an anchor and keeping you somewhat grounded.

There really wasn’t much space between the coffee table and his couch, which resulted in the position both of you were in right now, with him in between your folded legs. The realisation made the temperature in the room go up several notches, and you squeezed his hand before whispering against his lips. 

“Happy birthday, Caleb.”

His breath hitched as he pulled away, making a show of leaning back to sit on his heels and rubbing a hand over his face. “Y/n….” 

The heat in his voice was not lost on you, making you grin. You propped yourself up on your elbows, batting your eyelashes innocently, as if you were completely unaware of what you were doing. “What? I can’t wish you now?”

But Caleb was well-versed in all your little games, having been the one to play them for the majority of his life. “You can,” He murmured, resting a hand on your knee. “You know very well you can do anything you want to me.” 

What the hell. How could he say such a thing so casually? You felt positively insane at the combination of his words and his palm on your skin, your dress riding up your thighs just a tad. He knew what you were playing at, and if the air between him and you had been heavy with unresolved tension before, it was borderline electric now. 

“This is more about what you want. It’s your birthday.” You reminded him of the fact, waiting with baited breath for the choice he would make. It was probably past midnight at this point, but you didn’t care, and the sentiment remained the same.

He hummed, his hand slipping down your leg to your calf, over the thin fabric of your knee-high socks. “I think I want to kiss you all night.”

An indignant sound from your end. “Thats it?”

You were pouting. He couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable you looked right then. 

“You underestimate how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you,” He said earnestly, before his tone switched into something much more patronising. “What? Were you expecting something more?”

You sat up properly, pulling your legs to yourself and levelling him with a glare. “You’re so–”

Caleb tutted immediately at your withdrawal, knowing fully well he was pushing your buttons and enjoying every second of it. He reached out, hands on your waist as he pulled you towards him once more– and you let him, quickly adapting to his lap. “Play nice. Can’t be mean to the birthday boy, now can you?”

“The birthday boy is annoying.”

“And you’re still here, aren’t you?”

As if you’d rather be anywhere else. As if you’d choose anyone else to be with. You huffed, spreading your hands out over his chest as you tried to tune out the impatient voice in your head that wanted you to take his jacket off. You settled for straddling him instead. “I can leave. Go to bed.” 

“You won’t.” The smirk that decorated his mouth, a mouth that you had just kissed, was nothing short of devilish. If you were standing, your knees would have buckled at the mere sight of it. “You don’t want to.” 

Well. He got you there. 

Caleb let his fingertips wander, slipping under the hem of your dress and caressing the skin there with a maddeningly light touch. Leaning forward, he turned his head to your neck and let his lips brush against your earlobe, delighting in the shiver it sent through your smaller frame. 

“Do I get to unwrap my present now?”

Any smart retort you had about wanting to leave flew right out of your mind at his question, the smooth cadence of his voice having anticipation thrum through your veins. It was the way he sounded so sure of himself that riled you up even more, that previous heat rushing back and dancing in the minimal space between both of your bodies, present even with his incessant teasing.

All you could manage was a sharp nod, your desperation for him returning with a vengeance. The heat emanating from your skin was like a drug to him, one that he couldn’t help but indulge, his lips brushing against your pulse point and breathing against it, making you feel near feverish.

“Words,” he instructed, like they were an easy thing to form while he slowly made you lose your train of thought. “I need you to say you want this, pretty girl.”

He was insane to think that you didn’t. You wet your lips, flustered. “I want it.” 

You could feel his lips curl upwards against your skin, one hand sliding up your side and to your shoulder. He then paused, simply toying with the ribbon there for a couple of excruciating seconds, before finally tugging and undoing the bow you had tied. One side of the top of your dress slipped a little lower, and all you could do was bite down on the plush of your lower lip as he repeated the action on the other side, simultaneously loving and hating how he was taking his time. 

The shimmery blue fabric dropped to your midriff, revealing your second surprise: a pale blue lacy bra adorning your skin, a pretty thing you had purchased for the sole purpose of driving the man you were currently sitting atop crazy. He pulled away from your neck, his eyes widening by a fraction as his gaze turned smouldering, his entire form stiffening as he took in the sight of it. 

“Fuck,” he rapsed out, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You don’t like it?” You cocked your head to the side, knowing damn well the opposite was true and acting coquettish to cover up just how violently your nerves were acting up despite that fact. 

“I like it too much. That’s the problem.” He pulled his gaze away from your lace-clad chest, forcing himself to look you in the eyes and allowing you to see the depth of the emotion that lay in his. It felt as if you were looking right at the heel of a fire as it consumed everything in its path, molten and heavy. To call it desire would have been a disservice, because it was clearly so much more than just that. It was barely concealed longing and awe, and the very thing you had been fighting for as long as you could remember. 

It was love.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with tenderness that had your heart stuttering. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been imagining this for.” 

Vulnerability cut through the haze of lust that had enveloped him and you, and you were struck by just how quiet his voice had gotten. How he looked at you like you were some divine being he had the blessing to be in the presence of, devoted and mesmerised all at once. Had he always stared at you with such reverence?

“Caleb…” He shook his head as you trailed off. 

“I just–” he swallowed thickly, struggling to get the words out. You recognised the look in his eyes, that barely concealed restraint they always possessed when you got too close, just before he’d pull away and shut down. “I don’t want this to be just–”

“It won’t be. It isn’t.” You caught wind of where he was going with this and shut it down immediately. “Caleb, I don’t just want this, I want you. All of you.”

Exhaling slowly, he let his hands drop to your waist, squeezing lightly. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. “I’ve imagined you saying that too.”

You wrapped your fingers around his tie, tugging him closer until his nose brushed against yours and you were almost kissing again, but not quite. He was in his head, and you were determined to pull him out of it and bring him back to the present. “Show me what else you’ve imagined?”

He didn’t have to be asked twice.

Caleb met you halfway, kissing you like he was making up for all the times he couldn’t. His lips travelled down your jaw and to your neck, every little nip he gave your skin sending sparks shooting down right to your core. You squirmed in his lap, tipping your head to give him easier access, your obvious eagerness earning a groan in response.

Like a flip had been switched, he lifted you off of him, resuming his earlier position of him being on top as your back met the carpet on his floor once more. His kisses turned hot and open-mouthed, leaving trails of warmth along your fevered skin as his lips moved lower, teeth grazing the junction where your neck and shoulder met. The simple, barely there contact had a shudder run through your body, and you gripped the lapels of his jacket, needing something to hold onto you. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked softly, never wanting to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with. The thought of him touching you made your head spin, and at your dazed nod, he slowly pushed the skirt part of your dress up, letting it bunch up around your waist. Arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach, hot and sticky, its tendrils spreading through your lower body and leaving your panties damp. 

Panties that, upon seeing, had him cursing under his breath. They matched the bra you wore, telling him just how much you had thought about because– shit, you were in a matching set of lingerie. 

“Yeah, you’re trying to kill me,” he muttered, dropping his head to your chest. You couldn’t help the breathy giggle that left you, the strands of his inky hair tickling the skin of your collarbone. “You’re stunning. Is this all for me?”

“Do you see anyone else around?”

“Good to know you still insist on sassing me even like this,” he muttered wryly, his hand wandering up your thigh and dipping onto the inner side of it. Before you could think about refuting that statement, he began kissing the swell of your breast, trailing downwards and then wrapping his lips around your clothed nipple. Wetness from his tongue seeped through the lace as he swirled it around the already-stiff peak, and as if on instinct, your legs fell further apart, eyes screwing shut. 

He hummed, evidently pleased at your reaction, tugging the bra cup holding your other breast down, exposing the pillowy flesh underneath. Shifting his attention from the one he had been teasing, he gave your other nipple the same treatment, licking, sucking and teasing until you were writhing underneath him, breathing shaky and uneven. 

Caleb dragged his fingertips up the tantalising expanse of your inner thigh, inching closer to where you wanted him most as he continued his ministrations on your breasts. Running his teeth over your nipple, he gently bit down on the sensitive peak, catching you off guard and drawing out a needy whimper from the back of your throat. 

“Caleb,” you barely recognised your voice with how whiny you sounded. “Please just–”

But the rest of your impatient plea would never be heard, because he chose that exact moment to slip his hand up the rest of your thigh and press his fingers against your clothed core. You sucked in a sharp breath, your hips jerking into his touch desperately. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbled against your overheated skin. “Have you been like this the entire time?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, far too turned on to be embarrassed by the fact. “Please hurry up and do something.”

He shot you a wolfish grin at your whining, rubbing the pads of his fingers against your covered folds and gaining a feel for just how desperate you were for him. You looked so fucking pretty like this, spread out and wrecked even when he had barely done anything to you yet, and still begging him for more. The sight was something straight out of a wet dream to him, every bit as sinful and perfect as he had imagined. “So impatient. Won’t you let me take my time with my gift?” 

“We have the whole night for you to take your time,” you shot back, and the implication made his eyes darken considerably. Without wasting another second, he pushed your soaked panties to the side and dipped two fingers in between your folds, letting out a disbelieving puff of air now that he could feel how wet you were directly. Slick collected on his fingers, he swiped it through, bringing it up to your already sensitive clit and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you mewl. 

“The whole night, huh?” Caleb kissed the hollow of your neck, and then higher. “Showing you everything I’ve imagined might actually take that long.”

You scrambled to grasp at his arms as he began to rub your clit, your entire body reacting to the touch it was programmed for him and him alone. He watched in fascination, drinking in every lovely sound you made, from delectable sighs to restless moans. It wasn’t like he intended on being a tease, but he couldn’t help it, drunk on your reactions and wanting to see how many he could draw out of you. 

Caleb let his finger wander back down your folds, swiping it up, down, and through your wetness over and over until you were squirming. The wet sounds had your cheeks burning, nails digging into the stiff fabric of his blazer as you whined. 

“Stop–”

“Stop what?” he taunted, his nail pressing into the underside of your clit. The sound that evoked was one you didn’t even think you were capable of making, eyes going wide and desperate.

“–teasing,” you breathed out. “Stop teasing. I need more.” More of this. More of him.

That was all it took. 

He slid a finger in, almost hypnotised by how smooth the glide was, a disbelieving scoff leaving him as he once again acknowledged just how wet you were. Your mouth fell open, a satisfied gasp escaping it as he buried said finger knuckle deep inside of you. Around him, you were warm and wet and so unbelievably tight that he felt himself grow harder, straining his pants but not caring about it for a second, so transfixed with you. 

His finger was longer than yours, brushing against spots that yours never could. He moved it slowly, pumping in and out of you at a pace that was both dizzying and infuriating before easing in a second one. 

Just when you were about to complain again, he crooked his fingers inside your cunt, and you moaned, “Oh fuck.”

“Feel good?” he pressed a kiss on the spot under your ear, breathing the words against it. “This what you wanted, baby?”

The new nickname had you clenching around him as you nodded furiously. He smirked triumphantly against your skin, increasing the motions as he finger fucked you, revelling in how your body responded so compliantly, truly made for him.

“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop.” You hiccuped, too lost in the sensation of his fingers dragging against your walls to form a coherent thought. It was the way you were looking right now, half-closed eyes caught between intense desire and a certain drowsiness only pleasure could bring about, dress all bunched up around your midriff– a mess, but a beautiful mess regardless.

Caleb had always been terrible at refusing you, so why should he start now? If you asked for something, he’d do anything to get you ten of them. Spoiling you was his favourite pastime, but he was starting to realise that he loved it even more like this, when you were begging him for something only he could deliver. 

When your legs began to tremble, his resolve steeled further, wanting more than anything to push you over the edge. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbled, greedily mouthing at your breasts again. “Love making you feel good.”

His thumb found your engorged clit, rubbing deliberately heavy handed circles onto it. The squeal you let out was so cute, and he angled his fingers a little bit, watching as a shiver spread over your body and your eyes widened. 

A broken wail of ecstacy made its way past your lips as you tumbled over the edge, gushing around his fingers and growing so tight that it had his cock throb at the thought of being inside you. Your pussy was like a vise, sucking his fingers in deep, and he shamelessly indulged you, helping you ride out your high. Once he was sure it was over, he pulled his fingers out and nearly groaned at the sight of your release coating them.

Suddenly, the heat was unbearable. He shrugged off his jacket and grabbed at the knot of his tie, holding part of the fabric between his teeth and yanking the other end until it came undone. 

Witnessing this had two things happen to you at the same time: the first being your sharp inhale, and the second being the rush of desire that flooded your system all at once, shocking yourself with the magnitude of it all. Entranced, you watched as he discarded the tie and popped his collar, only snapping out of your reverie when you felt his fingers curl around your ankles and tug you closer. 

Fuck. 

Within seconds, his shirt was off, allowing you to unabashedly stare at the definition of his abs. You let your eyes wander because, wow, Caleb had always been extremely attractive, but the effects of it seemed to be hitting you all at once.

Having rid himself of part of his clothing, he turned his attention back to you, taking note of the appreciative glint in your eyes. You were perfect, so perfect for him in every single way, and he was going to make sure you knew it before the night was over. He found the mess of your dress and tugged it up and over your chest, uttering a single instruction.

“Up.”

You obeyed immediately, sitting up and letting him pull the material off of you, letting it join his discarded clothing without another care. After all, it was always meant to be peeled off of you, the perfect wrapping paper. Your shoes came off next, and you didn’t know which end of the room they landed up in. Left in only lingerie that barely left anything to the imagination, you had never felt so exposed and somehow still in control at the same time, because being vulnerable with Caleb was like second nature to you. 

“You look so pretty,” he cradled your face in his palms, voice soft and sincere. “I almost don’t want to take it off.”

“Almost,” you noted, teasing. He smirked down at you, snapping the strap of your bra against your shoulder.

“Almost,” he repeated, confirming that he was going to take it off anyway. He knocked your knees apart and settled in between them, resulting in you being eye-level with his chest, the silver of his necklace glinting in the dim lighting of his living room. 

And oh my god.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, a little awed. “It actually has gotten bigger.”

Caleb laughed, flicking your forehead as he gently pushed you back down, climbing over you and planting a kiss at the place he had just struck. 

“Did you think the robot assistant lied?” Amusement coated every syllable, a little muffled as he kissed your cheek, and then your lips, propping his index finger underneath your chin to angle your head better. 

“No,” you finally responded when he shifted his attention to your neck, sucking at the skin and leaving pretty little marks that would turn purple all over it. “Just confirming. You didn’t exactly let me check earlier.” You could feel his lips curve into a smile as he kissed down the valley of your breasts.

“Been thinkin’ about that all day, have you?” He glanced up at you from where he was, eyes alight with mischief. Caught, you decided to evade that question, sighing blissfully as he continued his path down your body. 

Until you realised where he was heading. 

“Wait, what are you–?”

“You have no idea,” He whispered reverently against your skin, methodically working his mouth over every part of it he could, like your body was a map he was attempting to commit to memory. “Just how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you.” His tongue flicked out occasionally, grounding you to the moment every time you felt yourself fall deeper into a daze. “Was sitting here and thinking of you, cravin’ you so bad. I do it almost every night.”

Every night. The idea made you positively woozy, cementing the fact that all the insanity you had felt in your apartment back in Linkon– it had been mutual. On some level, you had always known it had been, but hearing it like this, in such an intimate setting, made you feel braver. 

“Me too.” A breathless admittance, and it was the truth. It had always been the truth, even before you knew it.

Caleb looked up at you, both his hands slipping underneath your shins and gripping lightly. “I’ve wanted to hold you for so long, to kiss you and hold you and taste you–” he said in a manner that made it seem like he didn’t quite believe he was doing so now, rambling earnestly. “–fuck, can I taste you?”

He paused, letting the question weigh down on you. His path down your body made sense now, and you swallowed, trying to ignore how your pussy ached at the thought of it as you meekly whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

“Have to? Baby, I want to,” he kissed the spot just above your hip. “I’d beg if you asked me to.”  

You were so incredibly shy all of a sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer level of power he constantly loved placing in your hands. You recognised this was his way of ensuring you knew he was unequivocally and absolutely yours, and it set your blood on fire. Before you knew it, you found yourself surrendering.

“Okay.”

Without wasting another second, he pulled those pretty panties of yours off of you, albeit a little regretfully, and tossed them to the side as he settled in between your legs. Faced with your bare pussy, Caleb was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven already, unable to get over just how pretty it was, all flushed and glistening with need. You felt intimidated by how intently he was looking at it, trying to squirm away, but he held you there, large hands keeping you nice and spread out as he began peppering kisses over the expanse of your thighs. 

Then, without so much as a warning, he positioned your legs over his shoulders and licked a stripe up your cunt. Your gasp rushed straight to his head, much like how all his blood seemed to rush south. The taste of your slick made him groan, the sound so uncharacteristically filthy that you could feel yourself flush at hearing it, flattered and scandalised all at once. 

His tongue was tentative in its exploration of you at first, lapping at the wetness that seemed to trickle out of you uncontrollably like it was the finest of wines. He dragged over your entrance and up to your clit, flattening against it. 

“Oh,” you mewled, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging lightly. “Oh, fuck.”

The sensation of your nails lightly scratching against his scalp sent a delighted shiver down his spine, and he tightened his hold on you. He stroked his tongue over the bundle of nerves, once, twice, and continued doing so until you were whimpering uncontrollably. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and this was almost too much too soon, but it felt too good to protest.

Caleb looked at you from where he was, as your fingers carded through the front of his hair and pushed it back, giving him the perfect view of you. Maintaining eye contact, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, a deep sense of satisfaction spreading through his chest when he saw how your eyes snapped shut in pure ecstasy and your jaw fell open, crying out his name so loud.

Your back bowed off the ground, heels digging into his shoulder blades, torn between pulling him closer and attempting to push him away. He was determined to make sure you knew how much he was enjoying this. He groaned, and the vibrations from it elicited a moan from you in return, the two sounds coming together and forming a harmony of pleasure. 

“Caleb,” the way you whined his name was so perfect and breathy, he nearled cummed right there and there.

His wicked mouth continued to work you over the edge, and when you felt his finger prod at your entrance again, you squealed. The sounds coming from your pussy were borderline obscene with how wet you were, your slick mixing with his spit, coating your inner thighs as well. You felt that tug in your gut again as the coil pulled tighter and tighter, on the precipice of shattering.

It was so, so good, but greedy as you were, you wanted more. 

You tugged at his hair, gently at first and partly out of your need to hold onto something tangible to grip onto to stay grounded, before pulling harder, guiding him away from your cunt. 

Amusingly enough, it looked like he was offended at being parted from it, but maintained his gentle tone. “Somethin’ wrong?” 

“I think I’m close again.”

Caleb raised a singular eyebrow. “Sounds like everything was right then.” The pout on his lips would have been kind of adorable if not for the way your arousal coated his lips and chin, a sight so erotic it made you wish you could capture it somehow. 

You let your hands drop to his neck, pulling him back up from between your legs. “I want to come with you.” 

A hungry look entered his eyes, and he tongued his cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed, trailing your hands down his chest and abs, your nails grazing his skin with just the right amount of pressure to get him to shudder lightly. You stopped at his waistband, toying with it as your gaze flickered between it and his eyes, silently asking for permission. The ability to have an entire conversation with a single look was something he and you had mastered a long time ago, and this was no different. 

Caleb swallowed and nodded. “Okay, okay. Yeah. I want that too.”

You pushed him to the side, catching him a little off guard as he settled on his back. Sitting up, you straddled him once more, busying yourself with unfastening the button of his dress pants and unzipping them. He caught the slight tremble of your hands and smiled softly, pushing your hair out of your face and pressing a shockingly tender kiss to your forehead. Considering the situation, the contrast of it coaxed a nervous laugh out of you. 

“You’re distracting me,” you mumbled, turning your face into his hand and leaning into his touch. He played coy, thoroughly amused.

“Am I?”

“You know you are,” your hands were splayed out on his lower torso as you took a breather, overwhelmed. He didn’t care in the slightest, pulling you closer and resting his forehead against yours.

“I love being your distraction,” he hummed. “That’s how I know you’re paying attention to only me.”

A kiss to the side of your mouth brought all that confidence back. You straightened, pushing his pants down past his hips and repeated the action with his boxers, revealing his erection.

Flushed and painfully hard, it stood up against his stomach and made your eyes widen, because – holy shit – he was big. Your mouth went dry at the mere sight of it, and he tilted his head to the side, continuing in that soft cadence. “You okay?”

Shit – maybe you should have been the one asking that, because being that hard for presusmably this long had to have been extremely uncomfortable for him. Still, there he was, checking in on you instead. 

Your sweet, perfect boy. The man you loved. 

“I’m good,” you wet your lips, meeting his eyes and finding out just how much he was holding back right there, the purple of his irises almost entirely gone with how blown out his pupils were. “Can I– can I touch you?”

You caught his Adam's apple bob and wanted to bite it. 

I’ve only ever been yours to touch, his thoughts screamed back at him as he watched you wait for his response, but his tongue seemed to have trouble catching up to his mind at the moment. Everything about this was surreal to him, with you reciprocating everything he felt and showing it for the first time. “Yeah, you can.” He said after a beat, and then, as an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

Gently, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his cock, feeling the weight of it in your hand. You didn’t miss the way he inhaled sharply, sucking air in through his teeth at the touch. His eyes fluttered shut, long eyelashes that you envied kissing the skin under his eyes as he tipped his head back. 

Seeing him like this spurred you on even further. You moved your hand a little, up his length, teasing his tip and the slit that leaked precum, spreading it around with your thumb. It made a mess on your palm, but made it easier for you to glide back down his cock, relishing the way he hissed in pleasure. 

Caleb jerked his hips into your fist instinctively, evidently trying his hardest to hold back his sounds, only letting the slightest of moans slip past his lips. You were having none of it, tightening your hold on him as you moved your hand, suddenly feeling playful. Leaning forward, you brushed the tip of your nose along his neck before pressing a kiss against his heated skin.

“Let me make you feel good,” you mumbled, syrupy sweet in your manner of speaking. It was the same tone you used to use with him every time you wanted to get your way, but instead of your usual puppy eyes, you settled for planting lazy kisses on his neck. 

“God–,” he sounded so strained, “Wait, I– fuuuuck”

You were aching for him at this point, now that you could feel him and imagine how he would feel. You ran the pad of your thumb over the vein on the underside of his cock teasingly, sucking on his pulse point, tasting the salt of his skin on your tongue. Briefly, you entertained the thought of lowering your mouth even further, until you had his tip in your mouth and–

Caleb caught your wrist, panting heavily. “Okay. Stop. No more.”

“I barely did anything?!” You protested, and he chuckled airily.

He breathed out your name, and it was completely intoxicating, an octave lower than usual and rough. “If you do anything more, I’ll come.”

