#out of touch leap day thursday

[mxstellatayte]

pretty please: chapter one.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter one warnings: lewis lowkey being a sugar daddy, (sex spoilers after this,) legal use of alcohol, consensual sex!!!, lewis is really good at dirty talking lol, lewis has a big dick haha, oral sex (m and f receiving,) multiple orgasms (f receiving,) belly bulge, praise (m and f receiving,) lewis hamilton aftercare king

chapter one word count: 5.3k (3k words of porn tho don't worry)

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore

join my taglist here!

you made me an offer i can't refuse

thursday, 23 may, 2019

you push out a shaky breath, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in your outfit one last time before stepping out of your hotel room. today is the day you've been both dreading and looking forward to for the past two weeks- the day you interview the one and only lewis hamilton at the monaco grand prix media day.

when you'd been offered the opportunity for a one-on-one interview with one of the most iconic faces in both the fashion and motorsports world, you thought you were dreaming. turns out that the journalist who had originally been assigned to the project had a family emergency and needed time off of work, so the chance to lead the project was yours and yours alone. of course, once you realized that you were not dreaming, you accepted. despite your preparation, you're still terrified. you have ten questions at the ready in your small notebook that you've read over and attempted to memorize approximately twelve times each hour for the past three days, but the practice does nothing to soothe your anxiety.

"fuck it," you say to yourself, inspecting your makeup one last time before slipping your feet into your signature shoes- platform high top converse. once on the streets of monaco, you hail a cab to take you to the circuit, your black and purple media badge secure in your purse. your stomach is twisting with anxiety the whole way there, and when you pay the driver and step out of the cab, it only increases tenfold.

you're about to interview lewis hamilton. no big deal.

yeah.

not a big deal at all.

the next hour and a half is a whirlwind of meeting with lewis' manager to getting your questions checked over to getting a tour of the media center to seeing the recording booth where you're going to be interviewing the driver. it's a nice room, but it's separate from the rest of the media areas, so you assume it's likely not normally for recording podcasts.

"how long do i have before the interview?" you ask, turning to lewis' pr manager.

"about twenty minutes, but lewis is going to be here in ten for soundcheck. make yourself comfortable for now, can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?"

"a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." you smile and nod, sitting down inside the booth on the plush couch. in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves, you take your mini notebook out of your bag and go over the questions for the umpteenth time today, but the words on the page blur together as you try to squish down the stirring in your stomach.

"here's the tea for you," someone says, and you're expecting it to be the manager you'd spoken to, but when you look up, you're met with an unfairly beautiful face. oh. okay. this is happening. you're casually accepting a cup of tea from five-time world champion lewis hamilton. the man you're about to interview.

no big deal.

the interview goes by without any hiccups, and, before you know it, your hour in the booth is up, and you say your on-camera goodbyes before they stop recording. as you're about to leave, though, lewis gently touches your upper arm and asks to speak to you for a moment-

only if you don't have something to rush to, of course- and your heart leaps into your throat. had you said something wrong or hit a sensitive nerve with one of your questions?

"i want to thank you. not a lot of reporters are able to ask questions beyond the simple 'how do you plan on winning this weekend' and 'what changes are you going to make based on mistakes made at the previous race,' so i applaud you. your questions were really different from what i was expecting, and your interview style is really unique. i enjoyed talking to you." he extends his hand and you shake it firmly, your chest feeling like it might just explode with pride.

"thank you, mr. hamilton. i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, and i'm looking forward to any i may have in the future." the driver beams, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. it's annoyingly pretty.

"i won't have any of this 'mr. hamilton' nonsense. call me lewis. after talking to you for an hour, i can tell that you're very knowledgeable when it comes to both motor sports and fashion, which is really impressive. and i look forward to speaking with you in the future, too." the two of you chat for a few more minutes before he's summoned once more, and you bid your goodbyes.

a few minutes later, as you're trying to calm down your heart rate so that you can maintain some small semblance of composure before returning to the outside world, one of your long-time friends from college approaches you from behind, and, in her standard fashion, scares the shit out of you.

"boo."

you shriek, your previous efforts to stabilize your heart rate now entirely in vain. "christ, amelia! do you have to sneak up on me everywhere?"

"absolutely. i also have something to tell you something." your eyebrows furrow as she almost instantly moves on from the fact that she nearly scared you half to death mere seconds ago, but you almost fully pass away by choking on your saliva two seconds later. "you've got it really down bad for him, and you're not subtle about it. at all."

after you're done recovering from yet another near-death experience, you punch her left arm. hard. "you are so lucky i don't have a weapon right now." amelia laughs, her head thrown back and her shoulders bouncing with delight.

"awe, come on." she smiles at you, her eyes glittering in their signature way, signaling that she's about to drag you into a potentially messy and new situation. "you know that the rules state very clearly that there's a zero-tolerance policy for physical or verbal harassment."

i got it bad for you, so baby

thursday, 28 november, 2019.

it's your third time interviewing lewis in the 2019 season, and since you first spoke to him at the monaco grand prix, things have changed for both of you. following the success of your interview with him at the monaco grand prix and the article you wrote to go along with it, you'd been promoted from your previous position as fashion field journalist to the lofty title of fashion and sports researcher and journalist. as soon as lewis hears the news, he's sure to congratulate you, this time at one of the biggest spectacles in motorsports: the abu dhabi grand prix. you can't help but beam with pride when he mentions your new title, thanking him again for his time, and remembering to call him by his first name despite how strange it feels.

"i should be congratulating you on something, as well, six-time world champion," you grin, happy as your friendly banter with lewis seems to fall into place. your first time meeting him, you were so terrified of saying something wrong that you didn't let yourself really let go and show your personality. the second time, in mexico, you were able to relax a little bit more and even crack a few jokes. today, you're all smiles and even got breakfast with him before the scheduled meeting time. one anxiety you'd voiced was that the same paparazzi that you've worked with in the past don't take photos of you with the driver and sell them to the media, which would undoubtedly start a pr disaster for both of you.

"if you'd rather have breakfast in the paddock, i can have that set up," he'd offered, and, once again, who would you be to decline such a kind offer?

so here you find yourself, enjoying an expertly brewed italian iced coffee and two perfectly crumbly strawberry scones, sitting across from the reigning world champion of motorsport.

you know, standard thursdays.

"one thing i don't think i've mentioned before," lewis begins, setting down his cup of tea, "is how much i admire that you try to find the human behind the driver."

your eyebrows furrow. "i don't think i follow."

"i now realize my wording is really weird. let me fix that." you laugh, taking another bite of your scone. "you don't exclusively ask questions about driving. you dig into our hobbies and interests outside of the paddock. in my experience, the way you balance questions for both motorsports and fashion is fascinating."

"it's all part of the job. i wouldn't be where i am without interesting questions, would i?" lewis smiles, shaking his head.

"i doubt it, but you are pretty damn smart. i bet you'd find a way to make it here one way or another."

"i'm flattered."

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

sunday, 1 december, 2019

after the race, lewis crossing the line not only in p1, more than 16 seconds ahead of the rest of the grid, but with the fastest lap, as well, you're sure to congratulate him on your social media accounts and in person in the pit lane. "lewis!" his head turns at the sound of your voice, and he sees you moving as quickly as you can down the pit lane, neon green paddock pass hanging from your neck alongside the black and purple media pass. your signature converse and light wash jeans complete your outfit, and his heart swells with joy when he sees that you're still wearing the necklace he gave you.

"hey! i'm glad they let you down here after the race. i was a bit worried i'd have to wring a security guard's neck to get you down here."

"aw, you'd do that for little old me?"

"i'd do just about anything for the most interesting reporter in the paddock," he replies, ever so cocky and so annoyingly pretty. seriously, was he a saint or something in his past life? it feels painfully unfair that he was blessed with such perfect looks and charm. it makes your stomach twist with a flirty giddiness you haven't felt since you were a teenager. it's exciting. "are you coming to the after party?"

"i don't know if i'll be able to. i have a lot to do in the next few days and i honestly don't know if i'm going to be able to take a break on the plane back to london. i'll probably be sitting in my seat going over notes and writing up an article or answering an obscene amount of emails."

"please? just one night? i'll buy your drinks." he bats his eyes at you, and it really shouldn't make you fold as easily as it does, but here you are, sitting in his mercedes and driving to a probably very heinously overpriced club.

a girl needs to be a passenger princess every now and then, right?

when you arrive at the club, you have to force your lips to stay closed so that your jaw doesn't drop in shock and awe. paparazzi swarm you as soon as you step out of the car and lewis hands the keys to the valet, and for a moment, you're convinced this is some sort of sick and twisted fever dream as microphones are shoved in your direction and cameras flash quickly enough to make you glad you don't have photosensitive epilepsy. when lewis' hand rests on the small of your back and he smiles brightly at you, though, you're reassured that this is very much real.

"after you." you smile back at him, your own anxiety lessening just a tiny bit now that you know that he's right there by you.

pretty please, come on over and ruin my life

how did you end up here?

you'll blame it on the alcohol.

either way, lewis' lips feel amazing on yours, and you waddle slightly as he backs you up to the bed in his extravagant hotel room. "need this off," he mutters, hands searching under your shirt and gripping at your waist. your brain is a foggy mess of lust, alcohol, and a lot more lust, and as quickly as you can, you pull back from the kiss (much to lewis' dismay,) tug your shirt out of your waistband and yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere to your right. almost immediately, strong arms wrap back around your torso and you're caged in, and every single one of your senses is flooded with lewis, lewis, lewis. his skin is hot underneath where your hands lay, your right on his cheek and your left clutching the side of his neck as if letting go would result in falling off the face of the earth.

his kisses are messy, desperate, and wet. his tongue glides along your own and you moan wantonly, the noise only further spurring on his efforts. as you lay back against the bed, lewis kisses his way down your chest (when did your bra come off?), lavishing each of your breasts with his tongue and hands. one hand works over your flesh, kneading and pinching while his tongue licks over your right nipple, gently biting and sucking and smirking when you moan once again, switching to the other side. "lewis, oh my god-" you interrupt yourself with an embarrassingly loud whine, your back arching as deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, unzip the fly, and slip into your panties.

"fuck, darling, so wet for me already," lewis groans, his head buried into your neck as he bites gently at the sensitive skin there. "i'm gonna have to get a taste before i fuck you."

"yes, oh my god, please," you whine, the mere thought of the driver between your thighs making another rush of butterflies flood your lower tummy. you almost laugh when you realize that you still have your converse on and he's struggling with the laces, so you lift yourself up off of the bed and shoo his hands away, instead expertly undoing the white laces in less than ten seconds and kicking them off your feet, leaning back onto your elbows as they hit the ground with a muffled thump. "you are way too overdressed."

sure, you've seen photos of lewis shirtless before, but it doesn't compare to seeing it in person and up close, and...

fuck.

he's beautiful.

"that's not fair."

"what?" lewis laughs, crawling back over you after you both pull your pants off and toss them to the side, and your breath briefly catches in your throat as the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses.

"you aren't allowed to be nice and hot. it doesn't work like that." lewis laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips that intoxicates you more than any of the high proof alcohols you've drank in the past few hours.

"well, i guess i'm a rule breaker, then." he shuffles you up the bed so that your head rests on the plush pillows, sighing in relief when you think he's finally going to fuck you, but you gasp when he slides his way back down to your thighs, pulls them apart with his hands, and settles between them. "fuck."

"lewis, please. need you."

"what do you need, baby?" he teases as his hands begin stroking up and down your thighs. you're about to respond, but you cut yourself off with a cry when his fingers gently stroke up your panty-covered slit, the sensitivity making your back arch and your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"fucking hell, i... i need you to eat me out."

"i thought you'd never ask." his fingers tug at the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for him to slide them off of your legs and add them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. without wasting a second, he dives into your cunt, tongue dragging along your slit from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you both moan in unison. his hands grab at the meat of your ass, pulling your hips closer to his face, and you yelp, but it's quickly cut off with another moan as lewis' tongue prods at your entrance, hot and insistent.

