poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months ago
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No time to play. You are being sent away.
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#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#yu ziyuan#jiang yanli#jiang cheng#wei wuxian#Do you know how hard it was to *not* do a 'Sold To One Direction' spoof comic? It took nearly all my will power.#Mostly because it misaligns a little too far off from the canon events and vibes.#But sit with me for a moment. Consider it:#“BEEP BEEP BEEP. I threw my pillow at my alarm clock. ”Wei Wuxian get your lazy ass downstairs!“ Yu Ziyuan yelled.#I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to see my grey orbs staring back at me.#I put my long straight black hair in a ponytail with a red ribbon.#I went downstairs to see my adoptive mother holding a bottle of vodka and a cigarette.#'Listen up whore! I need money to pay the bills so I sold you. Your new owners will be here any minute so go pack!'#I stormed upstairs. There was no way I was going to let her sell me to a creepy old man!#I decided to run away. Since I'm not like other girls I don't have very many friends.#My gay friend Lan Zhan was mean but he lived like a block away.#As I opened the door I saw Wen Chao blocking the door. 'Ello Love. We're your new owners!'#I rolled my eyes and pushed him. 'Aren't you from that stupid Wen Sect? There's no way in hell I'm going with you!'#Hey again. It's me the OP of this blog taking a pause. I haven't actually read this story before aside from the memes#and I am honestly reeling from how this watpad fic chapter ends. What do you mean one of the one direction boys chloroforms her???#Chapter 2 is so much worse#Why is there such a strong focus on the *eyes* of every boy!!!#This fanfic is a horror story actually. I came into it trying to make a funny parody but I got in over my head. Dear God.#It's me again. Several minutes have passed and I'm on chapter 4. What the FUCK is going on here?#I feel like I opened up pandora's box hoping for a fun little treat and got the plauge upon me. Dont read this fic.
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alleycatchitchat · 11 months ago
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The new live-action ATLA looks amazing, incredible, already such an improvement over the movie. But I really hope they don't neglect the lighthearted atmosphere and comedic elements of the original show. I'm okay with a grittier, slightly darker tone because that's just natural for a live action adaptation, but LET ZUKO BE A DUMBASS and LET TOPH BE PETTY and LET AANG BE FUN-LOVING and LET SOKKA BE THE COMEDIC RELIEF
Like it's okay to aim for a different mood, just not to the point where everyone's grim and depressed and ooc
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curiosity-killed · 7 months ago
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all i'm left with is the consolation that i do wear a lot of turtlenecks and spandex. which. is not really a consolation at all
[ALT ID: A digital comic in two panels showing someone sitting and thinking about Vash the Stampede's outfit. In the first panel, the person thinks of his red coat with the pros "like trenchcoats, fave color red" listed beside it, his glasses with the pro "still using shitty CVS shades" beside it, and his Trigun Stampede undercut with the pros "look cute with short hair, don't like everyone thinking I'm a straight woman" beside it. In the second panel, the pros have been replaced with cons, respectively: "still prefer black trenches, ideal coat $3K", "too sensitive to light, brown eyes, nose too bony for metal frames", and "still prefer having long hair, hair doesn't obey anime physics." Their brows have scrunched together harder and underneath the person is an arrow pointing at them and labelled "still tempted."]
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altfire · 1 year ago
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i like having long hair from a pure aesthetic standpoint but the sensory experience of having long hair (too warm, touches my neck, touches my ears) is a bit of a nightmare
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performing-personhood · 2 years ago
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Unpopular Opinion:
Ponytails on grown cismen are - I'm so sorry - a little bit gross and give off very strong "I learned all my spiritual beliefs from pithy instagram quotes that nobody fact-checked, and philosophy books I don't realize I didn't fully comprehend."
If you're just some average cisguy with a long ponytail I'm going to assume it's greasy, that you smell a little (either of weed or armpit or both), you're maybe in the early stages of some kind of midlife crisis, and are the kind of guy who will ask your date zero questions. Stop it. Get a haircut.
I'M SORRY OKAY.
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synonymroll648 · 2 months ago
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IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY
#FUCK YEAH WE GOT MY FIRST EVER MURAL LOOKING SICK AS SHIT SO FAR#TORTUGA AS BIG AS ME AND DETAILED ENOUGH THAT STRANGERS COMPLIMENTED IT MY BELOVED#HUGE SHOUTOUT TO THE GUY DRIVING BY THAT ROLLED DOWN THEIR WINDOW AND SHOUTED “dude that’s amazing!” AS THEY PASSED#CAME OUT AS TRANS TO MY AUNT THAT IM PAINTING THE MURAL FOR AND SHE IS NOW OFFICIALLY MY FIRST BLOOD RELATIVE TO BE SUPPORTIVE OF ME OUT TH#GATE#HER ONLY THINGS WERE THAT SHE WASNT GONNA BE PERFECT ABOUT MY PRONOUNS AND THAT SHE WISHED ID COME OUT TO HER SOONER SO I WOULDNT HAVE#GOTTEN ATTACHED TO A NAME THAT I DIDNT REALIZE WAS LINKED TO MY REALLY SHITTY BIO DAD AND WANTED TO COME UP WITH A GENDER NEUTRAL NICKNAME#FOR ME THAT WOULD WORK NO MATTER WHAT I IDENTIFY AS FROM HERE ON OUT AND WORKS AROUND PEOPLE IM NOT OUT TO#AND SHE GAVE ME A CHAMORRAN NICKNAME!!!! A SIDE OF MY HERITAGE THAT I DONT GET TO CONNECT TO A TON!!! SHES GONNA CALL ME TAKKA (WE MESSED#WITH THE SPELLING OF “TOCA” A BIT TO SOUND LIKE “TALK-A” SO WE CAN MAKE JOKES ABOUT HOW I TALK A LOT IT HAS BEEN SO FUCKING FUNNY SO FAR I#LOVE IT)#AND SHES GONNA TEACH ME HOW TO MAKE KELAGUEN (A CHAMORRAN DISH) SOMETIME#AND SHE GAVE ME AN OVERSIZED SHIRT THAT BASICALLY SAYS FUCK T-MOBILE#AND TOLD ME SHE LOVED ME NO MATTER WHAT AND TOLD ME THAT SHE LOVED HOW I PRIORITIZED KINDNESS ABOVE ALL ELSE AND I GOT TO TELL HER ABOUT HO#I THINK KINDNESS AND CRUELTY ARE TRAITS BEYOND GENDER AND SEXUALITY AND THAT I WANT TO BECOME THE ADULT I NEEDED AS A KID AND THAT I NEEDED#SOMEONE KIND THAT FREELY GAVE HUGS AND TOLD A LOT OF SILLY JOKES AND WAS FORGIVING WHEN IT COUNTED AND THAT WHEN I GROW OLD WHETHER IM AN#OLD MAN OR OLD WOMAN OR OLD SOMETHING ELSE I WANNA BE A GEEZER THAT LIVES ACROSS THE STREET THAT YOU CAN PLAY CARDS WITH ANYTIME AND#SAVES YOU CHOCOLATE BECAUSE THEY KNOW YOU LIKE IT AND I WANNA BE THE TYPE OF KIND MAN LITTLE GIRLS GROW UP HOPING ARE REAL AND LABELS ARE#CLOTHES THAT SOMETIMES FIT A MONTH OR FIT FOREVER BUT WHAT MATTERS IS THAT THEYRE COMFY IN THE MOMENT AND THAT I JUST WANNA BE HAPPY AND I#LOVE PEOPLE FOR THEIR PERSONALITY AND IM WEIRD ABOUT KISSING BUT I HAVE MY PARTNERS BACK AND THAT MATTERS MORE TO US AND WERE HAPPY#AND I TOLD HER WHAT IM PLANNING ON MY NAME TO BE WHEN IM AN ADULT AND SHE LIKED MY IDEA FOR MY NEW SURNAME#AND WE SANG TO SONGS TOGETHER AND BITCHED ABOUT HER BOYFRIEND AND DID A LITTLE JIG IN THE STREET AND LAUGHED TOGETHER AND SHE WAS SO HAPPY#BECAUSE OF THE TURTLE IM PAINTING HER AND BECAUSE I TRUST HER AND IM SO HAPPY BECAUSE BOTH OF THOSE ARE WORKING OUT AND THIS EVENING WAS A#PERFECT SUMMER EVENING TO BE ALIVE. THIS MAY HAVE HAPPENED ON MY PERIOD BUT WHAT THE FUCK EVER THE GOOD OUTWEIGHS THE BAD. THERE IS BEAUTY#IN THE WORLD IF YOU KNOW WHERE TO LOOK. THERE IS BEAUTY IN BEING TRANS AND BEING SAFE WITH YOUR AUNT AND TALKING TO HER HONESTLY ABOUT YOUR#HOPES FOR THE FUTURE WITH YOUR BODY AND YOUR GENDER. THERE IS BEAUTY IN MAKING SILLY POSES WITH YOUR MURAL IN PROGRESS WITH YOUR AUNT AS TH#PHOTOGRAPHER. THERE IS BEAUTY IN LISTENING TO NOSTALGIC MUSIC WITH YOUR AUNT THAT A LOT OF PEOPLE WOULD PROBABLY MAKE FUN OF YOU FOR LIKING#THERE IS BEAUTY IN WEARING YOUR BANGS UP IN A STUPID PINEAPPLE PONYTAIL SO IT DOESNT FALL IN YOUR EYES AND WEARING CLOTHES YOU DONT CARE#ABOUT AND GRINNING AND LAUGHING AND SINGING MORE ENTHUSIASTICALLY AND GENUINELY THAN YOU HAVE IN A LONG TIME. THERE IS BEAUTY IN CLEANING#PAINT BRUSHES AND MEASURING CUPS IN HER KINDA BROKEN SINK AND MEOWING AT HER CAT AND THANKING HER FOR HELPING YOU CLEAN UP THE PAINTS SHE
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bi-writes · 3 months ago
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simon being protective of his mail order bride scratches all the right spots in my brain.
mail-order bride
you're almost relieved when you hear the knock at the door. you've been a holding a tree pose for a few minutes too long, and the girl hosting the online yoga class is starting to fry your eardrums with her too-perky voice.
you're sweating bullets, and her hair hasn't moved a fucking inch out of her ponytail.
you mute the television, wiping your forehead before making your way to the front door. you open it with a sigh, not really knowing what you expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the average-dressed man standing on the steps there.
you blink, raising a brow when his eyes roam over you, and you realize suddenly that you're wearing workout clothes, which is showing off a little more than you'd like to some rando standing on your doorstep.
"uh..." you look around a little. "i'm sorry, can i help you?"
he smiles. it's a little unnerving.
"right, yeah, i'm starting a business around here, and i wanted to ask if you've been needing any help with any fixtures around the house. i'm giving a 50% discount if you give me a rating on google."
you open your mouth for a moment, frowning.
"uhm..." you shake your head, "sorry. we don't need any help right now."
"you live here alone? sometimes it's hard to spot when the electric's on the piss, y'know? need a keen eye," he laughs, coming up one of the steps. you shake your head again.
"no, thanks."
he's a wiry man, but he's tall (not taller than your husband, but taller than you). you step back a little and start to close the door. he comes up the steps. out of the corner of your eye, you see the cat slip out between your legs, hissing a little as the distance closes between you and the man.
"wait! can i give you my contact info? i don't have a card, but i can leave you my--"
the sound of simon's truck pulling into the garage gets both of you to look behind. simon doesn't even park all the way inside. he throws the truck door open, stepping out of it, and the man on your steps moves back away from you immediately, making his way off the little porch.
simon looks huge, more so than ever. his steps are heavy, boots hitting the ground like a warning bell, and he's wearing just a short-sleeved shirt that's showing off those glorious fucking arms. you have never doubted simon's strength, but he looks like he could flip a car with the anger that's leaving him in heavy waves. you're surprised that you are not afraid; you just know somehow that simon won't touch you.
"oi!" simon yells, and the man definitely understands he picked the wrong fucking house to be a creepy salesman at when his knees nearly buckle as he tries to walk away. "where the fuck do y'think y'r goin', you twat?"
you sigh deeply, not realizing how much you were shaking until you notice your hands trembling around the doorknob. you watch as simon catches the guy by his dirty jean jacket, nearly lifting him completely off his feet as he drags him towards the fence gate.
"hey! hey! i didn't do anything!"
"i saw ya, ya fuckin' arse, know exactly wot the fuck y'were doin'," simon growls, tossing him onto the sidewalk. he hits the pavement with a cry, holding onto his arm, and simon slams the fence gate closed before pointing at him accusingly. "'f i ever see ya anywhere near m'fuckin' house or even askin' m'wife for so much as fuckin' directions, i'll cut y'r bloody prick off, y'hear?"
you blink as simon comes closer, the cat retreating back into the house once they see him. he keeps walking, crowding you back into the house before he shuts and locks the front door. his chest is heaving, black t-shirt doing nothing to hide the puff of his chest and how large he makes himself when he stands up to other men. he doesn't even need to make himself larger; simon takes up enough space for two men combined.
"he touch you?" simon asks, his voice low. you see his fists clench, and you have no doubt that if you said yes, simon would go outside and paint the pavement a new color with the man's face.
you shake your head frantically, and he lets out a deep breath, reaching up and wrapping a hand around the back of your head and pulling you close.
he bends, pressing his masked forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathes in slowly. he rubs at the nape of your neck, soothing you, and you smile when he pulls away, giving him those big eyes that say thank you, thank you, thank you.
simon cocks his head, staring behind you, and you turn with him to see the cat blinking slowly at the two of you from it's place on the windowsill.
"should get you a fucking guard dog instead," simon mutters, pulling his mask off and kicking his boots into the corner. you smile as he walks away, trying to cool your warm cheeks with the backs of your hands.
doesn't he know you already have one?
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pearlessance · 3 months ago
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Our Little Secret
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Summary - Joel Miller deals with disgusting, intrusive thoughts about the girl next door who smells like vanilla and uses cherry chapstick.
Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader
Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, kinda perv!Joel, age gap, no cordyceps outbreak AU, reader's in high school but is eighteen, dom/sub undertones, seduction, underage drinking, body worship, unprotected sex, reader is called 'jailbait’ by Tommy, oral sex, breeding kink if you squint, praise & degradation
WC: 11k
[crossposted to AO3]
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Joel Miller told himself he wasn’t a pervert. He just wasn’t. Double glancing at a pretty, young girl didn’t make him one of those guys — it just made him a man, right?
Never mind the fact that your father was one of his closest friends or the fact that you lived just next door, embodying half of the very typical scandalous, small-town affair. Never mind your eighteen year age difference. Never mind those obscene images that sometimes invaded his brain. Joel had heard the term once. He thinks Sarah might have told him about it from that science documentary she watched—those sordid images were called intrusive thoughts, right? Involuntary, unavoidable, unwanted.
It wasn’t only him who stared in your direction a little longer than necessary, anyway. The very first time he’d seen you, Joel and Tommy had been in the driveway doing an oil change on the truck. You and your dad had just moved in, Joel had introduced himself the day prior and helped haul a bed frame through the front room. Your dad had mentioned he had a daughter, but Joel had expected to see a girl closer to Sarah’s age. 
He hadn’t expected to see you, wearing those tight blue jeans and that tiny tank top that left very little to the imagination. The straps were thin and the fabric billowy, and when you shifted the box beneath your arm from one hand to the other, the pretty pink fabric of your bra was out in the open for all eyes to see. Your hair had been pulled into a ponytail at the crown of your head, swishing back and forth with each step. It made Joel wonder about how soft the long strands were, how they would feel between his fingers, how they would look splayed out atop a pillowcase — intrusive thoughts.
Tommy was quick to abandon his tools and cross the front yard to greet your father, offering you what seemed like an innocent helping hand. Joel thinks his younger brother has no self control, but he leaves the truck too. Only to introduce himself, though. Definitely not to get a closer look. 
Your voice is sweet, he thinks. It slides through him like a hot knife through butter. And when you laugh at Tommy’s awkward attempt at conversation, that sound stabs him in the chest because it’s so girlish. So young and youthful and airy. That pink lace is still poking out of the side of your shirt, even though Tommy now carries the box, and Joel strains himself trying to keep his eyes above your chin. 
“And you must be Mr. Miller,” you say, sticking your tiny hand out to him.
He knows it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he takes your hand in his and shakes it gently. Your skin is soft, nails painted red and manicured and he wonders what other parts of you are this soft, wonders if red has always been his favorite color, wonders what it would look like wrapped around — “Just Joel,” he tells you, clearing those damn intrusive thoughts as quickly as they appear. 
“Joel,” you repeat, tasting his name on your pink tongue and giving him a sweet smile. “There's two more boxes. Wanna help me grab them?”
He’s careful not to answer too fast, afraid of sounding too eager. But he agrees, and you lead him to the open truck bed, and as you bend over to grab the smaller box his hands flex at his sides. He thinks you must be doing this on purpose. Right? Torturing him, sticking your ass out, silently begging him to look. But he doesn't. Instead, Joel picks up the larger box and notices the scent of vanilla radiating off your skin. This is almost worse because his mouth begins to water. 
“My dad said you have a daughter,” you say. 
“Yeah. Sarah. She’s younger than you, though.”
“That’s okay. Does she like cake? I have to bake one for my home ec final and could use a taste tester if she’s not busy.”
It really puts things into perspective, and he’s glad for it. Finals. School. High school. “I’ll ask her,” Joel says. 
You lead everyone inside and direct all three men to take the boxes to the living room where you begin unpacking. You sit on the floor as you sift through the boxes, legs tucked underneath you, and Joel has to force a smile when you look up at him through your lashes. You say thank you, Joel from your knees and he feels something very, very wrong stir inside him. 
Tommy follows him back outside, and on the way back to their truck his voice is high pitched in mockery as he says, “Thank you, Joel! You’re so handsome , Joel! Let me repay you with my body, Joel!”
He just laughs it off, but as he continues with the oil change beneath the hood an uncomfortable silence settles between him. 
Eventually, Tommy shakes his head and snorts. “That girl is nothing but fucking jailbait, man.”
He sees you quite a few times after that, because your dad works in construction, too. Joel drinks the same kind of beer, and your dad has a pool table in your garage…so, naturally, they become the best of friends and very quickly at that. Tommy joins the party too, and within months they become an inseparable trio.
It’s during one of these nights when the three of them were standing in the garage with the door wide open, music playing from the speakers in your dad’s truck when those intrusive thoughts plague him again. Tommy’s losing at pool, drunk before the sun’s fully set, and your dad is laughing at something he’s saying.
You’re walking home from practice and stop suddenly at the end of the driveway. Joel can see you, but he doesn’t think Tommy or your dad can. The truck is in the way, but he’s in the perfect position. He stares a little too long, but he can’t help it. You’re wearing your cheer uniform, and your midriff is exposed, and your long legs are so fucking appetizing that his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. Your skirt is rolled up at the waist, making the fabric shorter than it’s supposed to be, making it sluttier than it’s supposed to be.
When you notice him staring, you shoot him a sinful little smile and raise your finger to your lips. A secret, Joel realizes. You want him to keep something a secret, and somehow it feels intimate, having something between the two of you. He watches you unroll the hem of your skirt and pull at the ends so it covers more of your legs. You turn in a semicircle, and he licks his lips, and when you look at him again you raise your hands in question. 
He gives you a discreet thumbs up, and when you make your way up the driveway you give him the prettiest smile and say, “Hey, Joel! Nice to see you!”
Tommy gives him shit for it later, but he’s too distracted at the sight of you in that uniform to even remember Joel exists. 
“You’re late,” your dad chastises. “Practice was over at five today. It’s almost six.”
“Took the scenic route,” you reply easily, and Joel can hear the playful tone in your voice that lets everyone in the room know of your insincerity. 