“But–”

He turned his face, nose brushing yours as he breathed against your lips. “I’m not coming on your hand the first time we do this.” 

Assertive. Firm. Your train of thought came to a sharp halt, puddling into a mess of incoherence as lust took over. You nodded eagerly, crashing your lips to his again in a messy kiss, all tongue and heat and a desperation for each other that somehow hadn’t burst at the seams yet, but was about to. 

Another roll over, and the two of you were so far away from the spot you started in. Caleb was on top again, both of you caught up in your feverish lip lock. Your hands were in his hair as you pulled him as close as physically possible, and he reached behind you, finally unhooking your bra and letting it fall off, joining the rest of your discarded clothing. 

Caleb lifted your legs and hooked them over his hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he licked into your mouth. He pushed his hips forward, pressing his cock against your dripping folds and rocking aimlessly, coating himself in your slick. The feeling of the head of his length rutting against your clit had you make a keening sound, one that he swallowed greedily, echoing with his own moan. 

This was real. It wasn’t a dream, your nails scratching against his biceps told him as much. You bucked your hips up against his, and the feeling of you, so wet and soft, was enough to make him feel delirious. 

“You’re perfect,” he said drunkenly. “My perfect girl.”

Oh.

Hearing him say it like that was something else. Calling you his, speaking it into existence to remind himself of the fact as much as it was to remind you, not bothering to ask the question first because there was no need to. Asking you to be his was trivial, especially when both of you knew you already were. 

He hiked your legs even higher as his tip caught at your entrance, nudging at it but not pushing in just yet. Those few seconds were torture, almost what you wanted but not quite. Not yet.

One more kiss. A dulcet whisper of ‘yours’ falling from you.

When he finally sank into you, it was slow, and you could feel it everywhere, your nerve endings on fire. The stretch burned deliciously, a momentary flash of discomfort that he distracted you from with another intense kiss, until it melted into pleasure. Your pussy eagerly welcomed him, hot and velvety around his cock as he inched his way in, even when taking his time was proving to be a difficult task. You felt unimaginably good, and when he glanced down between the two of your bodies, the sight of him half buried inside of you was enough to make him go a little light-headed. 

Caleb buried his face in the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as you pawed at his arms, producing pitchy little whimpers that sounded like music to his ears. A particularly impatient rut of his hips later, he was finally all the way in you. All you could manage were shallow breaths, feeling so full that it made it hard to think straight. 

“Y/n,” there was that drunken lilt to his tone again, muffled against your shoulder. “God, fuck, you feel incredible. I could do this all night” 

His words came to life in your mind, and you moaned, positively high off the praise, your walls pulsing around him happily as you adjusted to his size. “Yes.”

“Yes? You like the sound of that?” He encouraged you to elaborate, even though he knew how your state of mind had to have been then, reduced to nothing more than a puddle. Your entire body was impossibly flushed, and he massaged your hips soothingly, feeling how tense you had gone, clenching hard.

Caleb moved his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Relax for me, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight.” 

You forced yourself to let go of some of that tension, breathing deeply to keep yourself at least a little bit relaxed. He kissed your pulse point, feather light, as he pulled all the way out until only his tip remained inside of you. The loss made you whine pitifully, feeling uncomfortably empty now that you knew what it was to be full of him. Lifting his head from your neck, he couldn’t help but smirk when you wiggled, silently begging for more. 

“So impatient,” he tutted condescendingly, squeezing your waist. The glare you threw his way was weak.

“You–”

He promptly shut you up with a deep, measured stroke, ensuring that you felt every single inch of him as he did. Whatever scathing quip you were about to fire at him flew right out of your head, replaced with a humilatingly wanton cry of his name, nearly sobbing in relief when he repeated the action. He had always been like this, pushing your buttons until they were completely undone. 

“I…I don’t think I’ll last long,” you warned breathlessly as he rolled his hips into yours, arching off the floor when you felt him even deeper than the last thrust. Your previously building climax had resumed its course, all that sensitivity coming back all at once. 

“I know, I can feel it.” His hand slipped down your thigh to the curve of your ass, lifting your hips slightly and leaving absolutely no space between the two of you. 

As if to prove his point, you felt yourself clench around him again, getting even wetter when the head of his cock briefly brushed against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You lolled your head to the side, shutting your eyes as you focused on how he was fucking you. He dropped back down, his body dwarfing you as he buried his face in your hair, hips rocking against yours. The space between you, or lack thereof, felt heavy with your mutual need and something else.

Bodies flush against each other, chest pressing against his– suddenly, this wasn’t about pleasure anymore. Your breaths and heartbeats converged into one, skin to skin and connected in the way both of you had longed for, all that waiting and wanting coming to a head in this fragile, beautiful moment. Every gasp was a proclamation of your feelings, spilling clarity over them in a way that words never could. He was yours just as much as you were his, two souls melding into one. 

You would never be separated again.

The words sat on the tip of your tongue, a mere eight letters forming all three of them. They should have been easy to say, but you found yourself holding back, not wanting them to come out like this. Caleb's fingers found yours, intertwining with them and squeezing as he pressed the back of your hands into the carpeted floor. Heavy emotion mixed with the sheer levels of bliss coursing through your veins as he moved inside you, steadily climbing to the peak of its crescendo.

When you came, it was much more intense than the first time, your mind dissolving into a jumbled mess and a ragged moan of his name leaving your throat. You got so tight around him, causing his pace to stutter, and then slow down a little bit, switching into shallower thrusts. For your sake, you realised.

“We– we can stop if it's too much,” he muttered, but the desperate rutting of his hips against yours told you a different story. He hadn’t come yet, and though you were so sensitive to every little movement of his now, it felt too good to want it to stop. You felt insatiable, wanting him to fall apart just as you had and to be the one he fell apart for. 

So you choked out hoarsely, “More.”

“Fucking hell,” his voice had taken on a tone you had never heard before, “Are you sure?”

Instead of responding verbally, you locked your legs behind him, dragging him deeper into your soaked cunt and mewling at the feel of him. 

And then, because you could never resist pushing his buttons, you purred, “Didn’t you say you could do this all night?”

Caleb’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing slightly at the taunt. The air crackled with a newfound intensity, contrasting the sweet intimacy that you had just shared with him, slipping into darker territory. “I did,” he drawled, pulling out completely before snapping his hips to yours again, the roughness of the move a stark difference from his previous gentleness. You were helpless to the intense waves of pleasure washing over you while he fucked you, succumbing to them with an enthusiastic groan. “You want that, huh? Want me to fuck you all night?”

The way he phrased it was filthy and so wrong in all the right ways, a dark lilt injected into his tone. Seemingly knowing the effect it had on you, he let go of one of your hands, cupping one of your breasts instead. Instinctively, you arched up into his touch, and he grinned, rolling your nipple under his fingers before pinching it. He savoured the way you whined, wishing he could permanently imprint the sound in his memory as he continued to tease the pebbled bud, tugging and flicking it. His ministrations only amplified the ache between your legs, despite you being quite literally stuffed full of him.

“Come on,” he taunted playfully. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck you all night.”

A rush of shame curled around you, the vulgarity of the statement having you exhale sharply. You reached up and pulled him back down into a kiss, hoping it would distract him, and for a couple of seconds, it seemed like it did. He hummed contentedly, but then broke away and pinched your nipple again, this time harsher than before. 

“Say it, or I stop.” 

That was wholly counterintuitive, especially since that meant he would essentially be blue-balling himself. However, your ability to think logically had flown out the window a long time ago, and you shook your head desperately when he actually began to slow down a little, rolling your hips upwards and babbling.

“I want it– want you to fuck me all night.”

“Good girl.” 

Oh, you definitely liked that, judging by the way your pussy fluttered around him so eagerly. His messed-up hair fell into his eyes as he set a punishing pace, groaning at how silky smooth the glide was. At how you fit together so perfectly. 

And god, you looked absolutely debauched, a vision with your flushed skin and red marks littered all over your neck and chest. The sight of you like this had to have been the very definition of sin, glossy eyes and pathetic little whimpers falling from kiss-bitten lips that encouraged him to fuck you even harder. He forced himself to look away, glancing down at the spot where the two of you were connected and watching how his cock disappeared in you, your cunt hungrily gripping and sucking him back in every time he rocked away. 

“Look at you,” He crooned, notching himself in you completely and staying still for a few, cruel moments.. “Look at your pretty little pussy taking my cock so well. It’s like you were made for me.”

Your sensitivity from the overstimulation had circled back to pure need by now, and an agonised moan left those swollen lips of yours at the stilling of his movements. Your nails dug into his skin, the sting making him hiss. His cock throbbed inside of you, so, so close to coming undone. When you curved off the carpet, he splayed a hand over your stomach and took a moment to admire how large it looked against you, before pressing down firmly. 

“Caleb, please,” the look you threw his way was addictive, so desperate and wanting. How could he ever refuse you, especially when you were looking at him like that? 

“Anything,” he dropped his mouth to yours, breathing out against it and pinning your hips down. His hand on your stomach slid lower, dipping into your folds, dragging your slick up to your engorged clit and rolling it between his fingers. Your shriek of surprise and pleasure was nothing short of delightful. “I’ll give you anything and everything you ask for.”

Caleb began rutting into you again, angling his hips slightly differently now, going even deeper. As a result, he brushed against that spot that had you seeing stars once more, and you cried out. 

“Oh my god, right there– please don’t stop, please, please–!” 

His grip on your hips turned bruising, sure to leave marks, but neither of you cared in the slightest, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. He fucked into that spot over and over, lewd, wet sounds echoing through the living room every time his body met yours. Your vision blurred as you clawed at him, so far gone. 

“Won’t stop,” he groaned, reassuring you that he was now done teasing. “Y/n I– god– stay with me, okay?” He was borderline frantic with his thrusts now, his composure having crumbled away completely and leaving you with a frenzied man, chasing his high and determined to give you another, drowning in the depths of his own emotions. “Don’t ever leave me.”

It was a statement he had spoken several times before, between the lingering stares and tight embraces that lasted a little too long. Constantly asking you to never leave him, holding on so tight in fear that he’d lose you. Somehow, in the midst of the haze of bliss you were caught in, you managed to catch on to what he was saying. 

“Never,” you whimpered, cupping his face and holding him close. “I’m never leaving you, I’m yours.” 

Caleb nuzzled into your touch and pressed his forehead to yours. “And I’m yours.” 

He littered burning kisses over the expanse of your neck, pressing them to your chin and cheeks as well, spilling his affections onto every bit of you that he could. Your fingers found purchase in his hair once more, tugging and using your hold to angle his face so that you could kiss him again.

With one final pass of his fingers over your clit, your third orgasm slammed into you. You sobbed out his name through the waves of euphoria that crashed through your body, setting your entire body alight from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Caleb helped you ride through your high, grinding into you and drawing out the white-hot pleasure that licked at you so tantalisingly. It felt as if you were falling into the abyss, but as always, he was there to catch you.

Caleb came shortly after, unable to hold off any longer with the way your pussy clamped down on him, tight and hot and demanding in the most delicious way. His thrusts slowed down as he lazily rode his high, pumping into your trembling form slower. Your walls spasmed, and he grunted, pressing his lips to yours and muffling your whines. 

The kiss veered into something much softer, just a breathless brush of your lips as you calmed down, head descending from the clouds. He pulled out gently, humming softly when you hissed and pressing his lips to your forehead in lieu of an apology. 

“You’re incredible,” he said quietly. Silence ruled the room for a couple of seconds; the only thing you could perceive was the quickened beating of your heart, and every spot where his skin touched yours. Nothing but him existed in the little world you had created for yourselves, and the two of you stayed like that for a bit, basking in each other's warmth. 

“Caleb,” you murmured his name, the syllables feeling heavy on your tongue. The words you wanted to say so badly stuck in your throat, and your vocal cords refused to cooperate. Those sunset eyes of his found yours, captivating in every sense of the word, and he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it tenderly. 

“I know.” He whispered. “I know.”

But he didn’t. How could he, when you had taken so long to figure it out yourself? He looked at you so lovingly that it made your chest hurt, and you let out a shaky sigh, overwhelmed by how ardent your feelings for him were, how real and messy and intense. You felt like a lone ship out at sea, but Caleb was that lighthouse in the distance, leading the way back home. He was the sun high up in the sky that brightened your days, coaxing you out of the dark and into the light, and you’d gladly burn just for the chance to stay close to him.

And so when your lips met and your thighs straddled him once more, there wasn’t any teasing. He smiled into the kiss and cradled the back of your head as you descended further into the darkness, into your feelings and into him.

The sun was rising. 

Early morning breeze slipped through the gaps in the windows of his balcony, but you barely felt the chill, focused on the way the glass reflected your figures. The slowly brightening sky made it seem as if both of you were bathed in a warm glow, and with how you were leaning back against him, you felt that glow within, too. You traced the outline with your finger, feeling the condensation catch and drag, dripping down the window panes. 

Caleb pulled you back into his arms, lying down with you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back. You settled on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. In the hazy morning light, you took a moment to study him.

“It feels like a dream.”

His gaze was steady when it found yours, his voice soft in an almost awestruck manner. “You dreamed about me before?”

“Of course. I dreamed you called yourself a dummy and promised to follow me around like a little tail.” You couldn’t help letting a quip slide now that the heat from just minutes ago had subsided. Now, you were clad in his shirt, the very same one he had discarded so eagerly, and he had on pants, but was shirtless. You reached out and touched the dog tag pendant of his necklace, toying with it between your fingers. 

Caleb was a man of his word; you always knew that, but you had learned just how determined he could be that night. As promised, he remained entangled with you all night, until your joint gasps and moans of pleasure had imprinted in your memory. It was the culmination of all those years of waiting, hoping, and wanting so hopelessly, and he showed you all of it. You let him, digging your heels in the dirt and refusing to run away anymore. 

He scoffed in amusement, trailing his touch upward and gently massaging your shoulder blades. He looked so lovely like this, dishevelled hair and cheeks flushed pink from the exertion of your earlier activities. A choked-up feeling invaded your throat as you got serious, dropping the pendant.

“I also dreamed that your signal was lost in a tunnel. There was only darkness, nothing else…” Your eyes hardened as you thought back to your fear of losing him and how badly the explosion had shaken you. Part of you didn’t know why you were bringing this up again, but the other half made it crystal clear: all that grief and fear was a fundamental stepping stone in your relationship with him. In order to admit it, you had to let it all out. “And then….I couldn’t find you anymore.”

Your voice was small and unrecognisable. You interlaced your fingers together and swallowed the lump that was steadily building in your throat. You felt him shift a little closer, closing his larger hand around both of yours and squeezing.

“That day will never happen.”

His touch was comforting, the motion of his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand bringing you an inexplicable sense of peace. “Losing signal, not being able to see what’s around me– none of that matters.” He dipped his head closer to yours, his lips curving upwards just slightly. “My flight path is in your hands, and I already know my destination before I take off.”

His voice was soft, like he was afraid to speak any louder lest it break you. Your breath caught, lower lip quivering at how sweet he was. You were speechless, but that was okay, because he wasn’t done. “There’s only one place I want to reach. It doesn’t matter what obstacles stand in my way.”

Caleb lifted one of your hands, pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and you almost fucking cried from how tender the action was, the emotion in your chest practically bursting out of it. Then, he pressed your palm against his heart and whispered, despite him and you being the only two people around, so reminiscent of the way he’d let you in on secrets when you were children.

“Its coordinates have been recorded here a long time ago.”

How had he dissolved all your lingering anxiety so easily? It felt as if he had caught it and tucked it out of your sight. Suddenly, you felt light again, and everything you had been trying so hard to say burst forth. Keeping those feelings to yourself for any longer would drive you crazy, and you needed him to hear them coming from you straight. 

“I love you.” 

The three words tumbled out of you gracelessly, but that imperfection made it real. Your vulnerability made your voice tremble, but you didn’t care, and neither did he. You saw the light in his eyes brighten and his grin widen as he pressed your hand against his chest harder, letting you feel how his heart sped up. 

You had called him the sun, but if he was the sun, then to Caleb, you were the moon. Incandescent, radiant, beautiful and for the longest time, it truly did feel like he had been chasing you through the skies, only to have to settle with glimpses at interludes and intervals when the evening reigned. Having to keep his love for you to himself during the day and letting it breathe during the night, when no one could see it in the dark. Now, those two celestial bodies collided, and the result was a supernova.

And it was as easy as breathing for him to say: “I love you, too.”

A watery giggle left you as you leaned forward and rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him. He turned his face, resting his cheek against your forehead for a couple of seconds.. 

“I didn’t get to make a wish before blowing out the candles at the restaurant. Can I make one now?”

A perplexed look took over your features, and he had to resist kissing the furrow of your eyebrows away. “You had your eyes closed for so long, but you didn’t make a single wish?”

Although you were making fun of him for it, you got to your feet and padded to the kitchen, ignoring the soreness between your legs as you grabbed a cupcake. Finding a candle, you inserted it on top and lit it, before making your way back. As you plopped down, you asked, “Do you want me to sing ‘happy birthday’ again?”

He sat up and shook his head. “No, it's okay. I already know what I wanna wish for.”

Caleb cupped your hands that held the cake, leaning forward. The flame on the candle flickered as your only witness to this precious moment, and his infectious smile spread to you. You could see yourself grin in the reflection of his eyes, and it only made you smile wider, subconsciously leaning in as well. 

“I wish we’ll always fly under the same sky and be in each other’s lives.” He glanced at the candle. “And I’ll wish that every year, I’ll follow these coordinates on this day as I venture through the darkness. All because they’ll lead me back to you.” 

You were beaming when he blew the candle out, eyes shining with how deliriously happy you were. It was a look that, up until this point, he had only ever seen in his dreams. Placing the cupcake down, you drew closer and settled into his arms again. It was a new day, his birthday was over, and he was a year older, but none of those changes were the ones that mattered. This was the only one that did.

“In that case,” you whispered, nose brushing against his as you looked into his eyes. “I’ll wait for you to find me every year.”

The sun had risen, and for the first time, Caleb didn’t have to wake up.

fin.

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was ���supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[salemwasnteverhere]

How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

NO

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: daddy kink, overstimulation, forced orgasm.

“I don’t… I don’t know. This is stressing me out.” 

The box in front of you is labeled ‘kitchen’ and you’re staring at it like there’s a bomb inside. 

“Good job with your rule baby. What don’t you know?” 

“This… the appliances, and the bowls, and everything… where do I put it? I don’t want to move your stuff and I don’t want to take up too much space I…” His hands cover yours, thumbs moving in methodical circles across your skin. You’re overwhelmed. You’ve been on the brink all day, dialed down after he took over packing up your apartment, now ramping back up as you try to unpack it and put it away. It’s been a lot, all day, and you’ve taken it on the chin. He’s proud of you.

“Would it help if I did it?” Your lower lip trembles, and you nod. 

“Yes. Please.” 

“Okay.” He kisses your forehead, wiping away one of the fat tears falling down your cheek. “It’s alright. Go upstairs, get in the bath, and relax. I’ll take care of everything that’s left.” You already did your clothes and personal items, things brought over from your bedroom and closets, but the rest of it is too much. You’ve deliberated everything, and he’s happy you’re making his house your home, but you’re getting tired, and anxious. “It’s okay, go on baby.” You sniffle, turning in his arms to rest your cheek on his chest with a sigh. 

“Thank you daddy.” 

“You did a good job today.” You shake your head. 

“I didn’t finish.” You press closer to his side, leg hitched up across his thighs. 

“But you told me when you were stressed and trusted me to take care of the rest. It’s okay if you need my help, you just have to tell me, which you did. I’m very proud of you.” He rubs your back, your hip, kneading as he goes, slowly moving down between your legs, feather light touch ghosting over your panties. He’s been doing it for twenty minutes, teasing you, working you up, and when he finally presses his thumb over your cloth covered clit and you gasp.

“Daddy…” 

“Are you wet for me?” He turns you on your back, peeling your underwear down and off so he can spread your knees open. You’re fully exposed like this, little clit swollen and hard, pussy soaked and glistening, squirming as he studies you. “Oh baby. Look at you.” You throw your arm over your face, trying to hide in your elbow and he chuckles. “Why are you embarrassed?” 

“You’re looking at my… at me.” 

“At your what, sweetheart. Tell me what I’m looking at.” You drop your arm and stare at him with wide eyes. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

“Yes daddy. P-please.” You shake a little, hesitant, nervous, and he rubs your leg encouragingly. 

“You have to say where.” It’s a coaching game. He pushes you step by step, always there, always urging you forward, proud again and again when you rise to whatever challenge he’s posing.

“My… my pussy.” 

“Good girl.” He presses down on your clit, sliding two fingers inside you at the same time, drinking in your gasps and moans. He’s thoroughly enjoying taking things slow, working you up to your first time, soaking up every single moment, every single orgasm along the way. 

But tonight, he’s going to push some boundaries. 

“Your little pussy is so greedy, baby girl. Should daddy make you come?” You lick your lips and nod quickly.  “What do you say?” 

Please daddy, make me unf-  make me c-come, please,” you clench, naturally trying to squeeze him, your body instinctively knowing what to do. Already so close. 

“What a good girl, asking so nicely.” He gives it to you, harder, faster, and your back arches, thighs locking around his arm, the sheets twisting in your grip. Your pussy tries to milk his fingers for something that’s not there, fluttering as you come for him.  

“Oh- Oh my god,” you’re still riding his hand as it ebbs, but when you come down, he doesn’t stop, even as you try to run up the bed and close your legs. 

“You’re going to have one more.” You shake your head frantically. 

“N-no, it’s… ow- ah- it hurts,” He pins you by your hip, preventing your escape, and you shriek. “D-daddy, please-” 

“I know it’s a lot, sweet girl I know. One more, you can do it.” One more orgasm, and one more finger. It’s an overload, and your foot kicks when he pulls back, just to push back inside you with three fingers, groaning at the sight of your tears. “Look at you,” he coos, pumping his cock, “daddy’s girl stretched around his fingers. Are you nice and full?” You groan, the overstimulation bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It’s t-too much,” you cry, but even as you protest, your rhythm changes from tense to chase. 

“You can take it,” he fucks you harder, flicking back and forth across your clit, and your knees fall open, wails turning to moans. “That’s it, good girl. Such a good girl, listening to her daddy.” He tugs his cock free, letting it settle at the top of your slit, ready to explode, and just before you’re falling over the edge, he pulls away to settle his length between your lips, rutting forward to grind his cock against you.

“Oh god-” You fuck yourself against him mindlessly, screaming into your orgasm, crying for your daddy as you rub your clit on the head of his cock, sliding up and down his length, soaking it. It’s enough friction to draw his balls up, more than enough heat to bring his own barreling down, and he shoots cum up your belly and his at the same time. 