"mmgh, lewis, fuck, so good." you barely have any control over your own mouth as lewis eats you out, his tongue expertly lapping up every part of your cunt as if it's the best meal he's ever tasted. he quickly figures out what makes you twitch and moan and focuses on that, his nose bumping against your clit as his jaw hinges open and he swallows you whole. his hands tightly grip your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin and definitely leaving some form of marks to appear later in the night, but that's the least of your concerns when you have the world champion of motorsport between your legs. the moans that tumble past your lips echo off of the bare walls of the lavish hotel room, but not a single noise you make is embellished in the slightest- he's just making you feel that good. the coil in your tummy builds and builds, but your brain has been reduced to mush from pleasure, so you have to resort to scrabbling your hands at whatever you can grab, your fingers ultimately tugging at his neat braids. lewis thankfully gets the hint and only increases his efforts, his left hand moving from your ass to gently push two fingers into your entrance, and, when he curls them upwards, perfectly hitting your g-spot, you nearly sob, your orgasm hitting you a lot sooner than you had anticipated. "oh, lewis, don't stop, please. feels so good, baby, fuck."

lewis helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing a tender kiss to your hipbone before climbing back up to you and connecting your lips in yet another messy kiss, and you groan when you can taste your cum on his tongue. when lewis' boxer-covered erection grinds against your sensitive clit, your mouth falls open in a gasp, letting him take the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and run against yours. when you kiss him, it feels like you've stepped through the gates of heaven and you're kissing an angel. you suck greedily on lewis' tongue and he moans in response, making you smile into the kiss.

lewis pulls back momentarily and you pout, but the sight before you is absolutely beautiful. his skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat and his lips and chin are covered in a mix of your cum and spit. it's gorgeous. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay," you grin, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "it's fantastic."

"in that case, i'd love to fuck you properly..." at his words and the feeling of his lips ghosting down the side of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin, you shiver, your hands coming to rest on the sides of his torso. "if you'll have me, of course."

"please do." with another smile, lewis pushes himself up and off the bed, returning promptly with a condom in his hand. you bite your lip and watch eagerly as he pulls down his boxers, and...

fuck.

you're fucked.

"seriously, lewis? are you kidding?" your head falls back with an exasperated laugh, your shoulders shaking as you realize: of course he's big. if he's nice and attractive, then it's almost a guarantee that he's going to have a big dick. "you really just have it all, don't you?" the mattress dips, and you raise your head again, looking back at him as he crawls towards you, almost catlike in his motions.

"i could say the same for you. beautiful, kind, intelligent, an absolutely killer ass..." you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to come up with a cocky response, but your brain short circuits when you feel lewis begin to push the head of his cock into you. "oh, fuck."

"lewis, oh my god," you keen, your hands reaching up and finding purchase on his broad shoulders for stability. his left hand holds your waist while his right grips at your hip, the tightness of his hold almost painful... almost.

"baby, you're so tight. taking me so well. 's like you were made for me." you're pretty sure the words spilling from lewis' mouth are just mindless, sex-brain-induced babbles, but either way, it makes your pussy throb around him, and you both groan in pleasure when his hips finally meet yours. he looks down at you and almost chokes- you look absolutely stunning. your eyes are screwed shut, your lips parted as breathy moans sneak their way past them, and your hair is splayed around your head like a halo.

when you finally manage to pry your eyes open and steady your breathing, lewis is gazing down at you, and you can't help but pull him down for yet another kiss. how many times have you kissed him tonight?

not enough, you decide.

between soft and slow kisses, you breathe out the words that lewis has been praying you'll say: "you can move, lew." when he does, slowly pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, the drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder, your nails digging into his shoulders and undoubtedly leaving crescent-moon shaped divots in the skin. "oh... oh, fuck, baby."

"you like that, baby? you like having my cock inside of you?"

all you can muster in response is a meek "mhmm," but that isn't enough for him. he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, and halts his steady thrusts, making you whine.

"use your words. i know you can- you showed me this morning."

"yes!" you sob. "yes, i love feeling you fill me up. i love it, lewis. it feels so good. feels perfect."

"there you go. i knew you could do it." his words make you moan even louder as he resumes his thrusts, this time at a much faster pace. "fuck, look at that. taking me so well... i can even see it. gimme your hand, baby. feel it yourself." he places your left hand low on your stomach, just between your hipbones, and... oh.

oh.

you can feel his dick filling you up under your hand.

"lewis, oh my god!" your moans only increase in volume with his own when he presses down onto the bulge in your tummy with his hand, changing how deeply you feel him, and it sends you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night embarrassingly fast. "fuck, fuck, lewis, don't stop. feels so good, baby, just like that, yes!" your own hand sneaks around his wrist and rubs circles around your clit, which makes you clench around him, which in turn throws you into your orgasm. "lewis, 'm cumming, 'm cumming, ah!"

"just like that, baby, cum for me. so perfect. so, so perfect." lewis talks and fucks you through your orgasm, his own fingers taking over when yours falter on your clit. when the end of your orgasm trails off, you try to catch your breath, but when your post-orgasmic clarity dawns on you, you realize that lewis didn't cum.

"oh, fuck, lewis... let me suck you off. you didn't cum."

"are you sure? i'm-" he cuts himself off with a grunt, his hips stuttering as he slows his thrusts so as to not hurt you in your oversensitive state, but when you nod, your bottom lip pinched seductively between your teeth, he gives in. "alright, yeah. yeah." he pulls out of you and you roll over, shuffling your way down the bed until you're settled between his legs, your arms resting on his upper thighs.

"you're so pretty, lewis. so, so pretty." if it was a bit brighter in the room, you would've seen the way lewis' mouth ticks open and his dick twitches at your praise, but the singular bedside lamp is barely enough to light the room. instead of noticing, you gently peel the condom off of his cock and toss it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, then settle back between lewis' legs and let a fat drop of saliva leak onto his cock.

"fuck, if you keep saying things like that i'm not gonna last long," lewis groans, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"oh, you don't want to hear me call you pretty? you don't want me to say that you're one of the most beautiful people i've ever laid eyes on, and that i've waited months to be here just to tell you that?" your hand begins lazily stroking his hard cock as you continue rambling shamelessly, your mind a sex-addled haze that you have nearly no control over. after watching in awe as a pearly bead of precum swells at the head of lewis' cock, you decide that enough is enough and that you have to taste him. your tongue falls out of your mouth, the flat of it brushing up the bottom of his dick until you reach the tip, and then you secure your lips around it, and fuck, if having the taste of lewis' cum on your tongue isn't enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a moment, you don't know what is.

lewis' hand finds itself in your hair, pulling gently as you begin to bob your head along the length of his dick, and you can't help but feel pride bloom in your chest when his hips begin bucking up to meet your mouth and hand, shoving the tip so far back you swear the back of your throat might be slightly bruised in the morning. you moan shamelessly as he does so, letting him fuck your mouth as he pleases until he cums, warm ropes of sticky fluid filling your mouth as he spills into you. pulling off, you swallow part of his load and clean what little remains off of his softening cock with gentle kitten licks, smiling faintly as he whimpers quietly at the oversensitivity. after crawling up to the head of the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lewis' eyes search yours before dipping down to your mouth. you're a bit confused as his left hand comes up to your face, thinking he's going to kiss you again, but instead, his thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth and pries past your lips, a silent order that you obey willingly. you'd missed one tiny drop of his cum on your cheek. his thumb pops out of your mouth momentarily and you collapse down next to him, the exhaustion of the jam-packed day finally catching up to you.

"i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, yeah?" you nod sleepily, a quiet hum escaping your body. "you're staying here tonight. i won't stand for letting you out of my bed for the next twelve hours." this time, if a question mark could be a sound, that's the noise you make. lewis understands you, though. "we'll take my jet. don't worry about your fight." another content sound from you.

by the time lewis returns to the bed, warm damp washcloth in hand, you're asleep, and he can't help but tuck the strands of hair out of your face after he cleans up your swollen cunt and tucks you into the soft bedding, joining you shortly thereafter.

yeah.

he's fucked.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you use numbing gel on wanda, and she punishes you for it with some gel of her own.

content warnings: smut, fingering, numbing gel, sensitivity gel, overstimulation, subspace

word count: 5.7k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Retaliation

Silence. 

You were so sick of the fucking silence. 

Honestly, you loved your girlfriend. She was the best part of your life, the most important person to you and the one you knew you’d marry… but her work days were long. And you were so fucking bored. The silence that filled the large house you shared was only temporarily broken by your music, blasting from your speaker as you worked. Or the sound of the TV, loud enough to be heard from the kitchen as you meal prepped. 

But eventually, the speaker would die. Or you’d get bored of whatever show you were watching. Then, the silence would creep in, reminding you of the emptiness that crowded you. Then, you’d start to think about your girlfriend. 

God. She was the best thing that had ever happened to you. 

You’d met her almost a year ago. You’d been bored in a bar, your friend dragging you along to some fancy work party of hers. She was off talking to some important people or something, and your social battery had died a long time ago. 

Someone had gently touched your shoulder, and you’d turned around in surprise. Your eyes met sparkling green ones, taking in high cheekbones and soft auburn hair, and you’d fallen in love immediately. 

Wanda Maximoff was perfect in every way. Doting, attentive, communicating with you every day. She was soft and commanding, her touch gentle yet firm. She was the light of your life, the only person you fully trusted in every aspect. She was absolutely the best girlfriend in the whole world. 

She was also your dominant, so when she ordered you to do something, you listened. 

That week, she had just so happened to order you not to touch yourself while she was at work. It was only Thursday, and you were slowly losing your mind. You’d finished all your chores, including some extra work around the house just to keep yourself busy, but it wasn’t enough. 

So here you were, four in the afternoon, laying on your stomach on the bed. Scrolling through your phone, finding nothing interesting enough to hold your attention. 

“Fuck.”

Sighing, you threw your phone down, dropping your face onto the comforter. You felt like throwing a tantrum, or breaking her rules and sending Wanda a video or picture of you masturbating. She would be pissed, but maybe she would punish you with overstimulation. At least then you’d actually have some relief from the ever-present ache between your legs. 

Your phone pinged, an email coming through. That got your attention, and you immediately perked up as you quickly snatched your phone up. Unlocking it, you smiled widely at the notification. 

‘Your order has been delivered.’

Leaping up, and almost tripping over yourself, you made your way downstairs. Your footsteps dully thudded on the carpet as you raced towards the front door, and you swore under your breath when your shoulder caught on a door frame. Shaking it off, you continued towards the entrance of your home, stopping yourself with your hands on the door before unlocking it. As you caught your breath, you peeked through the curtain, gripping the door handle as you ensured the delivery driver was making their way back to their truck. 

Wanda had drilled a rule about deliveries into your head. 

‘Don’t open the door until the driver is gone. It’s not safe for submissives to open the door when a stranger is nearby.’

A door slammed shut, and you jolted out of your thoughts. Watching closely, you smiled as the delivery truck drove away, slowly counting to ten in your head. As soon as you reached ten, you unlocked the door with trembling fingers, your heart racing as you caught sight of the small package resting innocently on the doorstep. 

Scooping it up, you quickly closed the door, locking it behind you. Checking the time, you noted that you still had around 45 minutes before your girlfriend would be home. 

Perfect. 

That was just enough time for you to hide your new package next to the other toys Wanda kept in the playroom. It also gave you the chance to hide the packaging in the outside garbage. Wanda would never find it, since it was part of your chores to take the trash out.

Mentally patting yourself on the back, you raced to hide your package. 

This was going to be a fun night. 

—

If Wanda had noticed your badly concealed excitement, she didn’t acknowledge it beyond a simple raised eyebrow. 

You were practically vibrating, your eyes shining as you took her coat and kissed her gently. Her hands lingered around your waist, fingers skirting over the silky material of your skirt, dipping slightly below the waistband as she smirked.

Wanda was touchy. That was always a good sign. 

You eagerly took in the sight of her, your imagination not quite good enough to conjure up the magnificent beauty in front of you that you got to call your girlfriend. Honestly, between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and her long fingers currently curled around your waist, it was hard to not melt into a puddle of goo whenever she was around.

Her clothes were still pristine even after a long workday, not a single wrinkle in her dress shirt or blazer. You wondered how she managed that, or how her hair was still as soft and curled as it was when she left this morning. 

“Baby?”

“Oh, sorry. Did you say something?” You shake your head, clearing it as you look up from your pasta. 