You walk past them, backpack slung over one arm, but before you disappear inside you wink at him over your shoulder. 
“Get ready, Joel,” your dad tells him with an exasperated sigh. “Teenage girls are hell.”
And Joel is inclined to agree. Even more so when he’s laying in bed that night, wondering about all the things you could’ve been getting up to in that hour it took you to get home. The school was a short, ten minute walk from your house. And even if you truly did take the scenic route home, it wouldn’t have taken you an entire hour to arrive. 
So, what were you getting up to? Joel didn’t think you had a boyfriend. At least, not one you ever brought home. But not having a boyfriend didn’t mean anything. Not in this day and age. And Joel knew the mind of a teenage boy. He had been one, once upon a time, and knew without a doubt the lengths a boy your age would go to spend an hour alone with you. He thought about all of the things he was doing at eighteen, and his brain ran wild with those ideas.
After hours of laying there, unable to find sleep, Joel Miller took out his phone and opened a private search tab. It had been a long time since he’d done this, and he’d tried not to — truly, he had spent every minute since he’d closed his bedroom door trying to get the images out of his head. But it was like an itch he needed to scratch, becoming more and more irritating the longer he put it off. So, he typed cheerleader into the black and orange search bar and promised himself it was the one and only time he’d ever do this. 
He just needed to get it out of his system. That was all.
(If he was honest, Joel knew as soon as the thought crossed his mind that it wasn’t true. Even when he scrolled through the videos to find a girl who looked strikingly similar to you. Even when he turned his volume all the way down, and reached into his sweatpants with his free hand. Even when he squeezed his eyes shut and thought of that rolled up skirt and that pretty pink lace, pornographic images long forgotten in favor of the ones you’d supplied. Even when a few quick tugs was all it took to shoot thick ropes of cum across his belly. Even when he cleared his search history, cleaned himself up, and rolled over to sleep…even then, he knew it would not be enough to get you out of his head.)
The next day, Joel saw you leaving for school and couldn’t bear to look in your eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done and feeling shameful, feeling like the very sordid man he knew himself not to be. He wasn’t a pervert, but he’d certainly felt like one that day.
You waved your hand and beamed like you did every morning. But Joel didn’t wave back. Oblivious to his atrocities, you played your hand at concern. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“You don’t… seem fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”
God—your voice, full of kindness and sweet summery grace, was better than the audio in any porno he’d ever seen. “I said I’m fine.”
Thankfully, you took the hint and scurried off, not dissimilar to a wounded animal. Guilt immediately choked him. But, pushing you away is what he’s supposed to do. So he doesn’t change his mind. 
At least, not at first.
He spends the entire summer going out of his way to avoid you. He offered to host guys nights at his house on the weekends instead of your dad's garage. He left for work five minutes earlier than normal to avoid having to hear you say good morning, Joel! and wave at him with those pretty red nails and smile at him with your pretty white teeth.
But once summer starts, you and Sarah begin spending way too much time together. And at first, it makes him nervous. You make him nervous. He doesn’t want to make small talk. He doesn't want to see you in your uniform. He doesn’t want to look at you at all, actually.
It works out in his favor though, Joel thinks, because you and Sarah have the same taste in movies, and she thinks you're the coolest thing that’s ever existed, and so whenever Joel and Tommy are in your garage, you’re at Joel’s house with Sarah. So he doesn’t have to be on edge, wondering if he’d turn the corner and you’d be standing there smelling like vanilla and wearing pink lace. 
But then you’re hosting a high school graduation party a few short months after you move in. And your dad invites Joel and Tommy to the party in your backyard. In fact, he practically begs them to come and keep him company. And Joel can’t say no, because what excuse would he have? Sarah would never let him skip it, anyway. And so his avoidance comes to an end, and he finds himself standing in your backyard with a glass bottle in his hands, watching people congratulate you and your accomplishments all day long. Straight A’s in all those AP classes you took, your dad tells him proudly, clicking his tongs together over the grill. Joel knows you’re a smart girl, he doesn’t need to know your grades to see that you have your head on straight, but he also knows you’re a far cry from the timid little girl your father believes you to be. Joel can see it in you. 
Still, you’re far smarter than he is, because while Tommy drones on and on about a project he’s got going on at home, all Joel can notice is the pretty sundress you’re wearing. It’s pink, like the lace that sometimes still haunts him. It clings to you at the top, molding sinfully against your chest, and flows out at the bottom, cutting off at your midthigh.
It’s too short, Joel thinks. Way too short to be wearing around so many male classmates. Around your dad’s friends. Tommy likes younger girls, you know. And Joel…Joel’s turning away from you and swallowing what’s left of his beer. He clinks the empty glass against Tommy’s and asks, “You need another?”
Your dad is the one who answers. “How about a shot of whiskey? The cabinet above the sink.”
Joel thinks it's a fantastic idea. He gets stopped by Mr. Adler on the way inside, who asks what the celebration is. He talks for far longer than he’d like, and by the time he gets to the kitchen, Joel really needs something stronger than beer. 
Except, when he steps into the room, he freezes the moment he sees you standing there. Your head whips in his direction, eyes wide as if you’ve been caught. It’s only as he tears his attention away from you and notices the two red solo cups on the counter and the bottle of tequila in your hands, perched over them, that he realizes what he’d just walked in on. 
Your cheeks are pink, the same hue as your dress, and you quickly try to explain it away. “Joel! Hey! This isn’t…I’m not like—you know, it’s just a celebration and…I’ll be nineteen soon and—I mean, it’s just a little .”
He raises his eyebrows, unsure of how to navigate this terrain. On the one hand, he feels the need to discipline you somehow. To turn this into a lesson of sorts, to let you know how the age of legal alcohol consumption is twenty one for a reason, that being drunk in a social setting like this is dangerous, especially for a girl like you.
But on the other hand, Joel knows he’s not responsible for you. He’s not your father, and he’s not going to be the one to give you the speech about underage drinking. He’d been far younger than eighteen-almost-nineteen the first time he’d gotten drunk. And you were right…this was a celebration. 
The war in his brain seemed to dim what little common sense he had because Joel found himself standing behind you with almost no room to spare. The sweet scent of vanilla filled the space. You’d curled your hair, and the ends tickled the inside of his arm. Soft. So, so soft he could die. He puts his big hand on your bare shoulder, and reaches above you into the cabinet, finding the half empty bottle of whiskey. His fingers twitch with the urge to squeeze your supple flesh. Christ. It’s just a fucking shoulder, Joel, he tells himself. “It’s your party,” he says. “I won’t tell.”
It feels wrong just to say it to you. I won’t tell. Perverted thing to say, Joel thinks. You spin around to face him, and suddenly your breasts are brushing his chest, and Joel can’t breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and sending him into his fucking grave. 
It’s then, as he stares down at you and you stare up at him all sweet and innocent-like, that Joel finally admits to himself that avoidance has done absolutely fucking nothing to put out the fire you started. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah—it’s, uhm…it’s no problem. Have fun.”
He turns to leave, but then your arms are around his neck and he can’t smell anything but vanilla and he can feel your tits pressing into him, can feel you everywhere. But Joel isn’t a mean man, so what can he do but hug you back? If someone walked in, they’d think it was a fatherly embrace. Proud. Protective, even. 
But they wouldn’t know that all Joel could think about is the way your skin felt under his calloused hands. Or the way your soft hair tickled his cheek as he laid it against the top of your head. Or the way your hips were nestled right between his thighs—and you were so warm and—
Intrusive thoughts.
“You’re the best, Joel,” you say, eyes bright and cheery. He’s relieved when you pull away, but also a little bit empty. He watches you pour a shot into each red solo cup. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey. It seems so, like… manly .” You giggle, and it’s music to his ears but Joel begins to wonder if maybe this isn’t your first time stealing from the tequila bottle tonight. 
“It’s definitely not the best tasting thing in the world,” he says. “Gets the job done, though.”
To put the tequila away, you have to stand on the tips of your toes. It elongates your entire body as you stretch upwards, and he can’t bring himself to stop staring at the curve of your hips. “You have to be drunk to hang out with me or something?”
The question surprises him. Yes, he thinks. Yes, he does need to be inebriated to hang out with you because otherwise his sober mind never lets him forget the way you look all dolled up. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, Joel laughs quietly and says, “I’m here for your old man. You think he wants to be the lone adult in this sea of kids?”
He says it as a joke and is thankful you find humor in it. “I’m not a kid, Joel,” you remind him. “I’m a woman now. Is my company really so bad?” You tilt your head, pushing your bottom lip into the tiniest little pout. 
Joel needs to stop staring at your mouth. He knows it, because the urge rises in him to bite that lip, to surge forward and taste your tongue for remnants of tequila. The idea alone sends a bolt of white-hot desire straight to his dick. “No, no…s’not like that,” he says. He’s too focused on your face and the gleam in your pretty eyes to notice you’ve unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle. 
You pour a shot into an empty solo cup and hold it up between the two of you. “I’m scared,” you admit sheepishly. “Is it gross?”
The wrinkle in your nose is the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and the sight forces his lips into a small smile. “I don’t think so,” he says. “But you might.”
“Because I’m a kid ?” You scoff, but shake your head and smile at him all the same. “Women mature faster than men, you know. Which means when I make my decisions, I know what I’m signing myself up for.” 
“Oh, is that so?” He remembers being this cocky as a teenager. He thinks maybe you’ve been spending too much time around Tommy and his defiant attitude is rubbing off on you. Joel offers a challenge—if you’re just so mature. “Drink up, then.”
He watches every microscopic movement as you lick your lips and lift the cup to your mouth. It’s a beautiful sight, watching you tilt your head back and swallow the tiniest bit. And when you pass the remaining liquid to him, your expression is fashioned from steel. Nonchalant, blank. 
But he sees it, sees the way your hands twitch at your sides, sees the way your jaw feathers as you clench your teeth. He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Joel turns the cup in his hands and puts his mouth right where you did. 
It’s almost like kissing, he thinks. Having his mouth where yours was seconds ago feels good. Better than he thought it would. And he can taste cherry-flavored chapstick before he can taste the whiskey, and he wonders when the last time was when he’d had a shot because it goes straight to his head and makes him feel drunk. Or maybe it’s just the wide smile that stretches across your face. 
“That’s awful,” you confess. “I’ll stick to tequila, I think.”
“Tequila’s worse,” he says with a shake of his head. Tequila makes Joel feel your age, makes him forget the word consequences, makes him buzz with energy. 
“No way,” you say. “The taste isn’t nearly as strong.”
While that may be true, it wasn’t about the taste at all and he doesn’t really know how to explain it. “Tequila encourages people to make bad decisions.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. “Bad decisions,” you echo contemplatively. “Sounds like a great time.” You take both of your tequila filled cups in hand and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for always keeping my secrets,” you whisper. 
Joel has to stand in the kitchen an extra few minutes after you leave because he still feels the ghost of your lips on his skin and doesn’t know how to act. Eventually, though, he finds the courage to face his brother and your father. He stays for the remainder of the party and helps your dad clean up the yard after everyone filters out. 
It’s a relief when he’s finally in his own bed that night. He tries to resist thinking of you. Truly, he does — but it’s no use, and he’s alone in his bed, and this time he doesn’t even reach for his phone when he touches himself. 
And it’s good. So good that he tries to draw it out. He tries his damndest to make it last. But his efforts become futile in just minutes, because he can feel your soft lips, can taste cherry chapstick, and he’s right there—right fucking there—when his bedroom door creaks open. 
“Joel?”
For a second, he’s convinced himself he’s gone crazy. He’s well and truly lost it now, and his fantasies have grown into hallucinations at this point. You’ve driven him batshit insane. But his eyes focus in the dark, and he realizes his mind isn’t playing tricks on him at all. “What are you doing here?”
You take it as an invitation, and he desperately wishes you wouldn’t. He can still feel the buzz from the beer and whiskey, and his cock is hard beneath the sheets, and his brain is filled with images of you, and you’re in nothing but spandex shorts and a loose tank top, and when you sit on the side of his bed you lay your hand on his knee for balance and Joel’s hands shake. 
“How did you even get in?”
“I used the key under the mat,” you confess. “I need your help.” Your voice is so mousy and soft, and it pulls him back to his senses. 
“What’s wrong?”
“You were right,” you tell him. “I made a bad tequila decision and now I’m sad.” 
Joel doesn’t know what to say. You couldn’t possibly still be tipsy, he thinks. It’s been hours since he saw you in the kitchen, but he supposes you very well could’ve gone back after everyone left. Either way, you’d come to him to fix it, and even knowing the right thing would be to call your dad, he was still high on the second secret you two shared. So, Joel sighs and puts his hand on yours. “What did you do?”
“I snuck a boy into my room,” you say.
Joel’s jaw clenches. Anger rises in his chest, crawls up his throat, and chokes him. A million things cross his mind—first, what the hell did he do to you? Did he hurt you? Joel would find the boy and break his fucking jaw. Did he touch you? Maybe he’d break the boy's hands instead. Or, worse, did he touch you when you didn’t want him to? The thought alone has his heart beating so fast he thinks he might die. Slowly, quietly, he asks, “What happened?”
“Nothing,” you sigh. And it isn’t one of those teenage girl nothings, it’s sincere. You climb over him to the other side of the mattress, and Joel thinks he should stop you but the sight of you in his bed is so fucking pretty that he can’t bring himself to. “That’s the problem. I wanted him to fuck me.”
The words give him pause. Everything freezes. 
“But he didn’t want to,” you say. “Even though we were flirting all day.” You turn on your side, hands beneath your head. “I don’t get it. Is it because I’m not pretty?”
He can’t stop the snort that leaves him at that. Joel can’t believe you’d wonder about it for even a second.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Joel?”
If there’s anything in the world he hates, it’s this. He wonders a little if maybe you’re antagonizing him. It’s a yes or no question, isn’t it? So why does saying yes feel so… heavy? Weighted? He decides it best to keep the conversation directed away from his personal opinion on the matter. “Of course you’re pretty, baby.”
Baby? God. Maybe he has lost his fucking mind.
But it seems to bring you so much joy he doesn’t have it in him to regret it. You wrap your small hands around his bicep, and he can feel the heat in your touch, and it’s like he’s burning from the inside out. And when you turn a little more and bring your leg across his hips, Joel can’t breathe. 
He wonders if you can tell how hard he is, wonders how he’s supposed to push you away when you just keep withering away his resolve. If he hasn’t lost his mind yet, he’s about to. “Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?”
The words hit him like a freight train. But after a second, he realizes that you actually mean sleep —and he knows it’s a bad idea still because he’s having those intrusive thoughts once more. But he can’t say no. So instead he says, “I don’t think your dad would be comfortable with that.”
“I’ll tell him I had a sleepover with Sarah,” you quickly supplied. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He doesn’t either. But Joel knows he should be. And if not alone, certainly not with you. And yet, he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing. 
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Sure.”
“I think about you all the time,” you say. “I thought you were mad at me for a while. That made me sad, too.”
It made his chest ache to think he had caused you any harm. But it was for the best, wasn’t it? You probably just saw him as someone to seek comfort in, and he saw you as something entirely different. He was no good. Definitely not for you. 
A few minutes pass, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you kiss his cheek again in the same spot as this afternoon and say, “Thank you, Joel.” And he feels so wrong. He feels awful, and selfish, and greedy, and desperate, and perverted.
He thinks that’s the end of it. But then you kiss his jaw, and this time it’s an open mouthed kiss that leaves wetness on his skin. Joel shivers. 
You kiss his neck, and his cock throbs inches from your thigh. He should stop this. He knows that. Joel isn’t a stupid man—he’s just a bad man. He doesn’t stop you when you climb into his lap. He doesn’t stop you when your tongue darts out between your lips as you kiss his collarbone. He doesn’t stop you when your kisses grow heated and heavy.
And when you kiss his lips, he doesn’t stop himself from kissing you back. He doesn’t stop himself from threading his fingers through your silky hair to pull you in deeper. He doesn’t stop himself from biting that bottom lip and sucking off the cherry flavor. He doesn’t stop himself from slipping his tongue into your mouth, or from lifting his hips just a little bit, pushing himself against you. The friction pulls a low groan from somewhere in the back of his throat, and Joel knows he won't be able to ever stop himself now. 
You take the small movement as your cue to unleash yourself and roll your hips against his even harder. He can feel the wet heat radiating from you even through the spandex shorts, can feel his benevolence fading into the ether. You let out a breathless moan when you roll your hips again, and again, and again. And he curses, muscles tight, and feels a confession on the tip of his tongue. Joel wants you to say it, just once — wants to hear his name in your mouth shrouded in lust. He’s imagined it so many times, but he wants to hear it. 
But then you pull away abruptly. “Joel?”
You sound mousy again, and he feels suddenly ice cold. “Yeah?”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
He holds your hair away from your face for the remainder of the night as you vomit up the rest of the tequila in your stomach. You apologize over and over again and greedily drink up the water he brings you. 
Normally, Joel would hate this. But it’s you, and something feels good about taking care of you. About making sure you’re safe, making sure you feel pretty even with sweat coating your pallid skin.
You fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night, and Joel carries you to his bed. He doesn’t climb in next to you. He can’t because he already feels bad enough for allowing a drunk eighteen year old girl into his bed. It’s his turn to feel nauseous. Shame smothers him, and guilt, and mortification…Joel knows he should feel regret, too. But he doesn’t. 
Sometime before sunrise, he nods off with his head resting against the bedside table. He doesn’t hear you leave, but when he wakes an hour later you’ve vacated the room. 
He wonders if you remember how you ended up in his bed, if you remember how eager he was to taste your mouth, if you remember anything at all. He hopes not, because that would mean a conversation he was not equipped to handle. 
When he trudges down to the kitchen, Joel stops upon the sight before him. Sarah sits at the kitchen table beside Tommy, who’s sitting across from your dad. And then there’s you—standing in the kitchen with a spatula in your hand and two still-wet braids in your hair.
It isn’t the fact that you’re in his kitchen, making pancakes for everyone, padding barefoot on the tile that makes him anxious. No one in the room can read his thoughts. They wouldn’t know how much it pleases him to see it. They wouldn’t know how he thinks he could get used to this, but knows he can’t.
No…no, it’s the fact that you’re wearing his flannel that makes him anxious. Your father wears flannels on occasion…but this one is so plainly Joel’s that he wonders why your dad is sitting there laughing at something Sarah said instead of killing Joel with his bare hands. He swallows thickly and pours himself a cup of coffee. 
“Good morning,” you say cheerily, as if last night hadn’t happened. He thinks you’ve forgotten, or maybe just decided not to ever mention it again.
It was only a lapse in judgment, after all, wasn’t it? Just a split second where you and Joel both lost all sense. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. “Morning,” he responds. 
You ask him to help carry one of the heaping plates of fluffy pancakes to the table. When he reaches for the taller one, your hand brushes against his and Joel nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact. But then you’re holding your pinky out to him expectantly, and whisper, “Our little secret.” 
The vanilla scent is gone, Joel notices. You smell like irish spring instead. Realization dawns on him that you must have showered while he was asleep— and used his body wash. There’s something about that little tidbit of information that sits with him. He likes it, he thinks. He likes smelling himself all over you, likes that something possessed you to use his things without asking. Something inside of him shifts, something… intense. 
He knows he shouldn’t, but Joel winds his pinky finger around yours anyway. It feels so good to have yet another thing between the two of you. Something of yours that belongs only to him. It makes him feel giddy as if he wasn’t running on a single sip of coffee and an hour of sleep.