He covers your body with his immediately. Both of you sticky and sated, his lips dragging over the skin of your neck, your cheek, your mouth as he calms you down. “My precious girl,” you turn into his voice instinctively, searching for him with closed eyes, limp and exhausted. “Did so well.” You nod your agreement, grip still iron on his t shirt, fully out of it. You’ve already been in the bath once today, but he knows you won’t protest a second. “I’m gonna get you some water and then we’ll take a bath, how does that sound?” You pull him close, hands on his shoulders, and press your nose to his neck. 

“Sounds good daddy.” 

“I have a surprise for you.” You blink at him. 

“For me?” 

“Turn around.” The front door is half closed behind his back, and he can tell you want to peek around it or ask more questions, but you choose to listen. Good girl.

“I’m ready.” You announce, bouncing on your toes with a little squeak, and he laughs, pushing the door wide to let the floppy, giant, Great Pyrenees puppy inside.

“Okay, turn around.” Making you happy will never get old, and he knows these memories, the ones where your face lights up and your joy explodes, will stay with him for the rest of his life. 

“Oh my god!” Your excitement floods out of you as a high pitched squeal, and you immediately go to your knees in front of the white fluff at his feet, the puppy’s big pink bow flopping on her neck. “Oh my god, oh my god. Is she… is she ours?”

“Yeah sweet girl, she’s ours. She’s for you, actually.” You scratch under her chin, cooing at the huge white puppy that could easily pass for a baby polar bear, even at five months. 

“Does she have a name?” 

“Duchess.” You clap your hands together. 

“Duchess. Aren’t you just the cutest girl? Yeah,” the dog licks your face appreciatively, and you giggle, “you are. You’re the cutest.” 

“She’s not cute.” She’s not supposed to be cute, anyway.

“Yes she is.” You give her another pat. He has a feeling you’re going to turn Duchess into a lap dog. A one hundred pound lap dog. He pulls you over to the couch, settles you in beside him as the dog paws at your feet and you giggle.  

“She’s a Great Pyrenees. She’s not a pet so much as she’s a guardian dog.” You frown, pout already forming your lips. It was a tough decision. He almost bought a Mal, but the idea of you having to take care of a real life velociraptor when he’s not here didn’t sit well with him. “She’s going to grow up with you as her best friend, so she’s going to see you as her flock, which means she’s going to make guarding you her main job.” Not outright aggressive or high strung, but protective and territorial, and big enough to intimidate just about anyone once she’s full grown, a Pyr is perfect.

“But she’s still a pet.” He sighs. 

“Yes. She’s still a pet. We’ll take care of her together when I’m home, but when I’m away, you’ll have to do it by yourself. Do you want that?” 

“Definitely.” Good. It’s a dual solution. He needs to feel more at ease with you being home alone, and you need some gentle encouragement. Taking care of a puppy is a lot like taking care of a human. They need food, water, enrichment. Naps. Walks, exercise. When he’s gone, you’ll be the primary caretaker, for both Duchess and yourself, and he thinks, he hopes, having her will help you take care of yourself. 

You also need food, water, enrichment. Naps. Walks. Exercise. 

“And she can sleep in the bed with me while you’re away!” 

“Well, we really need to teach her to sleep in her own bed…” 

“Sure daddy.” You ruffle the top of her head. “We’re going to be best friends, aren’t we girl?” She paws at you and you smush her face, dotting a kiss right between her brows. He sighs.

That dog is definitely going to be sleeping on his side of the bed. 

[sugoroo]

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[plutotheplum]

XO

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: being the manager of the msby black jackals is stressful, but when a handsome stranger shows up, you think you might’ve stumbled upon a hidden perk.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, post-time skip, kissing, oral sex, blowjobs, p in v, smut, fluff

wc: 5.3k

a/n: watched the movie last night and i cried (if you saw this post before, no you didn't) <3

also on ao3!

Six months in, and you think you might be ready to quit your job.

Sure, securing a job as the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager was one of your proudest achievements, but no one had told you that you’d be dealing with men like this. You understood that you were in the presence of some of the finest sporting talent in Japan, but these men were wildly immature.

It’s why you’re here now, glaring at the man who had made fun of his teammate.

“What were you thinking?” you hiss, pointing your pen at the offending man.

Atsumu groans, his head tipping back against the wall of the locker room. “I was only having a little fun.”

“A little fun,” you reply, nodding along, “right, and that’s why Bokuto is off sulking in who knows where!”

“C’mon!” Atsumu protests, leaning forward, staring at you desperately, “I made a comment on the color of his shoes! How was I supposed to know that was gonna set him off?”

You can feel a headache begin to set in and you sigh, pointing towards the door of the locker room.

“Just go warm up, okay? I’ll try and find Bokuto.”

Atsumu nods, and has the grace to look at least a little apologetic as he pats your shoulder and leaves.

You follow him soon after, out of the locker room. Bokuto’s sulking most likely meant he wasn’t going to perform as well. You knew about his bouts of being discouraged, had seen it during the occasional game when something would set him off. People are milling about, and you quicken your pace, turning a corner to finally find Bokuto sitting on a bench.

“Bokuto!” you call out, the relief in your voice clear.

The outside hitter looks up at you, a pout on his face. 

“You ready for the game?” you ask, putting on a wide smile to try and make him feel better.

“Do you think they’re ugly?” 

“W- what?”

“My shoes,” he says, pointing at them, “do you think they’re ugly?”

You have half the mind to tell him that they’re just shoes and that he should grow up, but the look of utter despair on his face has you holding back. A quick glance down at his shoes and from what you can gather, they look relatively… normal. You were definitely going to kill Atsumu later.

“They look fine,” you say, pausing when you see his frown deepen. Your fingers tighten around the clipboard clutched against your chest and you put on a cheery smile, voice pitching up. “I meant they look totally great! And they really suit you!”

Bokuto makes no attempt to move, simply stares down at his shoes and traces one of the stripes absentmindedly. You’re at your wits end, growing antsy as you check your watch and realize there’s only 10 minutes before the game starts.

“I could get you some new-“

“You doing okay?”

A voice breaks in through from behind you and your head turns, brows furrowing when you see an unfamiliar man. The lanyard around his neck has a card attached to it, bold letters spelling out VIP . 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto sits up, his eyes lighting up for a moment, “do you like my shoes?”

You stare at the pair of men, bewildered. The man, Akaashi, pats Bokuto’s shoulder and lowers his voice to whisper some words to the pro-volleyball player. In what you think might be the quickest change of mood from Bokuto yet, the volleyball player stands up and gives a hearty laugh, his chest puffing out. 

You’re even more stunned when he pats your back happily and jogs off in the direction of the court.

“How did you do that?” you blurt out, eyes flitting towards the man who was now standing beside you.

“I used to play with Bokuto in highschool,” Akaashi replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Fukurodani. I was the team’s setter so I had to get used to Bokuto's little slumps.”

Huh. That did make more sense. You narrow your eyes, examining the man a little more. He’s handsome, sure, his glasses sitting on the slope of his nose as he shifts on the spot. Akaashi stares back down at you expectantly.

“Uh- well, thank you,” you say, holding your hand out and giving him a sheepish smile. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get him onto the court at all today.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his hand shaking yours. 

You introduce yourselves and he follows you onto the stands, both of you overlooking the two teams as they line up on the court. Nervousness makes you restless, your teeth biting into your lower lip as you watch the players get into position. You really wanted the Jackals to win.

“Relax,” Akaashi murmurs, his head lowering to speak directly into your ear to help you hear better over the roar of the crowd.

Your eyes meet his and he stares back at you intently, his hand squeezing at your shoulder gently. You think some sort of magic might be laced into his words with the way your body loosens slightly, your tense shoulders dropping.

“Thank you,” you mumble, giving him a faint smile.

Akaashi smiles back and squeezes your shoulder one more time before his hand drops away. You nearly protest against it, wanting to feel the heat of his body near yours again, but you can’t because you’ve only just met the man and you aren’t that desperate.

The game goes perfectly well, thankfully, and you’re up on the tips of your toes cheering for the Jackals as they shake hands with the other team. Your previous nervousness has all  melted away, leaving only a feeling of pure giddiness. Akaashi claps with you, his reaction much more toned down compared to yours.

“You can come down with me,” you say breathlessly, flicking through a few pages on your clipboard to find the schedule for the post game press conference.

Akaashi nods, his eyes drifting over you for a moment. “Yeah, I’ll come. I need to congratulate Bokuto anyways.”

You beam up at him and against better judgment, hand him a copy of the schedule before giving him a wave and disappearing off to meet the team. Akaashi watches as you flutter away, skirt swaying, the piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand. 

- 

“No talk of shoes, okay?” you warn Atsumu as you had him a bottle of cold water. “We can’t have Bokuto breaking down on national television.”

“You worry too much,” Atsumu complains, pressing the bottle of water against his flushed cheek.

“My job is on the line!” you argue, giving the man a glare.

Atsumu only gives you a pout and you thank Meian when he comes to get his teammate, grateful for the captain’s unwavering leadership.

You slip into the conference room before long, making sure to give the Jackals an encouraging smile and a thumbs up before you sidle up to the wall, watching as the various reporters ready their questions.

A few bottles of water sit on a table beside you and you reach for one, twisting at the cap. The stupid plastic burns across your skin harshly, making a glare settle on your face as you narrow your eyes at the bottle of water. You try again but to no avail, the cap latching on stubbornly tight. A soft curse gets muttered under your breath before someone’s hand reaches out, grabbing the bottle of water from you.

You blink in surprise when you realize it’s Akaashi, his hand twisting at the cap effortlessly and breaking the seal. 

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“That’s the third time today,” he whispers back, his eyes glimmering with mirth, “should I keep sticking around for more of your thanks?”

A smile pulls at your lips and you glance up at him to find him smiling back. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” you mutter, elbowing him in the side lightly.

Akaashi hums in response, his warm hand grasping at your elbow to hold you in place. You freeze for a moment, surprise flitting across your face but then you lean into him slightly, avoiding his eyes as you press into his side. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just stands there with you, his eyes trained on the little notes you scribble on paper as the players speak.

To your relief, Atsumu manages to steer clear from the topic of shoes, answering the reporters’ questions thoroughly with a bit of humor thrown in, to lighten the atmosphere of the press conference. You find that you can’t really be all that mad at the man, he knew how to get the job done when it came to it.

The press conference comes to a close half an hour later and Akaashi trails after you as you usher the men back into the main foyer.

“Good job everyone,” you announce before flicking through a few pages of your clipboard. “The Chairman has been impressed with your performance this season, so he’s personally sent a congratulatory cake.” You stare pointedly at Atsumu and Bokuto. “Please make sure to not make a mess.”

The men are gone in a rush before you can say anything else and you smile fondly, shaking your head.

“You gonna let me get in on this cake thing?” Akaashi asks, raising his brows.

“You’re welcome to join,” you reply, shooting him a smile as you try to not sound too eager. “You do have VIP status, after all.”

Akaashi smiles back and you think it might be a miracle that your legs haven’t given out under the soft gaze he sends you. 

Thankfully, Atsumu and Bokuto don’t make a mess although you do spot them bribing Hinata to bring them a few more slices, the orange-haired man utterly oblivious to the fact.

“Hey,” Akaashi murmurs, stepping in beside you as you finish off your piece of cake. “You’ve got a little something.” He motions to the corner of your mouth.

“Oh!” you flush with embarrassment, wiping at the corner of your mouth with a napkin. “Gone?”

“Just a little more,” he says, watching as you try and fail to get rid of the chocolate icing that’s smudged over your lips and the corner of your mouth. “Just- here, let me.”

You freeze when he reaches out for you, his thumb swiping over your lip and skin gently, cleaning you up.

“Napkin?” you ask weakly, offering it to him so he can clean his thumb.

“No need.”

Akaashi keeps his eyes on you as he licks the pad of his thumb, your hazy eyes following the motion of his tongue, a rush of heat pooling in your lower stomach.

“Do you-” you begin, clearing your throat when you hear how airy your voice has become, “do you do this often?”

A smile pulls at his lips and he leans in a little closer, his breath fanning across your skin as his mouth opens to murmur something into your ear.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

You jolt, half-lidded eyes snapping open when you find Bokuto slinging his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders. Irritation flashes through Akaashi’s eyes but it seems to fade when Bokuto begins to speak animatedly, detailing the past events Akaashi had missed.

Part of you would’ve liked to speak to Akaashi more, but you can’t find it in yourself to fault Bokuto, deciding to busy yourself with getting another slice of cake. A heavy arm slings itself around your shoulders and you roll your eyes when you realize it’s Atsumu, the wide grin on his face making you feel uneasy.

“Saw you getting real chummy with Bokuto’s friend,” he whispers conspiratorially, trying to swipe at your cake slice. 

“I was being friendly,” you retort, glaring up at Atsumu.

“You look like you wanna fuck him.”

“Your observations are not appreciated,” you grit out, trying to squirm away from under him when he steers you into a corner.

“Good news is, I think he wants to fuck you too,” Atsumu says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ Why are you doing this?” you groan, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Because you, my lovely manager, deserve happiness!” he says cheerily.

Your eyes narrow, taking in the smile on Atsumu’s face, suspicion flaring. “What did you do?”

“What?” Atsumu’s smile falters. “Nothing. Why do you always assume I did something?”

“Because you usually do something, Atsumu,” you reply exasperatedly, trying to peek out from behind him to catch another glimpse of Akaashi.

Atsumu rolls his eyes, moving to the side so as to block your view of Akaashi.

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, peering up at him. 

He beams at you, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear. “Just make sure you take charge. Guys like that sort of thing. Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him. My advice is foolproof .”

Was the advice really foolproof if the fool himself was giving it to you?

You shoot Atsumu a skeptical look, waving him off before he puts any more ridiculous ideas into your mind. 

As the night passes, the amount of players reduces, deciding to make their way back home. Atsumu shoots you a wink in passing and you glare back at him, fighting the urge to swat him.

“Heading home?” 

You blink up to find Akaashi standing beside you, his brows raised.

“Yeah,” you say, a wistful smile coming across your face, “it’s been a long day.”

“I could drive you home?” Akaashi offers, falling into step beside you as you both exit the volleyball stadium.

You had been planning to just catch an uber or something, but when Akaashi stares down at you like that , his gaze soft and lips looking sickeningly inviting, you nod immediately.

A few stolen glances later coupled with you biting back an inappropriate remark at the way his lithe fingers wrap around the steering wheel, you find yourself standing opposite Akaashi in the open doorway of your apartment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” you say, peering up at Akaashi.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Akaashi murmurs, his hands shoving into his pockets.

Akaashi shows no signs of leaving however. Silence passes over you as you both just stand there, staring at each other. Your gaze dips down to his shirt, trying to stop Atsumu’s obnoxious voice from blaring through your normally rational decision making.

Yank him by the shirt or something and kiss him.

Eyes flitting up again, you decide to take your chances. Your hand curls into Akaashi’s shirt, yanking him towards you, lips crashing onto his. Several seconds pass and Akaashi stands there limply, his lips unmoving and non-reciprocating. 

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, feeling utterly mortified as you let go of him. “Atsumu said you wanted to fu- I mean- he said guys liked that sort of thing!”

At the same time, Akaashi begins to speak. “Bokuto said you weren’t interested.”

“ What? ” you sputter, eyes widening. Frustration sets your nerves alight and you fish out your phone, dialing Bokuto’s number, ready to give him an earful. 

“Hey,” Akaashi says, plucking your phone from your hand and setting it down onto a nearby dresser, “think you could do that after I kiss you?”

Your flurry of movements pauses, breath hitching when he steps inside your apartment, the door shutting behind him softly. He smiles down at you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering as he spins you around, pushing you up against the door gently, “y-yeah, I can do that.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours. One of his hands slips up higher, smoothing over the length of your neck to cup your cheek.

You let out an incoherent noise, managing out a jerky nod. Akaashi laughs, tilting your head to the side as he places a soft kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, heart racing uncontrollably in your chest as he drags his lips across your skin, planting another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

His glasses dig into your skin but you can hardly find it in yourself to care, pulling him closer desperately when he slots his lips over yours. Akaashi kisses you heatedly and you whine, arms wrapping around his neck to return his kisses eagerly. His tongue gently parts your lips, hands slipping back down to squeeze at your waist and move you flush against him.

A few stumbles later and you’re pushing his chest, watching as he falls back onto the couch. Akaashi grins, his thighs spreading invitingly as he gets comfortable.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.”

You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble up onto his lap, straddling his hips, lips finding his again. Akaashi groans when you run your fingers through his hair, hips rolling across his lap as he spreads his fingers over your skirt, groping at your ass.

“So- so you do wanna fuck me?” you ask breathily, unable to resist yourself from leaning forward and stealing another kiss.

“I thought I made myself obvious,” Akaashi replies, his hands slipping under your skirt to feel the warm, bare skin of your thighs.

A soft hum leaves you, fingers tracing across his cheek before reaching out to take his glasses off, setting them down. You smile down at him hazily and Akaashi smiles back, maneuvering your body so that you’re laying down, head nestled in the cushions.

You bite your lip when he kisses down your neck, sighing softly when he undoes the buttons of your shirt, pulling it apart. Akaashi’s eyes darken when he sees the swell of your breasts in your bra, his hands reaching out to grope at them greedily. You fumble around, unclasping your bra, tossing it behind you.

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips before kissing down your body.

You gasp when his tongue swirls around your nipple, squirming underneath him as his hot mouth envelops it, sucking and licking, even nipping gently making your body twitch. Back arching, you moan, fingers tugging at his soft hair. Akaashi lets out a hum, mouth opening wide to suck your breast into his mouth, groaning when he feels your hips buck underneath him.

“ Fuck ,” Akaashi hisses, his fingers rubbing at your clothed cunt, panties utterly drenched, “you’re dripping. How long have you been like this?”

You flush, looking away. Akaashi clicks his tongue, grabbing your chin to turn your gaze back onto him.

“Tell me,” he coaxes, rucking your skirt up before he tugs your panties up, watching the hard press of the fabric outline your puffy folds.

“Maybe- maybe since you opened that water bottle for me,” you mumble, blinking up at him innocently. 

Akaashi’s grip falters, his brows shooting up in surprise. Your cheeks are hot, eyes dropping to find his cock straining against his trousers, the bulge making you lick your lips.

“That long?” he whispers, leaning in.

“Mhm,” you nod, arms looping around his neck to pull him into a sloppy kiss, tongue and all.

“If I knew it was that easy, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you,” Akaashi smiles, his nose nudging against yours as he continues to rub your pussy through your panties.

“Shut up!” you laugh, pushing at his chest.

He laughs with you, smacking a quick kiss to your cheek before slinking down, pulling your thighs apart. A contented sigh leaves you when he licks up over your ruined panties, mewling softly when he pulls them to the side to get a glimpse of your slick pussy.

“Such a pretty pussy. All of you is so pretty,” he murmurs, pulling your panties off. 

You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

Akaashi’s mouth encloses around your clit, sucking with fervor. You let out a strangled moan, fingers fisting his hair roughly, thighs twitching. 

“A- Akaashi,” you whine, hips rolling up to meet his mouth needily, “ hah- oh fuck!- ”

His nose nudges into your clit when he stops suckling on your clit, licking up a wide strip along the length of cunt, a low moan slipping out of him as he watches your cunt clench and flutter around nothing.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rasps, arms curling around your thighs, thumbing apart your folds to press his tongue in deeper, licking over the velvety flesh of your cunt.

You moan again, breath catching in your throat when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive bud before his tongue presses into your aching pussy, thrusting in and out of you. He makes an obscene sound and you tug at his hair roughly, pushing his face deeper into your cunt, squealing when he shakes his head, tongue swiping all over you.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, beginning to chant drunkenly, “don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Akaashi grunts into your pussy, spreading apart your folds against to spit on your cunt, his tongue swirling around your swollen clit before sucking it into his mouth. He suckles on it hard ; the sensation making your toes curl and eyes squeeze shut tightly. 

“Gonna cum?” he asks, a hoarse laugh leaving him when you push his head back down.

You nod rapidly, hands squeezing at your breasts, pinching and tugging at your own nipples. Akaashi slips his fingers up past your chin and your mouth opens obediently, hips rolling up as you suck on his fingers. 

A whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue laving over it again as he sucks desperately, driving you further and further to the edge.

“Cum on my tongue, baby,” Akaashi whispers, “wanna watch you cum all pretty and needy.���

You don’t need any more encouragement, back arching as your body draws taut. You cum with a cry of his name, squeaking when he licks over your oversensitive pussy, thighs clamping around his head while your fingers tangle in his soft, black hair. 

Akaashi pulls away with one final suckle to your clit, peppering kisses up your body before slotting his lips over yours again. You whine softly, cupping his cheek to return his kisses feverishly, feeling the press of his clothed cock against your inner thigh.

“Take your clothes off,” you say softly, pecking his lips sweetly.

You squirm out of your skirt and top when he gets off of you, watching with hazy eyes as he pulls his shirt up over your head. The flex of his biceps has you letting out a low whine, fingers slipping between your thighs, unable to help yourself, rubbing your clit unabashedly.

Akaashi doesn’t miss the movement, shooting you a lazy grin, his hand smoothing over his trousers, squeezing at his bulge.

“Enjoying the view?” he murmurs, unbuttoning his trousers, “hm, baby?”

“‘m enjoying it a lot,” you reply airily, entranced by the motion of his hand as he grasps himself through his boxers.

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes his boxers down, tongue feeling heavy as you watch the bob of his cock, heavy and thick. The hardened length twitches when he wraps his hand around himself, pumping his cock, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“T-taste?” you mewl, slipping off the couch and crawling towards him, “wanna taste, ‘kaashi.”

“Needy baby,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face.

Your eyes flutter shut when he bends, meeting his lips in a short kiss. Akaashi presses the head of his cock against your lips soon after, a moan slipping out of him when he sees the way his pre-cum spreads across your lips.

You lick your lips, mewling at the taste of his pre-cum, mouth opening wider, tongue lolling out.

“Want it,” you whisper, fingers digging into thighs, “please?”

“‘m gonna give it to you,” Akaashi rasps, grasping the base of his cock to smack the head of it against your tongue a few times. “Go ahead, pretty.”

You hum happily, mouth wrapping around his cock, hand curling around the base of it. Akaashi groans, his head tipping back as you squirm on your knees, fingers finding your slippery clit again.

“Just like that,” he whispers when you begin to bob your head, tongue swirling around the head of his cock, suckling gently.

Akaashi’s thighs twitch, the hand tangled in your hair tightening when you shuffle closer, mouth stretching open to take more of him into your mouth. 