Wanda’s green eyes sparkle with amusement. She takes a bite, her lips wrapping around her fork. She maintains eye contact as your grip goes slack around your own utensil, eyes watching her glossy lips as she drinks from her wine glass.

“I asked if you had a good day, sweetheart.”

“Oh- I… well, yes.” you manage, clearing your throat as your sentence dies. 

Another raised eyebrow, and an expectant look. Those lips are on the rim of her wine glass again. You want to touch them, to feel them against your skin as she nibbles and sucks her way towards your lips. 

God, you want her tongue too. You want to feel it dragging across your stomach, making its way to your chest and swirling it around your nipples. Her plump lips wrapping fully around them as she sucks, her eyes dilated and needy. Your neck, damp from the warmth of her mouth as her tongue drags up, your head thrown back from the sensation against your most sensitive spot. 

“Sweetheart,” Wanda’s voice is hard, her hand gripping your thigh under the table. “Focus when Mommy is talking to you.”

You wince, feeling her nails digging into your skin. 

“I’m sorry Mommy,” you trail off, casting your gaze back onto your plate. Eye contact made you nervous, and Wanda’s green eyes had a way of reducing you to a stuttering mess. 

“Don’t mumble.”

Wanda’s fingers squeezed once more - a reminder to behave - before they disappeared. Her fork clinked against her plate, and you smiled as she ate. You knew that she loved this dish, and when she was happy and relaxed, she normally allowed you a bit more freedom in the bedroom. 

That’s all you need. A little bit of leniency. 

—

Your body is on fire. Wanda’s hands run over your waist, over your chest, and up the sides of your neck. Her fingers leave trails of scorching fire across your skin, your core throbbing with need. Her lips slide smoothly against yours, her tongue gently swiping over them as she presses you against the wall. Her body is fully against yours, her hips pressing into you as she grinds her hips against yours. It is almost enough to make you break.

‘Focus.’

Gasping for air, you gently press against Wanda’s sternum. She pulls back, her lips swollen and red, eyes dilated as they search yours. Her fingers twitch, still gliding across your skin as she kneads your body beneath her palms. 

Shuddering, you slow your breathing, reminding yourself of your mission for the night. 

“Wanna try something,” your words come out breathy, and not at all commanding like you were hoping. 

Wanda’s eyes bounce between yours, her hands stilling around your waist.

“What did you have in mind, baby?”

“Can I show you?” Your eyes light up, hands eagerly touching Wanda’s face. Your fingers trace her cheekbones, running over her jaw as she thinks. “Please?” You add, letting the word drop into a whimper at the end. 

Even Wanda can’t resist that. 

You look so desperate, your eyes pleading as you gently guide her towards the desk. Pulling out the chair, you usher her into it, kissing her deeply as her hands attempt to pull you onto her lap. You resist, tucking her hair behind her ear as she furrows her brows. 

“Just let me try this, Mommy. I promise it’ll be fun.”

Wanda’s green eyes are dark, the warm light from the lamp casting shadows over her sharp features. Her hands fall to her lap, head turned towards you as you reach into the desk drawer, having prepared your supplies earlier in the day. She can’t help but smile, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek as you determinedly grab the items you’d stored. 

Turning your wide eyes towards her, you take in your girlfriend. 

She’s relaxed, her fingers gently caressing your face while her other hand is loosely gripping your waist. Her eyes remain sharp, assessing everything around her. They linger around your arms, her head tilting as she attempts to see what you’re holding behind your back. 

You cluck your tongue at her, gulping at the raised eyebrow she sends back.

“Close your eyes,” you try to sound commanding, but you see the faint smirk Wanda wears as she slowly closes her eyes. “Please,” you add quickly, not wanting to face unnecessary punishment later for your lack of manners. 

Wanda lets out a quick huff of laughter, her hands squeezing your waist. 

With one hand, you reach towards her hand, bringing it in front of you and squeezing her wrist briefly to silently tell her to keep it there. You do the same to the other, watching her face carefully. 

Those perfect eyebrows furrow slightly, her eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to open them. 

You act quickly, securing a cuff around one wrist as her eyes fly open. You grip her other arm tightly as you strap the second cuff around her other wrist. Pulling slightly, you test the strength of the restraints, the soft, thick leather comfortable around her wrists.

“Darling,” Wanda begins, and you smile nervously at her. “Think very carefully about what you’re doing.”

You lean in, pecking her on the lips gently. “I know what I’m doing, I promise.”

Pushing gently, you move her wrists behind her back. Wanda is completely still beneath you, her body rigid as she allows you to maneuver her to your will. Her eyes are locked on your face, and you avoid any eye contact, knowing your confidence will shatter the second you meet those knowing green eyes. 

With a click, you secure her cuffs. You’ve effectively restrained her, and you pull back as she tests the strength of the cuffs. 

Wanda’s brow furrows even more when she can’t escape from her restraints, her muscles flexing as she attempts to pull herself loose. You can tell she’s seconds away from ordering you to release her. 

“Baby, I need you to let me-” 

You slap a hand over her mouth, your eyes widening. If Wanda gave you a command, you would cave immediately. You couldn’t let that happen. 

“Let me take care of you, okay?” Your voice was pleading. You could hear the whine at the end of the sentence, but couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Wanda’s eyebrows raised, and you quickly removed your hand. 

“Alright,” she began, adjusting her weight until she was seated more comfortably. You tried not to salivate at the effortless display of power. God, she was strong. “Remember, pup. I’m in charge.”

Nodding quickly, you place a quick kiss on Wanda’s lips. You almost forget yourself, lingering as her lips press gently against yours, her tongue quickly swiping over yours. You could kiss her for hours, soft moans escaping you as Wanda effortlessly slides her plump, soft lips against yours. 

The chair scrapes against the floor as you stand. Your hands are gentle, eyes questioning as you unbutton her pants. 

Wanda nods, and you smile brightly. Pulling her pants down quickly, you let your fingers linger on her thighs, feeling her muscles tense and twitch beneath you. God, you could already smell her arousal. You slowly peel her damp underwear from her, watching the shiny juices coat her pussy as you remove the offending garment. 

Drinking in the sight of her, your pupils dilate. Wanda can hear your soft pants as you resist the urge to taste her, your fingers shaking slightly as you dig into her thighs. She rolls her hips, just slightly, and you seemingly snap out of your daze, snapping your head up and standing. 

The abrupt action has Wanda’s eyes narrowing, her posture tense as you walk towards the dresser. 

Opening the bottom drawer, you pull out a black tube. 

Wanda relaxes, recognizing the discreet packaging as sensitivity gel. She takes in your stance, your fingers excitedly opening the tube as you put on a black latex glove. Smiling, Wanda remembers your aversion to any type of liquids, gels, or creams on your hands. She’s never even seen you use lotion on your palms, instead, you would rub the back of your hands together whenever your knuckles grew dry. 

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Wanda watches you squeeze out some gel, smearing it on your fingertips. Her eyes lock on yours, watching the way your brows tighten and furrow in concentration, your eyes glancing up at hers every so often. 

Your fingers prod gently at her, and Wanda has to hold back a moan as she feels the cool gel against her warm, swollen pussy. She can hear her ragged breaths, her fingers clenching as she tries not to rut against your hand. 

A wide smile spreads across your face, and Wanda has the good sense to let some suspicion cross her mind. She tilts her head and watches your eyes widen at the action. 

But then, your fingers are circling her clit, smearing the gel all over it, and a moan escapes her treacherous throat. 

“Baby,” Wanda begins, feeling warmth gather in her abdomen. 

Two fingers thrust into her, and Wanda forgets how to speak. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at her. There’s something behind your eyes, something Wanda can’t quite focus on. She can’t discern what the unreadable look you're giving her means and blinks in an attempt to focus. You curl your fingers, and she throws her head back in pleasure, forgetting about it in an instant. 

The sudden roughness of your fingers pulling out of her draws a soft whimper from her throat. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Your voice is soft, and Wanda narrows her eyes at you as she attempts to get her breathing back under control. The fingers that were buried in her a few moments ago now rub her clit, your eyes watching her face carefully. 

Something isn’t right. 

Wanda rolls her hips again. She can feel the pressure of your fingers against her and hear the sounds of her arousal as you work her clit… but there’s only a faint prickling sensation. It feels almost cold - as if that entire area has fallen asleep. 

Last Wanda had checked, there was only one way to make that happen. 

“Darling,” Wanda growls, her eyes dark. “I need you to be very honest with me.”

You gulp, your fingers still moving. Wanda’s hips are still, her attention focused solely on you. Her body isn’t responding to your touch anymore, and you slowly withdraw your hand as you take off your glove.

The tension in the room feels like a bowstring drawn too tight, Wanda’s eyes on you sucking the very air from your lungs as she works her jaw. You hear the sound of leather rubbing against skin and know that she’s attempting to escape from her cuffs. The danger in her expression makes you want to grovel and beg for forgiveness almost as much as it turns you on. 

“That gel,” Wanda watches your eyes widen as she speaks, a guilty look appearing on your face. “Was it numbing gel?”

Her voice is low and quiet, but you hear every word. You can hear your frantic breaths as you search your head for an excuse, an answer, anything really. Anything but the truth.

Looking up, you meet her eyes. 

They search yours, her head tilted slightly as her gaze unrelentingly locks with yours. The air crackles with anticipation, heavy with the weight of your unspoken words. With each passing moment feeling like an eternity, you search for the right words. They’re on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be spoken, but trapped under the weight of Wanda’s gaze. 

She’s waiting, her eyes demanding acknowledgment of her question, yet also challenging you to disobey her. It’s a deliciously delicate balance between mercy and dominance, and you feel yourself crack under its weight.

“Yes, Mommy.” 

Wanda’s eyes turn stormy and you watch her chest heave as she attempts to calm herself down. Her hips twitch, and you can tell she’s fighting the urge to roll them. It wouldn’t matter if she did, you’ve ensured that everything is completely numb. She won’t be feeling any sensation for a few hours. 

Standing, you feel a surge of power. You’re looking down at her, meeting her frustrated gaze as her arms flex. She keeps trying to pull her hands free, her feet planted on the ground in an attempt to gain some leverage. Wanda’s lips are partially open, glistening as she breathes quickly, her green eyes slightly watery as her frustration builds. Catching sight of her spread legs, you watch in awe as her arousal smears over her inner thighs and down onto the chair.

God, she looks so pathetic.

You move to sit on her lap, acutely aware of her eyes following your every movement. Feeling your legs spread as you do, you smile when her eyes flit down towards your chest. You’d left too many buttons undone, and you arch your back slightly as you hear Wanda make a low noise in the back of her throat.

“Don’t tease.” Wanda’s voice is tight, sounding like she’s holding back a storm. Her words are clipped, each syllable heavy with warning.

Smiling, you lean in. Your mouth brushes her cheek as one of your hands moves to grip the back of the chair, the other sliding in between your bodies, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Whatever Wanda was going to say in response is swallowed by a gasp as you crash your lips against hers. You can tell that she wants to be upset and deny you any pleasure to punish you for misbehaving. But then her tongue moves smoothly against yours and you swallow her soft moan, and you know that you’ve won.

Moving blindly, your fingers find Wanda’s warm, slippery pussy. Two fingers slide in easily, curling as you begin to slowly pump in and out of her. 

Wanda doesn’t react. 

You smile into the kiss, maneuvering your thumb to rub harshly over her protruding clit. Normally, Wanda would jerk and gasp slightly when you stimulated her sensitive bundle of nerves, but not tonight. 

That gel was working almost a little too well.

Teeth bite harshly into your lower lip, and you suddenly find yourself struggling to think properly. Wanda is unforgiving, sucking your lip into her mouth as you moan, your fingers faltering against her. 

Wanda might not be able to feel anything, but her pussy knows that it’s being stimulated. You can feel her juices soaking your fingers, running onto your hand and down your wrist as you thrust into her. It’s intoxicating, and you feel your own underwear dampen significantly as you grind yourself onto her lap. 

“Fuck,” You whisper, feeling Wanda’s small smile against your lips. 

You’re focused, the sensation of her slick pussy clenching around your fingers holding all of your attention. The sound of leather and skin barely registers in your mind, your senses overwhelmed by the smell of Wanda’s vanilla perfume and the feeling of her lips fervently moving against yours. 

God, you think you could last in this moment for an eternity and never be unhappy. 