The remainder of the summer goes on without incident. You don’t end up in Joel’s bed again, though you never once leave his intrusive thoughts. He sees you sometimes, tanning in the backyard. He has a perfect view from his bedroom window, and he wonders if maybe you wear those tiny bikini tops for his benefit. But he never asks, even during the few moments you have alone, and is content to pine after you but not touch for the rest of his painfully sorry life. 
He works. You taunt him. He plays pool in your garage. You come home late in too little clothes and smelling of vanilla scented tequila. Joel says nothing, though. He listens and agrees with your dad that since graduating you’ve become a little wild . A little… defiant. They dance around the word bad, but Joel knows the truth. Knows that more than anything, you need a little bit of discipline. 
You’re not his to correct, though. So he doesn’t. He certainly enjoys watching you, however. He watches you sneak out through your window one night when he’s sitting on the porch. You press your finger to your lips, creating another secret between the two of you. He walks into the kitchen one night to find you filling a vodka bottle with water. Joel says nothing—but after grabbing another beer he’s got a smile on his lips he can’t seem to shake. 
He’s mowing the grass in the backyard one sunny afternoon, and he catches a glimpse of something he shouldn’t. Joel holds a lot of your secrets close these days, but this one is…different. 
Through your bedroom window, he can see you changing. The curtain is wide open, and you’re wearing nothing but that same pink bra he first saw you in, matching panties, and those knee high socks you used to wear with your cheer uniform. He’s not sure if you’re getting out of your clothes or into ones more comfortable, but he knows he can’t look away. His mouth is dry, and all the blood in his head rushes south. He thinks you’re beautiful. He wants to touch you so badly it’s overwhelming. The supple curves of your hips, the soft tendrils of your hair down your back, the swell of your breasts— God, you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. 
And then you pick something up from the floor, and Joel realizes a second later that you’re putting on his flannel. The one you stole at the beginning of the summer. Do you wear it often? Do you always wear it alone, half naked in your bedroom? His lips part and his breath catches in his throat. He’s not there. He’s just standing in his backyard, ruining this patch of grass…but a part of him is. Something of his is there, with you, touching you, and somehow it sets him on fire. 
Especially when he watches you climb into bed. He won’t watch you sleep, he decides. He might have intrusive thoughts and secrets and uncontrollable fantasies, but he’s not a creep. 
Except you don’t go to sleep, so Joel continues to watch. He watches you run red painted fingers over your bare skin, between your breasts, over your belly, and back up. You do it again, slower this time, and Joel’s cock strains in his jeans. He watches you slip your hand beneath the band of your panties. He can’t see any details from this far away, but his breathing synchronizes with the speed of your fingers.
Suddenly, he remembers you’re still in his flannel. Realizes that you put it on to touch yourself. Pressure builds in his cock, and he finally admits that yeah— maybe he’s a little bit of a perv. But only for you—there’s something about you that drives him fucking insane. 
He stands there and watches you touch yourself until you finish. He revels in the small arch of your back, in the tremble of your legs, in the way your chest heaves with each ragged breath on the come down. He wants to clean you up with his fucking tongue. 
Joel doesn’t finish mowing the lawn that night.
When you go off to college, he can’t deny what a massive relief it is. You move across Texas to some campus far away, and the distance makes him feel like he can breathe easily again. He stops having so many disgusting, intrusive thoughts. He stops feeling guilty every time he plays pool with your dad because those secrets he kept for you were ones that don’t truly matter. Not when you’re nowhere to be found, anyway. 
As the year stretches on, Joel realizes that he’d been wrong all along. He wasn’t a pervert. You are a seductress. Even Tommy jokes about the obvious schoolgirl crush you had and admits one night when it’s just the two brothers that if you had thrown yourself at him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist you so easily as Joel had.
It’s not him that’s in the wrong. It’s you. You and your soft hair. You and your pretty smile. You and your red nails. You and your pink lace. You and your soft voice. You, you, you. 
For several years, those intrusive thoughts haven't plagued him. Not until your junior year of college, when some problem with campus housing surfaces and you’re forced to stay at home for a few days. Your dad is excited about it and forces the four of you to go out to dinner together to catch up. 
He sees you for the first time in so long, and you look so different but somehow even prettier. You’re wearing a short white dress, and Sarah tells you you look like an angel, and Joel silently agrees. You have a tattoo on the inside of your wrist. It’s the tiniest little image of two hands with their pinkies wrapped around one another, and he thinks it’s so fitting for a girl with so many secrets. 
Every time you look at him during dinner, Joel shifts in his seat. He isn’t very hungry. Not for food, anyway. He’s a little floored when you proudly present your shiny, brand new ID to the waitress and order a fruity pink drink called a Paloma. You explain that it has tequila in it, and share a subtle glance across the table, and Joel feels his insides warm as if he was the one drinking a cocktail instead. 
He drowns himself in work the entire week. He cannot— cannot afford to find himself back in his old ways. You’re a woman now. A fully grown woman, who no longer needs validation from older men. He knows you're not interested. He knows this time, this time, it really is Joel who’s the problem. Avoidance, surprisingly, works. 
Until you knock on the door one night with a DVD in your hand. “Is Sarah home? I found my old copy of Evil Dead. She said she missed having movie nights.”
Joel shakes his head. “No, uhm—she spent the night with a friend. Sorry.”
“Oh,” you deflate. “That’s okay, I get it. She’s older now. It’s…”
“Weird,” he finishes. 
You laugh softly, and the sound brings a smile to his face. “Yeah, really weird,” you agree. “I just hope she’s nothing like me.”
“Why’s that?” Your eyes darken, and Joel asks himself why he’s attempting to make conversation at all. It’s dangerous. He knows this. 
“You know,” you say purposefully. “All those secrets? There were definitely more.”
For a reason he can’t pinpoint, it makes him a little annoyed. He knew it the whole time—of course,  he knew there were more secrets than just the ones he was privy to. But a part of him wanted to know you better than anyone else. And maybe he did, for a second, but that second was long gone now. It was probably over moments after it began. “Yeah, well…that’s different.”
“How so? She’s only a little younger than I was when I met you.”
It’s an accusation. Joel can feel it. He can feel the anger seeping through your fake sweetness, too. But he doesn’t understand it. He didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not my daughter. That’s what’s different.”
You roll your eyes, and his hands twitch with the urge to grab you by the jaw. “God, Joel—you’re such a pussy. Do you know that?”
Your words startle him. A crease forms between his brows, and he takes another step out of the doorway. “ Excuse me ?”
“Just say it! Say what you so desperately want to say. I can take it. Say it.”
The words come out slow and deadly, sounding far meaner than intended. “Say what?” 
“Tell me it’s different because I’m a slut. It’s okay, Joel. It’s just the two of us now. Go ahead. Admit it.”
His jaw ticks. 
“What, you think I’m dumb? You think I don’t hear you laugh at Tommy’s jokes when I walk out of a room? You think I didn’t know you guys called me jailbait for years?” You laugh cynically, arms crossed over your chest, and Joel thinks he’s never seen you so angry. So heated. 
So hot.
He grabs your elbow and yanks you close. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Your face is inches from his, and he can smell vanilla and cherry and something happens. Something familiar and unique to you. Something disgusting. “And you know what the worst part of it all is?”
The worst part is that he’s twice your age. The worst part is that he’s known you since you were in high school. The worst part is that he’s friends with your father. The worst part is that you’re friends with his daughter. The worst part is that those perverted thoughts were never involuntary. They were never unavoidable. They were never unwanted. They were never intrusive. 
“You like it,” you say with a smirk. “You like that I dress up in short skirts for you, and you like it when I climb in your bed when someone else leaves me unsatisfied. I almost finished that day, did you know?”
“ Jesus—fuck —don’t—”
“You barely touched me but I was so close just sitting in your lap. You like that I put on your clothes and touch myself in front of my window, hoping you’ll see. You like that I’m a slut for you, Joel Miller. Admit it. It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret .”
He pulls you into the house and slams the front door closed. His blood boils beneath his skin. He should have slammed it in your face, he thinks. But you’re here now—trapped inside with him. Or maybe he’s trapped inside with you. 
The pleased smile on your face is his undoing. His breath comes fast, and he knows if he moves an inch there will never be any going back from this. So he doesn’t move. His limbs are frozen and his eyes are fixed on yours.
After a couple of tense filled seconds, your smile falters. Joel sees it. He hears the slight change in your voice too, as you confess, “I want you to touch me so badly.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck —Joel holds your face in his hands and slams his mouth to yours. You taste just the same; cherry sweet and delicious. It’s his favorite flavor, he thinks. Better than any forbidden fruit. Your tongue is so soft against his and impossibly more greedy. You invade his mouth, his soul, his heart. 
It happens so fast, and so easily. Your arms loop around his neck and Joel pulls you flush against him and grips the back of your thighs. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, hips already rolling against him like some feral thing inside of you is desperately clawing to get out. His cock has never been this hard, Joel knows. And he knows—he knows that he could cum just like this. Touching you, tasting you, feeling your softness. It’s enough. 
Still, he wants more. He wants to see you fall apart. He wants to reach inside your chest and make you feel what he feels, make you feel tortured the way he’s been for years. 
Joel walks to the sofa and sits with his legs spread wide. You’re still kissing him with everything you have, and it’s a clash of tongues and lips and teeth that he loves so much it’s an effort to thread his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull you away, but he does it. You’re both panting, and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact. His cock is throbbing, straining behind his jeans. “Put your money where your mouth is, baby,” he says breathlessly. “You wanna act like a slut for me, be a slut for me.”
He fists your dress in his hands and pulls it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. And then it’s just you, sitting in Joel’s lap, wearing nothing but pink, lace panties and a pair of strappy white heels. You’re so pretty, and he’s always known it—but seeing you up close has him weak. He can’t keep himself from touching you, from running his hands over your hips and living the fantasy he’s existed in for what feels like forever. 
Once he starts, Joel can’t stop. He runs his calloused palms over your belly, your ribs, allowing his thumbs to ghost across the underside of your breasts. He moves slowly, meticulously, enjoying every moment. And when you hook your thumbs in the band of your panties with the intention to remove them, he places his hands over yours. “Hell no,” he says. “You think you can tell me you almost finished in my lap that night and get away with it?” 
“But, I—”
“Nuh-uh. Prove it.”
Hesitantly, you tilt your hips against his. He wishes he was in only sweatpants the way he was that night because his jeans are keeping the feeling of your wetness away from him this time. But he can see it—the baby pink fabric is darker at the apex, and as you grind your hips against his Joel realizes you’re creating a mess on his clothes, too. 
He understands. He really, really does. He feels it, too. Joel understands how desperate and needy you are. And because he’s just so understanding, he grants you a little reprieve. He leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth. He’s real sweet about it too, giving you the same tender treatment your mouth gave him that night in his room. He licks the hardened peak softly, swirling his tongue, and you let out the prettiest moan he’s ever heard. The pace of your hips picks up, rolling against the bulge in his jeans faster. 
“Oh, god,” you whimper. Your breath catches, and he can hear your heart beating rapidly behind your ribcage. He peppers kisses across your sternum and inhales deeply, sucking in a breath that’s nothing but you and holding it in his lungs. He kisses your other nipple and pinches the one wet with his spit between his thumb and forefinger. 
He sucks your nipple into his mouth and groans when you fist your hands in his hair. You sound so pretty, he thinks—and he leans back on the couch to admire just how pretty you look. He can’t catch his breath, but he doesn’t mind.
Your pace falters the slightest bit, and your chest is heaving a little slower now. He sinks lower into the couch and thrusts his hips up into you—once, twice, and your legs are shaking. “Aww,” he coos. “You’re so sensitive, baby. Look at you.”
Too lost in your own bliss, Joel decides to help you, to teach you. He grabs your chin and forces it down, forces your attention to where your bodies are joined.
“I told you to look,” he repeats. Joel turns his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them taught, creating even more pressure against your clit. The pink fabric immediately becomes darker, sopping up some of the mess you’ve created on top of him, and Joel intends to make good on his wish to clean you up with his tongue. But not yet—not when you still have something to prove. “You gonna cum just like that? Hm?”
You nod frantically, your attention flickering between his dark eyes and your panties clutched between his thick fingers. “ Yes,” you tell him, legs trembling. Your pace is quick, and each roll of your hips becomes shorter and shorter. And with Joel moving underneath you it only takes seconds more before you combust. “Oh, fuck—fuck—I’m coming, I’m coming—!”
“That’s it,” he says, and you feel the deep timbre of his voice skitter across your skin like embers. “There you go. You’re being such a good slut for me, hm?”
When your orgasm finally fizzles out, you fall limply forward and Joel is there to catch you, like he always has been, like he silently vows he always will be. He rubs soothing circles against your spine and presses sweet kisses into your hair, waiting patiently as you try and regain what little composure you have left. 
You lift your head from the crook of his neck, and your eyes are glossy and your bottom lip is swollen and your cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue, and Joel thinks you’ve never been more beautiful. But then you slide from his lap to the floor in one fluid movement, and he realizes that this is the prettiest you’ve ever been; on your knees before him, eyes bright with anticipation and excitement. You place your hands on top of his strong thighs, look up at him through your lashes and ask softly, “Can I suck your dick, Joel?”
He has to squeeze his eyes shut. He has to because his cock is so fucking hard and your voice is so sweet and filthy he can’t handle it. He breathes in slowly through his nose and says, “Of course you can, baby.”
Without a moment's hesitation, you unbuckle his belt. The metal clinks in your fingers, and Joel’s heart is racing when you unbutton his jeans and hook your thumbs through the loops to tug them down. His cock snaps against his belly, and you lick your pink lips.
You take it in your hands, and Joel aches when you swipe your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum. He can’t believe this is really happening, that you’re really here, running your sweet, sweet tongue over every inch of his cock. You’re tasting him, savoring him, and Joel wonders if it pleases you to see him all bent out of shape like this. 
He prides himself on his masculinity. He’s always been a strong man, one who handles his shit on his own. Maybe it’s the Texas in him, but Joel’s always had traditional values. He’s always been the provider, the protector—he’s always been the one in charge. But when you wrap your lips around him and ease his cock into your hot, wet mouth, he’s at your complete mercy. 
“ Fuck,” he hisses, hands going to your hair. He tangles the silky strands between his fingers, and you hollow out our cheeks, creating a suction that has him groaning. He feels each pass of your lips down his spine, pressure forming low in his belly. “Just like that, pretty girl.”
You wrap your hand around the base and stroke the length you can’t fit into your mouth, and his grip in your hair tightens. Your nails are painted red—and the look of them wrapped around his cock is far better than he’d ever been able to imagine in his head. It’s so good that he doesn’t want to stop, he wants to cum just like this. He wants to expend himself at the back of your throat and watch his cum leak out of your mouth.
But Joel doesn’t get too far ahead of himself. There are other things, filthier things he wants to do to you than fill your mouth up. You let out a whiny groan as if sucking him off is somehow more pleasurable for you than it is for him. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, and the vibrations nearly send him over the edge, but Joel rips your head back to prolong this precious time with you. 
Your eyes are glassy, makeup smeared, lips swollen. You give him a beaming smile and Joel huffs a breath. “Did I do a good job?”
“ Yes, baby,” he says. “You did so well. C’mere, stand up.” You do as told, even though your legs are wobbly, and Joel lifts your foot into his lap. He unbuckles the straps of your heel, takes it off and sets it aside. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh and repeats the action with the other one, and then proceeds to pull your panties down your legs. He helps you out of the pink lace, and he knows he shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself and shoves them between the couch cushions, where he hopes you’ll forget about them.
He presses his mouth to your hip bone, an open mouthed kiss that leaves goosebumps in its wake as he does the same to your other side. “That feels so good,” you tell him.
Joel keeps peppering wet kisses across your belly, below your navel, over your pubic bone. Your thighs are pressed together, and you’re shifting on your feet in anticipation, and Joel can see the shiny wetness coating your pussy. He reaches between your legs and so gently slides his middle finger teasingly over your slit. It comes away sticky and wet, and he can’t resist the urge to lick the digit clean. It’s heady and sweet, and he feels drunker than whiskey or tequila has ever made him. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, forehead falling against your abdomen. “What are you doing to me?”
“It’s okay,” you tell him. “I want you so bad, Joel. Please touch me.” Your hands are in his hair, stroking the unruly curls and lightly pulling.
The word please in your mouth sounds so fucking cute, so needy and desperate. What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to be a good man when you exist? He can’t, Joel knows. So long as you’re near—he’ll never be a good man. Only a bad one. Only a perverse one. He hooks his arm around your leg and lifts it over his shoulder, keeping his other hand wrapped around your waist for balance, and lets himself taste you fully, to drink from the source. 
And Jesus Christ, Joel loses it. He laps at your pussy, swallowing you up. He cleans up the mess you made in his lap, relishing in the decadence. He could do this for hours, he thinks. Could swirl his tongue around your swollen clit, could suck it between his lips, and kiss it softly for the rest of his life. He breathes in slowly, taking your scent deep into his lungs, and wonders why he’d ever want to come up for air. Your moans are music to his ears.
He dares a glance up at you to watch your expression when he reaches beneath you and slips a finger easily into your dripping pussy. 
Your head falls back, your mouth falls open, and Joel falls in love. 
The noises you make are obscene as you grind against his face, but not nearly as much as the sounds he’s making from between your legs. He’s groaning with your clit in his mouth and you’re creating a puddle in his palm, and it’s so sloppy and disgusting and he fucking loves it. 
Joel silently admits that you were right; that he loves your obscenities. He loves your secrets. He loves your defiance. He loves your depravity. 
He loves that you’re such a fucking slut. 
“Oh, god— Joel—!”
He pulls away because if you’re going to moan out his name again it’s going to be because of his cock. He stands abruptly, keeping one hand at the small of your back, and holds your jaw. With your face tilted up towards him, he smirks as he watches tears form in your eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Why did you stop?” Your voice is so whiny, so hopeless and frantic that it makes his cock twitch. “You were about to make me cum,” you say.
He kisses you hard, and you moan into his mouth, and Joel runs out of patience. He lifts you up and lays your back flat against the couch. He’s hovering over you, and his cock is just inches from the place it’s wept to be inside for so many years. Joel rolls it against you, gasping at the feel of your pussy on the underside of his cock. You’re so wet, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to last long enough for this to be good for you. 
But he’s determined. “ Joel,” you beg breathlessly, bucking your hips to try and find just the right angle where he slips inside.
“Yeah, baby?” He tilts his head slightly, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his hips and his predatory grin. 
“You’re being mean,” you say. “Stop teasing me. Just put it in, Joel, I need it so bad.”
He kisses your forehead. “S’that right?”
“Yes!”
It’s impossible, he thinks, to hold back his laugh. “You’re so fucking cute, baby,” he says. “Say please.”
“ Please! Please, please ple—!”
Joel lets out a ragged breath as he pushes into you. Finally, he thinks. Finally, finally, finally. “Fuck.”
It’s so much better than he ever imagined. He sinks in deep until your hips are flush, and even then he pushes your knee back to open you up and get impossibly deeper. 
“Oh my god,” you whimper, and Joel kisses you to swallow up the beautiful sound. 
You take him like you were made for his cock. And maybe you were, because Joel had never known it could be this fucking good. He knows it’ll never be this good again. “You’re taking it like such a good slut, baby,” he whispers into your ear, tongue sliding up your neck. He pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, the sudden change in force ripping a cry from your throat. “Shhh, it’s okay. You can take it.”
With your arms and legs wrapped around him, Joel fucks you slow. Real slow, real deep—he’s touching parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You feel so full and pressure coils around your spine. 
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, yes yes— mmm—!”
He sets a steady pace, hitting that soft spot inside of you every time. He reaches between your bodies and swipes this thumb over your clit. “Say thank you, baby.”
You look right into his eyes, warm and dark and full of devotion. You say, “ Thank you, Joel,” and you suddenly remember the same memory he does of that first day. 