You suck and lick, practically dripping onto the carpet beneath you as you hear the grunts and groans that leave Akaashi. He sounds pretty, the little airy gasps and stutters of his breath giving you the encouragement to try and take him deeper, your nose pressing into the black tufts of coarse hair at the base of his cock, before you pull off with watery eyes.

“I might have a hard time letting go of you after this,” Akaashi says, watching as you blink up at him with starry eyes, stroking his hand over your hair as you mouth lazily across the length of his cock. 

“So don’t,” you whisper, laving your tongue across the head of his cock, tasting his pre-cum.

You land a soft kiss to the tip, tilting your head to kiss at his heavy balls. Akaashi stops you before you can suck them into your mouth, dipping his head down to kiss you instead.

“‘m gonna cum if you do that,” he whispers against your lips.

“That’s sort of the point,” you smile, hand stroking along his length.

He snorts, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up onto your feet. His throbbing cock presses against your stomach as you wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Akaashi gropes at the fat of your ass appreciatively, both of you standing together as you makeout languidly. 

You pull away for air soon after, hands roaming across his firm chest, eyes growing hazier with the way the muscles of his abdomen flex under your touch. A glob of pre-cum beads at the tip of Akaashi’s cock and you grasp his hand, rocking up to kiss his cheek before pulling him after you.

“Wanna ride my cock?” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe gently when you lead him into your bedroom.

“Y- yeah,” you reply airily, crawling up onto his lap when he sits down, his back against the headboard of your bed.

You rock your hips, grinding your cunt against his hot length, mewling softly when the tip of it nudges against your clit a few times. Akaashi catches your chin, pulling you forward for another filthy kiss, his hands smoothing up and down the length of your back.

“Sink down on it, baby.”

A soft whimper escapes you at his low voice, hands gripping his shoulders as you rise up onto your knees. Akaashi wraps his hand around the base of his cock, holding it for you. His head tips back, a guttural groan leaving him when you sink down on his cock, your nails digging into his skin.

“ Oh- ” you whine, “‘kaashi- hah- ”

“Keiji,” he replies, fingers dimpling the fat of your hips, trying to gain some semblance of control with the way your cunt’s clenching around his cock, “call me Keiji, baby.”

You let out a dazed sigh, rolling your hips and whining again, your own head tipping back.

“K- Keiji, you feel so good.”

Akaashi moans appreciatively in response to your words, landing a spank to your ass to urge you to move. You hiccup, cupping his cheeks, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as you roll your hips one more time and begin to rise and fall on his cock.

He keeps his eyes on you, letting out soft pants as you mewl and whimper out his name, hips swaying back to meet his thrusts when he begins to move his hips too.

“Good girl,” Akaashi whispers, head dipping to suck your breast into his mouth, “gripping me so tight, baby.”

“Keiji,” you mewl, dragging out his name in a needy call.

“‘m right here, pretty,” Akaashi murmurs, arms wrapping around your waist more firmly. 

You squeal when he lifts you up and begins to drop you down onto his cock himself, his face pressing into your chest, leaving desperate, heated open-mouthed kisses against your sweaty skin as he makes you take his cock.

“Oh fuck-,” you begin to gasp out, eyes squeezing shut, “ oh fuck! ”

“Take it,” Akaashi hisses, hands drifting down to grip the fat of your ass tighter, “fucking take my cock, baby.”

A surprised squeak leaves you when he lays you down, his cock pushing into you almost immediately after. Your legs wrap around his hips, hand reaching for his as he fucks his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing lewdly throughout the room.

You scrabble at the bedsheets, trying to find some purchase as Akaashi drives his cock into you harder and faster.

“Gonna make me cum,” he grunts, face pressing into the crook of your neck, his body dropping to be flush against yours, hips rolling to a slow grind.

“‘m gonna cum too,” you say weakly, eyes fluttering as he mouths at your breast lazily. 

Akaashi peers down at you when he pushes himself up, bullying his cock into your cunt, balls pressed snugly against your ass.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you sigh, giving him a dazed smile as you pull him down for a kiss, “but yes, you can.”

Akaashi grins, mouth slotting over yours again, thumb rubbing at your clit. He groans when he feels you clench around him, his hips stuttering jerkily when you dig your heels into the backs of thighs, forcing him to push his cock in deeper. 

“Brat,” he hisses, head dropping forward as he lets out a low whine, cock jerking inside of you as he cums.

You squirm, back arching as his thumb rubs harder, thighs twitching as you fall apart on his cock. Akaashi pants against your chest, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets out a few more whines, thick cum filling you up.

He rolls off of you so as to not crush you with his weight, running his hand through his hair. You curl up into his side, leaning forward to kiss his jaw.

“‘m gonna go clean up,” you whisper.

Akaashi nods, patting your hip affectionately, his eyes trained on the sway of your hips as you disappear into the bathroom.

You tug on a fresh shirt and a pair of panties, crawling back into bed to find Akaashi’s pulled his boxers back up over his hips, the manga volume you had been reading last night in his hand.

“It’s good,” you inform him, pressing into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you look over the little panels of drawings.

“I’d hope so,” Akaashi says, his hand rubbing at your side absentmindedly.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing.

“I happen to be the editor.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes flitting from his towards the manga. “No way.” You snatch the manga from him, flipping through towards the large page. His name is there in the little lettering, plain as day.

Editing: Akaashi Keiji

He smiles at you, nuzzling into your cheek, pressing several kisses here and there.

“Well,” you say, setting the manga down and wrapping your arms around his neck, “now you have to tell me what’s to come.”

“My lips are sealed,” Akaashi replies, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Keiji!” you whine, pouting up at him.

“Not happening, baby,” he says, shaking his head before leaning forward to kiss the pout off of your mouth.

You let out an irritated huff, pushing his head away when he tries to kiss you again.

“Look at that,” he muses, “you get all sulky like Bokuto.”

“Please don’t insult me.”

[yohanisnothere]

Having Nanami Kento as your husband

Featuring: Husband! Nanami x Fem! Reader

Warning: NSFW headcanons

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡

Nanami is the definition of repressed outside, depraved inside. At work, he’s polite, composed, even cold. But the second that front door closes behind him and you greet him in nothing but one of his shirts? That man snaps.

He worships you, but not in a soft, delicate way. No. More like dragging you to the edge of the bed, tearing off your panties with one hand while undoing his tie with the other. "Been thinking about this all day," he mutters, already spreading your legs wide.

He fucks to relieve stress. And husband stress? Oh, it’s vicious. He’ll bend you over the kitchen counter after a long day and fuck you so hard your legs give out. He won’t even stop. Just pulls you up by the waist and keeps going.

His mouth is sinful. Nanami eats pussy like it’s his second job, tongue deep, slow at first, then relentless. His face buried between your thighs as he groans, “You taste better than anything this world has to offer.”

He loves making you come with just his fingers. Long, thick digits curling perfectly inside you while his other hand presses on your stomach to feel how deep he’s reaching. “So tight for me,” he groans, watching your face twist in pleasure.

Filthy talk? Oh, it slips out when he’s fucking you raw. “Look at you, taking all of me like a good wife.” “This cunt was made for me.” “You like it when I use you, don’t you?” And when you moan his name? That’s when he loses it.

His breeding kink is no joke. Husband Nanami is obsessed with finishing inside you. It’s primal. Deep thrusts, fingers digging into your hips, and a low grunt as he fills you to the brim. “Gonna knock you up,” he growls, still moving even as you tremble beneath him.

And after? He doesn’t pull out. He loves keeping it in, wrapping you up in his arms while you’re still full of him, whispering filth into your ear. “Let it drip out tomorrow. Right now, it stays inside.”

On special nights, anniversaries, birthdays, he gets feral. Multiple rounds. You tied up in silk. Him edging you with that deep, calm voice. “Not yet, sweetheart. You’ll take what I give you and be grateful.”

Despite how filthy it gets, there’s a moment afterward when he gently brushes your hair back, kisses your forehead, and says in that low, smooth voice: “You were perfect.” Then he runs you a bath like nothing happened.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆°°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡

Husband Nanami cuz he's so husband-like :P

Would you guys want a playlist recommendation while reading? To enhance your experience yk..

And if you guys want you can recommend characters headcanon in the comment or suggestion and I'll try my best to make it🙇🏻‍♀️

[gutsby]

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Word count: 13.1k

Read on AO3

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”

[aquasoftware]

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo…☆ ◝

Snippet | “Press up a little… Okay um… try curling your finger—like, hook it up.”

꒰ Desc | Stressed after work? No problem ➜ until your favorite comfort item goes missing, and luckily your socially awkward roommate has a solution that leaves you unraveling in more ways than one.

꒰ CW | MDNI 18+ ꒱ Smútノangst, implied inexperienced! Choso, avoidant attachment! Reader, scént k⋆nk, pra⋆sé, m!ld bėgg!ng, s⋆zé k⋆nk, dry húmpúíng, spít, góóner! Choso, bràtty(ish)! Reader, ń⋆ppIe pIay, scént k⋆ńk, s⋆ze k⋆ńk, p⋆ssess!vé behavior, hint of geek! Choso, multiple big o’s, petnames, tèás!ng, b⋆dy w⋆rship, delayed O, squ⋆rt⋆ngノcr⋆⋆m⋆ng, óvèrst⋆múlat⋆ón, f⋆⋆t wórsh!p, túmmy búIge, yearner! Choso, ˖ aftercare.

꒰ FT | Fem!Reader X Roommate!Choso K. ꒱

WC ➜ 11K ➜ ML | A/N : Inspired by radiohead

You were absolutely doomed.

Around six-forty p.m was the time you usually arrived at your shared apartment, well after you stopped by for fast food to stuff your belly full—deserved especially since your shift worked you down to the bone. Then you’d hang your keys on the rack, strip out of your uniform in the bathroom, shower, and finally masturbate in your bedroom.

But that was the problem...

Your vibrator was nowhere to be seen, you literally searched everywhere.

Crawling on the floor with tattered breath as if you’d just watched a horror movie, digging through your cluttered closet, ripping apart the designer shoebox without a care, biting your lip as you forcefully pulled out every last drawer in your dresser, you even looked underneath your bed—which you decided it needed some tidying up later—at least after you fixed the bigger issue.

Tears nearly threatened to escape the corners of your eye, in complete distress at this situation.

It wasn’t like you were trying to be dramatic, but each rude client was worth at least eight orgasms or even double that, hell you’d try and go all night if you didn’t have better things to do. 

Sighing before making your next move, it was best to hit your last resort—asking your roommate if he’s seen your vibrator.

Of course you’d feel a little embarrassed, what’s the worst that could happen though? At most he’d give you a puzzled look and say no, still you were desperate, so it was worth a shot.

What you didn’t know about Choso was that he’s a bit of a gooner.

Whenever your friends visited you and they saw him they’d either : 

A. Fangirl over your roommate gushing how hot quiet tall men are, and twirl their hair (apparently) flirting saying how they like their men “tatted up like a chipotle bag.”

  Or 

B. Secretly whisper about how weird he looks—off-put by his broody energy and unapproachable face.

It only made you confused, because this was someone you’d defend with your life over someone calling him weird, but you never noticed at night how he groaned as he slowly stroked his cock to women that could possibly be your doppelgänger on twitter.

Thrusting up into his fist with a dying need when he’d watch hentai and the women would make the ahegao face, because he could only dream of making you roll your eyes back like that while you loll your tongue out. 

Softly crying out your name as he rammed into his fleshlight like it was your pretty pussy, that he accidentally got flashed by once. 

Choso couldn’t help himself, dirty talking to it—pretending it was the real thing. He’d whimper “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you like how I pound you Y/n?” Hearing your mewls through the walls with his keen ear only made it worse.

Which is exactly why while you were gone he hid your vibrator so discreetly he even forgot where he put it, he only hoped and prayed you’d have no other choice, but to come to him.

Oddly enough Choso was slightly shocked his little plan worked so easily. 

When you gently knocked on his door, some rustling could be heard like he was trying to hide a few objects before opening it.

At last the door squeaked as it pried open, revealing his taller stature. 

His eyes were baggy like if he got any sleep he’d start breaking out in hives, his ears decorated in piercings as if it were art on a canvas—his short shirt had shown off his tatted sleeve that drove women crazy.

“Do you need something?” Choso asked, leaning against the door frame, tying the drawstrings on his Star Wars pajamas with a dull look, although mentally his head was crowded with tiny people cheering for him.

“Yeah,” you took a long deep breath, answering. 

Fiddling with the hem of your silky pink nightgown, you practically stalled for what you were about to ask.

“I was just wondering,” you muttered, trailing off.

Hiding your sweaty hands behind your back, you tried speaking again “actually don’t judge before I say it.” You dodged eye contact, making your eyes busy in his suddenly plain room that looked as if some collectables, or posters were missing.

“Did she notice anything? Quick, Quick! act normal Choso.” He panicked, his thoughts scolded him so loud he swore you might’ve heard them.

If he had two choices to let someone see his unholy room smothered in erotic figures, or those anime posters he claimed to watch for the ‘plot’—he’d let that someone be a god before you.

Dipping his hands in his pockets, he leaned closer into your space with warm inviting cocoa-tinted eyes, brushing his bangs out of his face.

“I won’t, promise.” He calmly reassured you.

“Have you possiblyyy,” you sing-songed, already regretting your life choices “perhaps seen my vibrator?” 

For a moment, Choso had an unreadable look displayed on his face, then he raised an eyebrow, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“No?” He had to be honest with himself, shame simmered in his stomach as a lie trudged out, he hated making you feel a little crazy over this, but this was his only chance to feel the touch of a woman.

“Why would I see that?” Choso folded his arms, his eyes raked across your figure. Gradually losing his composure due to your fresh scent—the honey body wash with hints of vanilla perfume was begging him to rip your clothes apart so badly that he had to repeat to himself “Hold it together Choso.”

“Ah. You’re right, I just thought,” you poked your lips out, adjusting your bonnet to distract you from the incoming bomb of embarrassment. 

Usually since you often misplaced your keys you’d often ask Choso if he’d seen them and he’d find them for you, which is why asking him this made at least a little sense.

“Nevermind.” You turned on your heel, preparing to use your fingers instead, (knowing you’d sob yourself to sleep after).

Your roommate didn’t allow you to leave just yet though, grabbing your wrist.“Wait, unless you, uh… wouldn’t mind me helping you.”

You paused like the entire world disintegrated, stepping back in shock. 

“Helping me?” You tilted your head, on the verge of mentioning what if it changes things–not wanting anything to be tricky after, but at this point you couldn’t care anymore, you just wanted at most—one orgasm tonight.

“Yeah, I mean that’s only if you want,” he began scratching his head, abruptly leaving the “cool” act behind “You could even imagine someone else if–”

But before Choso could drown himself in a pool of awkwardness, you yanked him by his hand dragging him into his room like you owned it.

“Say no more!” You declared like you were at a restaurant and your roommate was the only thing on the menu.

He gasped, appalled like he didn’t construct this entire plan. Your smaller figure somehow managing to rule his taller frame. 

He wasn’t expecting you to actually give in, so what now?

Choso never had a pretty woman this close, well, one he actually had an undeniable desire for.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he fidgeted with his fingers, nearly sweating for what was about to come.

“C’mon get closer, you don’t gotta be shy now!” You purred as you bat your luscious lashes, scooting towards him.

His hand was glued on top of yours, lifting for a second like he wanted to make a move—do anything, but he never thought he’d get this far. 

Your fingertips grazed his skin as you tilted his chin upward with a featherlight touch, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

Your breaths mingled for a moment, dancing in the closed space.

Tracing a path of soft, fluttering kisses along the rim of his sharp jawline, you savored the heat radiating from his skin and the way he subtly leaned into your touch. 

Your lips ghosted over the spot in front of his mouth, as if you were edging yourself with tasting him.

His heartbeat was comparable to an earthquake, booming loudly in anticipation. He felt the entire four years of living with you flash before his eyes, as if this was hard work that paid off, and he could finally die complete.

Then, without warning, your mouth claimed his—almost like you were marking your territory in spite of other women crushing over him.

It was dramatic the way your lips crashed against his repeatedly, suckling on his bottom lip like you were ravenous.

Your lips were melded into each other as if neither of you could get enough of this. His hand cupped your cheek like this was something bound to happen—practically screaming you were made to kiss only him.

He gently smiled into your plush lips remembering a few of the guys you used to bring over—now it was at last his turn after hearing how your pussy squelched through the walls.

Years of being on the side due to your toys or other men and he finally had a chance—he felt a rush of dedication to prove he was better, an urge to outdo everything that you scurried to during ovulation. 

With one swift motion Choso picked you up, both hands cradling your hips and sitting you on his lap, forcing a gasp out of your throat.

“Didn’t know you had it in you like that.” You blurted, swearing if this were a show a saxophone would theatrically play in the background.

It was a known fact Choso was strong, but picking you up so fast you barely even noticed had you feeling like a love spell was casted on your heart, suddenly hearing it roar in your chest.

“I… Uh–”  He started off, but his mind became scrambled, intoxicated with how close you were.

Your honey vanilla scent could’ve made him cum on the spot if he didn’t have enough self-control, except he reminded himself this was his only chance–he refused to fuck up.

It was too late though, because he immediately began to buck his hips up like a bull, causing your arms to wrap around his neck instinctively. 

He never knew what it was like for a woman to sit on his lap before, he couldn’t help himself–the way your cunt throbbed all over his bulge it only enticed him even more.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this is real…” swirled around in his mind in disbelief, a fantasy he told himself would never be real achieved to bloom into life. 

Choso’s angry veins were practically cursing you for how good your slick panties felt on top of him. 

His cock felt like stone, already frustrated from the thin fabric separating the two of you. 

“God, you’re so fucking hard,” you bursted into giggles, continuing to roll your hips “guess I’m not the only one… this pent up huh?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mhmm.” He mumbled, eyes barely open as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece. 

His focus was as good as a drunk person. Every shift of your hips became the only thing that mattered.

He bit back noises like if he let them slip, he’d no longer impress you, but it was as if you knew he was holding back—switching to a faster rhythm, placing kisses on his neck then sucking harshly at the tender skin, sure to leave a dark purple bruise. 

He finally let go, ecstasy ascending in his bones, whimpering like a man obsessed—someone who’d merge souls with you if it were possible. 

Choso’s body chased yours as if were a reflex, his mind morphed into complete fuzziness it was like he was on autopilot, but there was only one thing—he didn’t know what to do with his hands, maybe stealing your vibrator was a little odd, but he still wanted to remain respectful.

His hands moved lower down your back, fingers drawing circles on your nightgown, but halted like he wanted to go further and couldn’t.

“You wanna touch me?” You whispered, lips brushing his pink tinted ears, sending shivers throughout his body “It’s okay, go ahead.”

“You sure?” He brought his face from your shoulder for a moment, pressing his forehead against yours, the tips of your nose basically engaged to each other.

You nodded, reaching for his hands, dragging them down slowly to your ass. He quickly grabbed a huge handful, like it would escape from him.

“Fuck, you’re so soft.” 

He groaned, feeling a surge of something primal brewing throughout him, his fingertips screwed harder into the supple fat of your ass damn near branding you.

You were driving him wild without even doing much but looking pretty while grinding on him.

The weight of you in his lap was insane—his mind shuffled with “please let this be more than once, I’ll do anything to have her again.” 

Choso brutally bit the inside of his cheek, making sure this wasn’t a dream, if he woke up any minute he’d definitely take his anger out on one of his poor body pillows.

The fact that you came to him, agreeing with his idea to help you even if you could’ve just used your fingers, or just asked him to help you search for it meant everything to him—he never felt this needed in his life. 

He was breathless at the touch starved friction, your moans swimming in his ear, how you gently clawed at his back, your captivating scent, was all too much for him.

“Feels so good.” Became the only thing he could spew out, veins bolting as he gripped you tighter, bringing you closer as his clothed cock rubbed on your pulsing clit.

You sighed entirely dazed, the air around you two growing thick and humid. You had your arms wrapped around his marked neck like you wanted to trap him in a web to keep him there forever.

Unfortunately, nobody’s touched you in what felt like decades; to some abstinence for only two years sounded weak, just about anyone could go without dick for two years right?

Absolutely not, at least for you, these past years were hell, it was so horrible you considered calling your ex-situationship to satisfy your needs.

Which was why you rutted into his pelvis like an animal in heat, your body acted as if it were irritated he didn’t ask to help you sooner.

Your panties became a slip n’ slide, every single one of his needy whimpers sprinting straight to your puffy clit—Choso’s wet kisses relishing in your neck had your nipples shamefully pebbling in your nightgown.

Somehow your hips even picked up speed on its own rocking into his tented pajama pants, you wouldn’t be surprised anymore at other decisions it could make. 

There was no way you were this turned on by a little bit of humping, right? You mentally reprimanded yourself.

It was almost like you were a virgin again with no sense around a man, pure lust cascading your body.

Your breath was disappearing from you like a ghost, unable to handle your roommate’s wispy moans striking your ear, sounding as if he was on the verge of coming–all you could feel was the splotch of pre-cum leaking from the middle of his pants.

Your fingers ditched his neck to tangle into his raven tufts hoping it’d help stabilize yourself from the inescapable coil building in your tummy.

Not even the blasting fan nearby could cool the large sums of sweat off your bodies—convinced you were soul tied at this rate by how in sync you moved together.

Every hungry grind lined up perfectly with his bulge that continuously attacked your bundle of nerves sticking to the seam of your panties.

He held you so close you could feel his abs flexing as he gripped you tighter, the possessive touch causing you to clench around utterly nothing.

“Choso,” your mouth let out a choked sob, nails indenting itself into his shirt “Shit, I’m… close…” you gasped desperately in between breaths.

Your thighs began to shudder around his waist, drunk off the sheer intensity of him thrusting up into you.

Arrays worth of fireworks launched in your head, dizzy on the fact that you’d possibly get your first orgasm of the night after a long shift.

“Yeah? Haah, mmggffh me too…” He whimpered, placing a kiss on top of your head, but unfortunately he had a sudden change of plans—slowing down his movements while shifting his body just to lay you on the bed facing him against the plethora of fluffy pillows.

“Wait, nooo why’d you stop?” 

You whined, heart humming like a drum—your pussy clamping around nothing, begging for anything to get relief.

“Because if I kept going I was gonna cum in my pants like some filthy loser.” Choso rasped, wetting his lips—dark brown eyes secured on your figure as if you stepped out of his favorite doujinshi.

You playfully smirked as you gave a pointed look to the sticky grey patch on his pajama pants. It might’ve only been pre-cum, though replaying how breathless he sounded, he definitely sounded like the filthy loser in question.

Clearing his throat, he pushed up the silk material of your nightgown with no rush behind his actions.

He delicately spread your legs apart, sweeping dainty kisses from your slick-covered thighs to your stomach before unhurriedly pulling away your sticky panties.