A hand wraps around your throat. 

Eyes flying open, you barely register the victorious look on Wanda’s face before she’s lifting you off her lap and throwing you onto the bed. The leather cuffs dangle from one of her wrists, her other slightly red from her efforts to escape. There’s a thunderous look in her eyes, and you find yourself slowly backing up on the bed as she advances. 

“You can’t run now, baby.” Wanda’s voice is low and there’s a small smirk on her face. 

She keeps advancing, her head tilting. 

You freeze in place, watching as she makes her way towards you. Her deft fingers quickly undo the cuffs from her wrist, her grip strong as she grabs your arm. 

Swinging a leg over your hips, Wanda straddles you. Her thighs clench around you, and her hands grip your wrists tightly. You don’t fight it, your body refusing to relax as you watch Wanda with wide eyes. Her fingers make quick work of the cuffs, tightening them around your wrists and attaching them to the headboard as you squirm slightly. 

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” Wanda asks, her eyes boring into yours. 

A flush makes its way onto your face, your nerves on fire. Adrenaline floods your system, the thrill of being caught racing through you. You quickly shake your head, eyes widening when Wanda erupts in soft laughter. 

“Stupid pet,” She mutters, removing herself from you as you watch with wide eyes, feeling your core grow warm at the degrading words. “You should know that Mommy always wins in the end.”

Your jaw works as you try to formulate a response. You can’t think of anything, a foggy haze coming over your mind as you watch Wanda. 

Soft footsteps reach your ears as you watch your girlfriend quickly make her way toward the closet. She disappears, and you hear her rummaging through the drawers. You throw your head back, breathing deeply as you control your nerves. 

You were so fucked. God, what were you thinking? 

Pulling against your cuffs, which Wanda had secured to your wrists extremely tight, you rethought your decisions. The numbing cream had been a great purchase, truly. But actually using it on Wanda? 

Worst possible decision. 

The doorway darkens, and you feel your mouth go dry when you see Wanda’s silhouette. Your eyes drag down over her body, the curve of her nude waist and hips sending you further into an arousal-driven state of mind. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were drooling for her, your hips rolling slightly as you catch a glimpse of the thick, scarlet strapon now tied around her hips. 

Her fingers wrap around a familiar-looking tube, the design eerily similar to the numbing cream you had purchased. Looking closer, however, there were numerous differences. The end of the tube was wider, and the dark pigment of the packaging was more matte than the numbing cream. 

You feel the color leave your face. Your legs close of their own accord, a spark of fear traveling down your spine. 

Wanda smirks. 

Reaching out, your girlfriend quickly grasps your ankles, pulling your legs apart roughly. There’s a warning look in her eyes, and your brief struggle against her ceases immediately. The last thing you wanted to do was make her even more frustrated than she already was, although, judging by the look on her face, you were failing.

“Don’t test me,” Wanda’s voice is tight, a sign of her growing ire. “You’ve already earned a big fucking punishment.”

A low moan sounds out. 

Your eyes widen at the sound as it escapes your treacherous throat, along with Wanda’s. A smile slowly begins to form on her face, one of her hands slowly moving towards the apex of your thighs. 

“You must really like the idea of being punished, is that it baby?” Wanda asks, her voice soft. Her fingers are anything but gentle, swooping through your slick arousal as she harshly flicks your protruding clit. “Do you get off on the thought of me being mean to you?”

Wanda’s other hand drops the bottle of gel onto the comforter, her fingers grasping your jaw tightly when you attempt to hang your head. 

“Nuh-uh,” She clicks her tongue, forcing you to look at her. “Dumb sluts don’t get to hide after they tease Mommy. Answer the question, honey.”

A strangled whimper claws its way out from your chest, a shaky exhale accompanying it as you nod your head to the best of your ability. Wanda’s grip on your jaw doesn’t falter, but she feels your attempt, her eyes darkening. 

“You really are a masochist,” Wanda mutters, releasing her tight hold on you. “I love it.”

Your eyes light up, relief cascading through you at her words. Then, you remember the compromising position you’re in and the situation you’ve created. Your elation fades, eyes watching every movement Wanda makes. 

Nimble fingers quickly open the bottle, the minimalist logo of Wanda’s favorite brand of sensitivity gel flashing in your vision before she squirts a generous amount on her fingers. The lid closes with a click, and the bottle is thrown somewhere onto the bed. 

“Now this,” Wanda begins, smearing the gel messily over your pussy. “This gel is purely for my entertainment. You and I both know that you’re already desperate and needy enough that my touch alone could send you over the edge at any moment.”

Two of her fingers rub the gel onto your clit, the rough stimulation causing your legs to jerk. Wanda pauses, looking up at you. Her eyes are dark, the green of her irises barely a sliver around her dilated pupils. Her face is set, a dangerous, almost predatory look taking over her features. 

“Stay still.”

Immediately, you feel your body comply. Your muscles feel as though they’re made of stone, your breaths shallow from the effort it takes to not squirm as Wanda mixes the sensitivity gel with your juices.

You feel a tingling sensation start, the barest brush of air against your bulbous clit sending electric pleasure straight to your core. Your pussy feels both enlarged and sore, the need to cum overtaking you in an instant. 

The ache. Oh, god. The fucking ache between your legs. It consumes you, every errant thought in your brain evaporating as you find yourself unable to focus on anything but the throbbing heat at your core. 

Wanda looks up, hearing your rough breathing, her eyes widening in pleasure at the sight of your heaving chest. You look absolutely wrecked, your cheeks flushed as sweat drips down your temple. Your eyes are wide and unfocused, your pupils expanded so severely they look like endless black pits of ink. 

“You look pathetic.” 

Biting your lip tightly, you suppress the wanton moan that threatens to erupt at Wanda’s words. 

She doesn’t seem to notice, moving onto her knees between your spread legs and wrapping her hand around her strapon. A mixture of your arousal and the gel glistens on her fingers, and you feel yourself throb as you watch her lewdly stroke herself.

Teasingly, and agonizingly slowly, Wanda lines the tip of her strap against your clit. She presses in slightly, the barest hint of pleasure sending your head reeling. You feel like you’re going slightly insane, the need for stimulation forcing a stream of words from your lips. 

“Please, Wanda. I’m so sorry, I’ll never trick you like that again. I promise. I need you so bad, Mommy. I’ll be the perfect little toy for you, just please fuck me. Fuck me with your big strap, you can go whatever pace you want I just… I fucking need it. Please.” You end your begging with a whine, your words breathless. You don’t care. “I’ll do anything.” 

In one smooth motion, Wanda buries her strap inside you. 

“Mommy's going to fuck you until she can feel pleasure again,” Wanda says harshly, grabbing your throat and squeezing lightly in warning when you squirm. You try to protest, your nerves feeling as though they’ve been lit on fire as you shake beneath her. Wanda doesn't let you. 

“No baby, shut the fuck up and take it, I've got to punish the brat out of my good little girl."

Then, she’s finally moving. It feels like absolute heaven, her strap dragging roughly against your walls as you clench around her. Wanda adjusts her hips, the tip of the toy hitting your G-spot with each thrust, and you blink stars from your vision. 

Any functional part of your brain has completely abandoned you. Your chest bounces with each rough slap of Wanda’s hips against you, the strap disappearing and reappearing quickly as it’s coated with your juices. 

The scent of your arousal fills the room, the air heavy as you suck in desperate breaths between frantic moans. Your body feels like a live wire, muscles taut as your legs spread wider. 

Wanda grips your ankles firmly, her strength surprising you. She moves, pressing your legs against your chest as her strap fucks deeper into you. With how hard and fast she’s fucking you, you’re impressed with her stamina and ability to maneuver you into position. 

Pleasure and pain morph into one, endless sensation. Every nerve pulsates with need, a symphony of conflicting sensations as Wanda relentlessly, almost ruthlessly fucks into you. Her eyes pierce yours, holding your gaze captive as she works you closer and closer to nirvana.

The very fabric of your reality seems to shift and bend, every sensation smothered with a surreal hue of an indistinguishable mixture of pleasure and pain. Your mind feels fractured, floating in a fuzzy embrace even as Wanda’s sharp thrusts splinter your mindscape. The thrum of your frantic heartbeat reverberates throughout your body, matching the throbbing of your clit as Wanda’s pelvis presses against it with each harsh movement. 

Your orgasm creeps up on you, feeling every bit like a death march. 

In the back of your mind, you know that Wanda won’t take mercy on you. She won’t stop using you until she’s completely satisfied, until… What had she said? Oh, that’s right. Until she could feel sensation again. 

If you were correctly remembering the description and online reviews of the gel you’d bought, Wanda wouldn’t be feeling anything for a couple of hours. 

A particularly harsh thrust has your thoughts halting instantly. Your mind focuses, the need to cum overtaking your senses as you feel every inch of Wanda’s strap buried inside you. Your swollen pussy clamps down around her, your clit throbbing with need as she relentlessly fucks into you. 

The sounds of your soaked pussy reverberate around the bedroom, spurring Wanda on. She can feel your sticky arousal smearing over her thighs as she steadily plunges the strap inside your greedy pussy. 

Watching her strap disappear into your tight, eager heat only serves to motivate Wanda. A surge of motivation surges through her veins. Her thrusts have a renewed energy, her movements almost frantic as she fucks into you with abandon. Throwing her head back, she loses herself in an intoxicating surge of power, one hand wrapping around your throat. 

You feel your back arch, pussy spasming against your will. Wanda’s fingers tighten, just barely, but it's enough to send your frazzled body over the edge. 

Every synapse in your body fires, your senses overwhelmed by the cascading waves of pleasure as they sweep through your limbs forcefully. Your body trembles, Wanda’s strong hands pinning you down as you attempt to escape from the violent aftershocks of your orgasm. Her fingers skirt down your sides, gripping your hips and leaving trails of electricity in their wake. 

“Oh, god. Its-” You stutter, feeling Wanda’s hands press your hips full into the mattress, immobilizing you. “Too much, Mommy.”

The words sound slurred, Wanda’s green eyes trapping your attention. You want to float away, your mind wrapping itself with vanilla-scented cotton as your ears ring. 

A coiling feeling, spreading throughout your core. Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your mind barely tethered to your body.

“Let go, sweetheart.” Wanda’s gentle voice washes over you. 

The unbearable tension in your abdomen tightens, spreading blazing tendrils of fire throughout your being. Your tears escape fully, sliding down your cheeks as you register Wanda’s smile, the intensity of her gaze sending you over the edge again. 

You’re barely retaining your grasp on reality, your mind firmly in subspace as a vanilla-tinged fuzziness encapsulates your thoughts. 

“Fuck,” Wanda mumbles, looking down. 

Following her gaze, your eyebrows rise as you watch her glistening strap slip out of you. Strings of fluid web between the toy and your overheated pussy, and you belatedly realize that it's your cum. 

Damn. 

Wanda moves, bottoming out as her strap easily slides into you. 

Black dots dance around the corners of your vision, another orgasm washing over you as liquid-hot pleasure flows through your veins. You barely register Wanda’s soft voice, your eyes rolling towards the ceiling as you feel her pull you closer with each thrust of her hips. 

The pleasure is unrelenting and strong. It ebbs over you like an endless tide, threatening to smother your mind. With each pulse of pure ecstasy, you feel your consciousness teetering on the edge of oblivion, the thin line between reality and euphoria dimming into nothingness.

Green eyes capture your attention, Wanda’s face appearing fuzzy around the edges as your senses are finally overwhelmed. You feel your body and mind succumb to the intoxicating bliss washing over you as Wanda continues to use your overworked body. 

A final, shuddering breath and you slip into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness, your mind firmly wrapped in thick layers of vanilla-tinged pleasure.

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato

[bzurk]

what gets dirtier the more it cleans?

series masterlist:

cw: DUBCON, oral (f recieving), coersion

thursday, week one:

Thursday, with its date circled in red on your calendar, almost nauseates you. Still, with your bank account dangerously close to overdrawing once your credit card bill hits, you have little choice but to return to the mansion.

You arrive at two o’clock and close the garage door behind you this time, and the space is empty. No cars, no occupants. Your heart just about leaps from your chest with relief.