He remembers how pretty you looked on your knees, and you remember how you spent that whole night in your bed touching yourself to him. 
And now it’s happened, it’s finally happened, and his cock is buried deep inside of you and his thumb is pressing hard against your clit and before he realizes it, your pussy is squeezing him as you cum. 
Tremors rock through your body, legs shaking and red painted fingernails clawing at his back. He keeps his same steady pace and says, “Give it to me, baby. Good fucking girl, being such a good little slut for me. That’s it. Give it to me. There you go.”
Even when your muscles loosen, you keep your limbs wound around him tight. Like even though you’ve finished and he’s seconds away from following you there, you still want him as close as possible. It makes him feel tender. “I want you to cum inside me,” you say, and Joel’s cock spasms in your tight pussy. “Cum in me, Joel, please —fill me up.”
He shouldn’t, he really fucking shouldn’t, but he already is, and stars blur his vision. Joel fights through the blindness though, and squeezes your cheeks in his hand. “Look at me,” he orders, and looking at your face makes him cum even harder. You take his thumb into your mouth, soft tongue circling it. And Joel bottoms out inside of you, has the best orgasm of his entire fucking life inside of a girl half his age, but cannot bring himself to regret a single second.
The weight of him over you is heavy but comforting. It’s perfect, and helps you catch your breath. Joel is panting, and you smell like vanilla and irish spring and cherry chapstick and when his eyes close, he wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven. 
Your fingers are stroking his spine lazily when the fear creeps in. Do you regret it? Now that it’s out of your system, do you wish you’d never have done it? Never have taunted him, never had let him keep all those secrets, never have come over tonight? The Evil Dead DVD sits on the floor by the front door, abandoned. 
There couldn’t have been much tequila in your mixed drink. You didn’t taste like alcohol at all. But still, you’d had some—do you feel like maybe he took advantage of you? 
Joel is afraid to look at you. He’s afraid to open his mouth, to ask if you’re alright, to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness. 
But then you ask him softly, “Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?”
He hears the echo of those words, and wonders if you do, too. You wince as he finally sits up and pulls himself out of you. He knows he should say no, but he can’t. Instead, he asks, “Will you make pancakes in the morning?”
The sound of your girlish laughter greets him and calms his fears for now. “Anything you want.”
Joel stops at the bathroom on the way to his bed and cleans the sticky mess from between your legs. It’s then as he realizes how many unhinged decisions he’d made tonight. He doesn’t know if you’ve slept with other people without protection, doesn’t know if you’re on birth control, doesn’t know if you’d be willing to take a contraceptive pill in the morning if you’re not, doesn’t know anything. The distance, while easier, has taken so much of you from him. And the realization leaves Joel cold. 
You’re so young, and he’s so much older than you…if the worst happened, would it even be the worst? Do you even want kids? 
A new fantasy emerges in his brain. The first one since admitting to himself that it’s a little more than just an intrusive thought. You’re standing on the back porch with a beaming smile, hand over your eyes to block out the bright summer sun while he mows the lawn. You’re in a pretty pink sundress, and your belly is swollen with Joel’s baby, and his knees buckle as he leads you to his bedroom. 
You climb in beside him, and he holds you under the blankets a little tighter than you hold him. Emotion chokes him. Joel swallows it down. But then you ask, “What’s wrong?”
“I want to keep you,” he confesses. “I want to keep you forever.”
For a moment, it’s quiet. He wonders if maybe you think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t have anything else to say. 
“So do it,” you whisper. 
“But I can’t.”
“You can,” you tell him with a sigh. “You can, Joel. That’s the real secret.”
The words reverberate through him. They clang around in his brain and leave him with something akin to elation. You kiss his jaw, and Joel thinks maybe you might be right. Maybe he will keep you. 
But for tonight, having you here pressed against him with the promise of pancakes in the morning is enough.
[PART TWO]
[masterlist]
divider by @thecutestgrotto <3
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slttygeto · 1 year ago
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SO, YOU GOT A BOYFRIEND? | GETO S.
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synopsis: when watching a certain scary movie gives your husband, suguru, the perfect idea on how to ruin you.
c.w: p0rn with plot, fem!reader, reader is referred to as “good girl” “pretty girl”, mask kink (hehe<3), slight fear play, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, suguru talks you through it, praise kink, strength kink if you squint, im obsessed with suguru's arms, clit smack, multiple orgasms.
word count: 2,1k
note: i am BRICKED after writing this. happy halloween hehe.
ghostface suguru! ( @aurelianamu )
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In a dimly lit room, at around 10PM—it was a bit cold outside, the perfect weather to snuggle up and watch some movies. Romance movies? No, you did that last week. Action movie? Eh, you were not in the mood for that—oh, Scream. Your thumb presses on the movie before you put the remote control down and walk towards the kitchen to grab some snacks.
“Sugu, I picked a movie!” you announce as you make your way out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and two drinks. Your husband marches down the stairs in a lazy manner, his long strands messily sticking out of his ponytail that he has to stop and tie it up again. He sees what movie you picked and he stands behind you on the couch.
“Scream?” he questions, hands resting on your shoulders.
“First movie, pretty iconic.”
“I don’t think it’s that scary though,” he doesn’t really say that he would rather watch something else, simply joins you on the couch and pulls you towards him with the bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.
The movie is indeed not that scary, you kept quoting some of the lines here and there, which earned you a chuckle from Suguru every time.
“No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I wanna be in the sequel,” you say in the same voice and attitude and your husband runs a hand through your hair.
“I think you’d easily outsmart him,” your husband is very supportive of you, but instead of making fun of his statement, your heart thrums in your chest when you picture Suguru in the ghostface mask.
“Really?” you look up at him through your eyelashes but Suguru is staring ahead and doesn’t notice the eyes you’re giving him.
“Yeah, they’re all pretty stupid—minus Sidney, I mean the fact that—“ your husband goes on a three minute ramble about the plot, how he appreciates the intelligence of the main character all while saying that the choice of the ghostface killers was nice. Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking of something else. Something far dirtier than intended.
“Baby,” you cut him off from his ramble and he hums in response.
“You’d be pretty hot as ghostface.” Suguru looks down on you when you say that and raises both eyebrows knowingly.
“Are you insinuating something?” To which you shrug your shoulders before staring back at the big screen in your living room, playing innocent.
“Just saying.”
You weren’t just saying, you knew exactly what you were doing. The next day, you’re sat on your bed folding laundry while watching the newest episode to your favorite podcast. You liked keeping your brain stimulated, and it distracted you from the fact that your husband was always gone for long hours during the day. But when you hear the keys rustling and the front door opening, you raise an eyebrow but don’t question it. Today’s mission must’ve been quick, you think to yourself.
“Welcome home!” you call out from your bedroom but don’t bother to get up, you knew he would come to your bedroom immediately so you keep your eyes on your computer and go back to folding the laundry.
A couple of minutes pass and Suguru doesn’t walk inside the bedroom, so you start getting a little suspicious and decide to go check on him.
“Sugu?” you walk out of the bedroom and notice how the lights downstairs are turned off. You remember leaving them on for him, so he must’ve turned them off on his way upstairs—but where was he?
“Baby, are you in the shower?” the lights in the bathroom were on but the door was closed. Suguru never walked to the bathroom first without greeting you—unless something was wrong. You put your hand on the door handle, but before you could twist the knob, a warm and rough hand covers your mouth and your blood runs cold when you’re being pulled into a different room.
You don’t have time to scream or panic, because when you’re being pinned to the wall by a rather familiar set of hands, your eyes almost bulge out of your skull when you notice the ghostface mask. You’re breathing heavily, cheeks flushed but there’s no sign of panic because you know who this is—the dragon tattoo peeking out of his shirt and the wedding band on his ring finger are enough evidence.
“Do you like scary movies?” Suguru’s voice sounds silky smooth, but the flirting connotation to it has your heart leaping out of your chest.
“Sugu—“
“Wrong,” he pins both hands above your head and his body is so close to yours that you feel the heat radiating off of it. “Let’s try again, I know my girl is smart.”
Your breath is caught in your throat, but you play along and nod sheepishly.
“Do you like scary movies?”
“Mhm,”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He traces a finger over your cheek, and the arousal slowly starts pooling between your legs.
“Hm, I don’t know,” you reply in a similar flirtatious tone, nervousness long gone. The realization that you didn’t have to explicitly tell your husband about the ghostface mask and him buying it for your pleasure made all of this very thrilling.
“You have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”
“Hm, Halloween,” you stick to the same script of the movie, you buck your hips towards him but he pushes a knee between your legs and pins you again to the wall. “Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask that walks around and stalks baby sitters?”
“Yeah,” Suguru breathes out and takes in how gorgeous you look like this—how he should’ve thought of doing this a long time ago. Your eyes were blown out with lust, chest heaving in excitement all while allowing him to play with you like this. He could feel his pants tighten and his cock was slowly getting hard from knowing exactly what was coming.
“What’s yours?” you bring him out of his thoughts and although you can’t see his face, you know that he was giving you that signature charming smile that always won over your heart.
“Guess.” He purrs out and you subconsciously start grinding against his knee before giving him a reply.
“Nightmare on Elm Street,”
“Wrong,” Suguru goes off script and your lips part for a moment. You’re about to complain, tell him that this wasn’t in the movie—he lets go of your wrists and throws you over his shoulder, delivering a harsh smack to your ass, his rough hand kneads the skin as he makes his way towards your bedroom.
“Better luck next time,” he throws you on the bed and you let out a gasp when your back hits the mattress. You try to sit up, but your husband grabs your ankles and pulls you down towards the end of the bed. “Now let’s see just how fucking filthy you are,”
He parts your legs with his big hands covering the plush skin of your thighs, and you whine out when he removes your shorts to reveal your panties that had an obvious wet patch on them.
“Fuuuck,” he breathes out and lifts up the mask enough for his mouth and nose to be visible. He presses his nose against your panties and takes a whiff of your arousal, the sight is obscene and your face turns red at how pussy drunk he sounds. “Fuck, fuck—should’ve done this sooner baby, you smell so fucking good,” he gives your pussy a kiss through the fabric of your panties before his fingers remove them so messily that you let out a startled noise.
Suguru dives in between your legs and the wet sounds are dirty and make you feel even more turned on. His tongue laps at your clit, fingers pulling the hood back before spitting on it and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he sucks. Two of his thick fingers prod at your entrance, gathering some of the slick that’s pooled there before pushing a single finger inside.
“Thaaaat’s it, good girl,” he breathes out against your clit before giving it a kiss as he pushes the second finger inside. “Yeah, this pussy loves being stuffed by me—fuck, you’re so wet for me. All because of this mask baby girl?” his tone is playful but you’re far too gone to complain and just mindlessly nod.
“So drunk off of me and I haven’t even given you my cock,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you all while curling them to find that one spot inside you. He licks, sucks and spits on your clit with so much passion and when he finds that one spot, you let him know pretty quickly.
“Oh!” you gasp and your thighs shake. “S-Suguru, oh fuck--!” his wrist is burning as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, and the veins in his forearm are bulging out from the sheer strength he is using to finger fuck you until you see white. His free hand comes down and presses against your stomach to apply pressure and keep you pinned down.
You make the mistake of opening your eyes to stare at him. His hand is covered in your arousal, but what truly pushes you over the edge is the fact that his mask had come down and was covering his face entirely. So when he decides to talk you through it, give you that one final push—the ghostface mask seems to intensify the orgasm tenfold.
“I know you’re a good girl, but I’m gonna need you to get dirty for me baby—there it is, theeere it is,” he sounds proud when you finally cum, and you’re loud. You whine and let out soft cries, your hands weakly push at his arm when he keeps fingering you through your orgasm.
“Suguru—too much!” you cry out and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of your soaking pussy to slap your clit.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he quickly starts to unbuckle his belt and pushes his pants enough to free his cock. The tip nudges at your folds and your husband hovers over you with his lean stature. Big broad shoulders cover your entire frame and you’re fucked out from your previous orgasm.
“I’m going in baby, let me in,” your legs spread instinctively to welcome him inside of you and you groan when you feel the sheer size of him inside you. Your hands grip at the back of his shirt, but Suguru holds himself up on his forearms so that you look at his mask.
“Yeah, that’s right—look at me baby, filthy fucking girl,” his strokes were slow but hard. His hands grab at the back of your thighs and push them before fucking into you harder. “You like it, huh?” you couldn’t even give a proper response, only mindlessly nodding when you could feel him even deeper inside you.
He pushes your knees to your chest before setting a dizzying pace. You feel so full of him, so full of his thick cock and Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head behind his mask every time he felt your pussy squeeze around him. His finger rubs at your clit the same way that you’ve shown him you like it, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart underneath him with a loud cry.
Your orgasm hits you hard and Suguru can’t hold it in any longer—he fucks into you for another minute, head buried in your neck as he groans out your name. Your pussy milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you.
You lay there breathing heavily, and you weakly reach for the ghostface mask and remove it off of your husband to reveal his sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. He looks gorgeous like that, and you lock eyes for the first time since the entire night and you’re immediately pulled in towards one another.
Suguru kisses you with so much passion, dick still buried deep inside you and your legs stay wrapped around him as you two make out heavily under your sheets that stuck to your sweaty bodies. You pull away for a moment to kiss his forehead and Suguru closes his eyes as he melts at your touch.
“Thank you for that,” you say, so love struck that the man can’t help but chuckle at how breathless you sound.
“Let’s do it again, yeah?”
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2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
—💭 if you like this, leave a tip!
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fairy-angel222 · 6 months ago
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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃? 𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ⋆⭒˚.⋆༄
—gojo satoru x fem! reader
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𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ your husband’s already given you two children, one more wouldn’t hurt right?
𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ cw: fluff, smut, breeding, praise, petnames, squirting, impregnation, dirty talk
𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ a/n: requested by anon, i loved writing this so much
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Eight years.
You and Gojo had been married for eight years. Having met each other in high school, him being the one to get down on one knee the second you both had finished college. He knew you were the one for him ages ago.
That you were his from the moment he met you.
Some would say that you two were living the dream life, despite how young you both were. Gojo never hiding the fact that he was willing to spoil you day by night.
He loved you more than anything. And he never failed to show that through the many acts of affection. His favorite one being buried deep inside you as he whispered the sweet nothings into your ear.
The sex drive of your marriage was high, that was a fact. It was how you ended up with two children in the first place. Two girls who looked exactly like their dad, not even bothering to try with your genes. They had his complexion, his hair, his overly beautiful eyes. They had everything of his.
When you had your first daughter, most people in your life assumed she was an accident. Assumed that Gojo had simply “forgotten” to pull out.
They didn’t know how noisy you’d gotten that night, holding onto your husband tightly as you begged him to fill you up. Begged him to put a baby in you. You wanted to feel all of him.
Your second child was all him. Him begging to give you another one. To pump you nice and full with one more baby. And who were you to say no? You two were building a family and you loved it.
Four and two.
Those were your daughters’ ages, beautiful girls who looked almost identical to each other, obviously. You liked to call them and Gojo triplets. And it made his heart swell knowing that they were something you had both created. Together. Even though they clearly had a favorite already.
His daughters clung to him every second that he was around them. Refusing to let daddy go as your youngest sat in his lap with an adorable grin. Giggling softly as her big sister tied scrunchies into the soft bed of white hair.
“Mommy look! Daddy’s all pretty now,” she clapped, clearly proud of her work as she pulled lightly at the short ponytails.
You watched Gojo grumble under his breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked up at your standing frame. Cheeks tinted red when you laughed softly. “He is baby, he’s very pretty now. Looks just like you two.” Leaning down to peck both their cheeks with a smile of your own.
You yelped softly as you were pulled down, sat on the other side of your husband’s lap as he smirked. “You know who’s just as perfect as you two? Your mommy.”
Your older daughter hummed, cuddling into your lap with a nod. “You are very pretty mommy. Wanna look like you when i get big.”
You couldn’t find the words. As much as you knew that was impossible, it warmed your heart to the core. Especially when your other daughter nodded in agreement, fitting herself on you beside her sister. “You’re very very pretty mommy.”
“Thanks my babies.” You smiled warmly, an arm wrapped around each of them as Gojo wrapped one around you. “Now, you owe me a little kiss too.” He pouted. You giggled, pressing your lips to his in a short kiss before pulling away.
Neither of you wanting to hear the exaggerated ewww that escaped from your daughters’ mouths when you kissed for even a second too long.
You liked to think that you got lucky to have such sweet children. The kind that makes others actually want a child of their own.
You loved your life. Everyone could see that. But it had been way too long since you and Gojo were able to spend some alone time together.
It wasn’t your idea, it was his. And you couldn’t not give in when you allowed yourself to think about it. A weekend all to yourselves with complete privacy. A chance for you both to relax.
It was Friday, and you rung the doorbell to your dear friend Nanami’s house, a childish grin on Gojo’s face as he waited for the door to swing open.
Nanami raised a brow upon seeing you two, a cup of coffee in his hand as if you’d interrupted his peaceful morning.
“Uncle Kentooo!!” Two high pitched voices rung out. Little legs running to hug the blond man by his own. Nanami’s eyes widened momentarily, steadying the mug in his hand away from the two latching on to him.
A small smile gracing his face when they grinned up at him. “Well hello you two.”
Gojo grabbed the cup from his friend when your daughters started making upsie signals with their hands. Nanami picking them both up on either side of his torso, turning sharply on his heel as he asked them about their week.
“If that isn’t the sweetest thing I don’t know what is.” You giggled, Gojo’s hand on the small of your back as you brought in two pink princess bags. “So.. Kento-”
“We need a favor.” Gojo was quick to cut to the chase, Nanami not bothering to even watch him as he let small hands play in his hair. His emotions far from the bored expression on his face.
“I’ll watch them.”
“Thank you so much Kento. My parents will be coming for them tonight.” You smiled, the man only nodding with a hidden shrug. “You’re just lucky they’re nothing like him.” Pointing his head in the direction of the man sat next to you.
“Hey!” Gojo gasped in faux offense, “I’m awesome thank you very much.”
Nanami only scoffed. And you and Gojo stood up to give your girls a final hug and kiss to their foreheads. “We’ll see you on Sunday okay my darlings? Grandma and grandpa will come for you later yeah? Mommy and Daddy love you so much.”
“Uh huh, bye mommy, bye daddy!” They sung together, something else that they tended to do from time to time.
As you walked out of Nanami’s house, ready to go home and pack a few clothes, your head tilted. Confusion evident on your face when you looked up at Gojo. “Doesn’t he have work today?”
“Yeah but he adores them. He’d skip work everyday if he had to.”
It was true, Nanami was one of your biggest supports. He was always willing to take them off your hands for even an hour. He hated to admit it but he loved them like they were his own. He truly thought of himself as an uncle.
You found it adorable how serious he was until he was sure you left. Allowing himself to give into their tea parties and makeovers. He was one of the people you trusted most.
You knew that your daughters were in good hands for the day, especially since Nobara and Yuji would be there. Their inner children coming out whenever they were around your daughters.
Gojo had taken you to a hot spring resort nearly two hours away. One of the best that he could find.
You were in awe the second you stepped into the place. Never getting used to the amount of money Gojo was willing to spend on you.
The room was huge, and to say it was gorgeous was an understatement. But it paled in comparison to the view. The large steaming pools which were adorned with large marble sloped rocks and tall trees. The whole resort enclosed within mountains which seemed to touch the clouds. The sun setting behind beds of luscious green as the sky glimmered pink and orange.
It was perfect.
Snd the first thing you did after settling in was head into the heated waters. Breathing out contented sigh as you sunk neck down. Allowing the warmth to calm every last one of your nerves. The tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulder slowing subsiding as you leaned your head back onto one of the large rocks.