Once they were all the way off he gave them a huge whiff like he wanted the scent of your cunt after an eight-hour shift to burn deep into his nostrils. 

He exhaled as if it were a sweet aroma of baked cookies, and bunched it up into a ball flinging it somewhere in his room like he was signaling you weren’t getting that back, causing your eyes to widen.

“I wanna savor this—savor you…as long as I can.”

His voice was hoarse as he slipped a finger inside your velvet walls, careful and deep like he needed to feel every inch.

But there was one dire issue, he thought he knew what he was doing from watching—an almost concerning amount of porn, yet it unfortunately made him move his finger only in and out with no sense of set pace or rhythm.

You bit your lip hesitant, leaning up on your elbows as your eyes bored into his “Wait, you’re not doin’ it right.” It wasn’t to be mean, but if he wanted to help out, you weren’t going to take this back and forth like he was trying to hit a non-existent red-button.

He paused his finger for a moment.

“Does that not feel good?” Choso questioned, furrowing his brows in confusion. Thinking wrongfully he was prepared enough for this, gooning to all those videos on twitter or other websites didn’t seem to do him any good afterall.

You shook your head mumbling a near inaudible “Mm-mm.”

“Guide me on what to do then, angel.”  

He pleaded, his tone enveloped with curiosity, eager to be corrected—yet felt you flutter around his finger.

“Does she like being called angel?” Those words scampered around his mind, as he squinted his eyes, he made a quick mental note on what you liked while waiting for you to explain any directions you were willing to spill. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, face burning at explaining what your body needed—either way you craved an orgasm, so you decided to suck up the slight tension. 

“Here,” you whispered, grabbing his wrist and helping him move at a tortoise-like pace. “You’ve gotta press up a little.”

His mouth fell open slightly as he watched you guide him, if it were possible to get a tattoo of a memory he’d want to ink your vulnerable state in his brain next.

“Press up a little?” He asked, voice tentative like he was trying to figure out his way through a maze.

“Okay um… try curling your finger—like, hook it up.” You described curling your fingers in front of him to give him a picture, assuming he could be more of a visual learner.

He did exactly what you told him, marking your directions in his brain like a fervent student, adjusting his hand to press against a fiercely sensitive spot hiding inside you.

“Keep moving slow okay?” You instructed, chest rising and falling as you relaxed into his touch.

Choso’s mind began to flash back to sensual porn he watched whenever he got tired of overly rough videos, abruptly realizing that’s what made him cum quickly—maybe it’d be the same for you if he properly mimicked the same movements.

Beads of sweat trickled down his temple, as he pursed his lips in concentration, devoted to making you fall apart on his hand first. 

Slithering his finger in your clingy walls, he continued to curl up in a repeated motion, stroking your g-spot with the same precise care he gave the finest brushes in his art collection, forcing your back to beautifully arch, entirely surrendering yourself to his long digit.

Choso moaned softly, at how demanding your pussy became–despite him only having one finger engulfed in you, it grasped him like it’d fire him from his job if he stopped at any moment.

He smiled with adoration, mind filled to the brim with colorful confetti, celebrating like this was his biggest accomplishment in life, besides one of his paintings he sold–he got the exact girl he was longing for writhing underneath him, depending on him for pleasure.

“Like that?” he questioned, following your reactions like a hawk. 

“Aah, yes! Like that Cho.” You mewled, as you toyed with your hardened nipples through your nightgown, impatiently peeling one of your tits from out of the top. 

His pace stuttered for a moment, distracted by the sight of your exposed breast and how lazily you teased yourself. He swallowed hard, correcting his rhythm with a low whimper.

Fuck, why are you like this? 

You weren’t even trying to be hot, all you did was flick your nipple between your fingers and for some reason, it was enough for him to bang his hips into the mattress aiming to satisfy the painful throbbing ache in his pants.

Choso rubbed your thigh like he needed it to ground himself, he gave it a gentle squeeze, having a strong thirst to live in your soft flesh.

He maintained massaging your spot, proud your elbows finally became weak—no longer able to support you due to how much bliss you were in.

“You okay, angel?” Genuine concern cloaked his tone, refusing to overwhelm you, but he somehow didn’t realize that’s exactly what made you lose your mind, being overwhelmed.

“‘M fine... just—” your voice shattered like glass, hardly able to finish your train of thought, as your walls fluttered tight around him, “add another finger, please.”

You yearned for that extra push like a woman who hopelessly waited on love letters from her man at work, and at that moment it registered to you that this began to feel a little more intimate than just roommates. 

You wanted to push away his wrist—stop him—do anything, but that coil that was stirring in your tummy had you under deep control, it’d be like trying to break free from a cage made of steel.

“Is that better?” 

“Mhmm… f–feels so good. You’re doing so well, Cho—so good f’me.”

Oh, he couldn’t wait to free his cock, at this point you were torturing him—not that he minded. 

The way your back arched, breasts high and nipples pleading for more. Mouth slightly parted with half-lidded eyes made him want to sketch you like this—ruined under his touch.

“God, you’re so wet,” he panted, surprised at the obscene squelch sounds your body gave him. “you look so pretty, trembling like that for me.”

“She must really like praise, huh?”  His thoughts clouded his mind, as he watched a waterfall worth of slick that coated his palm.

Choso gave a smug half-smile, realizing he could unravel you with nothing but his words. Any doubts about sounding awkward? Gone—submerged under the sound of your moans.

Your mind fell numb, grinding your hips down on his digits, crying out his name like a broken record.

“Oh my god Choso.” You squealed—eyes slamming shut, as you grabbed at his lean tatted arm, his muscles flexing at your unexpected touch.

“Choso, choso, choso, I’m close, don’t stop.” You begged, playing a memory that dragged you back to when other men would change their pace or rhythm as soon as you were on the tip of coming.

“Faster Cho, you’re doing such a good job.” You encouraged as your nails scraped his arm, tits jiggling while your hips stuttered against him like he was your only source of euphoria, completely forgetting about your ‘lost’ vibrator.

He listened to you attuned to your needs, then thumbed at your fat greedy mound.

It was too much, feeling overstimulated—his wide thumb circling on your clit as he thrusted his fingers swiftly in a come hither motion, provoking drool to slip past the corners of your lips.

“Hah, Choso—gonna cum, I’m coming!”  Your thighs quivered as you threw your forearm across your face, pussy spasming around him like you were trying to reel him in forever.

Faint cries echoed throughout his room as a gush ripped from your cunt, raining over his already doused palm.

Loads of waves poured over him, claiming his palm and wrist, so bad he became sure he’d need an umbrella.

Your body acted like you haven’t orgasmed in centuries, spilling out way too much as if it’d never get a chance to feel another man again.

Finally, he pulled away his fingers noticing the skin was now wet and wrinkly, still he tapped his digits against his lips like he was debating whether or not he wanted to taste your arousal.

Then he dipped them in his mouth, suckling at your wet essence that coated him–his tongue glided over your slick while he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, as if that’d manage to disrupt his judgement.

Choso’s brows creased like his brain was scanning the flavor on his taste buds and relaying the information to form a final opinion.

He smacked his lips for a second “Hmm, a bit salty, yet sweet, maybe like a chocolate covered pretzel?? I’d say this is a ten out of ten.” Choso announced, giggling as if he were a well-known food critic, but in tasting cum.

“A chocolate covered pretzel?!” You snorted, boisterous, yet fairly bewildered at the bold comparison.

He joined you in laughter, shrugging, except His giggles died down as his eyes met yours again—still entranced from everything.

“You okay?” he asked, checking on you once more, rejecting anything less than an astonishing experience for you. His hand rose up to caress your side, touching you at any chance he had.

“Of course I am,” you nodded, doe eyes swaddling him, but masked behind lust, you reached up towards him, tugging him feebly by his shirt. 

“C’mere… I want you inside me, pleaseee.” 

The ache in his pants pulsed hard enough to make him wince. He exhaled slowly, nudging closer, slotting his hips between your legs.

Choso blinked, his breath catching. “Y-Yeah? You sure?”

His fingers flexed against your thigh. You were still twitching, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you pawed at his pajama pants.

“I need it, Choso—need you now.”

That was all it took, he leaned in, peppering kisses all over your face like a man who made love to his woman before he went to war. “Fuck, you’re unreal.”

Choso scrambled to tug down his pants, whimpering at the fact that he could finally take care of his boner.

His cock sprang free like it was ready to ravage your pussy, causing your eyes to pop as a gasp flew out of your throat. 

The tip was on par with an abnormal sized mushroom, maybe even lab made—flushed coral pink and bitterly leaking, envious it didn’t get any attention yet.

But that wasn’t even the best part, the length looked around seven inches paired with a five inch girth, this was the kind of dick that’d steer you away from any ex or toy for life, you made a wild guess you’d most likely get attached after this as if your heart would stop without him.

“Oh my god?” You covered your mouth, appalled. The other men you’d been with had three or four inches, which occasionally made you yawn during sex.

You never would’ve guessed your roommate who’s quiet—makes small talk with you was secretly packing underneath his typically baggy clothes.

“Is it bad looking?” Choso quizzed, face hued a rose pink—worried he wouldn’t succeed your expectations. “I could still try to please you if—“

“No, it’s so fucking big” you drooled, ogling at him “put it inside me now!” You ordered, as you rubbed your clit in small circles.

He was only left speechless, cock twitching profoundly at your approval until a few words came to mind, “anything you want princess.”

Choso turned powerless to his own actions, hand moving to give himself a few pumps before slapping his fat tip on your clit, provoking you to jolt.

He let out a breathless chuckle like he was going insane. “I’ve been waiting so long for this.”

“You have?”

He responded with a nod as his tip stroked your entrance, gathering some slick to act as lube before lining himself up, then he steadily glided himself in—making your breath hitch.

Your hands fisted the sheets, to comfort yourself with the burning stretch. You were able to feel every single throbbing vein, ridge, and you’d imagine even his beauty marks that decorated his length too.

His eyes searched your face for any discomfort while he continued pushing himself inside you, his girth splitting you open into two.

“Mmm, you want me to stop half way?” He asked as he massaged your hip.

You immediately shook your head “No, all the way in.” 

Even through the slight sting you needed everything Choso could give, except that costed your breath to increase, getting heavier, not realizing how much you had to accommodate.

Your walls panicked, feeling like it instantly had to find a way to mold itself properly to his size to ensure you’d only feel a compelling sense of pleasure.

He continued to drag himself all the way in, just like you asked until your pelvis pecked at the hair freckled at the base.

“W—want me to move, or do you need a minute?” Choso questioned, throwing his head back at your tight, warm, wet cave encasing him—knowing it’d be difficult to return to his fleshlight after this, it’d be like trying to sober up after an addiction.

“You can move.” You stated, making an attempt at a neutral tone, but it came off more of a plea.

You never thought missionary could hit like this, usually it bored you, leaving other men to watch a blank expression on your face as they had their way with you, but with Choso, your body sucked him in like a black hole completely immersed in his length.

“Fuck, fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight, angel.” He groaned as he unbuttoned his shirt, taking it off like it’d cool off his body.

Then at last his hips rocked forward, slow but deep, like he wanted to carve his name into your guts.

“Y’gonna ruin me,” he breathed, and you swore for a moment question marks were exploding on top of your head confused like he wasn’t the one ruining you.

Vibrators always helped with stimulation but they never prepared you for the sheer stretch and fullness of cock—especially since Choso’s thick, it felt like a soda can was trying to jam inside your cushion walls.

He pulled back just enough to harshly launch back in on purpose—remembering how much you loved being overwhelmed.

You sobbed his name in like a prayer hoping to be answered any minute, turning your head side to side into the silk sheets.

It almost turned mortifying how sensitive your sopping cunt was, those two years promptly catching up to you, reminding you how badly you wished for dick to break the streak.

You were basically in heat, squeezing around him, placing your hand on his abs like it’d console you from his deep thrusts.

“S–shit, I didn’t know anyone could make me feel like this.” You mumbled beyond perplexed an inexperienced man already had you seeing stars. 

You kept trying to tell yourself on loop that this is just sex, something casual until you marched yourself to Spencer’s to buy another soulless piece of silicone to mourn the real thing, but your lash line started to swell with tears, cherishing that his eyes were glued to your face digging for any reaction you spared him.

And telling yourself this is just a small one-time thing began to feel suffocating, specifically since he delicately held your hips–too shy to leave bruises, rolling into you like you were an idol meant to be worshipped.

Your heart erupted with heat each time he softly cursed your name–leaning in to kiss your neck, beginning to realize your friends possibly weren’t exaggerating when they expressed how mind-blowing sex is, every stroke raised your standards for the next man, well, if you weren’t too attached afterwards.

Choso shot a smile flourishing with passion, knowing you felt ecstasy simply because of him–it was just like he dreamed of when he masturbated if not better.  

He used one hand to thumb at your clit, circling it with careful, messy swipes just to hear those moans, the ones gentle as clouds escaping your lips—with his other hand, he reached for yours, fingers lacing together and pressing them into the pillow beside your head like he wanted sculpt how infatuated he was with you.

His hips rocked forward in slow, deliberate thrusts, but each time he bottomed out, he ground—like he was trying to argue with your body to prove entirely nothing could be better than this.

He wanted to etch himself into your walls, dedicated to making this memorable. 

Every steady drag of his cock left behind a milky trail of your thick cream on his shaft that clung to him like a crazy jealous ex who wouldn’t let go.

You felt him everywhere.

Not just stretching your pussy, but filling your tummy, pressing against something deeper—maybe your womb, probably your soul.

You clamped around him uncontrollably tight—not even sure if your body wanted more, to cry, or scream that you couldn’t take it.

But then you thought about those rude-ass clients from earlier.

There was no way in hell you were tapping out.

His fat tip kept thumping your sweet spots with surgeon-like precision, making your toes curl and your hands try to weakly reach for the nightstand. 

It still wasn’t enough. You wanted to be wrecked—spoiled—reduced to nothing but a whore underneath him.

So, you did what any bratty woman would do, what better way to ask than tease your way into this?

“You… don’t gotta… move so slow anymore Choso,” you faked a yawn, or tried to in between breaths “maybe I should go look for my vibrator—see if that gets the job done instead.”

His pace faltered—just for a moment like something short-circuited. Then his eyes shifted, and you could see it click, something devious lighting up behind them.

“Yeah?” 

His voice dropped an octave—baritone, yet rich as satin, being enough to make your skin prickle with goosebumps, recognizing there was something mischievous hiding underneath the surface.

He withdrew his shaft, but didn’t pull all the way out, just until the head of his cock sat tauntingly in your slick entrance, like it was alerting you what you were in for, messing with a man who has had an excessive fixation on you for four years.

You could feel your pussy throb like your slutty hole had its own heartbeat, attempting to grab him back in as if it were irritated you were teasing the best dick of your life.

His soft palm cupped your breast, watching how your hard nipple jostled at his fingertips.

With a slow roll of his thumb, he circled your bud—softly pinching it, studying the way your back twitched off the mattress.

A whimper flew from your parted lips, fingers tangled in the sheets at how sacred his hands kneaded you, a sheepish expression plastered across your face at how responsive you were, it was like every molecule in your body finally felt seen.

And although Choso looked like someone who sat on Discord all day, sketching anime girls in questionable poses for “anatomy study,” debating mischaracterized characters on Reddit threads at 2 a.m.—you knew you were about to be ruined.

“If that’s what you want…” He sucked in a shaky breath through his nose, jaw tight so tight a vein could burst—like he was satisfied he could be rougher, letting his pervy energy leak through. “I’ll give you anything.” 

You tried to keep up the bored act, a deadpan expression sprawling out over your face, considering whether or not rolling your eyes or huffing out a fake sigh was too far.

Distracting yourself by the windy spring air blowing the curtains—you pondered for a moment, eyes deciding to entertain themselves inspecting the rest of his room, darting to the walls decorated with anime posters that were most likely judging your sinful actions.

But then—he grabbed both of your legs, hoisting and folding them over his shoulders in one sharp motion, so quick that the succulent fat of your thighs angrily jiggled at the sudden movement.

His eyes narrowed in focus, shaking his head to move his raven bangs that stuck like glue to his forehead, but you instantly broke him out of deep concentration as broken moans rumbled from your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your voice strained, as a string of curses rushed out of your mouth, his mushroom tip pushing farther.

You weren’t ready for how deep this angle let him reach—having your knees nudge your collarbones or the intense stretch.

Mentally, little disorganized files in your brain broke open, scattering to figure out where he learned his technique from, especially since not too long ago you were guiding him on how to finger you, could it be porn, or maybe advice from quora?

You couldn’t even be bothered to solve that grueling mystery now though, because you swore you saw a faint trace of a smirk gracing Choso’s features.

Not the playful one you usually gave him to tease, just to rile him up for pure amusement. 

It screamed more like a yellow warning sign, a promise as if to tell you “be careful for what you wish for.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Your voice cracked between shallow breaths, pleading for mercy, all while secretly hoping he’d ignore them—wrecking you until you were walking funny for the next two weeks.

But in typical Choso fashion, not a single word dared to exit his mouth.

You simply braced for impact, throwing your forearm back over your face like you were a damsel in distress.

Then he slammed into you–all the way, at once–his full length bullying any sensitive spot imaginable, burying himself to the hilt—his short nails digging tiny crescent moons into the plush of your thighs.

Your mind shimmered in elation—the pleasure comparable to a warm hug, you nearly wondered if you should’ve mumbled out a thank you for how dreamy everything felt.

Each slam of his thick cock felt as if it were exasperated, reclaiming his silence for four years of crushing on you–like he was begging to know how you could be so oblivious this whole time.

The poor wooden headboard croaked at the pressure, banging against the wall louder than siren, someone would assume it was trying to find an escape–refusing to be the spot you two fucked like animals on top of.

Those years of moaning into your pillow with your vibrator on max setting—worthless. It was like your pussy forgot what real pleasure was supposed to feel like.

Ramming into you his balls slapped the curve of your pussy, hard enough to make your back arch and body shudder like he was commanding you to, except without any words needed. 

The stretch of him felt like if your body took another cock it’d deny access immediately, you wouldn’t mind staying this way though, even if it was too much for you to handle, you’d replay this moment while lucid dreaming, doing anything to be folded in half like this again.

“S’full, m’ so fuckin' full Choso.” You babbled, tears wobbling at the edge of your lash line, creeping down your face like it didn’t want to be noticed.

“Mhm, I know princess.” He cooed, continuing to drive into you as he carefully watched your tummy bulge dance with every thrust “That’s all me huh?” He mentioned completely struck at how big he was as if he didn’t consistently measure himself.

Once one large hand departed to press on your belly, your jaw went slack from the immense pressure, his dick kept critically knocking into that precious a-spot, like he was perfectly doing calculations in his brain which angles or thrusts would make you sob.

Your half-lidded eyes were blurry, rolling back until you saw white.

Your vision was as good as television static, the black and white specs twinkling—thoughts fading into a puddle of mush as your tongue lolled out, proving he fucked you dumb.

Drool slipped past your lips, lashes flickering like you were fragile—seconds from breaking apart.

That's when he snapped—mind brittle in arousal, eyes darkening at how pornographic you looked, exactly how he’s been daydreaming when he masturbated to the thought of you, hungry and desperate for you to make a slutty ahegao face.

“Shit,” a long drawn out groan crawled out his plump lips, as his pace stammered for a moment, absorbed in your lack to control your features contorting by bliss.

One pale hand still rested on your leg, while the other grabbed your jaw holding you in place effortlessly, leaning so close his breath could fog your face if it were glass just to spit a massive glob making sure it aimed right for your tongue.

By this point you were hazy—maybe half-gone swallowing without hesitation, lips closing as his spit swam down your throat keeping a piece of him inside your body.

You gave a droopy smile, almost nothing could break you out of your sexual high besides Choso quickly apologizing for the sudden act.

“Shit, wait, I didn’t mean—” he started to explain himself, voice drizzled with guilt, yet it was hard to focus with him consistently pounding so deep you wouldn’t be exaggerating if you said you felt his dick in your chest.

“Was it too much?” He panted, worried he may have grossed you out.

Not knowing that you’ve been craving someone who goes beyond vanilla sex this entire time.

“No, do it again.” You begged, scratching at his abs with no force behind it.

His breath hitched, eyes nearly bursting out of the socket “You’re gonna be the death of me Y/n.” 

Tilting your jaw once more, he gathered every last drop of saliva in his mouth to spit another glob on top of your needy tongue.

His fingertips pushed up at your chin, signaling you to swallow everything he gave you—making him proud that another piece of him was going to disappear down into your tummy.

You held onto it for a minute before swallowing though, savoring the flavor of his obsession before completely letting it leave—moaning once you felt well-fed by your roommate.

“There you go, s’good for me.” His pupils twitched at how vulnerable you were with him, feeling a sense of connection to every noise you made, every eye roll, how you trusted him enough to let him do whatever he wanted with you.

And your heart shouldn’t have combusted like it did at his words, knowing this should only be a one time thing before things get serious, but your thoughts were frolicking in circles at the idea of being married to Choso, unable to care about the relationship stage first.

Your eyes—finally able to look properly couldn’t even stare into his, dodging his every glance.

You couldn’t tell whether you hated how observant he was or not because then—he grasped your jawline like it was an insult to avoid his gaze.

“Look at me angel, want you to see how good m’ fucking you.”

The only thought you could conjure up was “Is he trying to make me fall for him?” It seemed like everything he did made both heartbeats skip.

His length hammered into your sensitive core as you looked up to him with loving doe eyes, your fingers holding onto the ones hooked on your jaw keeping him in place, like if he let go you'd miserably whine if he stopped.

“Mmngh, look at that…” Choso groaned, intentionally thrusting slower to let you revel in how much his girth ripped you to shreds, while he carefully analyzed the outline of his cock he ingrained into your belly—still shocked, not realizing how huge it was.

You could only respond by squeezing him like you were trying to milk him dry of four years worth of being pent up, dazed, you struggled to give him eye contact, until he instantly made them broaden—completely stunned.

While one hand stayed pressed on your stomach, one of his hands latched to your ankle, planting a tender kiss on it without breaking his fast paced rhythm, he dragged your pointed foot up—lips making love to your heel, the soft skin of your arch, and each one of your toes coated in cheetah print polish.

He wasn’t sure why, but the lavish design only drew him in even more like if he kept paying your feet any more attention he’d stay hard for another round.

“Mmmph s’cute,” he slurred, wet muscle grazing the pads of each toe like it was a heavenly meal prepared and served only for him to pamper himself with.

At first it tickled like your nerves were panicking—trying to process being stimulated there, but then once the strange tingly feeling finally substituted for pleasure your mewls grew louder as he added suction like he was striving to extract your soul through your foot.