You’re in the middle of mopping the floors when you hear the rumbling of the garage door open. You freeze, instantly tense, eyes darting to the laundry room just past the kitchen where the entryway to the garage threatens to come flying open at any moment. You hear a car door shut, your breath quickening, and you consider your options. Whoever is home knows you’re there; your car is parked outside, and it’s three o’clock on a Thursday. You could hide, but not for long, especially if the new arrival is who you dread it to be.

Left with little else to do, you force yourself to continue mopping. The gentle swings of it are like a second-hand, ticking away the moments before your entire day is ruined. Swish… swish… swish…

Footsteps make themselves known against the cold, hard marble tiles of the entryway, the sound amplified in your panicked state. Each step only hammers one more nail into your metaphorical coffin.

And just like that, he’s there, filling the doorframe to the kitchen.

Price.

Your stomach swoops and relief washed over you like a wave. Price. It’s just Price. He doesn’t even spare you a look as he kicks off his shoes and heads straight for the fridge, opening it and grabbing a beer from the top shelf. His nonchalance is refreshing, offering a nod and a smile before taking a drink.

Swish… swish… swish… You’ll finish as fast as possible, get out of his hair.

As you cleaned, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at Price, marvelling at how different he seemed from the man you had met on Monday. The cold calculated gaze was still there, but it was tempered with a hint of weariness. You found yourself feeling a twinge of sympathy for him, despite your better judgment.

Price's presence, though imposing, is oddly comforting after the chaos of Monday. His calm demeanour and the way he simply goes about his business without making you feel like an inconvenience help to ease the knot of anxiety in your stomach. He leans against the counter, sipping his beer, and you notice the deep lines of fatigue etched into his face.

As you mop, you try to stay focused on your task, but curiosity gets the better of you. You steal glances at Price, noting the subtle differences in his demeanour. There's a weight to his movements, a heaviness that wasn't there before. He catches your eye once, and you quickly look away, pretending to concentrate on a particularly stubborn spot on the floor.

"You don’t have to look so scared," Price finally says, his voice breaking the silence. "I don’t bite."

You offer a nervous smile, unsure how to respond. "Just trying to get my work done, sir."

"John," he corrects, waving off the formality. "No need for all that 'sir' business."

"Okay, John," you say, testing the name on your tongue. It feels strange, but not entirely uncomfortable.

He takes another sip of his beer, studying you for a moment. "You did a good job on Tuesday. Never seen the place so shiny."

You pause, glancing up at him. "Thank you."

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. "I’m impressed. This place can be a lot. I hope Simon didn’t give you any trouble.”

Simon, Simon, Simon. You nod, not trusting yourself to say more without your voice betraying your lingering nerves and fear. Price’s presence is a balm to the anxiety that had threatened to overwhelm you, but you can’t quite shake the memory of Simon’s smug face and the feel of his touch lingering on your skin, his taste on your tongue.

"Listen," Price says, his tone softening. "If you ever need anything, or if there’s a problem, don’t hesitate to come to me. Alright?"

"Alright," you reply, feeling a surprising surge of gratitude. It’s a small reassurance, but it means the world in a place that had so quickly become a source of stress and fear. “Alright… I might take you up on that, sir- John.”

He finishes his beer and sets the can on the counter, giving you a final nod before heading out of the kitchen. "I have some work to do first, so you finish up here and come find me, yeah?"

"Yes, John," you say, watching him go. As soon as he’s out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The relief is palpable, and you take a moment to collect yourself before returning to your task.

Swish… swish… swish…

The rhythmic motion of the mop is soothing, helping to ground you. You focus on the floor, on the task at hand, and let the stress of the last few days melt away with each pass of the mop. Price’s words echo in your mind, a small beacon of comfort in an otherwise tumultuous week.

He said to come to him if there’s a problem, he seemed so genuine, but can you really tell him about Simon? About his own housemate, ex-teammate? What if it makes things worse? What if Simon finds out you told? The mere thought of Simon's reaction sends a shiver down your spine. Let alone how John would react. Would he demand the money back? Blame you? Fire you?

You take a deep breath and try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s no use. The encounter with Simon on Tuesday haunts you, and you can’t shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his touch on your skin. Price’s reassurance was genuine, though. Maybe he really can help. You need this job.

As you finish mopping the floor, you glance towards the hallway where Price disappeared. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of fear and determination. You’ve never been good at asking for help, but this situation is beyond what you can handle alone. Simon's presence is a dark cloud hanging over your every move, and you need to find a way to dispel it.

Swish… swish… swish…

You wring out the mop and set it aside, the decision solidifying in your mind. You need to talk to Price. You need to tell him about Simon, about the fear that grips you. With trembling hands, you tidy up the cleaning supplies and make your way to the hallway.

Each step feels like a monumental effort, but you push forward, driven by the hope that Price can help. You follow the the hallway to the office at the end of the hall. The door is ajar, and you can see him sitting at a desk, papers strewn about. He looks up as you approach, his expression softening when he sees you.

"Finished already?" he says, setting aside the documents and covering them under a manilla folder.

"Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve, um, finished all of today’s tasks, so- so I can just leave, if you don’t have time."

Price’s brows furrow, concern etching into his features. He gestures for you to come in and sit down. You close the door behind you and take a seat, your heart racing. This is it. No turning back now.

He stands from behind his desk and comes around to the other chair in front of it, turning the heavy piece of furniture until it’s perpendicular to you. The sound of its legs scraping against the wooden floor fills the silence. He sits down, his presence commanding yet comforting. Up close, you notice the fine lines etched around his eyes, the subtle signs of weariness that weren’t as apparent before. His beard, neatly trimmed, frames a face that’s both stern and kind, a dichotomy that makes you feel both safe and slightly intimidated.

Price’s eyes, a piercing blue, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. There’s a depth to them, a lifetime of experiences and stories hidden behind that calm exterior. He’s dressed in a simple, yet elegant manner, dark slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

The room is silent except for the faint ticking of an antique clock on the wall, each second amplifying the weight of the moment. The atmosphere is dense, charged with the unspoken tension of what you’re about to reveal. You can feel the steady thump of your heart, each beat echoing in your ears as you try to steady your breath.

His palm lands on your knee and you jolt. His eyes narrow further, and his hand squeezes for a moment before backing off. He leans in further, elbows resting on his knees, and hunched over he’s eye-level with you, sympathetic, earnest.

“Look at me, love.”

You hadn’t even realised your eyes had screwed shut, your breathing rapid and your fingers curling against the armrests.

“Breathe, alright? Deep breaths f’me. Can you do that?” His voice is silky smooth, rumbling and deep, but it doesn’t carve into your chest like Simon’s does, whittling down your ribs. Price’s voice is soft, rounded, gentle, but it’s so confident and authoritative that you have no choice but to listen. His voice is an enveloping blanket, warm and disarming, but you know it has the potential to become suffocating. “It’s just you n’ me, love.”

You don’t know if that’s comforting or not.

You yelp loudly when you feel your chair move, grinding against the floorboards, and your eyes flash open to take in John’s hands around the armrests, easily turning your entire chair to face him, the display of sheer strength enough to force your brain to pause.

Gently, he guides your shaking hands into his, his skin warm and calloused, but it is a comforting heat, a reassuring touch. He slowly uncurls your fingers from the armrests when your breathing evens back out, his grip firm but not crushing.

“Now, what’s gotten you so spooked?” His voice is a low rumble in the quiet room, and you feel yourself open up under his touch, his thumb gently brushing back and forth over your knuckles.

Here goes nothing, you think, glancing away and back. You can’t find it in yourself to meet his eyes. “It’s... It’s about Simon.”

His thumb, stroking back and forth, doesn’t pause. A metronome, so calm and unfailing, a direct contrast to your heart that feels like it’s flailing about in your chest. He nods for you to continue and gives your hands a comforting squeeze.

“I would like it if he wasn’t in the house when I’m here.”

Price’s eyes narrow, his grip on your hands tensing ever so slightly. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence that follows is suffocating. You can practically hear your heart thudding in your ears, the ticking of the clock on the wall, and even the buzzing of a fly by the window seems to reverberate off the walls. He’s going to fire me, you think as dread sinks like lead in your stomach, replacing all other feelings.

“I-I mean, I just don’t feel... safe around him?” you blurt out, tone lilted up at the end like a question, and he raises an eyebrow at you. You’re digging a deeper hole for yourself - your grave, perhaps.

“Simon’s a big man, love, I know that he can seem intimidating, but I promise you he means no harm,” he finally speaks, and you begin to shake again, crossing and uncrossing your legs and nudging his in the process. You don’t want to explain why you’re afraid of him, you want to hope that he will just listen to your one request.

“No, I- he-”

“Want me to have a chat with him? You can come on another day if you’d like to, doesn’t have to be Tuesdays and Thursdays, but he’s home most days, love. Doesn’t like leaving the place.”

Tears are blurring your sight now, and you can’t stop the way you hunch in on yourself, palms slick and sweaty and he just holds onto you tighter. You don’t want to say it, to admit it, to confront what Simon had done to you, but the air is suffocating and Price is just staring at you, waiting for you to open up and you have no out.

“He paid me for a blowjob.” You blurt out frantically, and ice rushes through your veins.

The weight of your confession lingers, the fear you’ve been carrying now laid bare between you. The atmosphere is charged with an electric tension, a mix of dread and relief that leaves you feeling exposed and fragile. The rich scent of leather and aged paper fills your lungs, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within you.

You can feel the warmth of Price’s hands, a steadying presence that cuts through the fear. The stillness of the room is profound, the kind of quiet that demands to be felt, not just heard. Every creak of the wooden floor, every distant sound from the outside world feels muted, insignificant compared to the gravity of this moment.

Price doesn’t speak immediately, allowing the silence to stretch just long enough for you to catch your breath. His calm, composed demeanour is a balm to your frayed nerves, and you find yourself clinging to his presence like a lifeline. The soft, rhythmic ticking of the clock is the only thing filling the frozen silence, and five audible ticks pass before your brain restarts.

He’s calm. Why is he calm? Did he know already? Does he hate you, is he disgusted? No, no, he’s still holding onto you, tightly- why won’t he say something?

“Please, John,” you plead, the tears spilling over your cheeks, and you do not doubt that you look pathetic to him. “I need this job, please. I’m sorry I said anything-”

“Was it not enough?”

His words hang in the air like a sharp, unexpected knife, slicing through the momentary calm. The shock hits you first, a jolt that sends a shiver down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat, and the tears momentarily stop, your mind racing to make sense of his question.

The room seems to constrict around you, the walls pressing in with an oppressive weight. The silence stretches again, but this time it’s different, thick with a new kind of fear and unease.

Price’s face is unreadable, his expression of sympathy and care a mask that betrays nothing of his thoughts. The warmth of his hands no longer feels reassuring but instead adds to the confusion swirling within you, instilling a new fear, and they almost resemble shackles in your mind, chaining you to this moment.

You try to process his question, the implication behind his words twisting your gut with anxiety. Was what not enough? What did he mean? Did he think you were exaggerating? The uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving you adrift in a sea of doubt and fear.

The silence is excruciating, each passing moment stretching into an eternity. Your mind races, replaying the confession, trying to find where you might have gone wrong. The fear that you’ve made a terrible mistake claws at you, a suffocating weight that makes it hard to breathe.

Price’s steady gaze feels piercing now, as if he can see straight through you, past your defences and into the heart of your fear. You feel exposed, laid bare under his scrutiny, the fragility of your position starkly illuminated. The room feels colder, the rich scent of leather and paper now tinged with the acrid bite of panic.

You swallow hard, trying to muster the strength to speak, but the words fail you, your mouth opening and closing dumbly.

“What he paid you. Was it not enough?”

The world comes rushing back in and slams into you like a wave. The cogs of your mind become violently unstuck and your lungs are full of air again and the afternoon sunlight is too bright streaming across the polished wooden floor.

The security blanket that was Price’s presence is now tangled around your limbs, and you’re choking. The hypoxia is making you stupid, rendering you immobile.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” You blubber, the taste of tears salty on your lips.

“What’s the problem, love? What’d Simon do?” You can feel the bones and joints of your hands creak under his grip when he squeezes again. “He didn’t pay you enough? Was he too rough? Did he force you?” He hums, deep and rumbling in his throat, the growl of a predator before his brows jump and he sighs, “Bet he didn’t return the favour, did he? Selfish bastard.”