“This is amazing.” You smiled, blinking your eyes open to look at your husband, who kept complaining that the area he was in was too hot. Not allowing himself to go any further than his legs until you pulled him into a hug.
Letting the water flow in place at your shoulders. Ignoring the over dramatic faces that your husband was making at the “heat”, simply resting your head in his neck as you relaxed in each other’s arms.
The tv blared ever so slightly as you cuddled into Gojo’s side. The coolness of the room unable to beat the warmth that still stuck to your skin. You had just got off a call with the girls. They were at their grandparents’ house. No doubt having way too much dessert before bed. Though they’d most likely get to stay up late watching cartoons.
“You know..” Gojo started, his fingers trailing soft shapes on your skin, “We should have another one.”
You lifted your head off of his chest, “I don’t think they’ll sell us drinks right now love.”
“I’m not talking about drinks.” Your stomach fluttered when Gojo turned you over, his knee in between your thigh as his lips ghosted over your ear. “I’m talking about putting another baby in you.” Allowing it to brush over your clothed clit.
Your lips parted in a whimper when he kissed down your neck. Swiftly pulling off your shirt to kiss at your chest, taking each of your nipples into his mouth while he fondled the other. Your hips bucking up into him when he began grinding his hips slowly into you.
You shivered when his lips touched your belly. Peppering it with small kisses as he hummed against your skin. “Let me make your belly swell.”
You moaned softly, nodding your head eagerly. “P-please.”
“Hmm, gonna give me a third one sweet girl? Gonna make us a pretty family of five?” He husked, kisses getting more aggressive as he trailed back up. His cock twitching at the little whimpers that you failed to contain when you made a noise of agreement.
“Mhm, ‘m gonna give you another one. Wanna give you another one.”
“Yeah?” He breathed, looking for that final bit of confirmation before his lips smashed onto yours. The kiss hard and needy as he worked on removing the rest of your clothes. His fingers dipping down between your folds with a groan. “You’re so soaked f’ me pretty.”
He ran his hand up your slit teasingly, rubbing tiny circles onto your clit making you whine out. “Toruu, no teasing.”
He chuckled, his thick cock prodding at your entrance as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. Your hands instinctively draping around his shoulders so that he was pressed into you. A loud moan sounding through the room as he sank into you.
You let a small mewl escape your lips with every movement of his hips. His thrusts gradually increasing in pace till he was hammering into you. Pulling his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into you.
Bright blue eyes met yours, your breathing getting heavier as your back arched off the bed. Nails digging into the skin of his back as you were rocked back and forth. Your husband’s thick cock stretching you out so deliciously as it repeatedly kissed your sweet spot. The position allowing him so deep inside you that he bulged lightly in your stomach.
“Toru, nngh— so good. Ahh.” You were getting noisy. Your cute babbles mixing with the loud echoes of his skin hitting yours. The mere force of his loving making it twice as loud.
You could only moan shakily as you pulled him even closer. Drool covered lips parting in sweet cries when your nails scratched down his back. “O-oh fuck. Ahhh.”
“Taking me so well. My pretty little wifey, can’t wait to see you carrying my child again. Fuck,” He grunted, squelching noises growing louder as your sticky pussy leaked onto your thighs and his. The whole roomed filled with your lewd sounds of pleasure as you both fell into each other. “Gonna fill you up real good baby. Stuff that messy pussy so full of my cum and watch that belly swell.”
Your legs trembled at his words, your hold on him tightening as the rhythmic slapping clouded your brain. Your vision blurring with tears as your stomach tightened. Every nerve along your walls being set on fire as you were fucked like you’d disappear in any moment.
Gojo’s sinking to elbows at the sides of your head for you to cry into his broad chest when you felt yourself nearing your high. “Toruu— so good Toruu, so g-good.”
“Hmm you’re close f’me,” he groaned, your pussy holding him snug as your body shook. “Shit, gonna make you a mama of three. Gonna give it to ya so deep— f-fuckk. Look at me when you cum.” He whispered lowly, your glassy eyes peeling open to blink up at him dumbly.
“Nngh— ‘m, a-ahhh, Toru ‘m so c-close.” You couldn’t think. Your brain unable to process anything but him and the way his cock was fucking into you so good. Your thoughts blanking out as you were engulfed by an indescribable pleasure. Mouth opened in a final cry as you fell off the edge.
“That’s it. Cum f’ me baby. Make a fucking mess on my cock. There you go— just like that.” His thrusts never slowed as a high pitched scream bubbled in your throat. Your body trembling uncontrollably beneath him as you let go. Sopping pussy gushing all over him just the way he liked it. His thrusts never losing their pace as you squirted with a continuous string of moans.
Your husband’s thrusts got sloppy. Head falling into the crook of your neck as he unknowingly slowed down. His thrusts hard and deep as he moaned into your delicate skin. Finding it adorable how your little mewls began to match his pace.
“Love this pussy so fucking much. Could pump her full of my cum every fucking day. Shit— here it comes baby.” His slow thrusts synced with his words, lips capturing yours hungrily as he buried himself deep inside you. Tip sat at your cervix’s entrance when his cock twitched. Spurts after spurts of the the thick substance flooding your insides with heat.
Gojo pulled away from you, a small string of saliva connecting your lips to each other’s. You stayed clung to him like a koala to a tree. Tiredly smiling up at him when he pecked your nose. “If we keep having children every two years we’ll end up with fifty grandkids.”
He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “So, what are we gonna name her?”
“Her?”
“We only have girls so far baby, i don’t think it’s in my blood to have a boy.” He joked, both of you laughing as you thought of any possible truth of his words.
“I wouldn’t mind a boy,” You sighed softly, using your finger to brush away the loose strands of hair that fell over his eyes. “I think he’d look just like you.”
Gojo’s hand rested on your belly, using his thumb to rub over it softly. “I’d love either, only cause i’d know that i made them with you.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you so much.”
“ And I love you more than you could ever imagine sweet girl.”
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thesacrificialdove · 12 days ago
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𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 1.6k words rich yandere x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms
tags sugar daddy, rich yandere, low-key obsessive behaviour, first meetings, college student reader, age gap, brief mention of a rapist (no description or anything more)
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—📜" Being a broke college student, you decide to try your hand at getting a sugar daddy. You find someone who is... quite eager to know everything about you. It's weird because he doesn't seem to be the same person he was online.
They say to spend your youth on nightclubs and partying with friends. But really, they don’t know the true beauty of being in a jazz club and drinking all by yourself. There’s no ill intentions, there’s no partying until the sun goes down—just some nice music and good drinks.
People find it odd, sure. But nothing can beat this feeling for you. As you lay in a couch that’s worth double your college tuition, you drink champagne that's triple your college tuition. 
How you ended up here is another embarrassing story. Hunting for a sugar daddy online is a clear plan for destruction. It could end well with a decent allowance every now and then, of course. Yet, fear gets the most of you. The thought that you end up with a fat well and alive man who asks for sex with his small dick looms over you like a gloomy cloud. That fear is there because your sugar daddy is anonymous.
Sighing, you drink another sip of the champagne as you fix your posture. Again. The seat in front of you is still empty. You’d think he wasn’t really being honest with you but he did have a reservation ready for the both of you.
It’s not bad to wait. Even if you do look dumb getting stood up, at least you’re enjoying yourself.
“You lonely there?” someone asks behind you.
Turning your head behind you, you see a towering man with a smile so bright you think you could be blinded by it. He looks elegant—the way he’s holding a glass like a connoisseur and his long black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. Fuck, is he your sugar daddy? He looks the age for it and honestly, he aged really good.
You tell him, “Maybe. Are you lonely?”
He chuckles and takes the seat opposite. Finally. “No,” he says, “not anymore, at least. All thanks to…?” he gestures to you.
When you tell him his name, he parrots it like he’s tasting it. “Beautiful. Your mother picked it out?”
“I’m sure so,” you don’t know, who the hell would know that? “It’s a generational name, really. In our family we keep reusing names.”
“So are you the second? The third?”
The third was your great grandfather but he ended up being a rapist. Eugh. “The fourth,” you answer. “But I never tell anyone that, actually. Bit embarrassing if they call me the fourth, so.”
He laughs, somehow finding you amusing. “Nicolas,” he says, “very nice to meet you.”
Was… his name Nicolas? You’re not so sure about that. From the site he only revealed his last name so that you could get the reservation. Huh.
“Nice to meet you, Nicolas.” The little twitch in his lips is unavoidable to your eyes, “You look very nice tonight,” maybe that’s why he took almost an hour to arrive here. “Do you live near here or?”
“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “I come from Bolzano. But I came here from Portofino, where my heart currently is.”
You nod like you know where those places really are. Italy, you assume. “Very nice. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”
“Beatiful even more with company,” he puts his drink down. “How about you? What makes you come here?”
You, actually. You wanted to go here. “I was raised by my grandfather and jazz was his favourite. Every corner of the house Hank Mobley would be playing. I have his old records that he passed down to me and whenever I play it, I can see the way he dances.”
“So, come down here for a little trip to memory lane?”
Before you could answer, you think about it even more. The man you were talking was definitely not Italian, right? No, his name sounded British, at most. And Nicolas sounds like he has little to no knowledge about the fact that you two are supposedly on a date.
Fuck, did you get him wrong? I mean, he is interested, you think.
“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum. You put your glass down too, clasping your hands. “I think I do need to go now. It was nice to have your company—”
“Going so soon? A bit rude especially if you came here to be mine for a price, no?”
You pause. Though you’re ready to leave this embarrassing meeting, you’re caught. You turn to him in confusion. So you were… wrong? Right? 
“Sit back down, this champagne is a bit too new to me.” He raises a hand and someone immediately finds their footing beside him. Nicolas speaks in his own tongue, requesting something you don’t understand.
You’re promptly back on your seat with a small wave of his hand. “Come on, I think we have a lot to learn about each other. But I know you.”
Did he send in a private investigator or what? Fuck, man. You didn’t think that those things were real in real life. “How much do you know?”
He doesn’t answer. His legs are crossed as he watches the busboy leave to prepare your drinks. “How are your classes?” he asks, making idle conversation of things you’re a bit worried to talk to him about. “Hope you’re dealing well.”
“Yeah,” you say, unsure of this now. “It’s all fine, yes. Just a few projects and classes.” You wonder for a moment how rude it would be to ask for a price on your body right now. “Nothing interesting, really.”
“I’m sure anything you say is of interest,” he says, all too fond of you. “Tell me, love, you mentioned having difficulties with some of your professors.”
He wasn’t interested in all that before when you were talking. “It’s fine. Well, not like I can say no. It’s a bit hard when you’re paying for an education and you’re not being taught,” you laugh, “Self-taught learning, he excuses.”
“That’s simply lazy,” he excuses. “Fine arts is such a nice career path. No reason to be dismissive of students who want to learn it.”
Did you tell him what you’re studying?
The busboy returns and brings a drink to the both of you. The song changes and it sounds familiar. You could almost see your grandfather dance behind Nicolas.
“I’m going to guess that’s your doing,” you say, “Thank you. It sounds lovely.”
He smiles, “I’m not one for jazz myself.” He reaches for his glass and swirls in, taking a whiff of its scent afterward. “But I’m curious as to who you are. How you grew up is one of those things”
When the both of you talked online, you expected him to be more lustful than this. Maybe it’s the repeating innuendo in his messages. All of that persona is gone now as if it never existed. It’s concerning.
Both of you make small conversation. Mostly it’s about you. He asks every little detail about you, asking for things that not even your friends would care about. It’s the little things.
‘Do you like soft cotton or silk?’ You don’t really know the difference but cotton is nice.
‘How often do you see your family?’ Every or so month, you’d wager. But you make sure to keep in contact.
‘What’s your thoughts on caged animals?’ A bit cruel, but you can see where it can stem from. Still, it’s cruel. You’d never do it.
The night come to a close when you start to feel a bit light-headed with the drinks you’ve ingested. Nicolas puts aside your glass as he stands to go on your side of the table. “Maybe it’s time to take a break tonight, love?”
You groan. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine now. I’m really thankful for tonight.”
“I’m glad,” he says, pulling you up and helping you walk. You don’t need it but it’s nice anyways. “I can take you back to your dorm, yes? You don’t need to worry about anything else when you’re with me.”
In your pocket, your phone buzzes. You don’t get to check it when Nicolas wraps both of his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the exit and you swear you hear ‘Signore Giordano’ come out when the men bid him goodnight.
Which is weird, because his surname is Abbot.
The ride was a blur, literally. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. The next thing you know is that both of you are in front of your dorm. It’s too dark outside. The streets are dead silent. The low rumble of his car is the only thing you can really hear.
He calls your name. “It’s time to go home. You can’t stay with me yet, love.”
You stretch in the seat. A car seat has never been more comfortable. “Been nice, really. Thank you.”
As you unbuckle your seat, he leans forward. His arm drapes over your shoulders as his hand comes to your face. “Then can I get a little reward? Just a little?” He turns his cheek, a grin on his face.
It’s stupid but oh well, he would pay you. You press a kiss on his cheek and he looks like the happiest man alive. He laughs, looking at you with stupid heart eyes. “Thank you. Call me with this number—” he places a card in your hands—”and delete that damn app. I’ll come find you after your classes tomorrow for your contract. You don’t need to find anyone else now.”
He leaves shortly after you get inside your dorm. You hear the revving of his car go in the quiet night. It’s relieving. You’re tired on your feet, unable to really process what happened tonight.
It’s whatever. It’s all done now.
You delete the app on your phone, swiping away a message you got from it. You’re pretty sure it’s from another match you had last time but again, you don’t need it anymore.
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do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ L0tus_Ren_ & @ Ivan Belikov
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homunculus-argument · 10 months ago
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You know how there's people you only ever saw once, but still remember years later? This one time like ten years ago, I was travelling by train and sitting opposite of me was some dude with one single streak of silvery white hair on his forehead. He could not have been over 25, and it wasn't just a few grey hairs but a distinct white forelock, something that I had not even known can actually happen in real life. And it was not bleached, it was definitely real natural hair. I've been dying my hair since I was 12 and mine has been everything from black to white and red to green, I can tell when nordic hair is dyed vs natural.
And he didn't look like the type to dye his hair. He was the type that would wear a fedora with cargo pants, socks with sandals type of guy that you wouldn't be surprised to hear owns a katana. Long hair on a ponytail, but with that distinct white streak running through it. I did my best not to stare while I thought, how fucking cool is that? This one specific type of a guy who would know how cool it is to have a trait that only happens to characters in fantasy books just naturally has that, and keeps his hair long to show it off.
I was still living with my family at the time, and once I got home I told them about this guy I saw on the train. Like yeah I had been to university entrance exams and that didn't go well, but I wanted to tell them about the cool anime hair of this guy I saw on the train. And my family's first question was: Are you sure? No way that would actually happen, specifically not with some guy like that, he would have dyed it just to look cool. Eventually I got tired of childishly insisting that I Know What I Saw, and just gave up and let them convince me that maybe it wasn't real after all.
Until years later, I discovered that it is a real thing that happens to people! It's called poliosis and the there's plenty of pictures of people online who have it, whose hair look just like that. I was right all along. And I don't know if he'll ever hear it, but if the dude with the Main Character Hair, who was reading a fantasy book the size of a brick travelling by train in sothern Finland somewhere in the early 2010s, I hope you still know that your hair is cool as fuck.
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pennjammin · 2 months ago
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wanna see what your insides look like.ᐟ
JJKHALLOWEEN! chosoxreader
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to sum it up. you got tickets to a live Scream experience, where you’ll be chased by the infamous Ghostface through a dark wood. but the idea of being alone with the character arouses you more than it scares you. lucky for you, though, Ghostface is totally on board.
CONTENT (MDNI): friends to lovers, smut, switch!choso, afab!reader, prop knife, fake blood, masochism kindaaa, overstim, 86’d the sorcery (modern au), breeding, exhibitionism
word count. 7k
soundtrack 💿: RUNRUNRUN - dutch melrose
divider @saradika
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“Please come, Cho. I need you to come.”
An exasperated breath comes from the other end of the phone. You’re sure your best friend is shaking his head, trying to come up with a way to let you down gently, because he’s incapable of being mean.
“I wanna,” he says honestly. “I know that Scream is our thing… but I’ve gotta take this shift for the extra money. I promise to make it up to you, kay? How about a movie night when I get off?”
You huff. You know this is reasonable collateral, but your heart still aches because you’ll be missing out on the Scream experience with your best friend in the entire world; the only person who truly understands the place the movie series holds in your heart.
“A movie night with face masks,” you correct him.
He grins from the other line. “Deal. Have fun tonight. Tell Satoru to not be a little bitch.”
You grin back. “Level: impossible. But will do. Love you, Cho.”
He pauses for a minute before replying. “I love you too. Later.”
The phone hangs up and you are unable to shake the pressure in your chest. You really shouldn’t be this sad; you’ll be with the rest of your friends. But they aren’t Cho.
You sigh and begin to get dressed; a blood-red low cut tank top, black plaited skirt, ‘nets, and thick running boots. Red lipstick tied everything together, as well as your hair in two ponytails with ribbons.
Hours pass and soon, night falls. Your friends arrive to collect you, and you all make it to the sight of the attraction in no time, both fear and excitement bubbling within you.
You ride down a long, long driveway, nothing but trees surrounding the acre of attractions, stalls and decorations. At the end, there is a large arch with an inflatable ghostface, connected to a giant curtain that serves as an entrance to the woods where the experience takes place.
According to reviews, there are multiple ghostface actors, increasing difficulty for everyone else - but it increases the thrill for you. If you make it to the exit without getting caught, you get your money back and a Ghostface collectible. So as far as you’re concerned, you have no choice but to make it though.
“Quick, shoot it back!"
You gasp as your friend is shoving a tiny liquor bottle into your palm, before reaching into her purse to pass one out to every member of your group. You’re in line now, almost halfway to the start.
Your friend’s insignificant other, Toji, grins wickedly as he takes back three or four of them. You're still nervously holding onto just the one, feeling your mouth water as you imagine the nasty liquor sliding down your throat.
"Ah, look at 'er," Toji clowns, gripping your friend by the waist. "If she's afraid to take a simple shot, she ain't gonna last in there."
"Piss off, Fushiguro," Geto - another member of your group - grits. "Not all of us are hopeless alcoholics like you are."
"And 'm not afraid," you butt in, glaring at Toji. "A bitch can't hesitate?"
“Just drink it, girl,” Toji replies, his tone bored.
You roll your eyes at him before you turn away from the group and quickly take the shot, knowing you're going to need it inside. Because, no thanks to Choso, you’re going to be all alone. Geto is paired with your other friend, Satoru, and your girlfriend has Toji. Geto had offered to ditch Satoru for you, but you like the idea of being by yourself.
So, in short, you'll need a lot of liquid courage to make it through, even though Ghostface is your favorite Halloween character - and you can hardly contain your excitement.
"Alright!" Toji and your friend clap after you turn back around with a grimace.
The line moves forward. Your group is going to start being escorted inside, pair by pair, and you’ll be the last of everyone to enter. You snatch another shot from your friend and take it back, the sinking feeling in your stomach setting in, knowing how close you are to a dream come true.
But what outweighs your fear is your fantasy. Ghostface is hardly scary as he turns you on, like a pervert in heat. You had never built up the courage to ask your exes to wear the mask in bed or anything, but the fact that it had even crossed your mind makes you feel like some kind of freak.
"Step right up, step right up!" A voice booms from the man leading people in through the curtain, pulling you away from your thoughts.
He holds up an imaginary microphone to Toji and your friend.
"What's your favorite scary movie?" he asks with a grin.
Their answers conveniently match, which is cute, but not the answer the man was looking for; his face drops.