He slurped, releasing each toe with a wet pop before taking in the next, unapologetic about how down bad his demeanor drifted off.

Your brain fried itself like it urgently tried to pinpoint why it felt so amazing, yet peculiar at the same time.

Words like “No, no, no, this is so fucking weird, but I don’t want him to stop????” Tripled in your head, chasing after an answer you couldn’t find.

The sensation of his mouth on one end and his cock punching deep into your guts felt too much to handle, although you practically asked for it.

You floated in a pool of shame, arrows pointing at how pitiful and submissive you were for allowing this to happen.

Usually you judged others for being into something like this, scrunching up your face in disgust whenever someone mentioned how they enjoyed having their feet adored, slowly you were beginning to realize this whole time it was all about having the right person do it for you.

With Choso, he did it with so much care, ideas of it being disturbing declined crossing your mind, he made it certain he wanted to devote himself to testing everything that possibly turned you on.

Even the parts that others would deem as too filthy, he just saw it as another part of you to explore.

As he increased suction, slightly hollowing his cheeks, his wet muscle swerved around the dips and ridges of your skin.

Sex wasn’t supposed to be this intense, you never had to manually breathe through taking cock, yet here you were mentally telling yourself to inhale and exhale as you massaged at your bundle of nerves as if that’d somehow calm you down, but that coil started to build again, like you were on the tip of letting go any moment.

“C’mon, I know you’re close,” he murmured, voice muffled as your toes were still in his mouth causing your pussy to spasm around his length—vibrations driving you crazy.

Recognizing that familiar spasm, this time around his dick—he briskly thrusted so deep his tip nearly smooched your womb.

THWAP THWAP THWAP!

The sound of skin colliding with each other filled the room, echoing loud enough to be heard five doors down your shared apartment. 

“Choso, fuck, oh my god...” you let choked sobs roam free as the weak coil rang, like it had to alert you were going to cum, the most fierce orgasm you were about to have in your life, not even your wand vibrator on max settings or your favorite rhythm could compare.

You would’ve never guessed that having every inch of your body worshipped including down to your soles of your feet would make you feel like a swarm of butterflies fought in your stomach.

Slowly you gave up mentally coaching yourself how to breathe—every exhale becoming ragged like someone was chasing you, except that someone happened to be your orgasm. 

Your legs trembled on top of his broad shoulders, body jerking like a woman possessed, but in pure euphoria.

Everything around you fizzled out into nothingness, unable to form a single thought, and maybe your mind was doing you a favor, letting you fully appreciate this moment with every fiber in your soul.

“Shit, c—can’t move…” His voice wavered along a high-pitch needy groan, the muscles in his thighs shuddering like his own body attempted to run from the orgasm he was seconds from collapsing under.

Your pussy squeezed him like a tight glove, designed for him flawlessly, it felt like watching another girl on twitter would be degrading to you by how snug you were.

The one thing your tight hole tolerated right now was him grinding so deep you'd need a map to find his mushroom tip inside your silk walls.

“Baby, I—I’m g’nna cum, hold me, please...” you pleaded, tears anchoring at the edge of your eyes as you weakly reached up for him with a pout forming on your face.

“Baby?” His eyes softened—like hearing you call him that unlocked something buried in the depths of his soul as if a cupid’s arrow somehow managed to shoot him in the dead of spring.

Immediately letting your foot go, you didn’t have to tell Choso twice, he leaned over still balls deep inside you–using one hand to cradle your head like you were all his, while the other snaked itself underneath your back pulling you slightly towards him.

“Let go for me, cum all over my cock.” He whispered into your ear, helping you through your orgasm.

And although your moans were raw—guttural, his mind managed to mistake it for angelic cries, so beautiful it sounded like a melody on the harp serenading him. 

Your legs wrapped around him, your nails clawed at his back, the deep red scratch marks contrasting with his pale skin.

Gasping at first he felt dizzy, drunk off of the pain you saturated him in, his tip kept nudging your a-spot until you spasmed around him in rapid motions, soon coating him with a thick cream that nuzzled right at the base of his length, dribbling even his hair in your arousal.

Your noises went silent, stuck in an o shape as he continued to pound into you, abs flexing as he chased his own high.

His breath became frayed like a rope, a flood of tears streaming down his cheeks, landing onto your face as you cupped his chin, somehow making him fall harder than before, convinced his heart was stabbing you by how fast it was racing.

“F—fuck, fuckfuckfuck, love you so m—much, loved you this whole time.” He admitted, roughly biting your neck like that would keep him stable.

Your greedy cunt fluttered at his sudden confession, gasping like he revealed a dirty secret not even an interrogator could get him to blurt out. 

“He loves me..?!” Your thoughts repeated like those words were signed into your memory forever, wondering if you really had been oblivious for eons.

Your lips pursed like you wanted to reply back, but something was yanking you away, so many questions were bouncing through your head, like how long has it been since he realized his feelings? Or did you even deserve to be surrounded in this much attention? Especially for the sake of stress relief after work.

Drowning out your thoughts his fingernails dug so far into the flesh of your hips, it’d be bruised for weeks—Choso planted kisses over face in a scattered motion, as his hips snapped up into your pelvis in messy uneven thrusts, knocking the wind out of you.

“Where do you want me?” He begged to know, satisfied with any answer you gave him.

“O-on top of my tummy.” You croaked out with a giggle, freeing him from the cage of your wrapped legs, you knew exactly what you were going to do once he came.

Following your command he instantly fumbled his way out of you, his cock twitching with shaky hands as he jerked himself whimpering loud enough to deafen your ears. 

Pushing up the material of your nightgown that tried running down due to his movements, his hips jolted forward until thick white ropes spilled on top of your stomach, finally draining himself—years of being pent up.

It wouldn’t stop leaking out—his slit gushing out cum like paint from a cracked can. You swore it was enough cum to last a decade, warm like an oven, sending chills down your spine, forgetting how good someone’s arousal could feel against your skin.

The room was filled with panting as if two people were in a race, but in who would cum first—trying to catch your breath for a moment you bit the inside of your cheek as your fingers traced the thick seed he left to melt on you.

Smearing it all over yourself first playing in it like it was made to relax in when you were stressed—bringing it up to your lips to taste it, your mouth closed around your digits like it was your last meal before blacking out.

“So, how does it taste?” He asked, interrupting your little test awkwardly, scratching his pink tinted neck.

His gaze intensely flowed into you, hoping your response wouldn’t embarrass him—but thankfully in advance he had been preparing himself in case he ever got the slim chance to fuck you.

His diet consisting of fruit bowls bigger than his head and jugs those of water coming in handy—rarely munching on junk food, avoiding fucking up his flavor as much as possible.

You smacked your lips, purposefully mimicking him tasting you from earlier “It’s surprisingly good.”

“Surprisingly?” He chuckled, not sure whether or not to take it as a compliment.

“I expected it to be super salty, I’m sorry.” You half joked, leaning up on your elbows with whatever strength you had left.

“Ouch…?” He said with the face of a kicked puppy, eyes droopy at your assumption.

Staring at the mess he made, he was almost hesitant to ask, wishing he could pause time and be stuck in this moment forever.

“W-wanna get cleaned up or… uh?”

You nodded, yet your eyebrows raised in disbelief at how he stuttered like he didn’t just rummage through your guts.

“Carry me!” You demanded like a soldier defeated in battle.

He gave a lazy smile mumbling “yes ma’am.”

Lifting you off the mattress with shaky arms, Choso held you like you were made of glass—though the sticky mess between you begged to differ. His load clung to your skin and smeared across his stomach with every step, but he didn’t complain. Just buried his nose in the crown of your head as he carried you to the bathroom in silence.

Your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, like if you let go, your body might actually fracture into tiny pieces.

The tiles were freezing when your toes hit the floor, and you clung to his inked forearm for balance. He turned the silver lever slowly, steam hissing out with the first spray of warm water. 

Neither of you said much as he took off your bonnet, then slid back the straps of your short nightgown down your shoulders, watching it drop on the floor.

Choso guided you under the water, letting the heat soak through your skin like a balm.

Leaning against the wall for support, your legs were as wobbly as an antique table, already dreading the thought of clocking in at your job tomorrow.

The first splash attacked your hips and you winced, throwing your head into the wall, breathing in the steam like that would somehow help.

Choso turned so fast he nearly broke the spinal cord in his neck.

“Did I hurt you?” His tone cracked with the ghost of guilt, running his hands through his glossy damp hair.

He knew he was a little rougher towards the end, but he felt like a monster knowing you were in pain because of him—praying he didn’t go overboard.

You looked down at your figure and saw the faint bruises forming along your sides where his fingers had dug in brutally.

“No,” you murmured so quietly not even a wolf could hear, while picking up the shower head letting the water push the seed off of your belly. “I’d let you do it again anyway.” 

His Adam's apple bobbed like your words were a shot of honey mixed with poison.

But his expression crumpled like a paper bag for a second. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel proud or ashamed.

The thought of you allowing him the possible chance of being able to make love again infiltrated his brain, his mind began to wander if you two would eventually buy a place with one bedroom—no longer needing separate rooms, maybe he’d never need pillows again to keep himself warm and not feel a little empty at night.

His fingers grazed your stomach like he was touching something divine, a blush staining his pale cheeks at the amount of cum he drizzled on you.

Instinctively you snatched yourself slightly to the side, flinching like his touch was foreign–the love radiating off of his heart attempting to transfer itself to yours haunted you.

Retreating his hand, he furrowed his brows in confusion, completely lost at the sudden act, you wouldn’t be hallucinating if you said you saw question marks rise above his head.

“I'm still a bit sensitive from everything, sorry.” You blurted, dodging eye contact, facing forward to the wall in front of you–studying the silver rack filled with bath bombs, wash cloths, and soaps. 

He blinked, stunned. Something in him screamed to reach again, but he stood still—fighting the fear that if he touched you again, you might disappear completely.

He bashfully smiled in relief, whisking up a little plan to help your trouble, his fingers reached for the body wash on the rack before speaking.

“Let me at least take care of you,” he mumbled, lathering a few pumps into his palms, rubbing his hands together to let it bubble first.

Then he massaged it gently onto your skin like he was a professional that worked at a spa. It was hard not to feel soothed under every press of his digits, letting out chaste moans as his touch got slower and intentional—less about cleaning up, more so about making you feel cared for afterwards.

Your eyes gradually sealed shut, as he rested his chin on top of your head inhaling your saccharine fragrance.

“Your hair smells so nice, wish I could live in your scent.” He whispered, voice raspy, as he kneaded your sore hips like dough.

You tried to force away a grin at his praise, biting your lip, refusing yourself to easily fall for someone again. 

The brick barrier you built to protect your soul was too strong to be broken, by something temporary right?

Beneath the tranquil stream. Water cascaded down the curves of your bodies, tracing every line like it wanted to mesh you two together in a knot that even someone with pounds of muscle couldn’t untie.

At last, Choso cleared his throat, gulping so loud it had its own echo.

“Y/n…” he started, saying your name in an uneasy tone, yet almost too soft to hear over the water, withdrawing his hands for a moment, fiddling with his fingers he looked down at his feet, gathering his thoughts like one wrong word would change his life forever.

He inhaled deep, like the steam wasn’t scalding enough—like if he didn’t ask now, the moment might slip through the palms of his hands.

You blinked, lashes heavy with water sprinkling on them. 

“Yeah?” You finally answered with confusion embellishing your voice.

He swallowed hard like he wanted to back out of popping the big question, but he was already too far gone.

His eyes didn’t meet yours anymore, but you could feel them searching—just not brave enough to land.

“I don’t really know how to say this,” he muttered, voice hoarse, hands wringing together jittery like he needed something to hold onto to comfort him.

“But…”

There was a pause, a long unsettling one.

You watched him retract into himself—processing, editing, like he was writing a graded essay in his brain, chucking every word that would throw you off into his mental dumpster that tried to come out before this.

“What are we?”

Those words hit you like a truck with no intention of stopping—no brakes, no hesitation, just raw steel and impact.

They didn’t just slam into you. They peeled something open. Something you weren’t ready to unpack yet.

Your stomach dropped, a twisting ache blooming in your chest like you’d been caught in something too deep and too fast.

You knew you should’ve had this conversation prior, the “what ifs?” But of course you thought with hormones and not with intelligence.

Moving away from him, you looked side to side like you were trapped, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

Because it wasn’t just a question. It was every unspoken hope he had. A reminder how oblivious you had been these past four years.

It was him flinging his heart into your hands without knowing if you’d catch it—or crush it.

“I mean—” he scrambled, voice picking up a notch in panic. “I know I’m the one who offered… the whole stress relief thing. And maybe I’m reading into it too much, maybe it’s just me, but—”

His throat bobbed, gulping down whatever bond you two had left.

“Was this just a one-time thing?”

And that question—so gentle, so sincere—felt louder than any moan from earlier.

Because it wasn’t just curiosity.

It was hope that you’d say no. That you’d say maybe. That you’d say anything other than what he feared most.

“I—I don’t know.” You blurted without thinking, covering your mouth like you were appalled at your own sentence.

Just possibly, if he had given you time to collect your thoughts, it could’ve turned out differently.

You wanted to say it. That you were inching toward something with him too. That maybe this wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment lust.

But it felt too fast or too much—usually, you loved being overwhelmed, except not like this.

He wasn’t aware that you’d been abstinent for a reason—not just because of past burnout, but because of what the last situationship did to you.

How it left you afraid of promises. How it carved out the belief that intimacy always came with a deadline.

You’d spent months convincing yourself love was a trick, something that only lived in fairytales or those hallmark romance movies.

And yet, here was Choso.

He didn’t just fuck you. He gave you an experience that felt holy—touching you like you were his alter.

And that horrified you.

Because for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like your body was drained of all its use. It felt like something someone wanted to stay with and belong.

“You don’t know?” He repeated it so softly it barely cut through the sound of the shower. Like if he spoke any louder, it would crack something open inside him.

“Okay.” He responded, monotone, no emotion behind it, yet internally he felt desperate to kneel like a knight who was soon to be beheaded.

“I’m sorry.”

You whispered it as if it could bandage the gaping wound you already shot into his heart.

Steadily and awkwardly, you slipped out from under the stream, opening the curtains and drying your feet on the mat. You didn’t look back—not because you didn’t care, but because you did. Too much.

You reached for the towel, draping it over your shoulders like armor.

You lingered there, just a second too long. The sound of water pinging the floor filled your ears, near deafening. You almost turned back, shaking your head since the damage was already done.

He didn’t stop you. What could he say? What would’ve changed your mind?

The silence thudded louder than anything else had tonight.

As you trudged out of the bathroom, the steam curling around your ankles like it wanted to follow you, Choso remained rooted in place.

Alone beneath the falling water.

He turned slowly, reaching behind to scrub at his back—but the sting from your nails made him hiss. It bloomed sharp and sudden, and he winced at the red lines carved into his skin.

Somehow, even that hurt less than hearing “I don’t know.”

A near-permanent reminder that—for one night—you gave him a chance to hold you at all.

He mentally encouraged himself to cry, to let it all out and soften the blow.

Usually, he wouldn’t let himself.

But how could he feel weak when his tears would blur right into the water anyway?

Just like everything else he didn’t get to keep.

Divider/Boarders produced by anitalenia & cursed-carmine.

Song written by Koi’lani/@aquasoftware.

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, (nice) ANONS, AND LIKES ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!! THANK YOU <33

[jaysbaefie]

the intern | pjs

synopsis: in which your constant belittling finally pushes your obedient intern too far and he decides it's time someone puts you in your place.

genre: office au

pairing: intern!jay x boss!reader

warnings: bossy!reader, bratty!reader, mean dom! jay, dubcon/noncon, forced submission, spanking, fingering, slapping, hair pulling, oral (m.rec), light breath play, rough and unprotected p in v, light choking? (i think that's it...) this fic is filthy, like so fucking filthy.

wc: 6.7k

a/n: ikik intern didn’t win the poll but i still wanted to write it as a little thank you for 1000 followers!! smth about mean dom jay and bratty reader just tickles my goddamn pickle. anyways, i am officially done with school!! that means more updates ayeeee!!! i start school early may tho so what am i rlly celebrating for.. anyways! notes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy reading!!

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jay could feel his self restraint falling thin, his eyes glaring holes into the stack of papers in front of him.

he began to question if the internship was even worth it after the way you had been treating him for the last few months.

at first you were just cold, never acknowledging his presence and treating him like a nuisance rather than a human being. but then things took a turn for the worse, you had made him into your very own stress relief dummy.

taking out your frustration and anger on him whenever someone had pissed you off. someone mess up the reports that day? jay took the fall. presentations not prepared? jay took the fall. traffic on the way to work? jay took the fall.

you embarrassed him consistently, degrading and belittling him whenever you could. just take this morning for example.

the office buzzed with low conversations as the team gathered in the glass-walled conference room for the weekly status meeting.

jay sat near the front, his pulse quickening as he arranged his notes in an effort to keep his composure. today, the stakes felt even higher—he needed to impress, to prove that his dedication was more than just blind obedience. in a few weeks from now you'd be deciding who stays and gets the permanent position and who doesn't—he needed to impress you.

you swept into the room with an air of undeniable authority. clad in a sharply tailored blazer and high heels that echoed on the polished floor, you commanded every gaze without uttering a word. even before the meeting began, your presence shifted the atmosphere, the tension around you palpable.

jay swallowed harshly, his gaze scanning over your form as you step into the room. you were gorgeous, he'd give you that—but your attitude was foul. his eyes dropping to his files as he begins to mentally prepare himself for the presentation to commence.

he feels his heart drop when he realizes that the one file he so desperately needed, wasn't on the pile he had brought. jay's hands begin to shake, shuffling through the pile of files again as he hopes that it would magically appear in front of him.

he scans the large conference room table, turning to the person next to him to ask if they had seen the file.

as you took your seat at the head of the table, your eyes briefly scanned the room before landing on jay. a slow, knowing smile curled on your lips, as if you had been waiting for this moment. the meeting kicked off with a routine overview, but it wasn't long before you steered the conversation to the pending report—the one that jay was responsible for.

you fixed your gaze on jay, your tone unexpectedly sweet yet laced with a biting edge. "intern park," you began, deliberately using his given name for effect, "what exactly about 'don't speak unless spoken to' is confusing you? or do you just enjoy hearing your own voice?"

a collective murmur rippled through the room. jay's face turned a shade of crimson. he tightened his grip on his folder, his thoughts jumbling as his cheeks burned with humiliation. every eye was now on him, and he felt the weight of public scrutiny crushing his usual determination.

he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, "i—i'm sorry, i thought i had the data compiled..."

your eyes hardened, and you leaned forward, relishing the control. "thought? no, mr.park. you should have it. if you want to be useful here, you need to step up and stop hovering like a lost puppy around every minor detail." your words sliced through the silence, leaving no room for rebuttal.

the room was silent apart from the steady hum of the air conditioner and the clatter of pens against paper. jay's pulse pounded in his ears as he felt his confidence slip further with each of your calculated remarks. he could hear his internal monologue screaming for an escape, a defiant retort—but the fear of tarnishing his only shot at this internship kept his words locked away.

you weren't done. with a casual yet deliberate gesture, you waved a hand toward the clock on the wall. "i expected that report on my desk an hour ago. now, if you've managed to forget the basics of professional competence, perhaps it's time you rethink your priorities and career choices."

the finality in your tone silenced any remaining murmurs. jay's stomach churned with a mix of humiliation and a rising spark of anger—an emotion so raw that it blurred the line between submission and rebellion. the embarrassment stung, yet something deep within him shifted. in that charged moment, surrounded by his colleagues and under your steely gaze, jay realized that this wasn't just about a report or an internship. it was about reclaiming his dignity.

even as he forced a meek nod of submission to placate your immediate anger, a quiet promise echoed through his thoughts: one day, he would stand tall and show you that he was more than a pawn in your relentless pursuit of power.

as the meeting continued, the memory of your cutting words and his silent, seething response—hung in the air.

he clenches his fists as he holds in the urge to pull push the stacks of files off of his desk, his chest heaving heavily as he closed his eyes in attempt to soothe himself.

jay had been sorting through files for the remainder of the day after the meeting, per your orders.

the afternoon was unusually quiet in the office as you strolled into the small workspace where jay was already at his desk, meticulously organizing a stack of papers. he glanced up nervously as you passed, well aware that your mood this afternoon was as crisp as your tailored suit. all because of him, of course.

you held a cup of coffee in your hand, the same cup that he had left on your desk just a few minutes earlier.

leaning over his cubicle, you tilted your head slightly and said in a tone that angered him to his core, "did i stutter, jay? i said triple shot, not double. i expect my coffee precise, or should i send you to a barista school?" your words dripped with condescension, making it clear that he was the reason that your morning was ruined.

jay immediately got up from his seat, rushing to the break room with you trailing closely behind.

you scoff, pathetic.

jay's cheeks flushed as he fumbled with the coffee machine, trying to follow your instructions to the letter. he hurriedly adjusted the settings, his fingers trembling just a bit. you crossed your arms and eyed his work like a hawk. when the machine finally hissed to a stop with the coffee ready, you took a sip and pursed your lips in disdain.

"this is unacceptable," you snapped, your voice low but sharp. "i expect perfection every single time. if you can't handle the basics, perhaps you need a refresher on how to follow orders." the words hung in the air as jay's eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and determination.

you turn away, walking back to his desk with jay following behind you like a lost puppy.

not stopping there, you swept past his desk and reached for a stack of files on a nearby table. with deliberate precision, you began rearranging them into neat, color-coded piles. every so often you'd glance back at jay, as if to remind him that even the simplest task had to meet your impossible standards.

"watch closely, jay," you ordered, turning back to him. "i want these files not only sorted but aligned perfectly. each folder must be exactly centered—no, better than that, flush against the left margin. can you manage that, or is that too much to ask?" your tone was both patronizing and commanding, a mix that left no room for negotiation.

jay nodded, swallowing hard. he scrambled to adjust the folders, his hands moving with a jittery urgency that mirrored the pounding of his heart. every minor hesitation was met with your sharp retort, your authority was over powering in this small corner of the office.