The disbelief of it all is enough to make your head spin. You can’t believe the twisted meaning he’s just given to your confession.

“N-No- That’s not-”

“Think I get it now,” he says as his back straightens and his arms reach out, wrapping around your forearms with a gentle but firm grip and tugging until you lurch forward, and he easily tugs you into his lap, his hands trailing down your torso to rest against your thighs. “You’re just pent up, aren’t you, love?” His actions only further muddle your thoughts, as he cradles you like a child against his chest, rocking you gently back and forth.

You try to pull away, the panic rising again but his grip tightens. The way his fingers dig into your thighs is possessive and tight and it stings but not nearly as much as the look in his eyes when you finally meet his stare again. There’s something feral there that you’ve never seen before and it makes your blood run cold enough for gooseflesh to break out on your skin.

“Don’t have to be so scared. You just say the word and I’ll let you leave, don’t have to come back again. But I know you talked earlier about how you really need this job... You stay, be good, and I’ll take care of you.”

He didn’t need to say it outright. You know what he means, the threat underlining his words.

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat and try to focus on anything but the way his hands are roaming so close to places they shouldn’t be. You can feel him against your hip now that you’ve stilled. Your mind is still reeling from the sudden shift in the conversation, trying desperately to make sense of it all. You stay, you let him do what he wants, you keep getting paid. A man, a very wealthy and attractive man, offering to ‘take care of you’ and pay you handsomely for it? You’d be an idiot to pass it up.

So why do you feel so gross?

“Y-Yes,” you mumble, cursing yourself for stuttering but you can’t help it when his grip tightens around your thighs and he hums again. “Please take care of me, John.”

His nose presses against the underside of your jaw, whiskers tickling and you shiver, “Good girl.” So quiet, so close, his voice is a growl. His hands begin to inch their way up your thighs, and you shudder, closing your eyes. “Takin’ such good care of the place, let me return the favour.” His hands deftly unbutton your slacks, tugging at the waistband until you lift your hips for him, rolling them down your thighs until they fall around your calves.

You let out a small sound of surprise, but he quickly quiets you with a gentle shush, firmly grabbing your thigh and pulling it open until the stretch aches, his other hand coming to rest on your hip as he guides you to turn in his lap, squeezing the flesh of your waist when you settle your back to his chest, curved and nestled into him. You can feel the strong thrum of his heart against your back, the way his chest rises and falls, so steady and confident compared to the way your heart flutters like a hummingbird. It’s calming, a metronome, forcing your breaths to align with his.

“Relax,” he mutters, and you shudder again as you feel him press his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your earlobe and his beard scratchy and coarse. His voice is almost a purr, low and sensual, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

He must feel the way your breath catches, realizing at the same time that you do that you’re enjoying this. His hands skimmed up your stomach and over your breasts, squeezing and kneading them through your blouse like he owned them, like he had every right in the world to touch you like this. In a way, he does- your livelihood cradled in his hands. He noses along your throat, following the pulse of your heart down until he reaches the space where it meets your shoulder, pressing a feather-soft kiss against the skin. A long breath rushes from your lips, and he hums against your skin, a sound you feel more than hear - the vibration against your skin, the rumble in his chest against your back.

His mouth on your neck distracts you from his hands, easily undoing the second and third buttons of your shirt until your chest is bared to the cool air. His hands find their way underneath the fabric, and you squirm in his lap as he runs his fingers under your bra and cups your breasts in his calloused grip, his thumbs circling your nipples and the feeling is so foreign you continue to writhe atop his thighs until he groans behind you. Your breathing hitches as he rolls a nipple between his fingers, and you can’t believe how turned on you are by this, by him.

“That nice?” he teases, a knowing lilt to his voice as he pinches the other nipple between splayed thumb and forefinger. You gasp again at the sensation and arch into his touch. He tugs at the band and pulls it down until your boobs tumble free, held up by the material. “Anyone touched you here?”

He punctuates his question with a harsh pinch to your nipples, and you squeal, “No one!”

“Do you?” He purrs, giving your nipples a break to knead at the flesh, his left arm sliding across your sternum like a bar, holding you against him as he squeezes your opposite breast. His other hand trails down, splaying over your ribs, fingers drumming impatiently against your skin.

“Some- hah- sometimes,” you pant, hands resting against his arms where they surround you in some twisted facsimile of affection.

His hand leaves your ribs and you whine, but it only moves lower, down your stomach, skirting dangerously close to where you ache. He dips a finger past the waistband of your underwear, resting at the apex of your thighs. “What about here?”

“John-”

“Tell me, sweetheart. Do you touch yourself? Right here?” He pushes his index finger between your folds and you moan even as you deny it, hips bucking against his hand. A bright trace of pleasure jolts through you as a result, and your eyes flutter for a moment as you try to resist the urge to repeat the motion.

“Y- no, I don’t-”

He chuckles, “Liar.”

He groans at the warm heat of you, the little flutter of invitation that greets him. It’s enough to startle a wanting little moan from you, craning your head a little, unintentionally baring the bare flesh of your neck to him. John’s mouth presses against the skin there and lets his tongue go flat over the spot he’s seized before he seals his lips over the spot and sucks. His finger, coated in slick, drags back up until he can again tease your clit, circling the nub until your entire body is tense with need. The wavering, licking flame of lust inside you blazes brightly at the sensation, shuddering as the heat pulses low in your core, slick and warm and empty. You moan as he pushes a second digit inside of you and then pulls them out, repeating the motion until your hips are rocking against his hand of their own accord, your ass grinding against Price’s cock below you.

“That’s it, love, right there.” He hisses in your ear, sucking another bruise onto your skin before hooking his chin over your shoulder, watching the way your panties bulge and move with his hand, a dark, wet patch obvious, highlighting the movements of his fingers. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? All f’me?” His voice is like honey and yet it grates against your sensibilities, grating against your every instinct. You want to hate him for this, for reducing you to a quivering pile of need in his lap. But you can't seem to find it in yourself to care anymore. All you can think about is his fingers inside of you, the way his touch sets your body on fire, how good it feels. His fingers reach so much deeper than yours, calloused and rough and thick.

"John," you moan, voice rough with lust as he withdraws his fingers, leaving you aching and empty.

"Not yet," he teases, sucking another hickey onto the column of your neck. "We're not done yet." You whine as he helps you up off of his lap, but any protest that might have passed your lips dies on your lips as he stands and crowds himself against you, hands squeezing your hips and pushing until you stumble, ankles tied together with your pants, and you hiss in pain as your ass collides with the cold wood of his desk.

"Shit!" You exclaim, more shocked than hurt, but his hands are already tugging at your underwear, thumbs hooking in the sides and pulling them down until they're resting with your pants around your ankles. John takes a moment to run his eyes up and down your body, pausing on your breasts and between your legs, before he sinks to his knees. “What- what are you doing?”

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” He hums, lifting your legs until they rest on his shoulders, his head nestled between your thighs, eye-level with the place your body weeps for him. It's all the warning you get before he pushes his face into you, mouth dropping open to let his tongue lull out. Licking a scorching stripe from hole to clit. And, oh—

Your head lolls forward, chin to your chest, eyes slipping closed at the liquid feeling between your thighs. The white-hot sensation of his tongue laving across your slit. A needy gasp tears from your throat. Your hips buck. John clamped down on your body, leaving deep dents in your thighs. His wide, flat tongue strokes from bottom to top in languid laps. When he reached the tender nub at the top, you jolted again. He paused and swirled over the area a second time.

And then his lips are on you, his tongue lapping at your folds with enthusiasm that borders on animalistic. You make a noise in the back of your throat, awful and wet and choked. You can’t seem to take a fucking breath around all the hoarse cries coming out of your throat. It honestly sounds like you’re sobbing, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you lifted your hand to find tears forming in your eyes. The feeling of his tongue inside of you is good. Beyond words. It slips in more. The full length. You keen, arching, hips flexing, jerking against his mouth. He lets you ride his face like this, fucking your hole with his tongue, nose glued tight to your clit. You cry out, hands flying to his head, nails digging into his scalp as he teases you with abandon. Trembling legs clenched around his shoulders, burning him in a vice grip of quivering thighs.

His fingers find their way back inside of you, curling and twisting in time with the movements of his tongue, and it’s enough to bring you back to the edge. His tongue leaves you, sliding up your seam until it cups your clit. Laves over it. He lifts his chin, seals his mouth over you and sucks. Your nails score tracks down his scalp as you come apart in his mouth, pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you like an ocean tide.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he pulls up your panties from between your legs before standing, still between your butterflied legs, and now that the ringing in your ears had quieted, you can hear him, the wet schlick of his hand around his cock - the hand he was using on you. “Fuck,” he groans, wedging his cock beneath your panties until the wet, hot head rests just above your clit, further darkening the wet spot you’d left. His hand continues its up and down on his cock, the movement jostling it against your still tender clit and releasing a pathetic, overstimulated whine from your throat.

“‘s too much, John,” you mewl, your hands slapping against his thighs weakly, and he growls again, deep in his throat, before a splash of heat coats your pussy and stomach, soaking into your panties.

He smears the head of his cock through his spend, painting it into your skin, and you yelp when he taps it against your clit one last time before pulling out from your ruined panties, tugging them up and into place again. His cum is warm against the lips of your pussy, and you can’t hold back the wince at the feel of the slick mess.

He holds down your thighs as he steps out from their embrace, a smug smile stretching his cheeks and crinkling his blue eyes, the cat that got the cream. He wiggles your pants up your legs again, over your hips, zips the fly and buttons them up, grabbing a handful of your ass before stepping back and slumping into one of the chairs. You refuse to move, to acknowledge the combined mess pressed into your skin. You’ve never been more glad for your black wardrobe.

John must see the disgust etched onto your features, and he just laughs, huffy and airy and quiet, “Couldn’t make another mess for you to clean, love.” You take a hesitant step toward the door, eyeing John, who seems to relish in your discomfort. “Best get yourself home before the boys return, eh? Wouldn’t want ‘em asking too many questions.”

You jolt at his words and hurry to the door, pointedly ignoring his laughter and the way your skin slides against your panties.

“Don’t forget to check your pockets when you make it home, sweetheart,” John cooes, and you make sure to slam his office door loudly once you pass the threshhold, but you can still hear him call after you. “Use it to buy something cute for next time!”

[blooming-violets]

Hear me out :

Peter is jaded after Gwen, it’s before the events of NWH, and he’s slowly starting to fall in love with a woman he’s (literally) ran into at the library. She’s intellectual, kind, but is also a little jaded like Peter. Slowly, he has seen hope in her chestnut eyes. He is starting to see a future.

One night, Peter is listening to the police scanners and hears the code for an armed break-in, and it’s library girl’s apartment complex’s address.

He swallows, angry chills run up his spine as he hears her apartment number called out.

What does he do, Katie? How would he react?

I'm With You || TASM Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: stalking, sexual assault of a woman (being masturbated over by a man and touched w/o consent), nudity, crass language, gun usage, armed break-ins with the intent to harm a woman living alone, being tied and gagged against her will, violence from Peter/Spider-Man with a tiny bit of gore

It’s a damn cold night. 

Peter tugged his jacket close around his body as he jogged the last few remaining steps into the public library. His overdue books were hidden inside the satchel at his side. He was about a month late in returning them and the library was almost closed. He wanted to get them in before he forgot. If he waited another day, he would never remember to bring them back. 

As he rounded the corner, he tripped over someone’s outstretched legs. Being a man of his talents, he quickly corrected his fall to land effortlessly back on his feet with the elegance of a ballerina making a graceful leap. 

Quizzical eyes stared up at him. 

The woman on the floor was leaning with her back against the bookcase with an open book in her lap. She looked more annoyed at him for tripping over her instead of apologetic for having her legs across the aisle. 

“Watch where you’re going,” she grumbled. 

She lifted the book up to her face, blocking him back out. 

Peter let out a breathy laugh of disbelief at the audacity of this bitch. 

“Excuse me?” He said, agast. 

She peeked her eyes over the top of the book to stare him down, “Dude, get lost. I’m busy. Not my fault you’re clumsy.”

“You tripped me!” He read the cover of the book she was reading. The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes. “Doing a bit of light reading, I see. First it’s tripping innocent strangers and next it’s world domination? Is that it?”