Then, the man pulls back the curtain to allow them to step through. Now you are alone with Geto and Satoru.
"You better have your arms ready," Satoru says with a nudge to Geto. "The minute anything pops out at me, I’m jumping on you.”
Geto huffs, "Absolutely not. We're not paying fifty bucks a pop for you to cower the whole time." He pauses to glance at you. "Besides, Y/N is literally going in by herself."
"Yeah, 'cause she'd rather die of fright than partner with you," Satoru teases, and Geto simply rolls his eyes.
You are zoning out of their conversation slowly, your heart thumping rapidly in your ears as time draws nearer for you to go inside.
The same routine happens with Satoru and Geto several minutes later; the bouncer asks them for their favorite scary movie before shoving them inside.
You shift your weight nervously, all alone now, your fingers fiddling with the trim of your skirt.
A few minutes pass by, shrieks coming from the other side, making you giggle at just how squeaky Satoru had gotten. Then, after another eternity, the bouncer turns to you.
"What's your favorite scary movie?" he questions, red eye contacts sliding down your body.
"Uh, I don't know," you reply with an innocent shrug.
"Oh come on, you have to have a favorite,” he grins, his face lighting up because someone finally catches his reference. “What comes to mind?"
"Um, Halloween, you know the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters," you continue, unable to help smiling back at him.
He nods approvingly and pulls back the curtain, flashing lights on the other side greeting you. You swallow nervously as fog rolls over the floor, a red light at the end of a long walkway.
You carefully walk down, your buzz weighing down on you, but unfortunately not enough to get rid of your fear entirely. You look at the edge of every wall, waiting for something to jump out at you, but it never does.
Nothing happens except for cool air blowing in your face as you walk, hugging your arms, gooseflesh rising on the back of your neck. You begin to feel that this isn’t so bad, but right as you think you've made it out safely, you hear a footstep.
You turn in a flash, but there's nothing there. You know you heard it though.
You shake it off and turn back around, only to see him - standing all but a grave's length away from you.
You jump and shriek a bit as he just stands there, menacingly, in all his Ghostface glory.
You gulp thickly, alcohol lingering in your saliva. You try to come up with a fast plan; you couldn’t go down this easily.
You take a step to the side. He mirrors your actions.
You bring your hands up in defense now, feeling your stomach sink at the thought of what he could possibly do next. He cocks his masked head at an angle, slowly holding up his knife...
As he does this, you bolt right past him. He stands there for a second, possibly stunned, before you hear the crunching of him sprinting after you.
He's hot on your heels. You've exited the safe cushion of the hallway and are now in the middle of darkness, only trees and tall labyrinth-like bushes surrounding you. It’s scary, but it’s exactly what you came for. You’re living an absolute dream.
You dare to glance over your shoulder as your chest becomes tight, your oxygen feeling as though it's being choked out of you.
He's not there.
Your body shakes in fear. It's so exhilarating. You smile sadistically to yourself, deciding to give yourself a break from running.
You run around a tall bush and squat down. You glance from side to side and listen for his footsteps. They're nearby, but there’s lots of bushes around. No way will he be able to pick the exact one you’re squatting behind.
You smirk and stay where you are, on your hands and knees. His footsteps get closer, and you hold your breath.
You can see him now through the branches in the bush, his shoulders bucked as he is equally on guard as you are. He stops to look around, listening for you.
You lose your balance and take a step back, crack!
His head whips in your direction, the permanent scream etched into the mask giving your cunt its own pulse.
You let out a deep breath and back up, still crouching, as he starts to come around the bush.
You make a run for it.
Trees seem to taunt you as you zigzag through the darkness, your boots crunching twigs and dead leaves.
You realize too late that you are lost.
You can’t keep running. Your breath is slowly disappearing.
You think you may have a moment of sanctuary, so you find a bush, a tall bush that has no visibility - but that also fortunately means you cannot see if he’s near.
You squat low to the ground and pant as quietly as you can. You’re enjoying yourself, but unfortunately without a partner, you have no way to discuss strategy. You don’t know what to do next.
But that’s when you hear it.
Crunch!
Someone is nearby, but you can’t see how nearby.
You figure you may have time to run again; the issue is that you still can hardly breathe.
But, another part of you writhes in the idea of being caught. You know realistically, though, that they aren’t allowed to touch you, but God do you wish for the opposite.
You swallow down the burn in your throat from running. You need to move.
You turn your back for a split second to look for a new hiding spot - your eyes land on a gap in foliage nearby. You turn back to stand straight, but to your horror a new Ghostface is there, standing tall over you; bare, toned abs covered in blood glistening under the moonlight. You feel your breath hitch and you yelp again.
"Surprise, Sidney," he beams, his voice a little raspy and - dare you say, familiar.
You swallow again before ripping an exaggerate shriek, scrambling to stand up, backing away as you do so, before thump! your spine hits the bark of a tree you swore wasn’t there a second ago. You’re trapped between bushes and trees.
Your chest heaves as you try to back up farther against the tree, but to no avail, and the half-naked Ghostface creeps closer. His hand with the fake knife is raising slowly, which you know is for dramatic effect. But on account that you know he can’t really stab you, you wonder what his plan is once he reaches you.
You whine, shaking your head with a quivering lip, wondering if you can fight, or run. But instead you become distracted as you take another look at him.
God, his stomach is carved into perfect shapes of abdominal muscle. You're so enticed by such art that you don't even notice him putting a hand right behind your head.
Your lips part in surprise once you register the closeness, and your back arches against the tree, as if that would move you farther away from him.
He takes his knife and presses the tip to your chin - using force to point your face towards him, and you make eye contact with the two soulless pits he has for eyes.
"What do you suppose I ought to do with you now, hmm?" he questions lowly, tilting his head to the side.
You swallow thickly, hands scrambling behind you against the bark of the tree. The next group should be arriving soon - right? You wonder how long you will be alone with him. You don't think you'll make it if he keeps you pinned to the tree like this.
"Let me go," you suggest, voice hoarse from fright, and lust.
"Well sheesh, Y/N, that's lame," the voice suddenly raises a few octaves and is much more playful than before. "I mean - goddamnit."
"You-” you cut yourself on in astonishment. “How do you…?”
"I fucking ruined it," he growls. "I'm so stupid."
Suddenly, he's breaking away from you, his knife falling from your face. You watch in actual horror as he uses his free hand to lift up his mask - revealing the angelic face of your best friend. Choso.
"Cho, what the fuck?" you gasp, your fright immediately dissolving into... embarrassment, but masking it in the form of annoyance. "You dick, what are you doing here?"
"I told you that I had to work," he says meekly, "I thought it would be fun to play Ghostface, but I mostly thought you’d enjoy it.”
You feel a little bad after that, he’s entirely too sweet. But you can't help but wonder what he’s implying.
"I... do enjoy seeing you as Ghostface," you admit, but you're embarrassed because you know he saw you ogling the fuck out of his abs. "But... you went through all this trouble for me?"
"Mhmm," Choso nods proudly, his hair falling boyishly over his forehead. "What, you don't like it?"
"No, I-I..." you taper off, unsure of what you want to say next. "It’s just, why are you shirtless? You did that for me too?”
As his face heats, his cheeks turn apple red. “Maybe.”
Oh, he’s terrible. This new knowledge does not help the tingling at the meeting of your thighs.
His embarrassed face changes to a grin after seeing the expression on your face, and he takes a step closer to you again. "So, you forgive me for bailing on you then, yeah?”
“Mm, not quite,” you frown. “You think you can just flash your sexy pecs and toned stomach at me and I’ll forget that you left me here all alone?”
You see each word hit Choso, but you try to look past it, as you’re only speaking to him like this to rile him up. Because now, your nerves are on fire, lust filling up your body. He’s so close, why is he standing so close? You can smell him; a heavenly mix of wood, musk, and corn syrup.
He smelled like your Choso, who’s body fit perfectly against yours when you cuddled, who’s silky hair slid through your fingers when you played with it, who’s laugh is extremely contagious. You try not to make it obvious that you’re inhaling deeply, breathing him in for what felt like the first time.
Damned the alcohol, you think to yourself. Making you look at your friend with such feelings you’ve been swallowing for months. But you just can’t help it…
“You think my pecs are sexy?” Choso asks, but he’s not grinning. He looks genuinely shocked.
You don’t reply and instead smile at his innocence. “And not to mention, did you not even see how scared I was?”
“I did, but,” Choso admits, “I… I’m probably some kind of sick freak, because-“
“Because you liked it?” you finish for him, and his moon-colored face somehow grows whiter.
He nods carefully.
“I feel the same way,” you reply, taking a shaking hand and planting it right over his heart. You feel the pec flex as he responds to your touch. “Why haven’t you dressed up f’me before?”
Choso’s Adam’s Apple bobs harshly in his throat. “I…I thought you’d be weirded out.”
“No,” you said softly, “it’s amazing, Choso. That you enjoy my interests enough to go out of your way like this.”
“Well, of course,” he scoffs, shaking his hair from his eyes. “I would do anything to make you happy.”
“Like what?” you coo, tilting your head to the side, sliding your hand across his chest to grip his thick arm.
“Y/N,” Choso breathes, his eyes fluttering shut. “You h-have to stop touching me like that.”
“Not till you answer my question,” you say.
“Whatever you want,” he whispers, leaning towards you more, as if he wants to put his head on your shoulder. “I am a man of little words. I don’t know what it is that women like.”
“Well, I promise I’m not that complicated,” you reply, sliding your hand up the side of his neck to rest on his jaw. He nuzzles his cheek into your touch.
“No, but you might not want what it is that I really want to do to you,” Choso spits out suddenly, his words coming fast and nervously.
“To me?” you ask, astonished.
He grunts and shifts his weight uncomfortably. “For you. I-I meant for you.”
“No, you didn’t,” you tug your bottom lip with your top teeth - his words traveling straight to your cunt. You couldn’t take much more of this. “How do you know I don’t want it unless you try?”
“Because,” Choso grits suddenly, jerking his head away from your face. “All the guys say you’d never go for someone like me. They say I wouldn’t know what to do with you.” He pauses to sigh. “They may be right but, nonetheless, I wanna see you scream and run like you did a second ago. It just got me so…”
He grunts uncomfortably, and you try to pretend you don’t notice the freakishly long bulge in his costume pants.
“You know everything about me,” you frown, dropping your hand. “You shouldn’t have listened to them.”
“Well, we are just friends,” he replies nervously. “Didn’t want to do anything you don’t want.”
You scoff, “What could you possibly wanna do? You know my limits.”
Choso bites his lip. “But I want to… to push the limits really hard. Especially since,” he pauses and glances around. “We are alone.”
“Push them, then,” you say, and you swear Choso’s eyes are going to pop free from their sockets. “Let’s say I run and hide again. If you can find me…” you pause to smile. “All limits are off.”
You blink up at him innocently, wanting to run your hand over his bulge just as a tease - but you refrain. You had plenty of tricks ready for him.
Choso’s eyes flash and he looks down at the ground for a second. When his head lifts again, desire has overcome his pupils, and he’s smirking.
“Better run then, Sidney. I will not be merciful.”
You take a deep breath before peeling yourself off of the tree and beginning a sprint. Your stomach is knotted with excitement. You have no idea what’s going to happen, but you can’t believe Choso’s down for… whatever it is.
You must have been dreaming. This would change things between you and Choso forever, but maybe that was for the better. Maybe the two of you needed to do this to break the friendzone, even if it was in the form of some kind of sick game of chase in the middle of a forest.
You run and run. You run until you can’t even see the actual attraction anymore; where there had previously been signs to let you know you were still in the bounds of the game, there’s none now.
You may very well be lost but you’re also away from possibly being seen by anyone. Totally not intentional.
You smirk as you find a new spot, and plant yourself there. You should have a few minutes before Choso catches up.
You take your phone out of your pocket. Barely any signal, but enough to see that the group chat is on fire.
Toji
There’s absolutely no reason I should hear Gojo screaming like a bitch from out here 😂
Satoru
ok, im hiding rn, and there’s people everywhere.
besides suguru left me ☹️
Geto
Yes because you were compromising my hiding place with your fuck ass breathing. 👍🏼
Y/F/N
Well, Suguru just made it, so now where are you?
And Y/N?
Satoru
there’s literally nothing but trees ????
but i think i see the lights at the exit
Toji
mentioned you in the chat: You got ma girl here worrying bout you , are u alive???
Satoru
Y/N wya so you can help me out of here 😭🙏🏼
You
im trying to stay off my phone, take notes
Satoru
nah hell nah. i need my phone out in case i need to call 911.
Toji
The cops can’t do shit for u 😭
Y/F/N
mentioned you in the chat: Are you lost?
Choso
Guys did you leave her alone?! Wtf
Nanami
Yeah, you guys are sick.
Satoru
im not hearing shit from the two mfs who decided not to come.
Geto
I offered to go with her -.-
You
i can see the exit guys. im fine you lie.
Satoru
i can see the exit too. i don’t see u. sure ur in the right place?
Geto
I can see your hair, Satoru.
Satoru
FUCK HE FOUND ME
Geto
As could anyone with eyes -.-
Y/F/N
Satoru just came out screaming so loud he woke up a baby. Now they’re crying together 😭
Choso
Guys focus. What did you do to Y/N
You
im fine cho <3
Satoru
AWWWW
Toji
Brotha eughhhh
Y/F/N
Okay, we’re going to play some of the games. Call us when you make it to the exit or if we haven’t heard from you, we’re coming in bitch!
Nanami
Good. At least you all have a plan.
Your phone continues to buzz, but you don’t reply. You sigh, silently thanking Choso for playing along with you in the chat.
“Seems like your friends are looking for you,” a voice suddenly breathes, muffled from the mask.
Your breath hitches as you lock your phone and it falls to the forest floor.
“You found me so fast,” you say with a gulp, turning to face him.
“Didn’t wanna waste precious time,” he says with a chuckle. “Now, what’s that you said? All limits are off? I can do whatever I want?”
You smirk as you turn to face him. “Does widdle Cho even know what he wants?” you mock.
You can’t see his face under the mask, but his body responds to you: his shoulders tense and his head leans forward.
“You,” he says quietly. “On my cock.”
You bite your lip, “Oh? How?”
He grunts and steps forward, before taking your throat between his fingers. His squeeze is soft, not enough to take your breath but enough to force your head still.
“Need your pretty lips on it,” he replies. “Wanna smear your lipstick. Always love when you get dolled up, but too bad y’gonna look a mess when I’m finished.”
You whine a bit in response and hold his wrist, looking directly at the eyes of the mask. “Where’s this side been hiding?”
“Told you already,” he grunts, “didn’t wanna scare you off with the twisted things I think about doing to you.”
You groan at the way his words are flooding straight to your panties. You thank your past self for wearing a skirt, it’s going to be so ridiculously easy to slide out of it.
“You think some head is twisted?” you grin. “Maybe they were right when they said you couldn’t handle me.”
This earns you a deep growl as he uses his grip on your throat to force you to slide down, until your knees hit the hard earth. You hiss in pain but ultimately don’t care, as he releases your throat and uses his knife to tip your face up towards him.
At this angle, he’s delicious. Solid stomach stares at you from just inches away and the mask on his shoulders makes your thighs quench with desire.
“I mean face fucking you until you’re gasping for air,” he grits, “‘Choso, no’ you’d say, but I can’t understand you with a mouth full of dick, hmm?”
You blink up at him, too stunned to reply. Your lips part in expectancy, and your hands shoot out to lay flat against the top of Choso’s thighs.
He’s doing such a fantastic job of catering to your disgusting fantasy that you can’t help but slither your hands up to the top of his waistband before he can say another word. You want to please him so bad, wanna be good for your Choso.
He stands and watches, still as air. His chest rises and falls as he breathes, the mask still staring down at you, but it makes things hotter knowing that on the other side of the mask is Choso’s stare.
Your fingers tuck into the waistband of the black pants.
Choso lets out a small noise. “I-I’m supposed to be the one in control, not fair.”
You grin but do not halt your movements. Your fingers begin tugging, tugging, tugging down the pants - along with his boxers.
You watch as his length slowly gets revealed until it inevitably pops out - slapping against his stomach before hanging erect in alignment with your face.
You take in a deep breath, and Choso appears to be holding his own. You examine his cock, just to make him nervous. He’s got a very thin amount of hair that leads from the trail on his stomach, the length itself being veiny and darker than him; skinny at the base, but fat and terrifying at the pink tip.
“I knew it’d would be this pretty,” you hum, “pretty cock on a pretty boy.”
Choso’s hips shift as he knocks himself forward so that the tip grazes your chin, leaving a faint residue of his sticky precum. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head.
“Th-Thank you,” he whimpers, “need your throat.”
He leans down to take one of your pigtails into each hand. He is not gentle now, his grip being harsh enough to make you yelp; when you do, he stuffs his dick right between your red lips.
Your eyes flutter closed immediately at the feeling of a full mouth. You carefully wrap your lips around him as he slowly shoves his hips forward until he’s barely halfway in, and his tip kisses the back of your throat.
You stick your tongue out so that it can glide against the sensitive underside of his cock. He notices and his head tilts back.
“S-So warm,” he moans out, sitting stagnant for a minute, before looking down at you.
You hum a bit, knowing the vibrations feel good against his tip, and he thanks you by sliding his cock back out of your mouth and ramming it back in.
You gag and your mouth gets watery, drool leaking out of the corners and covering every inch of him that you are able to take. His thrusts start getting faster, smearing your lipstick all along the length of him, his grip on your hair never loosening.
His little moans are so delicious; soft whines as he uses your face for his pleasure.
“Doin’ s-so much better than I imagined,” he mutters out, and though you love looking up and seeing the mask, you desperately want to see his innocent face twisted up as he experiences this ungodly amount of pleasure.
“Mmh-” you moan around him.
You’re still in awe that this is happening. You’d had plenty of opportunities to do things like this with him, but you’d never been sure he would go for it. You guess you can’t blame him for feeling the same way, because how were either one of you going to ask for a face fuck?
All that doesn’t matter anymore because everything in this moment is perfect, including him. Your Choso.
You take your hand and wrap it around the base at the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth. You take him out of your mouth to plop a pool of spit there and slide your hand up and down for a minute, giving your jaw a break.
“Take off the mask for a second,” you say to him, now that you can speak.
He obeys immediately. The mask is gone, hanging from the hand that doesn’t have a fist full of your hair.
Your lips part at seeing his perfect face, fucked out, twisted in astonishment.
“Back in,” he demands softly, tugging your pigtail.
You blink as you obey and slide your mouth back over his length. You keep your face angled upwards to look at him, and he’s staring down at you like you’re both the most amazing thing he’s ever seen and the best thing he’s ever felt.
You lather up your saliva as you continue trying to go down as far as you can, taking his cock down your throat, which unlocks a new noise from Choso that gets your cunt pounding harder.
You twist your hand over the base and hollow your mouth out to squeeze your cheeks around his sensitive skin. By now your face is covered in drool, spit bubbles all around his tip, saliva dripping onto the earth below you.
Choso loses it and leans forward, releasing your hair and dropping his mask, placing his hands on the trunk of the tree. Now his hips are thrusting, hard - the bottom of his stomach kissing the tip of your nose as he fucks your face.
“Hah - oh,” he whines as he uses your mouth. “Th-Think ‘mgonna cum already.” He sounds sad, and you smile on his dick.
You don’t say anything back but you grumble deep in your throat again, knowing it’s going to drive him insane.
But he quickly pulls his cock back out of your mouth with a deep breath as if his head had been underwater.
“No,” he shakes his head. “Not till I get to make you feel good, too.”
“I did feel good,” you say hoarsely, wiping saliva and lipstick from your face. “Liked pleasing you.”