"if you think today's just another day to clock in and float through tasks, think again," you continued, your eyes narrowing as you circled back to his workstation. "i'm watching every move you make. understand that every detail matters, jay. perfection is not just expected, it's demanded."

the air in the workspace grew thick with tension as jay worked to correct his mistakes, each precise movement a testament to his desperate need to earn your approval. while other interns might have been emboldened or defiant, jay's focus remained solely on survival—on not letting you see even a hint of weakness.

as you finally stepped away, satisfied that the files were in proper order for now, you delivered one last cold remark over your shoulder, "good. now, i expect you to handle the rest of today without any more room for error." your voice trailed off, leaving jay alone with the echo of your words and the heavy burden of your expectations.

just as you begin to leave, you pause in your tracks—a smirk gracing your painted lips. "oh, and i want all my files sorted. you're not leaving till it's all done."

and that's how jay found himself sorting and organizing files, greeting his fellow colleges goodbye as he stayed back to finish his work. it was well past the end of his shift, the clock reading 11:04pm as he continued to sort endlessly.

only jay and you remained on the office, with you tucked away in your office typing away who knows what on your computer and jay outside getting paper cut after paper cut.

he could still hear your voice from earlier looming in his head—sweet, sharp, venom-laced in a way only you could pull off. mocking him, embarrassing him in front of the entire team. and now here you were again, heels echoing through the empty office as you strutted out of your office like you hadn't just made him stay hours past his shift for a task that could've waited until tomorrow.

"still here?" your tone was laced with faux innocence—leaning against his desk, arms crossed under your chest. "wow. and here i thought even you would've figured out how to sort a couple files by now. guess i gave you too much credit."

jay didn't look up. didn't speak. his jaw flexed once, twice, like he was chewing on his own patience.

you smiled, pleased with the reaction. "what exactly are you good at, jay? because it sure as hell isn't multitasking. or presenting. or getting coffee. i'm starting to wonder if your daddy pulled strings just to get you here. must be nice, huh? riding in on privilege and still failing."

that was it.

jay stood, slowly, the chair scraping harshly behind him as he pushed it back. his hands were planted on the desk, knuckles white, head still lowered. when he finally looked at you, there was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. something dangerous. something done.

you opened your mouth to say something else, some cruel remark—but it never made it out.

"shut up," jay muttered, voice low and rough.

your brows lifted, stunned at his words" excuse me?"

jay had never dared talk back to you, taking every word, every complaint, every diss, wordlessly. jay stepped around the desk and you instinctively backed up. the smirk that had been on your face seconds ago beginning to falter.

"you've been treating me like shit for months," he said, walking you backward with each slow, measured step. "and i took it. every order. every insult. every little power trip of yours. because i thought i needed this job. i thought i needed you."

your back hit the edge of his desk and he didn't stop moving. didn't flinch when your eyes widened as he closed in. your hands gripped the edge of the table, your hands getting sweaty as you feel jay's nose brush against your cheek.

"but now?" his hands gripped the sides of the desk, caging you in as his breath fanned against your cheek. "now i think you need to be reminded of what happens when you push too hard."

your eyes widen momentarily when you see the wild look on his eyes, his nose flared slightly almost as if he was holding himself back. you scan his face, smooth and clean shaven with a small scar on his nose—his eyebrows maintained and his gaze sharp. it hurt to admit that he was in fact an attractive man, it was a shame that he was garbage at his job.

you scoffed, trying to sound unimpressed, but your body betrayed you—your breath caught, knees subtly pressed together.

"you forget your place, intern," you snapped, your voice weaker than you intended.

jay let out a humorless laugh. "no. you've just gotten way too comfortable in yours."

then, in one swift motion, he spun you around and bent you over the desk, your palms bracing the surface as you gasped. papers scattered in every direction, your heart hammering as the cold wood met your skin through your thin skirt.

you attempted to push yourself back up only for a hand to be secured at the back of your neck, pushing you back down so your cheek was planted firmly against the cool wood or the desk.

"jay—"

"quiet," he snapped, pressing down on your lower back as his hand slid up your thigh. "you love to give orders, huh? let's see how well you take them."

his voice was low, dark, threatening—but it wasn't just anger that drove him now. it was hunger. months of tension. resentment. control finally slipping from your grasp and into his.

"you want to act like i'm good for nothing?" he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. "then let me show you exactly what i'm good for."

your breath hitched as jay's hands ran slowly up your thighs, his touch rough with frustration, but precise—like he knew exactly how far to push you before you'd break. he yanked your skirt up without hesitation, the sharp sound of fabric dragging across your skin sending a jolt straight through your spine.

a low whistle cut the air, "who knew the boss wore such scandalous items to work, hm? a black lace thong? who are you trying to impress? me?" his hands fondling your butt, a whimper escaping you when he squeezes a little to hard.

you let out a scoff, "why the fuck would i want to impress a good for not—" jay's hand comes down to land on one cheek, a loud squeal leaving your mouth at the sudden sting.

"—you act so high and mighty," he muttered, fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you back into him. "always barking orders, always so smug. but just wait, i'll be having you—" his palm presses  firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned to the desk. "—quiet. obedient. and right where you belong."

"yeah ri—" you don't make it far when you feel his hands tangle into your hair, yanking roughly so the top of your head was touching his chest—your back curved almost painfully as jay held you in place.

you bit your lip hard, trying to swallow down the whimper that built in your throat. but he heard it. felt the way your body twitched beneath him.

"don't get shy now," jay growled, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear as he leaned down for you. "you wanted to push me. you loved watching me squirm while you humiliated me in front of everyone. so now you're going to take it."

your hands gripped the edge of the desk as he pressed his hips against you—hard. the heat between you two was suffocating, filthy. his restraint was hanging by a thread, and you could feel the power shift in real time. you weren't in charge anymore. not here. not like this.

"jay," you gasped, your voice suddenly softer, breathier than you meant.

"say it again," he demanded, one hand sliding under your blouse and gripping your side possessively. "say my name like that again and maybe i'll be gentle."

"fuck you," you hissed, defiant till the end.

he chuckled low in his throat, dark and dangerous. "wrong answer."

his hand came down hard on your ass—once, twice—each slap sharp and biting, making you jolt. the sting blended with the burn of desire, making your head spin.

"i've had to listen to you tear me down every damn day," he snarled, grabbing your hair tighter and forcing you to arch your back painfully, exposing the curve of your neck. "now you're gonna listen to me. no interruptions. no smug comebacks. just moaning my name like a good girl."

you whimpered, the sound involuntary. your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

jay noticed. oh, he noticed.

"look at you," he muttered. "so fucking wet for the same intern you said wasn't good for anything. guess you were wrong."

you didn't respond, your pride caught somewhere between your teeth and your rapidly crumbling composure.

jay's hand slid lower again, teasing you through your underwear, slow and maddening. "what's the matter, boss? cat got your tongue?" he pushed the fabric aside and let his fingers slide through your slick folds, groaning at how ready you already were.

he lets your back relax, pushing you face down against the table again making you whine. you could feel his thick cock push against you as he continued to run his fingers down your slit.

"god, you're soaked," he breathed. "you've been wanting this, haven't you? you wanted someone to finally shut you up. tame you."

you gasped when he pushed two fingers into you without warning, curling them just right. your knees buckled, but his other arm was already gripping into your hips, holding you steady, refusing to let you escape. you shook in his hold, attempting to claw your way off the table as jay begins to push into your walls with more strength.

"you don't get to run now," he whispered, voice low and deadly in your ear. "you're going to take everything i give you. every inch. every word. every second."

he pressed his fingers deeper, curling them slow and hard while his mouth traced hot kisses down your neck.

"get away from me," you try to seethe out, attempting to turn around—your arms flailing.

jay only smirks, his fingers now pushing into you in a punishing pace. "we both know you don't want me away, __. look at how wet you are, you're dripping down your legs you filthy slut."

"fuck you," you spit, still thrashing weakly in his grip, even as your hips betrayed you and rolled back into his hand. "this doesn't mean anything—i still think you're pathetic."

jay chuckled darkly, the sound low and smug against your ear as he shoved his fingers in deeper, harder. "you think i care what you say with that mouth?" he growled, biting down gently on your shoulder. "when your cunt's already begging me to keep going?"

you let out a shaky moan, biting down hard on your lip to keep it in, but he noticed. he always noticed.

"so fucking bratty," he muttered, thrusting his fingers deep and curling them until your legs trembled. "running that smart mouth like you're still in charge. but look at you now—folding just like i knew you would."

"you're just some intern," you hissed, your voice breathless. "i could fire you right now."

"do it," he dared, slowing his thrusts until your body writhed for more. "fire me. but you're still gonna cum on my fingers first, aren't you?"

"i won't," you lied through clenched teeth, even as your thighs trembled around his hand.

"yeah?" he leaned in, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat. "then why are you clenching around me like you want me to fuck the attitude out of you?"

you hated him—hated how good he was with his hands, hated the smirk on his face, hated the way your body was betraying you, melting under his touch.

but most of all, you hated how badly you wanted to be ruined by him.

jay could feel it—you were close. your body gave you away more than your mouth ever could, the way your thighs shook, how your breathing hitched with every curl of his fingers. you were right there, teetering on the edge, your pride dangling by a thread.

"fuck, fuck—don't stop," you finally breathed out, voice cracking as your head dropped forward, hands scrambling to find something to grip.

jay froze.

his fingers stayed buried inside you, but they didn't move. not an inch. just deep enough to make your walls flutter, but not enough to push you over.

you let out a strangled noise, turning your head to glare over your shoulder. "what the fuck are you doing?"

"oh, now you want something from me?" he asked, voice full of mock innocence as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, watching your body twitch at the loss. "that's cute."

"don't be a fucking asshole," you snapped, grinding back toward him in desperation. "i said don't stop—"

"yeah, you did," jay cut in smoothly, wiping his soaked fingers on your thigh with a smug smirk. "but you've spent the last three months treating me like shit. barking at me like some entitled princess, calling me pathetic, useless—i'm just an intern, right?"

you seethed, still panting, but he was already stepping back. "you're such a fucking prick."

he let out a low chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging you upright so your back arched and your breath caught. "and you're such a fucking brat."

he yanked you away from the desk and spun you around, his grip on your hair keeping you dizzy and breathless as he forced you to your knees. the floor was cold beneath you, your chest heaving, your thighs slick and trembling—but you looked up at him with the same defiance in your eyes.

"still think you're in charge?" he asked, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. "because from where i'm standing, you're just a desperate little slut on her knees."

you tried to say something—maybe another insult, maybe a curse—but all that came out was a shaky breath, lips parting as two of his fingers pushed into your mouth.

you breathe heavily as he pushes down on your tongue, essentially tasting yourself.

"you could've cum," he murmured, looking down at you like you were something fragile and fucked up all at once. "but you don't get to cum with that mouth."

he slid his fingers out of your mouth, rubbing your saliva messily over your lips before cupping your jaw—tilting your face up to him. "you'll learn how to ask nicely," he whispered. "you'll learn how to beg."

"now open that bratty little mouth," he said, undoing his belt with slow, deliberate hands. "and maybe i'll show you what happens when you finally stop talking back."

"as if i'm going to let y—" you began, a cry escaping you when your head flys to the side. your hand coming up to cradle your red cheek as you look up at him in shock.

jay's palm was still in the air, his expression dark, unrelenting. his chest heaved once—twice—as he loomed over you, the sharp crack of his slap still ringing in your ears.

"you will," he said lowly, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "because i'm done listening to that fucking mouth."

you stared up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted—shock clouding your mind even as the heat on your cheek throbbed. you would've never thought, in a million years, that jay would have slapped you. it made your blood rush straight between your legs, the sting blooming into something twisted and hot.

jay crouched in front of you slowly, one hand gripping your chin—tight enough to make your jaw ache, tight enough to make you feel how serious he was.

"you think you're in control?" he sneered, thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip. "you think just because you've spent months treating me like shit, i'd always let you get away with it?"

you swallowed thickly, trying to hold onto whatever attitude you had left, but it was slipping—fast.

"you think you can call me useless, boss me around, make me beg for scraps of respect—and then what? act like you're above me when you're soaking through your panties just from a slap and a few words?"

his thumb pressed into your mouth, forceful, making you part your lips around it as he leaned in.

"go ahead," he whispered. "say something bratty again. give me a reason to make you beg for the orgasm i'm not gonna let you have."

you whimpered, eyes fluttering as your mouth opened wider around his thumb, heat blooming in your stomach despite the sharpness in his tone.

"look at you," he murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb across your tongue slowly. "i haven't even fucked you yet and already, you're falling apart."

he pulled his thumb out and let it trail down your chin, slick with your spit, before gripping your hair again and yanking your head back to look up at him.

"on your knees. mouth open. hands behind your back," he ordered, belt now unfastened, hanging from one hand like a warning. "maybe if you're good now, i'll consider using your throat the way it was meant to be used."

"and if you dare bite," he added, eyes glinting with menace, "i'll remind you exactly who you belong to."

you should've hated him.

but instead, you opened your mouth—tongue out.

jay grins menacingly at your sudden obedience, his cock springing out—hitting your cheek.

"you're gonna be good f''me, yeah?" he drawls, tracing your lips with his tip slowly—teasing you.

when you don't respond he slaps his heavy dick onto your tongue, "i asked you something, sweetheart."

you mewl at the pet name, "y-yes i'll be good."

"good." and with that he pushes into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat before hes pulling out and bottoming back in again.

jay does this a few times, watching his dick disappear into your mouth before hes pulling out fully—snickering when he sees you chase for it.

he stroked himself slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on you as he took his time. he wasn't teasing himself—he was teasing you. dragging it out just to watch you squirm on your knees like the desperate little thing you pretended not to be.

"you've been walking around all fucking day like you run the world," he muttered, voice dripping with disdain. "snapping at me. barking orders. treating me like i'm beneath you."

he stepped closer, and your breath caught as the tip of his cock brushed your lips.

"so what are you now, huh?" he whispered. "my boss? or my personal fucktoy?"

your tongue darted out instinctively, trying to taste him—but he pulled back with a dark chuckle.

"ah, ah. not yet. beg."

your eyes narrowed, pride still flickering behind the haze, but your body betrayed you. your thighs clenched. your breath hitched. your mouth stayed open, waiting, even as your words choked out.

"...please."

jay raised a brow, pretending not to hear.

"louder."

"please," you tried again, cheeks flushed in humiliation. "i want it."

he grinned—cruel, smug, victorious.

"you want what, baby?"

your fingers curled behind your back as you bit your cheek, hating how your voice trembled. "i want your cock."

jay hummed in approval, finally guiding himself forward and pressing into your mouth. not gently. not patiently. he gave you no time to adjust, groaning low as he slid past your lips and hit the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.

you gagged, tears instantly springing to your eyes, but he didn't pull away—just groaned again and cradled the back of your head.

"fuck, that's it," he hissed. "look at you. so fucking obedient now."

he started moving—slow at first, then rougher with each thrust, using your mouth like it belonged to him. and maybe it did. maybe it always had.

your knees ached, eyes blurred, throat burning—but you didn't stop. not once.

he didn't let you.

because this was your punishment. for every eye roll. every insult. every time you called him incompetent.

and now, with spit dripping down your chin and your throat stuffed full of the intern you used to humiliate—now you were finally silent.

and jay? jay was just getting started.

his pace was ruthless and unforgiving, taking out his frustration and anger that has accumulated over the course of 3 months out on you and your mouth. his hands had created two makeshift ponytails, steering you.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you slowly began to struggle for air, unable to breath out of your nose.

"aw c'mon now, sweetheart. giving up on me so easily?" jay grunts, the squelching sounds of your wet mouth and his thick cock filling the room.

you hum, eyes opening as you stare up at him with a dazed expression.

your lips stretched around him, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, chin soaked and glistening. jay growled low in his throat, his grip tightening in your hair as he snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep down your throat.

"fuck," he hissed, sweat beading along his brow as he watched your glassy eyes blink up at him. "look at you. not so mouthy now, huh?"

you gagged again, throat convulsing around him as your lungs burned, but the look on your face only turned more desperate—more ruined. there was no point pretending anymore. not when you were on your knees, completely at his mercy, submitting to him with every choke and gasp.

"this is what you needed, isn't it?" he sneered, pulling out just enough to let you inhale sharply before ramming back in. "some discipline. someone to shut that smart mouth up."

you whimpered around him, eyelids fluttering as the ache between your legs grew unbearable. your hands itched to reach for him—for anything—but you kept them laced behind your back, like he told you.

his thrusts didn't falter. if anything, they got rougher, angrier. you were his outlet now—3 months of humiliation and quiet rage spilling out with every brutal thrust into your throat.

"you use me. treat me like shit. act like i'm beneath you," he snarled, voice breaking on a groan as your throat clenched around him. "but look at you now. fucking begging for it with your eyes." jay could feel the pit in his stomach tighten, his thrusts getting deeper.

with a deep moan, jay's spilling inside your mouth—his cum painting your throat white as he forces you to stay still.

you coughed, a mixture of his cum and your spit cascading down your chest, when jay finally pulled out. your chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes wild and teary, mouth hanging open and glistening.

"swallow it." you do as your told, tongue reaching out to lick away whatever was left around your mouth.

but before you could even speak, his hand cracked across your cheek again, not hard—but sharp enough to make your head snap to the side.

"you don't get to cum," he said coldly, gripping your face and forcing you to look up at him again. "not tonight."

your heart dropped, a soft, broken sound catching in your throat.

"you don't get to cum until i say so. and you definitely don't get to act like a brat and expect a reward."

you blinked at him, trembling, body aching for any kind of release, but jay just stared down at you—cock hard again and glistening, jaw tight, breathing heavy.

"i want you bent over," he muttered. "you're not done being used."

and with that, he grabbed you by the jaw and dragged you into position—because this time you weren't in charge. and he was going to make damn sure you remembered it.

you held yourself up by your forearms, sticking your ass out just the way you knew he wanted. your breath was shallow, heart racing, skin prickling with anticipation as you waited—head spinning from the shift in power you were still adjusting to.

jay stood behind you, silent for a moment. just watching. letting the tension build. letting you squirm.

"look at you now," he muttered, voice dark and low as he ran his hand slowly down your spine. "all quiet. all obedient. where'd all that attitude go, huh?"

you tried to lift your head, to say something smart, something that might tip the balance back in your favor—but all that came out was a whimper as his palm came down hard across your ass.

"that's what i thought," he growled, gripping your hips and pulling you back until you felt the heat of him against you. "you only know how to run that mouth when no one's around to shut it for you."

his hand slid down your thigh, fingers trailing dangerously close before pulling back again, teasing. denying.

"say it," he said. "say you're sorry for being a brat."

you hesitated, biting your lip, heat blooming in your chest from the humiliation—until his hand cracked across your ass again, this time harder.

"say it."

you gasped, trembling under his touch, voice barely a whisper.

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

"...for being a brat."

he hummed, satisfied, thumbs pressing into your hips as he leaned down to murmur right into your ear, "good. now hold still. and maybe, maybe—if you behave—I'll let you finish."

and with one sharp thrust, he filled you—setting a punishing pace that left no room for doubt. this time, you weren't in control.

he was.

and he wasn't letting go until you remembered exactly who you belonged to.

his grip was bruising as he held your hips in place, each thrust deep and deliberate, his pace merciless from the start. your forearms trembled beneath you, struggling to keep you upright as your body jolted forward with every snap of his hips.

you mewled at the stretch, feeling his thick and heavy cock fill you to the brim as you struggle briefly to accommodate him.

"you wanted control so bad," he grunted, his breath hot against your spine as he leaned over you, still moving inside you without pause. "thought you could treat me like a joke, make me crawl for you. who's the one crawling now?"

you whimpered, back arching instinctively when his hand slid around to your throat, pulling you up just enough so your back was flush to his chest. your head dropped against his shoulder, lips parted in silent moans as he tightened his fingers around your neck—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in charge now.

"you like this, don't you?" he whispered into your ear, biting down on the lobe. "being put in your place. being used." you nodded, helpless.

"words," he demanded, his thrusts slowing just enough to drive you crazy.

"yes—" you gasped out, voice hoarse, "yes, i like it."

his low chuckle rumbled against your back. "not so cocky now, are you?"

he pushed you back down, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades as his other reached around and rubbed slow, teasing circles around your clit.

your legs shook, body coiling tight, right on the edge of release. you could feel it. jay could feel it too, your walls fluttered around his girth almost painfully—squeezing him deliciously, so he did what only made sense.

he stopped.

you choked on a gasp, hips twitching back toward him. "w-what...? why—?"

jay pulled out completely, and the sudden emptiness made your breath hitch. your walls clenched around nothing, your body screaming for friction.

"you think brats get to cum?" he asked, his voice dark with amusement, chest rising and falling as he stared down at your ruined, trembling form. "not after the way you've treated me."

"p-please," you whined, all self-respect gone, your voice cracking as you rocked your hips back pathetically, desperate for even the faintest touch. "i'll be good, i swear i'll be good..."

he cocked his head, one brow arching as his fingers traced a slow line up your spine. "yeah? you'll be good?" he echoed, mocking you.

"yes—please, i need it," you gasped, pressing your thighs together for any kind of relief.

he leaned down, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "then give me what i want."

you froze, shivering at the implication. "w-what?"

his hand grabbed your jaw again, turning your head until you had no choice but to look at him.

"you want to cum?" he asked, deadly calm. "then give me the permanent position. say it. right now. say i've earned it."

you blinked, heart pounding—half from humiliation, half from how shamefully turned on you were. "y-you're serious?"

he gave you one sharp thrust, just enough to make you moan, then pulled back again. "dead serious. i'll fuck you until you can't remember your own name—but you don't get to cum until i hear it from that bratty little mouth."

you hesitated, lips trembling. it was reckless. inappropriate. insane. but your body was burning.

"fine," you breathed, eyes glossy, your voice barely audible. "you can have it. the permanent spot. it's yours."

he grinned.

"that's more like it."

then he slammed back into you, deep and unforgiving—and this time, he wasn't holding back.

you cried out when you felt him grip your ass with two hands, making you fuck yourself back onto his cock.

"fuck, look at you. so desperate for my dick, so cock hungry," he sneers softly, relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls engulfing him and the fat of your ass pushing against his pelvis.

"s'good, j-jay," you slur out, desperate for release.

"yeah? so good? first time i've heard something good come out of your filthy fucking mouth," he snickers, fucking into you at a punishing pace.

he could feel you tighten around him, grunting when he realizes that he was just as close as you were.

"m'gonna cum," you slur. "please, let me come."

jay pants, his hands planting onto your lower back to hold you down as he fucks into you deeper—his hips snapping violently.

"yeah? you wanna cum, sweetheart? go ahead then, milk my cock."

just like that you shatter, a high pitched moan leaving your parted lips as your body convulses violently.

jay's high is just around the corner, his pace unforgiving before he himself unravels—unloading himself in you. he lets out a deep guttural moan, spilling his cum deep in you as your body twitches at the sensation.