He caught the smallest of smiles tug at her lips hidden behind the book.  

A singular butterfly fluttered around inside his stomach at the sight. The feeling was enough to grab his attention. He quietly admired her. Legs still stretched out in front of her. Zero regard for the space she was taking up. He kind of liked it. She didn’t give a shit. 

Peter turned and left her to her book, not wanting to bother her further, and headed to the front desk to deal with his late fees.

A week had passed and he was back in the library. He had no real purpose for being there today other than he liked the smell of the books. They made him feel relaxed. He liked to walk down the aisles and let his fingers graze across each bump of their spines. Every book he touched, filled with another story, another world, hundreds of lives under the tips of his fingers. 

“Hey,” a feminine voice hissed from between a gap of books on the other side of the shelf. 

Those eyes. He blinked back at them, peering between the shelves, trying to place where he remembered them from. 

Then it hit him. 

Atomic bomb girl. 

“Can I borrow your height?” She whispered, keeping her voice low to be respectful to the people studying on the other side of the room. Unlike the last time he saw her, it was a Thursday afternoon and the library was full with students. 

Peter slipped into the next aisle. She pointed to the book she wanted on the top shelf, just out of her reach. He plucked it down for her and turned it over in his hands. Relativity: The Special and the General Theory by Albert Einstein.

She eyed him with an intensity he wasn’t used to, like she was seeing straight through his skin and into his soul. Her eyes were captivating. He wanted to get lost in them. 

“You’re the unbalanced, trippy guy, right?” She asked. 

Peter smiled. Last night he stood on one foot on top of the Empire State Building spire just to admire the view. He was more balanced than she would ever know. 

“You mean, am I the one you tripped? Yes.” He handed her over the book. “You’re into science, I see, atomic bomb girl?” 

“I’m into learning. Whatever form that may come in.” She took the book and tucked it under her arm. “Thanks, trippy.” 

“Peter,” he called after her as she spun around to walk away. “You can call me Peter!”

The library became his new home. He took every opportunity to attend in the hopes of bumping into her again. Some days were a success, other’s a failure, but he found himself wanting more. Every time she had a new book and every time he would find the same one to read after her. It wasn’t weird. He was just…trying to find quiet ways to relate to someone new.

So he told himself. 

Peter had forgotten how to talk to women after Gwen. It had been so long since he even attempted to date anyone.

“Are you stalking me?” She asked one evening when she walked into the room to find him sitting on his laptop at one of the tables. 

He glanced up and shrugged, “I was here first this time. Maybe you’re stalking me?”

She smiled and slid into the seat across from him, “I already have one stalker. I don’t need another. If you’re into me, you better just grow a pair, and ask me out now.” 

Peter grinned, “I’m…wait…okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, sitting up straighter, completely letting the stalker comments fly over his head as he got flustered. “Would you like to go on a date with me? Right here. Right now. If you say ‘yes’ then it’s already starting.” He closed his laptop to give her his full attention. 

Her eyes widened and she settled happily back into her chair, “Alright, Peter, was it? Nice to meet you. This is an interesting choice of restaurant for a first date. Not what I would have chosen for our dinner and a movie night. I didn’t see a kitchen when I walked in but I chose to trust you.” 

“This is the finest establishment the borough has to offer,” he feigned a gasp. “Don’t you insult my choice of restaurant.” 

He raised a finger in the air, pretending to call over an imaginary waiter, “Hello, yes, I will take your finest bottle of wine for the table to start. The more expensive, the better. And I will take a big, giant steak for myself and, perhaps, a nice, small salad for the lovely lady?” He shot her a cheeky wink as she let out a laugh. 

“Fuck you,” she giggled.

Fucking him was exactly what she did. 

They continued their imaginary dinner date in the library until it closed, the librarian kicking them out and shooing them out the front door. They walked into the chilly night air, stopping at a bodega at the street corner to grab a few snacks, as they made their way to her place. 

He had slept with other women since Gwen passed but this time was different. There were feelings involved. Feelings that were still in their infancy. Ones that were just sparking to life. But they were there. He didn’t just want to fuck her and run. He wanted more than that. He wanted to stay. He wanted to grow and cultivate whatever path they were headed down. He wanted this to be something. 

He was ready to try dating again. 

She rolled over in the bed, naked and relaxed, staring up at the ceiling, “That was amazing. You really know how to use that tongue of yours for more than just being a dick. I’m impressed.”

Peter chuckled, “Oh, please, your tongue was nothing to scoff at either.”

It really had been one of the best blow jobs of his life. 

He leaned on his side, propping his head up with his hand, and gazed happily down at her, “I want to take you on a real date. Saturday night. To an actual restaurant.”

She hesitated. A shadowed sadness darkened her eyes which she quickly pushed away, “Okay. I think I can do that.”

Peter frowned, “Something wrong?”

She shook her head, leaning over to kiss him as a distraction, “Nope. When you leave, can you leave through one of the side doors? Don’t walk out the front of the apartment.” 

That was his cue to leave, apparently. He chewed anxiously against his bottom lip. Maybe he was misreading whatever he thought was going on between them. Maybe she wanted a quick fuck and nothing more. Come to think of it, when they entered here, she had snuck them in the back door, too, making him walk a few feet behind her like they weren’t together.

Maybe she was in a relationship and cheating on her partner with him?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” She offered, casually urging him to get out of the bed. “Text me. I stuck my contact in your phone earlier.”

Peter left feeling more confused and unsure than when he entered her place. 

He lifted his phone as he walked through the streets, searching the contracts until he found her under ❤️Atomic Bomb Girl❤️, and he smiled down at it. A heart. Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe her front door was just broken. He always went straight to assuming the worst. 

Someone slammed into his shoulder, jostling him out of his thoughts, and he glanced behind him. A large, buff man glared back at him. He looked to be in his late fifties and was balding. His massive arms bulged under his tight fitting, worn down leather jacket. He reached out to clamp a hand down around Peter’s upper arm.

Peter frowned and tried to jerk away, “Dude, it was an accident, chill.” 

“Did you fuck that girl up there?” That man asked, nodding his head back to her apartment building. There was a crazed desperation in his voice. “I saw you following her home. Did she spread her legs for you and whore herself out? Did you get a good look at that tight, little pussy? Tell me, what did it look like? You take any pictures? I’ll pay you for them.”

Peter jerked his arm out of the man’s grasp, scowling in disgust, “What the fuck? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wasn’t following anyone. I was meeting a friend who lives there. Fuck off.” 

The man leaned forward and inhaled his scent causing Peter to jump back. 

“I can smell her on you,” he growled as his eyes rolled back into his head. “That’s her perfume. I know because I bought it for her. You were fucking her.” 

That was enough. 

Peter shoved the older man off of him and jogged around the corner, waiting until he was out of sight before throwing himself up onto her building roof, peering over the edge to keep an eye on him. 

He was just pacing back and forth outside the apartment door, mumbling to himself and fidgeting with something in his pocket. 

“Freak,” Peter muttered under his breath. 

He pulled up her contact and sent her a text: Some crazy old dude just ambushed me outside your place. Asked about you. Maybe don’t go outside tonight. I think he’s not right in the head.

He saw three bubbles appear as she started to text back but then they disappeared again, leaving him hanging. 

Peter shrugged it off. He stayed and kept watch until the man finally wandered off down the street.

The night before he was supposed to take her out on a date, Peter was laid over his bed in his Spider suit sans mask. His police scanner let out more static of nothing as he waited for something, anything, to happen. He was bored but it was too cold to hang around on a rooftop somewhere. He would stay in the warmth of his bedroom unless something exciting came his way. They had been texting back and forth nonstop for the last few days and calling each other every night to talk for hours. He liked it when she sent him pictures of things she was doing around her house during the day. She was adorable and he looked forward to whenever his phone would buzz. 

As if on cue, it vibrated across the mattress next to him. 

He lifted it up in a gloved hand to read the text. A frown settled over his face as he read it. 

Atomic Bomb Girl: ha ha ha i win u lose dontever touch wat is mine again 

Right as he was attempting to decipher what she was talking about, taking note of how drastic of a change of text from her usual ones it was, the police scanner lit to life.

“All available units to Linden Boulevard, Oak Ridge Apartments, floor three. Multiple calls of gunshots heard and one reported casualty of a security guard. Suspect is wearing dark clothes, caucasian older male, considered armed and dangerous. Approach with caution.”

His senses exploded in a panicked wave of tingles. That was her place. Her floor. The image of that strange man assaulting him on the street after he left came back to hit him like a ton of bricks. Peter looked back at his phone as the pieces fell into place. 

Oh, fuck. 

Quiet, controlled anger replaced the panic. His heart rate steadied as a calm chill fell over him. His jaw locked in determination. He reached for his mask, tugging it over his stone cold, deadly expression, and he leaped out of his open window. 

Peter Parker no longer fucked around when it came to protecting the one’s he cared about. This was personal. 

He arrived at the scene in record speed, landing directly on top of a black S.W.A.T truck as it pulled up. He rapped a fist down on the hood to get their attention.

“Feel free to sit this one out, boys!” He called down to them. “Spidey’s got you covered! I’ll be in and out in minutes. No need to worry. Focus on crowd control. I’ve got a date with a balding fucker. If all goes well, it’ll end up with a quickie in the back of a cop car, as I ride his ass straight to prison.” 

Peter threw himself up onto her building, scaling to the third floor and around to find her window. He knew exactly where he would find his perp. His masked face popped up in her bedroom window. It was empty and quiet. He slammed his fist through the glass, slipping his hand inside to find the lock, and shoved it open wide enough for him to shimmy through. 

From inside, he could hear muffled cries. Whimpers. They were different from the whimpers he had been able to elicit out of her the other night but he knew them all the same. 

Silent as a shadow, Peter crept around the corner. With her hands tied behind her back, her shirt ripped open so her bare chest was on display, and thrown against the couch was his girl. The gun man stood above her. A pistol was aimed directly at her forehead. From this angle, he couldn’t quite make out what was going on, but it looked as if the man was masturbating over her. Trails of mascara ran down her cheeks and she let out muffled cries against the heavy amounts of duct tape blocking her mouth as she struggled to break free. 

His anger flared but he tried to push it down to manable levels. He had learned over the years that getting too angry made him sloppy. He needed to control it. Work with it. Tame it into something he could use as a weapon instead of making it a weakness. 

Peter crawled up her wall and onto her ceiling, prowling towards the man. Up here, he had a clear view. His dick was out and he was frantically jerking it as fast as he could at her breasts. Her eyes widened in fear but then flashed with hope when caught sight of Spider-Man crawling across her ceiling. 

He hadn’t even done anything yet and he already felt pride. She felt a sense of safety around him…even if she didn’t know it was him behind the mask. It made him cocky. Made him want to show off. 

When he was directly behind him, he silently lowered himself upside on a web until his face was hung directly behind the assailant. 

“I’m actually surprised you can even get it up,” he quipped, keeping his voice light, despite the rage eating at his stomach. “I didn’t know something that small could get hard.”  

The man whipped around, his dick flopping against his leg, as he sputtered in shock. His pistol went off, firing aimless at the wall behind Peter’s head. 

Peter held up his hands in mock surrender as he jumped to his feet, “Whoa, there, tinycock! Don’t go blowing your load so soon! You’ll miss out on all the fun.”

There was no doubt this was the same man he had met outside the other day. His eyes were crazed with an unhinged, desperation that reeked of a man off his meds. Peter made sure to keep the man’s eyes on himself, holding his attention, instead of on her. 

“What’s a sad sap like you doing out of the psych ward? Were you a good boy and managed to snag yourself a day pass?” Peter clasped his hands together like he was excited for him, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And you used it to visit your daughter? Aww, that’s so sweet. Wait a minute.” He pretended to just now notice the man’s cock hanging out of his pants. It had gone soft and shrunken up like a scared little mouse. “Is she…not your daughter? But you’re so old. And she’s so young. I guess I don’t see any resemblance. She’s really pretty and you’ve got-” He motioned a hand around the man’s face. “-all that. Something tells me that there’s more going on here. Wanna tell your pal Spidey all about it?” 