Choso groans and shakes his head, his chest heaving rapidly. “Stand up for me,” he says gently.
You miss rough Choso already.
You obey though, standing back tall, almost eye level to him in your thick boots.
He doesn’t waste any time; in a flash he’s latched himself onto you, hands pressing into your thighs and he slides them up slowly towards your hips. He tilts his head to the side as you find your back hitting the tree - again, this time, circumstances much different.
“Can’t believe my pretty best friend wants me to fuck her,” he speaks, voice sultry with lust. “Sounds too good to be true.” He leans forward again and lets his nose brush yours, and you shiver with a deep sigh.
“I want you so much,” you say pathetically, bringing your arms over his shoulders and digging your fingertips into the hair behind his head.
His brows furrow in pleasure and you keep speaking.
“In different ways,” you say, “not just to fuck me. But right now… that’s all I want. Please, I need it. Need you.”
“Such a good girl when you beg,” Choso’s voice is soft, but firm, “you never have to beg with me, but I love hearing it. Keep going.”
“Please.”
“Yes?”
“Please, Choso.”
“Choso what?”
“Mmh - god, I hate you.”
“Love you most.”
You go to fire back, but he shuts you up with a harsh crash of his mouth against yours. His warm, wet lips mold right into yours, sliding effortlessly together. Your hands shoot out to his shoulders and he keeps his hands on your hips, gripping them like you’re going to disappear if he doesn’t maintain his hold on you.
Your name leaves his lips in soft little pants as he tilts his head to the side, forcing your lips apart with his tongue before he slides the wet muscle inside so deep that you can feel it on the back of your throat.
You suck on his tongue and he grunts thanks into your mouth. Your hands are running wildly over each other, as if you could crawl inside one another’s skin, two souls joining as one.
He breaks away and gasps, and you grab him by his hair and force his head to an angle. He allows you to then leave sloppy, red kisses all over his neck. His eyes flutter closed as you pleasure him, knowing your innocent baby must feel so good.
You pull back and blink at the mess on his neck.
“Cho, it left stains, I…”
“Don’t care,” he hisses, “brand me all you want. Want everyone to know, that in some way, you own me.”
His big hands whip you around suddenly, like you’re nothing but a ragdoll; now your cheek is planted against the tree and your hands are digging into the bark for stability.
Choso rips up your skirt, and presses his bare, wet cock right to your backside.
“Always fuck my pillow while I moan for you, y’know,” he grunts, reaching his arm around the front of your waist, tugging the thin material that are your panties to the side. “Then you come over and lay your pretty head all in my cum, leaving your scent, and I do it again. Can’t get enough, just love you so much.”
You gasp as he talks, the quake of desire making your legs tremble as Choso’s fingers start circling your clit. Your best friend - so sweet and cute - knew exactly where to find it. You cry out.
You want to pretend you’re disgusted at him making you sleep on his cum, but you really don’t care. You find the thought exhilarating, wondering how many times he’d done that, while smiling innocently next to you.
“Y-You’re so - mmh,” a moan cuts you off as he applies more pressure to your clit. “You fuck yourself to me? My good boy.”
Choso whines before he begins panting against the back of your neck, pathetically rubbing himself against your fishnets, leaving slimy trails of his precum and your saliva all over your ass. He’s keeping the same rhythm with his hips as his fingers on your bundle of nerves, and just when you think nothing can feel any better, he starts to push his dick between your thighs.
You feel his cock slide over your clothed pussy over and over, meeting his fingers at your clit as he swirls them expertly.
Your eyes roll back as you try desperately to reach your high, but you need him to stop teasing you. And fast.
“Choso, please,” you cry, pushing your hips back against him, the sound of your skin meeting his pelvis cracking like the twigs under your feet.
“What is it, my love?” he coos hotly in your ear. “What do you want? Anything, you got it.”
“Ngh - you, goddamnit,” you growl now, frustration overcoming your softness for your best friend. “Who taught you to tease like this?”
Choso chuckles in your ear, “My dear, you did.”
You gasp as he pulls his hands and his cock away from you suddenly. “H-How did I-”
“Mmh, did you think I wasn’t listening to you whenever you’d come over and tell me about your hookups?” he questions softly, taking a step back and you realize he’s going to collect his mask. “It hurt, believe me, but I’ve been taking notes. Wanted to ensure I could make you happier than those other losers.”
You realize this means Choso’s been thinking of fucking you for way longer than you can comprehend. You can hardly blame him; though it came later, you’d had the same awful thoughts of him, but you were able to control it. You’d talked yourself out of it, that is, until tonight - with the liquor in your system.
“You make me happier without fucking me, y’know,” you grin, as his presence returns behind you.
“Oh,” his voice drops, “s-so you don’t wanna do this anymore?”
You gasp and shake your head. Now isn’t the time to be second guessing things, you were deep in heat and Choso would be traumatized if you had to stand here any longer, your cunt dripping uncontrollably down your thighs.
“I want to, mmh,” you hiss, “‘m just saying, you make me happy in general. But… I wouldn’t know if you can fuck me as good as the others, would I?”
Choso growls at this. His fingertips find the edge of your panties and he pulls them over once again - your body jerks at the reunion of his hands on your skin.
“Not as good,” he corrects, “better.”
His dick finds your folds again, thigh fucking you for several moments to lubricate himself in your warm juices. You end up standing on your toes at the shiver that ensues from this, your back arching against him.
He takes a deep breath, and finally, pressure hits your hole as his pretty tip pushes through the threshold.
The first thing either of you says is a dramatic “fuck,” as Choso pauses with just the tip in.
“Why y’stopping?” you panic.
“Hah - the guys said if it’s really tight, you’re not ready f’me,” Choso says sadly.
He almost goes to move his hips back out when you shove yours against him, sliding yourself down several inches of cock.
“Just gotta give me a sec to adjust, Cho,” you say, growing angrier at a second mention of the cockblockers. “Y’so big.”
“Not big, you’re just tight like this,” he groans. “M-Might not last long.”
“‘s okay,” you say, biting your lip, knowing you’ve been brewing a devilish plan in your head the entire time - so if he cums fast, that has nothing to do with you. “Fill me up, please.”
Choso wastes no time bowing to your request. He takes his arms and wraps them around your body, planting his hands on your stomach, where he hikes up your shirt and your breasts fly out of their restraint - your bra.
“Mmh, mmh,” Choso’s mumbling behind you as he thrusts his entire length up into your cervix, dragging himself back out as slowly as he wants, before shoving his cock back in hastily.
His fingers are gently twisting your nipples now, this combined with the cold breeze from the woods has goosebumps rising all over you.
You whine a pathetic “Choso. My Choso,” as his pace quickens; his sheer amount of girth perfectly passing over the sensitive ridges in your canal. At the angle, his dick is curving up into your g-spot, making your cunt wetter; inflaming the urge to squirt all over him.
Choso is grunting like it’s his first time feeling a real pussy. He digs his fingers into the soft skin of your breasts for leverage and continues drilling his hip bones into your ass.
You decide to look back at him. The mask is on his face, which makes your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. One of his hands leaves your breast and finds your pigtail - yanking your head so that you’re forced to keep looking at him. You thank him by meeting the wrecking force of his hips with your own.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, his head falling back. “Fuck this cock, s’all yours. Doing so good-“ he cuts himself off with a whine. “Been in love with you for years, but now I know you got this good ass-” a grunt cuts him off, “ngh - fuck, and we’re just friends? I’m supposed to share this with other people?”
You laugh at him before your smugness is cut off with a moan. “N-Not anymore,” you answer, “I’m yours now, Choso.”
“All mine?” he echoes, driving an extra deep thrust into you for emphasis.
“Yours,” you repeat, “how do you feel about that?”
Choso growls and leans his torso forward, the delicate curve in your back sliding perfectly against his stomach and chest. “Like this.”
Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!
His pace grows quicker, harder. You can’t believe you’re still standing with the amount of pleasure he’s inflicting on your poor insides. Each time his tip hits the opening to your uterus, you sulk out a pathetic cry, but he’s not showing mercy. Your sweet best friend could care less how bad it hurts - and you love it.
“Need you to be meaner,” you groan, “more often. Fuck. Needed this so bad.”
“Yeah? Y’like that?” Choso buzzes, pulling your head towards him even harder. “Like me tearing up your guts?”
“S’much,” you are barely able to moan, let alone speak as white spots appear in your vision. “Wanna c-cum.”
“Mmh - not yet,” Choso purrs, hand falling from your hair, then leaning his head over your shoulder so that you can see a glimpse of the creepy Ghostface mask out of the corner of your eye. “Already gonna cum? Thought you were stronger than this.”
“Ngh - usually,” you whine pathetically, “but you - you feel so good.”
“I know,” Choso grins, slamming himself into you several times in a row before slowing his strokes to an agonizing pace.
You’re still convinced this is a dream you have yet to wake from. To think, he was afraid to even make the first move. Now you’re bent over, middle of the darkness, crying out his name as he fucks your brain against your skull. You can’t think, can’t feel anything besides your needy hole being filled and then some.
“O-Oh,” Choso grunts, “‘kay, maybe you can cum, ‘cause I don’t think ‘mma make it.”
“Oh, really?” you taunt, giggling, now using force from the tree to throw your whole body back against his.
“Y-Y/N, no,” he complains, his hands flying to your hips as if they’re reigns he needs to hang onto.
You ignore him, using all the strength in your legs to fuck back onto him, your pace fast - till you feel the twitch in his cock and his moans become louder than yours.
“No!” Choso shouts fakely, before trying to pull himself out of you, but you follow him with your hips and he lets his spurts of cum splash uncontrolled all over your walls.
You grin greedily because you’re not finished with him. You reach next to you and rip off his mask, wanting to see your plan unfold in his facial features.
Your hips don’t stop, even as Choso’s cock twitches and shakes inside of you, and his hands are leaving bloody nail-shaped crescents on your hips by now from the amount of pressure he’s putting on them.
“Hah - hah - ngh, mmm, n-noooo,” he whines, his head falling limp on your shoulder as you continue to swirl your hips on his cum-covered dick, using him to get your orgasm.
“Such a good boy, Cho,” you purr in his ear, “letting me use your cock however I want? Dressing up to get my attention? Fucking me exactly how I asked? S-So good.”
“Th-then why are you punishing me,” he stutters, his teeth sinking into your bare shoulder as overstimulation floods him.
“‘M not, Cho baby,” you say softly, “I need to cum too. Not fair only you get to finish, is it?”
“I-I was gonna help you,” he says, his voice muffled from his face buried in your shoulder.
He drives his point home by reaching up to your clit, using his fingers to rotate little devilish circles over the spot. You feel your stomach light itself on fire.
“Agh - can’t take it,” Choso groans. “‘m gonna cum again.”
You can barely hear him, because you’re so cockdrunk that your senses are gone. All that exists in your mind’s eye is Choso’s hand and his cock, both pleasuring you in different ways.
“‘M cumming!” you chant together, full body compulsions overcoming you both as you clench around him - milking every last drop of his second orgasm out as your own ripples through your veins.
You hear squelching as Choso gasps, and you’re vaguely aware of your pussy gushing, but you can’t find it in you to care as you’re still trying to stop grunting and shaking.
“Oh god,” you manage to rasp, your limp body falling towards the tree as Choso lets go of you.
He collapses against the tree next to you and slowly lifts up his pants as his chest heaves; the world silent around you, save for both of your breathing.
Moments pass and nothing is said, just a silent agreement in the air that the two of you need to gently float off back to the ground.
But then, Choso’s curious voice pierces the bubble.
“I-Is it bad that I…” Choso gestures to you. “Finished in you like that? N-never done that before, but it felt so nice.”
“No,” you answer, your voice ringing in your ears. “Nothing bad will happen, I take a pill to prevent that. Don’t worry. You can do that as much as you want and whenever you want.”
Choso nods, “Can’t even think about doing it again right now.”
He’s so fucked. You are too, feeling like you can’t get your brain to speak to your bones. You can’t move. All you can do is blink away your high and catch your breath, stars still dancing along your vision.
But after a while, you’re able to pry yourself off of the tree, and the two of you clean each other up as best as you can - Choso wipes his bloody hand print off of your throat, but when you try to get your lipstick off of his neck, he fights you.
“No,” he says sharply, “leave it.”
You feel your face heat. “Choso, everyone’s gonna know.”
“That we made out and you kissed my neck,” he grins, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your nose.
And just like that, your best friend, the person you love more than anything else has you wrapped around his finger and ready to obey his commands. His softness has returned for good.
The two of you find yourselves walking hand in hand through the woods, ecstasy surrounding you in your own little bubble.
You pull out your phone and alert your friends that you’re approaching; and when you two reach the gate, the whole group is standing there - Satoru munching on orange and black popcorn, Toji holding a stuffed panda with blood stains, Geto examining his nails, and Y/F/N slurping a giant purple drink.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Toji bursts out, almost immediately after seeing you two approach.
“I know you’re fucking lying,” Y/F/N adds, almost dropping her drink.
“You motherfuckers were in there FUCKING?” Satoru shouts, popcorn flying from his fingers in disbelief.
Choso turns beet red. “N-No, what?”
“Yep,” you nod, contradicting him. “Nasty, rough, raw sex.”
“RAW IS CRAZY!”
“Oh my GOD-”
“Hot.”
Everyone turns to look at Geto in disbelief.
“What? You mean to tell me you guys didn’t consider fucking in the woods?” he questions Toji.
“Well, I asked,” Toji says, scratching the back of his neck. “She said we’d get caught.”
Your friend kicks him in the leg.
“They didn’t,” Satoru points out. “You freaks. Choso, we didn’t even know you were here.”
“Right,” Choso nods. “That was the point.”
Satoru bursts into laughter which prompts the rest of the group to giggle.
“Also, we were wrong,” Toji admits suddenly. “We always tell him he can’t do shit with Y/N… but he managed to tame the beast. Well done, soldier.”
Choso rolls his eyes. “I-It’s not… I didn’t… she-”
“Well, anyways, I’m feeling rather… sobered now,” you cut him off, adjusting your shirt, unaware everyone can see the red marks Choso left on your sides, as well as the giant hole in your fishnets. “Say we grab some drinks?”
“Sounds nice,” Choso confirms.
“Oh I’m sure it does,” Toji snickers. “Gonna get her drunk again for round two?”
“Toji!”
“Ewww!”
“Nobody wanted to hear that!”
You giggle quietly next to Choso before you look up at him, only to see he’s already smiling down at you, disheveled hair and all.
“I love you, Sidney,” he coos.
“I love you more, Cho.”
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prael · 2 months ago
Text
Rivalry
Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex
(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut
words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist
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School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.
It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.
The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.
Needless to say, no individual is really to blame—or maybe all of them are.
You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.
Everyone except her.
There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.
"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."
"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."
"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"
The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."
The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."
The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."
"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."
"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"
This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.
"I know you."
"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."
You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."
"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."
You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."
"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.
You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.
A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"
That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."
"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.
"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"
You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."
She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than results—"
A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.
You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.
Nothing.
You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.
Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.
Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.
"What the fuck are you doing—"
You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.
It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.
There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.
"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"
The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."
You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"
She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."
"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"
She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."
She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.
"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.
There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.
Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"
"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.
She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"
"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"
Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."
"Right back at you."
Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at you—and you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"
"I've seen better."
"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.
"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."
Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that I—" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"
"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.
"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.
Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.
Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisite—warm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.
"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."
Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.
"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.
And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.
"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.
As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.
As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.
"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.
You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.
"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."
"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."
"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."
"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.
She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl c—"
You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.
"I—I'm fine. You—" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.
"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.
You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.
When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.
"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.
"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.
"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.
Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.
"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.
"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."
Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.
It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.
As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.
"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.
"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"
"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."
"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.
She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just know— that you couldn't— fuck as good as me."
Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.
"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.
This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.
"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.
You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.
Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.
"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.
You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.
All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.
"Finally—" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.
"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."
Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.
For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.
"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.
Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.
"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."
"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.
"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."
"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."
"You think there will be a next time?"
"I know there will."
1K notes · View notes
nachojaehyun · 6 months ago
Text
head so good, she a honor roll
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pairing. idol wonu + new staff! fem! reader
summary. if wonwoo had to describe his new stylist in one word, it would be unpredictable. i mean, who would have known you were this good at sucking his soul?
warnings. [PLEASE READ] oral (m), light throat fucking, messy/sloppy head, the best head he had EVER received, wonu wears glasses, teasing, he almost cries, mentions of past sexual encounters, THICK dick wonu, no gag reflex queen reader — 18+ MINORS DNI!
note. jeon wonwoo, you genuinely deserve the best head in the universe. thank you for existing king.
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wonwoo felt like he was going to pass out.
the tides of pleasure were overwhelming him, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit his lip to subdue his noises.
initially, he hadn’t thought much of you at all. when PD Na announced that a new staff member was joining the Seventeen crew, wonwoo could only clap and bow as you entered the room.
you were pretty— he’d give you that. your features were pleasant to the eye, and the thick framed glasses you adorned on your first day made him smile.
he was happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who was batshit blind in the room.
you were his stylist. of course you had taken him to get his color analysis done, taken him to multiple stores across Seoul, brought him piles of clothes for performances and off duty days.
you were his stylist. of course you had seen him almost naked, but you had never bat an eye at him, only instructing him to “wear his clothes faster.”
you were his stylist. of course you had first hand experience in the most embarrassing encounter in jeon wonwoo’s career— you had seen his dick rip out from a pair of very tight slacks. you still remained stoic, carefully asking him to take his pants off as you went to search for another pair. he was red in the face, cock half hard as he tightly fisted the curtain of the changing room in shame.
you were his stylist. so why on earth were you sucking his cock like your life depended on it?
wonwoo swears he didn’t know how it happened. you had texted him half an hour ago that you were going to drop off some clothes at his apartment before his fitting tomorrow.
it was supposed to be a simple exchange— you would give him the bag and you would leave.
but of course he had his phone silenced and didn’t see your notification.
of course he was sitting on the living room couch, fisting his length in his hand as he tried to relieve the tension in his muscles from dancing for 4 hours straight.
of course he forgot to lock the door to his apartment while he was blatantly moaning like a whore—
here you were, mouth dragging along his tip as you looked up at him through your long lashes, glassy eyes blinking innocently. the bag of clothes you had brought to him was long discarded, laying limp on the floor near his coffee table.
the grey contacts you had on make wonwoo shiver, whimpering as your tongue swirled around his tip.
“fuck baby, quit playin,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he watched you down his cock like a champ. wonwoo’s glasses were sitting at the edge of his nose, lenses fogging up.
his hand reached out to fist your hair in a makeshift ponytail, mouth falling into a near pornographic growl as he felt your hands fondle his balls.
his cock was unbelievably thick. your jaw was nearly falling slack. however, the salty taste of his precum was far too addicting for you to care about your own discomfort.
you hollowed your cheeks, trying to feel every ridge and every vein that his pretty cock had to offer. you pulled him out of your mouth soon after, placing kisses along his side as you suckled on his tip.
your free hand came to jerk off his base, spitting onto his leaky tip to use as lube, adding more pressure as his eyebrows scrunched.
“ ’m close— hah!” he whined, tears coating his lashes as you took him in with no warning.
unable to hold himself back, wonwoo harshly yanked your head back, rolling his hips into your mouth. you moaned at his rough treatment, sending vibrations that tightened the knot in his stomach.
“shit shit shit!” wonwoo grunted, feeling his dick weigh down on your tongue that continued to lick and torture him while he used your mouth as his personal fleshlight.
you could feel him twitch inside you.
to give him the final push over the edge, you lazily dragged your freshly manicured nails gently against his balls, cupping the two as he emptied inside your mouth.
wonwoo’s hips stuttered as his thighs shook, feeling ropes of his cum spurt into your open mouth.
he pulled out slightly, jerking off to give you the rest of him. you simply sat on the floor, wagging your tongue, catching every drop of his seed. as soon as you swallowed his release without any question, wonwoo felt himself getting hard again.
wordlessly, you wiped your mouth of the drool that had dribbled past your lips. pushing your weight from your thighs, you glanced at your wristwatch before smiling.