"fuck—look at that," he murmurs, pulling out of you leaving you empty. you mewl at the feeling, body twitching as you drop your head onto the desk—no longer able to hold yourself up.

jay looks down in awe, watching his cum dribble out of your used cunt before he's swiping his digits through the mess—plugging his fingers in you to make sure you keep his seed in from spilling out.

you shudder at the feeling, to fucked out to realize what jay was doing. jay on the other hand admires the mess he has created, your behind was all shades of pink and red as his cum was spilling out of your hole like a faucet.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, "pleasure doing business with you, boss."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[mggslover]

POSITIONS — aaron hotchner x derek morgan

In which two FBI agents ask you to reenact a crime scene with them, and you find yourselves in a very interesting position.

genre smut (18+) cw porn with plot, crime scene inaccuracies, early seasons hotch & morgan (just pretend hotch isn't married), reader grew up/lives in paris, reader has a dad, some spanking, threesome in eiffel tower position: blowjob and p in v, semi public sex, creampie wc 4,9k a/n i’m really curious to know who you guys would prefer to have in front and who in back in this position. i think i went with the general consensus, read to find out ;) kink: threesome “eiffel tower”

If there’s one thing significant about Paris, it’s the Eiffel Tower. 

Ever since you were a little girl, you had a deep fascination with the monument. Maybe that had to do with the fact that your father was the owner of a well-established restaurant inside of the tower. You grew up with all sorts of magical stories about the place, and once you reached the age of twelve, your dad let you work with him on the weekends and during the holidays. 

The experiences you’ve had as a teen were just as amazing as you predicted them to be. The crew had taken you in like you were just as much their blood-related kid — which was necessary considering your dad didn’t have the time to treat you like his. Instead, he saw you as a colleague, counted on you as a colleague, and honestly, feeling useful and needed was the sentiment that made the experience as special as it was. 

Growing up came with more tasks and responsibilities, and you handled them well. So well that you decided that this is what you wanted to do for the rest of your life: follow in your father’s footsteps and inherit the business one day. 

It sounded all fun and games, until your father had reached an age where he had to take some steps back, work more from home instead of being at the restaurant all day, every day. 

That’s where you came in the picture. It had taken you years of hard work (yes, the boss might be your dad but he didn’t play favorites) when you finally received the title of manager. 

It was another fancy term that hid hours of stress and sleep deprivation, because now, being the head responsible, you could not fuck up.  

But you did.

Hard. 

Certain mistakes were to be expected: getting into an argument with a customer, dropping a new set of plates, adding the wrong date of a large booking in the calendar. But accidentally hiring a hit woman who got two of your star customers killed off was a rather large fuck up.

It wasn’t your fault; it was the sentence you’ve been repeating like a mantra for the past week. The popularity of the restaurant has blown up since you became manager. You had made some stylistic choices in both the interior and the menu that attracted a bunch of new customers. So many that the workload became overbearing, there was no other choice than to start hiring new employees.

The woman you had hired seemed the perfect match. Her resume was impressive — something you later found out was completely made up (you had no time to double-check, okay?) — and most important of all, she was available right away.

With full faith, you had let her take the night shift, giving her the responsibility of closing the place after hours. That following morning you received a call from your coworker at 5AM. You were certain it was something bad (having warned everyone that you’re not a morning person and you’re only available for emergencies), though what you didn’t expect was to hear how your star customers — two successful businessmen who had been dining at the restaurant — were brutally murdered, shot by a bullet through their heads, the new employee having fled the crime scene. 

So, here you were, having to deal with the consequences of your actions. The FBI was alarmed and on their way, and you got ready as fast as you could before heading over to the restaurant.

-`♡´-

“It’s fine, Alain,” you repeat with a sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

Alain, the coworker who had informed you and the police, was running around in circles, absolutely freaked out. You couldn’t blame him; he was the one who found the bodies and who instructed the forensics and medics when they had arrived. 

“Just… slow down, okay?” you remind him. “Can you please talk to the other agents outside? I’ll handle the ones that will investigate the scene.”

He swallowed, eyes still wide in adrenaline and anxiety, but eventually gave you a stern nod and a “Yes, boss,” before walking out.

You tried keeping calm as you took your place behind the reception, keeping your mind from wandering to all the cruelties of what had happened and of what will happen once your father is informed of the events. 

You didn’t need to distract yourself for long, because the sounds of footsteps and muffled muttering entered the room.

Two neatly dressed men appeared in your periphery. Just by their walks, you could tell that they meant business. Their faces too were etched in serious determination. You predicted the one on the left to be around your age, the one on the right a couple of years older than you, but still young. They were attractive. Too attractive for your liking.

“Are you the owner?” The agent on the right asked you.

You wished you could respond to that with a “Well yes, indeed I am”, but lying to the cops after a murder had taken place didn’t seem like the smartest idea. “I’m the manager,” you eventually answer.

The man nods, reaching his hand out toward you. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he tilts his head to the man beside him, “and this is my colleague, Special Agent Derek Morgan.”

As a manager, you’ve shaken many hands in your life; a handshake could tell a lot about a person, but all this handshake did was make your brain short-circuit. You felt a tingle in your stomach as Aaron’s large palm made contact with yours. His grip was firm, but you could tell that he was holding back, careful not to bruise you, although you wouldn’t have minded that. Looking up through your lashes, you caught his dark colored eyes already focused on you. He brushed his thumb over your skin, ever so light, but you noticed the action came with a small gleam in his eyes. 

The other agent, Morgan, cleared his throat. “The bodies were found by that window?”

His question snapped you out of whatever mental fantasy you had found yourself in. To your dismay, Aaron let go of your hand, the intertwining of your fingers breaking as your hand fell to your side, palm still clammy as a reminder of his touch.

Awkwardly you scratched the back of your neck, following his gaze to the window and trying not to comment on the way Derek’s lip curled as he patted Aaron on the back, oblivious to you catching on. 

“Uh, yeah. My colleague told me it happened right here,” you explain, pointing toward the glass wall just a few feet away.

“Mind if we take a look?” 

“No, not at all,” you say in quick permission. “Go ahead.”

The second they turned their backs to you, you allowed yourself to take in a deep breath. It truly was comedic how, out of every event this morning, a polite handshake was the thing that seemed to have the most effect on you. 

Maybe you were more touch-deprived than you thought you were. It made sense, honestly. It was another reason why you were on the hunt for new employees: needing more personal time, sexual time included. 

You watched the two males from a distance, hands gripped tight around the wooden desk, like you were trying to keep some sexual beast from escaping out of you.

“Hey!” You scoffed when Derek wiped his gloved thumb over the window. Those were cleaned just two days ago!

He turns his head to you, brows furrowed in question. “Have these holes always been in here?”

Have these holes always been in here? You repeat in your hand with a mocking tone. Of course there haven’t been holes in the windows; this is a well-established restaurant! 

You spoke up, your tone sounding softer than it was intended. “What do you mean?” 

Aaron made a gesture with his hand, asking you to come over, and you did your best to not imagine what it’s like if he curled his fingers like that in a different situation. 

You patted your clammy hands on your pants, straightened your back, and walked over to them.

The moment you stood in front of the window, you noticed it: there were two clean, bullet-sized holes at varying heights, around three feet away from each other. You let your hand ghost over the window, feeling a slight breeze coming from outside.

“See this?” Derek circles the hole with his thumb — an act that your mind is also turning dirty. “You can tell that the shot is fired from outside.”

“Did they do it from the roof of that apartment?”

The observation seemed simple to you; the beige-colored apartment building facing the restaurant had the perfect viewpoint to aim directly at the window where you stood. But apparently you had said something genius, because Derek’s brows raised and Aaron’s eyes glazed over you with a look full of surprise and pride.

He nods. “That could be it. I’ll call Garcia.”

You had no clue who Garcia was, only that the call was so urgent that Aaron took large strides to the other side of the room, leaving you and Agent Morgan alone.

“You shouldn’t have touched the glass,” you muttered. It was very nitpicky, you were aware, but something in you pulled you to Derek Morgan — to the both of them, for that matter — that made you want to speak to him, no matter the subject.

He chuckled, moving his eyebrows in an expressive way. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

You kept your voice steady, wanting to radiate confidence. “I got them cleaned two days ago.”

That made him laugh even more. “You got them cleaned?” He shook his head in slight disbelief, still smirking. “You didn’t even clean them yourself, princess. You have no right to complain.”

The nickname easily rolled off of his tongue, and you could imagine you not being the first person receiving the pet name. Still your stomach fluttered.

He leaned closer to you, and you almost jumped when his muscled arm grazed yours. “Do you like being called princess?”

You scoffed a laugh, not showing the effect his words had on you. “What? You’re a mind reader?”

“I’m a profiler, princess, I work at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” 

Ah. 

Just when you were about to tease him back, the now familiar clicking of Aaron’s dress shoes filled the room. 

“You were right,” he started, announcing his presence. “We knew she was a hit woman, but Garcia found out she never works alone. We’re assuming she had two sharpshooters with her who shot the men from the apartment building when she gave the sign.”

The two agents eye each other, then the window, conspiratorially. 

“She had to have lured them to the window somehow.” Morgan analyzes, observing the ground he’s standing on. “She must’ve stood in the middle, one sharpshooter taking a victim each.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking his words in. “There’s a lot of space in between them.”

“Maybe she wasn’t standing.”

You don’t know what possessed you to speak up again. You have no experience in the field; hell, you don’t even have enough free time to watch any crime shows.

“I’m sorry, I won’t interrupt anymore.”

“Do you think she was lying down?” Aaron asks you. Nothing about his looks or tone told you that he was joking. He was serious. He genuinely wanted to hear your opinion.

Still, you rub your neck, scared to say something stupid. “Uh, I don’t know. It just makes more sense, also with her height and stuff.”

“Was your coworker a flirt?”

Aaron and you tilt your face to Derek. As Aaron tries to figure out what the logic behind the question was, you think back on your coworker, and suddenly puzzle pieces start to connect.

“She hasn’t worked here for long, but she’s always been a bit flirty with them. The uh, the victims.”

Derek nods, shaking his head, his tongue poking into his cheek to hold back his sly grin. “This might sound crazy.”

A breathy chuckle escapes you. He cannot be thinking the same thing as you are.

Aaron is the only one not catching on, blinking between you guys. “What is it?”

-`♡´-

That’s how you found yourself balancing on the soles of your feet while Aaron stood behind you, his hands holding your hips steady while you had your back bent with your own hands clawed around Derek’s thighs as he towered over you. 

And to not leave any details behind: Aaron was slowly rubbing the head of his cock along the swollen lips of your pussy, while your tongue was toying and teasing the lines along Derek’s length. 

Okay, it didn’t happen that fast. You were desperate, but you still had some manners. 

Derek was quick to find out that the unsub had used sex to lure the men to the window. It was because of a mutual effort that you figured out the position: Eiffel Tower. 

It was ironic, sure, the Eiffel Tower sex position in the Eiffel Tower itself. You had stupidly laughed about it and had tried to mimic the position to Aaron with your hands. But instead of joining you in your joking, his expression remained neutral. He had considered your words… and it sounded plausible to him.

First you had watched as Aaron and Derek stood on the spots where the victims had stood last night. They spoke to themselves, pretending to be them in this strange sort of role play of the dead, trying to get a glimpse of whatever the victims and the unsub must’ve been thinking at the time.

It was Derek who had called you over. His voice sounded casual, strictly business, as he asked you for your help. As if reenacting a sexual position with two federal agents was the usual procedure. 

Not one to decline the commands of authority, you had given a tight-lipped smile, maneuvering yourself in between their broad bodies. Grateful that running around the restaurant on the daily had kept you some sort of flexible, you had bent your back, clawing onto Derek’s thighs to keep yourself steady.

It was only when you blinked up that you noticed how incredibly close your face was to the agent’s groin. “Oh, sorry,” you apologized in embarrassment, taking a small step back until you bumped your ass against the stiffening length in Aaron’s pants. 

You stayed still, as if keeping quiet for the next moments would magically make everyone forget about what had just happened. What you had just felt. 

Derek spoke up first, trying to lighten the mood by giving a low whistle. “Now this is a sight for sore eyes.”

Aaron cleared his throat, remembering what he was here for. “This could be the position.” His gaze flicked to the bullet holes in the glass that matched almost precisely with their heights. “A clear shot straight through their heads.” 

Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t give you a Thank you for your help, we know enough. No, he stayed right in place. He even shuffled closer to you, the heat radiating off of him. 

And then he pressed his hips forward. Just slightly. Just to let you feel him, to see what kind of reaction he could get out of you. 

The air left your lungs in a quiet gasp, the action catching you off guard. You hadn’t even realized how turned on you were until you felt how damp your panties clung onto you now that his hips were pressed against yours.

Inevitably, you followed the gasp with a moan. A loud one at that, showing just how desperate you’d been for a single touch.

God, you were embarrassed. You wanted to dig a hole to crawl in and not get out for the foreseeable future. But apparently the agents didn’t share that same sentiment. To be more precise, Derek let out a groan in response, throwing his head back like he had been holding it in this whole time. As if his dirtiest dreams just came to life right in front of him. 

You noticed his pants creasing around his crotch as his hardening cock filled out the fabric. Words only made things awkward, more difficult than they had to be, so you let your hands talk.

“That’s it, princess,” Derek sighed in pleasure as your fingers brushed over the thick outline of his length. 

Some of your senses seemed to sharpen — finding yourself in some weird trance while you played with him, already fantasizing over how his cock would look and feel when there’d be no clothes separating you. Other thoughts (mainly worries) faded to the background in a blur. You didn’t — couldn’t — think about the fact that you were doing this in public. With one turn of your head, you’d be able to look out of the window and see the panoramic view of Paris, all of its citizens. But it didn’t matter to you. Neither did it matter that you were about to have sex at an active crime scene nor that a bunch of reporters were standing outside, eagerly waiting for the agents to leave the tower. 

How could you worry about those things when you were squished in between two federal agents? Agents who are meant to protect you, and in this case, please you too.

Aaron held you steady by your upper thighs, enabling you to play with his colleague’s cock. You looked up at Derek with darkened irises full of lust, and it only took one nod from him to give you the go sign. 

Hungrily, your hands fiddled with his slacks, grateful that he wasn’t wearing a belt so that you could pull them down with a single tug after undoing the button. Your heart hammered in your chest, breath heaving in anticipation as you sneaked your hands into his pants. A hum escaped you when you felt the muscles of Derek’s firm thighs. 

Not only had your hands moved in greed. Simultaneously, Aaron’s strong, calloused fingers had slipped into the waistband of your pants, mirroring your movements. You stopped your own ministrations, facing Derek’s well-groomed v-line as you helped Aaron by stepping out of your pants, your underwear smoothly coming along.

“Shit, look at you,” Aaron praised in a husky voice.

There was no time to process his words as a sharp sting bloomed across the cheek of your ass. Then another. The delicious impact made you stumble forward, your nose brushing against Agent Morgan’s shaft that was still mostly covered by his boxers.

You surprised the both of them by being into it (very much so), placing a wet kiss on the exposed shaft, using your dominant hand to bunch the fabric down in a hurry until it pooled at his knees. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Derek breathed out, his hands finding your hair as you got to work, peppering kisses along his stiffening heavy length. “Come on, take it. It’s yours.”

Using only the tip of your tongue, you pushed the head of his cock up until it lay flat in your mouth. Then, trying to keep some composure, you carefully swallowed him inch by inch until he was comfortable filling your throat. 

Behind you, Aaron had busied himself with taking off his pants, only catching your attention when his belt hit the floor with a loud clang. He had fisted his leaking cock in a tight grip, pumping himself a few times for good measure before aligning himself with your cunt. His arousal dripped onto your needy folds, adding to your slickness. 

You moaned around Derek’s length, eyes watering from the ache in your jaw and the teasing pressure of Aaron’s cock against your swollen clit. 

Aaron had set a steady pace, dragging his tip along your folds — occasionally slipping an inch into your entrance just to tease you — and you followed that rhythm by bobbing your head up and down, connecting the three of you in this filthy dance.

“Feel that?” Aaron hissed as he slipped his tip back in. “How she’s pulling me in?” 

It truly was a challenge to communicate with someone when you had your mouth full of cock. 

“Oh, she’s enjoying it,” Derek answered for you, hands tightening into your hair and tilting his head back to get a better view of his colleague’s cock disappearing into your pussy. “I think she wants some more, Hotch.”

Thank you. 

“I know she wants it, Morgan. Her pussy’s begging me for it.” And with that, his thick girth slides into you. Not inch by inch like Derek’s had — no hesitation — just one smooth, long stroke until he bottomed out.

“Fuck!” you cried, sputtering for breath as your hand replaced your mouth on Derek’s length.

Your pussy clenched around him, swallowing him deeper until the rough hairs on his happy trail tickled your skin. Every sliver of your skin felt like it was on fire, your entire body charged with pure bliss as the hands of two men played with you.

“Don’t get distracted now,” Aaron spoke in a low tone, keeping his hands splayed out on your thighs, fingers digging into the plump flesh as he thrust himself into you.

The initial burning of being filled was quick to dissolve into pleasure. The girth of his length dragged along your inner walls, stretching you open with each push and pull of his hips. 

Meanwhile, Derek was getting impatient. He lazily fisted his cock, now standing fully proud and erect, practically begging to enter your tight throat again. 

He grazed your jaw with his knuckles, coaxing you to look up at him.

“Come get another taste, pretty girl,” he cooed, using the blunt head of his cock to paint your lips in a slick gloss. 

“That’s it,” Aaron hummed in satisfaction, watching the scene unfold in front of him. “Now give him a little kiss.”

His words ignited a spark in you, the tingling sensation shooting directly to your core. You licked your lips, savoring the salty and inviting taste before parting your lips and taking him in. Your mouth happily welcomed him back, already used to his size as you explored his cock further with your tongue. 

Aaron’s hands were exploring your body, not knowing where to settle his palms as they roamed from the soft skin of your stomach that hid beneath your blouse back to the plump swell of your ass as he continued fucking himself into you. 

“Fucking perfect,” Aaron grunted. “Taking us like it’s nothing. Like you do it every day.”

If they only knew that you hadn’t gotten laid in months, that this is a result of the sheer desperation that had been building up.

“She needed this bad, Hotch,” the profiler in front of you spoke knowingly. His eyes found yours, cupping your jaw that held his heavy length inside of it. “I think we should give her a little more. You deserve that, don’t you, baby?”

Instead of nodding, you shook your head to take more of him in, licking a bold stripe to the underside of his cock to agree. Then you tightly clenched your walls, repeating the message to Aaron. 

“Is that what you want, honey?”

Another clench.

“Alright, then,” he breathed, squeezing your ass. “You’ve asked for it.” 

Suddenly his cock slipped out of you, leaving you painfully empty. But before you could whimper in complaint, he had dropped himself to his knees, fingers gripping your hips as he pulled you down with him, his cock entering you again in a single, smooth motion. 

The hard floor bruised your knees, positioned in doggy, but with your upper body bent as you held onto Derek’s thigh. The Eiffel Tower now more reminiscent of the Tower of Pisa. 

Aaron angled his cock into you so that his tip comfortably nuzzled into your G-spot, drawing a low whine from your mouth. Either Aaron was a great profiler in areas outside of crime too, or this man was very experienced — because he knew exactly how you liked it: lifting your hips up and down his cock, giving you full-body shudders with every thrust. 

Derek’s cock hovered above your face, just inches away from your mouth. This time he didn’t have to ask, because in a second you had greedily wrapped your lips around him again, craving his taste after the momentary loss. 

You wrapped your soft fingers around his shaft, stroking him with practiced ease, matching the movements of your head.

You knew you were done for when Aaron’s palm dragged from your lower stomach to your heat. His long fingers spread open your folds. Your clit was already throbbing, awaiting his touch. The little bud twitched when he pressed the pad of his finger against it, not even needing to circle it for you to start moaning out, the weight of the contact enough to drive you crazy. 

“There she is,” Derek hummed, proudly watching you as you hollow your cheeks around him. “Still sucking me so good even when that tight pussy is getting used.”

You speed up the flicks of your wrist, pulling your mouth back to catch a deep breath. A moan leaves your lips just by seeing how the agent is hovering over you — his lip caught in between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes blinking tightly shut when you tease his slit with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re gonna make me come like that.” He hissed.

“That’s exactly what she wants, Derek,” Aaron grunts, fastening the drags of his finger over your clit while he moves his cock in and out of you in deep strokes. 

“This sweet pussy is going to come all over me,” he continues, voice raspy. “She wants you to fill her mouth. Give her something back.”

Derek smirked. “I’ll give you what you want, but… ladies first.”

Hearing his words made you realize that you were subconsciously waiting for some sort of permission to let go. The second that Derek had finished his sentence, your legs started trembling. Aaron’s pace was relentless, marking you up from the inside. The head of his cock kissed your G-spot with every push of his hips, and you desperately clung onto the warm wave that was building deep in your stomach.

“Doing so good for us, you’re almost there.” Aaron praised you. “Let us fill you up, honey, give you what you deserve. All you have to do is let go.”

A cry tore from your lips as your walls broke down. All of your muscles spasmed, hit by one aftershock after the other.

Your orgasm tipped Derek over the edge, palms holding your head steady as he spilled into your mouth. 

Aaron placed his hands in the air in surrender, watching in awe as your body shook and pulsed around him. How the muscles in Morgan’s pelvis clenched as he shot his warm release down your throat.

Your cunt was gripping him so tightly. Fucking weeping for more. 

And Aaron gave it to you.

A loud, guttural moan echoed through the restaurant as his hips stuttered, painting your walls white.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” Derek breathed out, head thrown back with a lazy grin. 

Derek’s cock slipped out of your mouth, traces of your saliva and his cum dripping off his half-hard length. 

“You got a lil something—“ His thumb brushed some slick off of your chin before pushing the digit into your mouth. You licked his thumb clean with a flick of your tongue, moaning as you did so. 

When he removed his finger, you allowed yourself to lean back into Aaron’s chest. Collapse, more like. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you took comfort in the way his cock softened inside of you. 

Not as fazed as you are, Derek pulled his pants back up. He shoved his cock into his boxers, not minding the wet stain that he left on them.  

“The bodies must be at the morgue right now. I’ll meet Spencer there.” 

Only now did your mind feel clear enough to realize the gravity of the situation.

It became even more clear when Aaron gently pushed you off of him, taking your hand to lift you up. Then he repeated Derek’s acts by dressing himself.

Hurriedly you did the same, ignoring the warm semen that dripped down your thighs as you pulled your underwear up. 

Aaron waited until you were done and then held out his hand, a white card seated between his thumb and pointer finger. “Thank you for your help. We’ll contact you when we know more about the case.”

-`♡´-

It was several days later when your phone rang.

It was a habit to pick up right away. As a manager, being the one all clients and establishments will reach out to.

“Hello?”

“It’s SSA Aaron Hotchner. We have an update on the case.”

“Oh,” you breathed out. Not your most clever response, but not yet having whipped your head around the fact of who’s on the other side of the line.

“Agent Morgan and I need to see you in private. Are you free tonight?”