“see you at 8 tomorrow, wonwoo-ssi. don’t be late.”
with that, jeon wonwoo watched you wave him goodbye and walk out the door.
his mind was blown as he breathed out softly, still coming down from the best orgasm he ever had in his life.
sure, he had been blown before. but most girls were too scared to keep him in for more than a few minutes, complaining that their jaw hurt from his sheer length and thickness.
but you? dear god, you and your perfect self never complained, silently taking his cock in your mouth. you didn’t care about your own pleasure, mind consumed by the man wearing glasses in front of you, shock written all over his features.
“fucking hell, what is she doing to me?” wonwoo groaned, fisting his once again hardened member as he begin to circle his tip with a thumb.
he felt sensitive from his last high, closing his eyes as he imagined the scene all over again— wondering how many positions he could bend you over in.
if only he knew that you were in your car, fingers curling inside your folds as you moaned out his name. his cock had moulded your throat.
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© nachojaehyun, 2024
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punkshort · 2 months ago
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First Impressions
Thanks anon for this request!
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot
Summary: When your heater breaks in the dead of winter, you get more than you bargained for when Joel Miller arrives to fix it.
Warnings: language, some fluff, the stress and fear that comes with living in the wilderness during a zombie apocalypse, competency kink (a little), smut (18+ MDNI), dirty talk
WC: 4.2K
Adjusting to life in Jackson was tough. You had been on your own for so long, you found it nearly impossible to ever fully relax. You were grateful Tommy and Maria took you in after one of their patrols stumbled across you freezing in the thick Wyoming wilderness, but to be yanked from the brink of death and dropped into some thriving community that seemingly even managed to still celebrate the holidays was too jarring.
So, you kept to yourself for a while. You pitched in around the stables. It was where you felt most comfortable: less people, more animals. You didn't go to the dining hall to eat and you didn't visit the bar for a drink. You had a clear cut path from your house to the stables and back, and you rarely ever strayed.
Unfortunately, while Jackson had a lot to offer and did incredibly well at reviving civilization, things still did break. Like your space heater.
You piled on extra blankets for a week, and then you moved to the living room to sleep on the tiny sofa in front of the fireplace, but eventually your back was screaming at you for it and the cold weather wouldn't let up for at least another two months, so you had no choice but to ask for help.
Tommy was shocked you hadn't said something sooner and apologized for making you feel like you couldn't ask for help, even though it wasn't at all his fault or anyone else's except your own, and promised to have his brother stop by that afternoon to take a look at it.
While you kept to yourself and hardly socialized at all, that didn't stop you from overhearing things at the stables. You knew of Tommy's brother. How people whispered rumors behind his back and fell silent whenever he stepped foot inside the building.
Did you know he slit a raider's throat and made the guy's girlfriend watch?
He beat the shit out of Seth the other night just for looking at him wrong.
Back in Boston, I heard he knocked some guy's teeth down his throat for taking the last of the beef jerky.
Someone told me he only sleeps two hours a night.
He fixed Greg's shower and told him not to fuck it up again or else he'll be taking baths in the kitchen sink.
Were you intimidated? Maybe a little. But you had been on your own for so long, fighting and scratching and clawing to stay alive. Some asshole wasn't going to shake you up.
Then you saw him.
Well, you'd seen him before, sure. But just glimpses in the barn or passing by him on the street. Never up close.
When you opened your front door later that afternoon, you were a little taken aback. He was so much more handsome than you had thought. He was built like a refrigerator; broad and strong. His cheeks and chin were dusted in a patchy, greying beard, growing right below a hooked nose and deep, velvety brown eyes. There were a few scars littering his bronzed skin but what drew your attention more was his hair. His fucking hair. Loose, mostly grey curls that fell past his ear and down the back of his neck. Not long enough to pull into a ponytail, like Tommy, but give it a few more months and he might. He had them pushed back from his face, making the silken locks look like a cascading river so enticing, you had to hold yourself back from touching them.
He said your name and readjusted the toolbox in his hand and you blinked yourself back to life before stepping aside to let him in. When he passed you, you were hit with the strong scent of wood shavings and coffee, an intoxicating combination that had your brain buffering once again.
"Tommy said you needed your heater looked at?"
You nodded and pointed up the stairs. "It's in my bedroom. Can I, uh, get you something to drink? Coffee?"
He perked up at that once he slid off his jacket and shoes. "You got coffee?"
You nodded and walked toward the kitchen, rummaging through your meager belongings until you found the precious tin can. "That's the one thing I always made sure I grabbed if I ever saw it out there. If we have to live like this, at least I'm still having my coffee."
Joel grinned and set the toolbox down on your counter, watching as you filled up a kettle with water. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was that your stupid heater broke, giving him the perfect excuse to finally meet you so he could stop pining from afar. "You don't like it much here, then?"
You startled at that, giving him a look of surprise before lighting your stove.
"No, I didn't mean here, I just meant... you know... the world in general."
"I know, I'm just teasin' you," he said a little awkwardly with a soft chuckle. You turned around, leaning against your counter and crossing your arms over your chest. You had just spoken a few words but so far, nothing about this man screamed scary. In fact, he seemed rather... sweet.
"How long have you been here?" you asked while you waited for the water to boil.
"'Bout five years," he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "You're new, though."
You nodded, your fingers fidgeting underneath your bicep. "Yeah. I think it's been almost a month. I'm not really sure, never bothered keeping track of the days out there."
Joel studied you up for a moment, picking up on your eyes shifting over your surroundings, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor, and the way you kept your back protected when you spoke to him.
"I remember when we first got here," Joel said. Your fidgeting paused and you looked at him again. "It was tough. Acclimatin' to this kind of life. Hard to sleep. Hard to trust anyone. It took time but eventually, you start sleepin' soundly again and that guard comes down. You'll see."
A slow smile spread across your face and you looked down shyly at your feet. "Am I that obvious?"
Joel laughed and strolled over to the two mugs and can of instant coffee you had sitting out. "Wouldn't say it's obvious but I haven't seen you at the dining hall one time. In fact, pretty sure this is the first time I've heard your voice." Your cheeks warmed up behind his back and you bit your lower lip. So he's noticed you enough to realize you never went to the dining hall.
"It's a pretty one," he said over his shoulder, focusing on scooping the correct amount of coffee into each mug. "Your voice, I mean. Shame you been keepin' it hidden all this time."
"O-oh," you stuttered, completely flustered by his compliments. This was not at all the man everyone made him out to be. "Thank you."
Joel carefully poured the boiling water into each mug before giving them each a stir, then handed you one. "You're welcome, darlin'. Now why don't you show me to your bedroom?"
Your eyes must have bugged out of your head because at first, he frowned, then after he realized what he said, turned a shade of pink you didn't know he was capable of.
"I mean, for the heater."
"Yeah, oh Christ, I know," you said, waving him off and heading for the stairs, your mug clutched so tightly in one hand you thought it might break. You lead Joel to the first door on the left and stepped back so he had room to swing his toolbox through the narrow door with him.
"I don't know what happened," you said, trailing in after him while he began to set out some tools on the ground. When he knelt down, he groaned at the creak in his knees and you quickly grabbed a spare pillow. "Here, kneel on this," you offered. He looked up at the pillow, then at you, and shook his head.
"I ain't kneelin' on your pillow."
"It's a spare. I only use the one. And honestly, even that seems too much sometimes."
He sighed and hesitated for only a moment longer before taking the pillow from your hand. "Thank you," he said softly. You smiled and sat down on the edge of your bed after putting your coffee on the end table with his.
"Anyway. As I was saying, I don't know what happened. It was working fine and then one day it just wouldn't turn on. I tried other outlets and I didn't see any issues with the cord, so I just gave up."
Joel began to unscrew the back of the heater while he listened. "So you gave up and slept in the cold for two weeks?"
"Nothing I wasn't used to."
He couldn't argue with that.
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while he worked until he began to hum some old country song under his breath, making you smile again. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much.
"What're you smilin' for?" he asked with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
"You aren't at all the way people say you are," you said boldly.
He quirked an eyebrow and turned his attention back to his work. "And what have you heard?"
You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Threatened a man after breaking his shower. Knocked out some guy named Seth. That you only sleep two hours a night," you chuckled at the last one when you heard how silly it sounded.
"Well," Joel said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't threaten anyone about their shower. Just reminded him he's gotta take care of the pipes or else the whole place'll rot."
You grinned to yourself as he continued to explain the rumors.
"I did punch Seth but he said somethin' real nasty 'bout my girl and, well, that just don't sit right with me."
Your grin slid right off your face. "Your girl?"
He stopped what he was doing and swiveled around to face you. "My - Ellie. Her name's Ellie. She's, uh, well... she ain't my daughter, but..."
Relief flooded your veins. "Oh. I thought you meant -"
"No, no," Joel said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "No, not like that." He twirled a wrench around in between his fingers as he nervously bit the inside of his cheek before adding, "Don't got anyone like that."
Your mouth formed a silent oh. Message received.
Joel cleared his throat again and turned back to the heater. "And the sleep thing, well, they got me there," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "Although some nights are better than others."
"I know what you mean," you said with a nod. After a moment of silence, Joel smiled to himself.
"Imagine y'do if you ain't got any heat at night."
You giggled and he smiled again, this time his chest swelling when he heard you laugh.
Joel continued to work on the heater while you studied him quietly. He took you by complete surprise. The last thing you expected was to make a friend out of the fearsome Joel Miller. It didn't hurt that he was so easy on the eyes, either. How old was he? Your gaze roamed over his greying hair and the crinkles next to his eyes. Older than you, definitely, but it was hard to tell by how much.
You couldn't even remember the last time you were interested in anyone. It must have been when you were in the Atlanta QZ, and that was years ago.
"Alright, let's give her a run," Joel suddenly said. When you refocused on him, you saw he had put the heater back together and was fixing it upright. He plugged it into the wall and hovered his finger over the power button before glancing back at you. "Ready?"
You nodded and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of your bed, then he winked at you, sending warmth all over your body. Jesus, if Joel kept giving you little looks like that, you wouldn't have much need for a heater anymore.
He pressed the button and sure enough, the coils inside the heater began to glow orange and heat started to fill the room.
"Oh!" you exclaimed, jumping off the bed in excitement. "Thank you!" you added, kneeling on the floor as well so you could warm your hands in front of the heater.
"Anytime," Joel murmured, and it wasn't until you heard the deep timber of his voice next to you that you realized he was so close. You tilted your face, smiling shyly at him next to you. Up close, you could see the fine lines in his face in much more detail, each one calling out to you to trace with your fingertip. When you met his gaze, you found he had been examining you, as well. Quickly, you looked away and stood up.
"Is there anythin' else?" Joel asked as he began to pack up his toolbox. You shook your head.
"No, I think that'll do it."
"You sure? Thought I saw that faucet drippin' in the kitchen."
You frowned. "No, I didn't notice that," you said slowly.
"What 'bout those windows?" he asked, standing up with a grunt and gesturing to the two bedroom windows on the other side of the room. "Need help hangin' curtains?"
You looked where he was pointing. "No, never really bothered me. Besides, it faces the backyard. No one can see in."
He laughed softly and rubbed his chin before shooting you a sheepish look. "I'm tryin' to find a reason to stay, sweetheart."
Your eyes widened and once again, you felt your cheeks heat up.
"Oh," you said, shyly dropping your gaze to the floor to hide your smile. "I would like that."
"Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded.
"Yeah. You're, um," you shifted your weight nervously, "you're sweet. And nice."
Joel huffed and set his toolbox back down. "I ain't nice all the time," he warned. "But you ain't gotta worry 'bout that."
"No?" you questioned, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to close the distance between you.
He sighed and cupped your face with both hands. Your body instantly melted at his touch, your knees practically giving out when he dragged his thumb across your lip, saving it from your teeth. "Am I readin' this wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting all over your face. You quickly shook your head and stepped even closer.
"Thank Christ," he breathed before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. It had been several years and you were a little rusty, but you quickly found it was like riding a bike.
Joel's kiss lit a fire in you, one that had gone dormant for so long. Your fingers curled around the lapels of his flannel, the material warm and soft, just like him, and with the confidence boost that came from his hands dropping to grab excitedly at your hips, you walked him backwards until he bumped against the edge of your mattress.
He sat down on your bed with an oomph and you crawled into his lap, not once breaking the kiss.
"Wish I got to know you sooner," he whispered, tipping his head back when your lips traveled down his neck. Fuck, even his neck was sexy. "Always so skittish and shy," he continued, his palms gliding up and down your back.
You laughed softly against his skin and leaned back. "You still don't really know me."
He grinned and shrugged. "I'd like to, if you're willin'," he said, his vulnerability making your chest ache. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip again and nodded.
"Good," he said, his hands roaming further past your waist to cup your ass. "'Cause I like what I know so far."
"You're full of surprises," you told him, giggling when he gave your ass a firm squeeze. "You're so much more... you're more gentle and sweet than I expected."
Joel smirked and tugged you closer so you felt his erection trapped within his jeans. "I can be gentle," he told you, nipping at your jaw. "Or I can be rough. Whatever you like."
You swallowed when you caught the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Oh, yeah?"
"Mhmm," he said, and before you could blink he had spun you around so your back was pressed into the mattress while he hovered above you. You had to admit, he was adorable. He had to be pushing sixty but he was talking like a man half his age. After you heard the way his knees creaked when he was fixing your heater, you figured he was all talk, or maybe he just needed the ego boost to hype himself up.
But the speed in which he removed your clothes should have been the first sign that your impression of him was wrong. When he buried himself inside you, his surprisingly thick length stretching you open and nudging the furthest depths of you, you got the message.
When you gasped and tipped your head back, his big hand immediately rose to cup the side of your face and tilt it back down so he could watch your face as you unraveled beneath him. Each little noise and moan seemed to egg him on, like he fed off your sounds and the way your face twisted in pleasure when his coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each roll of his hips.
"Wanna see you," he explained, eyes scanning all over your face. "Wanna watch you take it. You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you? Hm? You'll be good for me, yeah?"
You nodded, your mind a muddled mess. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the slow and deliberate drag of his heavy cock in and out of you. Joel pressed your knees back against your chest as far as you could handle and pushed inside you further with a rough grunt. He managed to get so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach and the sensation left you breathless.
"So fuckin' pretty, y'know that?" he groaned, gazing down at you without breaking rhythm. His long locks loosened and hung past his eyes, tempting you to smooth them back. "Wanted to get to know you f'so long but I couldn't ever catch your eye," he admitted with a little smirk. You moaned when his hips began to swirl, switching the angle ever so slightly and setting your nerves alight.
"I-I... oh, god," you whined, already struggling to keep your eyes on him like he asked. "I didn't know."
He lunged forward and crashed his mouth against yours hungrily, his exhale fanning over your cheek. Then just as suddenly as he kissed you, he leaned back and pulled out.
"Turn over," he instructed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he dragged in air. You did as you were told and shakily held yourself up on your hands and knees.
"Fuck," he muttered behind you. Your face went hot and you tucked your chin into your shoulder as you waited for him to enter you again, but he chose to take an extra minute to glide his hand over the curves of your hips and ass. If you had been able to see him, you would have seen a look of awe and appreciation on his face.
"Always wondered what you had hidden under all those clothes," he said as he lined himself up at your entrance. You cried out his name when he finally slid back inside, the angle already too intense and he hadn't even begun to move. "Goddamn, wanna run my tongue over every fuckin' inch of you, baby," he growled, fingers gripping your sides as he tried to ground himself.
He gave you a few gentle thrusts to get used to it before he couldn't hold back any longer. He pounded into you, his eyes fixed on your ass and the way it bounced with every snap of his hips. One hand slowly reached down to trace your spine, marveling at the way your body welcomed him. Then you arched your back and you both moaned at the slight change and he could feel his stomach begin to tense in anticipation of his release.
"So fuckin' tight," he said through clenched teeth. You could hear him breathing heavily as his thrusts grew sloppy and you began to panic, sensing he was about to come before you were ready. But then as if he read your mind, one of his hands snaked around your front to draw fast circles over your clit.
"C'mon, give it t'me," he said with a grunt. "Wanna feel this perfect pussy squeeze me, want you to be feelin' me for fuckin' days, sweetheart."
"Oh, shit," you gasped, mouth hanging open in a mixture of ecstasy and surprise. You wondered how on earth everyone in town had so much to say about Joel's reputation but somehow managed to leave out how mind-blowing he happened to be in bed.
"Christ, honey. Ain't gonna last much longer," he groaned, his fingers working even faster between your legs. He pounded into you harder, punching the air from your lungs and pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Your breaths were coming in shallow pants and you could feel the swell building deep inside you, threatening to unleash at any second. You reached behind you frantically, searching for some part of him to hold onto when you found his hand pressed firmly onto your hip. Your fingers clasped over his as you felt the pressure build up quickly and you knew in that moment this one encounter was going to single-handedly ruin you.
The moment you fell apart while practically screaming his name, your cunt pulsing around him and your body shaking, he almost made a huge mistake. Finally getting to witness what you looked like when you came was more than enough, but hearing his name over and over while your body shook with pleasure? It was too much and he was only just a man who was holding on by his goddamn fingernails as it was. But fortunately, he managed to pull out just in time to paint your lower back with his cum. He knew he was making some ungodly sounds as relief flooded his veins, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had been daydreaming about taking you apart like that for weeks and now that he finally had you, there was no turning back.
"Oh, fuck," he gasped, lifting his chin towards the ceiling while dragging in deep lungfuls of air. You collapsed flat onto your stomach with a grunt and he tilted his face back down to grin as how spent you looked.
Still got it.
"I'll be right back, darlin'," he told you. You mumbled something tiredly in response before he slipped out of your room to get a washcloth from your bathroom and returned quickly to clean you up.
"Thank you," you said, turning your face so you could watch him gently wipe up his mess. His eyes flickered to yours and he smirked.
"You thankin' me for fixin' the heater, for fuckin' you, or for cleanin' you up?"
You giggled, your voice a little hoarse when you replied, "All of the above."
You flipped over onto your back and his eyes immediately drifted down your naked body, his breath catching in the back of his throat at how perfect you were. Even better than he ever imagined.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, letting the rag fall to the floor so he could glide his hand up your thigh, over your hips and stomach to one of your breasts which, he realized far too late, had gone neglected. Next time.
"So are you," you whispered back, bringing a hand up to play with the long curls resting on the back of his neck. He shook his head shyly and looked away.
"I need a haircut."
"I like it just the way it is," you told him, twisting a lock of hair around one finger and watching as it loosely bounced back when you let it go. "Gives me something to grab onto," you joked. A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes looked like he was staring at the tree on Christmas morning.
"So, uh," Joel began when the silence stretched on for too long. "I meant it earlier. 'Bout gettin' to know you better." He couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous. He could feel his face heating up and he prayed you didn't notice. "I know you don't like goin' to the dining hall but I'd really like to have dinner with you. I can't make much but I can make stew, if y'wanna-"
"I would go to the dining hall with you," you said, cutting him off. His eyes snapped back up to yours and he shot you a nervous smile.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you said with a little shrug before sitting up and draping your arms around his shoulders. "As long as you're there, I'll go."
He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you, still in complete disbelief his wildest fantasy actually came true.
"How 'bout tomorrow, then?" he asked a little breathlessly when he broke the kiss.
Your eyes lit up and you nodded. "It's a date."
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