The man was silent, blinking in a shocked awe at the masked hero, before finally snapping out of it. Spider-Man always excelled at talking his bad guys into circles with his stream of conscious babbling. The gun raised towards his head but, quicker than the man could even process, Peter had latched his hand around the barrel and crushed it in his grasp with the same ease as one might squish a can of soda after they finished drinking.

“Whoopies,” he joked. “Looks like your gun broke! I wouldn’t pull that trigger if I were you. It’ll explode right back into your face there. On second thought, maybe give it a go! It might improve what you’re working with!” 

The man faltered, looking confused and baffled down at his crushed gun. He clearly wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box. That was okay. Peter didn’t need him to be intelligent. He just needed him to be unarmed. 

Which he now was. 

Peter grabbed him by the scruff of the collar and turned him around to face her, “Do you see that girl there?” The man’s eyes glazed over as he stared down at her exposed breasts. Peter quickly threw a hand over the man’s eyes to block them, manhandling him around like he wasn’t twice his size. “I take that back. Don’t see that girl there. Use your imagination. Remember her face. You know that girl? Yeah, that girl. The one you tied up and assaulted? The one sitting in front of us, scared out of her mind and traumatized. I want you to remember her. Because if you ever, and I mean ever, even think about her again, if she ever crosses your pathetically shriveled up mind, if you ever say her fucking name, speak about her, think about, look in her direction, or ever come near her again…” 

Peter dragged him over to the living room window where the slew of police were barricaded outside. He could hear the S.W.A.T crew moving up the stairwell now towards them and knew they only had a few more precious minutes of alone time. He shoved the man up to the window, raising his arm to force him to wave limply at all the cops down below. 

His voice lowered to a dangerous growl. Any playful, sarcastic essence it once held in the presence of his girl disappeared so only the man could hear him. 

“If you ever fucking touch her again,” he breathed. “I will toss you off of the Empire State Building and laugh through your entire fall down to your grizzly end.” 

With his hand still clutching the man’s collar, he jerked him back and smashed his face directly through the glass window. He heard her muffled scream of shock behind him but he knew she would be alright. 

A shard of glass stuck out of the man’s forehead, blood dripping down over his half closed eye, and Peter flicked it off down onto the street below. 

“That was for trying to taunt me over text,” he whispered in the dazed man’s ear. “I don’t play nice with men like you. Want to see what it would feel like falling to your death? Here’s a little preview so you’ll be sure to know exactly what you’ll be in for if you ever even think about my woman again.” 

Peter reeled back and tossed the man straight out of her window, head first, sending him down to the cops below. If he let his anger win, he would have never set a web straight after him, but she was watching and he didn’t want to be that person. She had gone through enough without having to see her Saturday night date murder a man in front of her.

The web latched onto his back at the final moments to break his fall. His legs may have crumpled against the ground…just a little bit…but he was alive. It was more than he deserved but the cops could deal with him now. 

Peter spun around to look back at her. She was quietly sobbing, muffled by her gag, but held a look of relief on her face. She brought her teary eyes up to meet his, or where she thought they would under the mask, and gave him a short nod of thanks. 

The S.W.A.T team was nearing her door. He could jump out the window and allow them to help her get free or…

She clung onto him, her head buried in his shoulder, as he soared them down the street and away from the commotion below. She cried softly. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the trauma or that fact that New York’s very own Spider-Man had just stolen her from her home but he kept a firm hold on her and kept whispering reassuring words in her ear. 

Eventually, he landed them on top of his own apartment building, setting her down gently onto her bottom. 

She gasped for breath, reaching up a hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, “I always…wondered…what it would be like…to fly…” Her chest was heaving between each gasping word. “Turns out, it’s terrifying. Still, thank you, Peter. For saving me.” 

He shrugged, “It’s no problem. I was just doing my- hey, wait!”

She gave him a sneaky smile, still shivering and teary, but proud of herself for figuring it out.

“What?” She asked, innocently. “You think I wouldn’t know your voice? I’ve been listening to it for hours every night over the phone for the past few days.”

Peter reluctantly reached a hand up to pull off his mask, “You’re good.” 

Despite having already guessed his secret identity, she still looked surprised to actually see him without the mask on. He squatted down in front of her to seem less intimidating. 

“So that was your stalker, I take it?” He asked. 

She nodded, giving a sad sigh, “The one and only. He’s a joy, isn’t he?” 

He plopped onto his ass and crossed his legs, giving her a shrug, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again. I may have had some, ahem, choice words to encourage him to find new hobbies.”

She smiled again, blinking back her tears, “Thank you, Peter. Or, should I be calling you Spidey from now on?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, “Look, this is a big deal! You better not go running your mouth or else I’ll have to have some choice words with you, too.” 

He liked hearing the sound of her laugh, especially after everything she just went though, and he knew she would be okay. 

“I have a date with Spider-Man tomorrow,” she giggled. “How exciting.”

Peter chuckled, “The excitement wears off quickly, trust me.” 

She scooted closer to bring her mascara streaked face inches from his, “Somehow I doubt that.”

[irb-pascalito-99]

Date Night

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: My younger sister Ellie and Joel’s daughter Sarah go on a school trip for the weekend, leaving Joel and I alone for the first time since we started seeing each other in secret.

Warnings: SMUT, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, breaking furniture

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter thirteen of my a03 fic Always an Angel, Never a God. For more chapters on this pairing please go to a03.

I turn in the bed and attempt to push Joel to wake him up. He grumbles and pulls me closer to him. I push him again and whisper his name.

“Joel! Get up, it’s almost 8:30. We overslept!” Joel looks up at the alarm clock as well. When it starts to sink in he jumps up and starts shoving his clothes back on.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I forgot to set an alarm.” I wrap myself in a robe and start gathering Joel’s things off the floor.

We’ve been trying to be more careful since the night of Ellie’s nightmare. We’ve started spending less time together so I can start focusing on Ellie more.

Her grades have continued to make an improvement, and we’ve been getting along great. She often comes to draw in the art studio while I paint. We’ve been setting an actual routine.

I still have no idea whether or not she’s having more nightmares. Sometimes at night I wait in the hallway trying to listen to any noises of distress, but I haven’t heard anything. I got her in to see a therapist once a week, hoping that even if she isn’t talking to me about it, maybe she’ll talk to someone. She seemed apprehensive to the idea at first, but she seems to really be opening up to her now.

I text Joel throughout the week, but we keep our visits to weekends only now, something that makes the time we do have together seem more precious and finite. Desperate touches linger as long as possible, while we wait in each other’s beds as long as we can.

He was not supposed to come over on a Thursday night, but after the day he had at work he begged to see me. We surprised Ellie with a Sarah sleepover and waited to sneak Joel back in until after the girls were asleep. He was not supposed to spend the entire night, but at some point gentle caresses turned to sleepy eyes which turned to dreams.

Now, Joel walks as quickly as he can down the stairs without making too much noise. I hurry after him, making glances up to the top of the stairs to ensure one of the girls didn’t come out of Ellie’s room. We make our way toward the front door, but just as his hand reaches for the handle we hear noises in the kitchen.

“Dad?” Sarah asks as she rounds the corner. My heart leaps in my chest while I turn around. Did she see him come down the stairs?

“Hey! Good morning!” Joel says cheerily. He glances at me quickly and then moves to Sarah. “Just came to pick you guys up for school.”

If Sarah finds it strange, she doesn’t say anything. She hugs her dad tight and drags him into the kitchen. He looks at me over his shoulder and motions for me to follow.

Inside the kitchen Ellie and Sarah are making breakfast. There are ingredients all over the counter, which are a disaster, and the smell of eggs wafts through the air.

“We need to make some for dad too!” Sarah says to Ellie who uses a spatula to push the eggs around the pan. Sarah makes her dad sit at the kitchen table and looks at me to do the same.

Joel and I sit awkwardly while we wait for the girls to finish cooking, not wanting to seem suspicious. When the eggs are done Ellie brings plates over for us containing scrambled eggs and toast. Sarah walks over with two big glasses of orange juice. Joel makes a face when she puts his juice down on the table in front of him but forces himself to drink it anyway.

His knee brushes mine as the four of us eat breakfast. The girls didn’t do too bad considering their lack of experience with cooking. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Joel take a piece of eggshell out of his mouth.

“Did you bring my bag?” Sarah asks Joel as we finish eating.

“Bag?” Joel asks with his mouth full. Sarah rolls her eyes and looks at Ellie.

“For the trip…” Joel furrows his brows in confusion for a moment, dropping his fork and muttering to himself when he remembers. “Dad!”

Joel clears the table in a hurry and looks at his watch. He rushes the girls to grab their things so they can go.

“We’ll pick it up on the way,” he says. I hand Ellie her bag as they start to head out the door. Sarah and Ellie while Joel waits in the doorway. “They’ll be gone for a whole weekend…”

He has a mischievous look spread across his face as he stands beside the front door. He closed the door almost fully, so the girls can’t see the two of us. I laugh and shake my head. The girls are headed on a class trip this weekend, leaving both Joel and I child-free for the first time since we started whatever this is.

“I’ll see you soon then,” I chuckle.

“Tonight? I can come over here after work. I’ll stay the whole weekend if you’ll let me” I bite my lip as I grin at the thought of how eager he is to see me again.

I nod and he glances a look at the girls through the crack in the door before quickly pulling me in for a kiss. We’re both smiling like idiots when he leaves.

—

It’s hard to focus the rest of the day. There are several times either Frank or Bill had to say my name until I snapped out of whatever weekend daydream I had followed out of reality. It doesn’t help that Joel kept me up so late last night as well. I try to tell them that I’m just tired, but I can tell neither of them believe me.

I ended up having to stay a little later than I hoped due to a reconstruction project I needed to get finished before the weekend set in, so I quickly shoot Joel a text.

Me: Hey, things are running late at the shop. Looks like I’m going to be another hour, but the key is under the doormat if you want to let yourself in :)

Joel: Sounds good! Also, doormat? We gotta fix that, anybody could find it there and just walk in…

I giggle at his protectiveness and put my phone away again. Nearly two hours later I’m finally pulling into the driveway of my home. Joel’s truck is parked in the garage in case Maria or Tommy drive by. Butterflies dance in my stomach as I walk up to the front door.

I don’t see any lights on when I walk up the front steps, but there’s a faint flicker between the blinds. I open the front door slowly, the smell of freshly cooked food emanating from the kitchen the second I do. The floor between the kitchen and front door is covered in rose petals and the walkway between the two is surrounded by tiny little tea lights.

I feel my face flush as I make my way down the path, pausing for a second to put my keys in the bowl Joel made me. When I get to the kitchen I find Joel at the table, plating something he had just pulled off a pan. He looks at me with the biggest smile on his face and places the empty pan in the sink.

“Hey darlin,” he says as he makes his way over to me and presses his lips to mine.

The table is also set up nicely, with a red tablecloth spread across it that Joel must have either brought from home or bought today. There’s a bouquet of flowers in a vase set in the middle and flower petals sprinkled across the surface as well. There are even petals sprinkled across the kitchen island along with more tea lights to help illuminate the kitchen. Two taper candles sit beside the vase on the table and he’s set two plates of food across from each other with what looks like steak and scallops on top.

“What?” I ask, looking between the table and him. He grabs my hand and kisses the top of it.

“I know we can’t really go on an actual date because we’re keeping this thing secret, but I thought you deserved something special.” He says.

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he watches my reaction. I’m not sure how to respond. I feel the emotions well up in my eyes as I take it all in. This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, and there’s a part of me that wonders if I deserve it. I’m the one forcing us to keep this a secret. I’m the reason we can’t be a real couple. I push those emotions down and blink a couple of times to keep the tears at bay.

“Thank you,” I say. I kiss him again, slowly. It isn’t like the rushed passionate kisses we normally exchange in a rush to have each other before the time runs out. Something deeper lingers in this one, a shared emotion exchanging between the two of us despite the fact that neither of us are ready to say it out loud. It floats in the open air as we pull away. “Give me one second.”

Joel looks confused when I turn back toward the stairs and rush off. I quickly run up to my bedroom and search for something else to wear, something more deserving of this occasion.

I pick out an olive green satin dress with little flowers embroidered on it from the back of my closet. When I put it on I ditch my bra and pick out a pair of my sexier underwear. I make sure to throw my work clothes in the laundry hamper in my closet and I take my hair out of the braid it’s been in all day as well, letting the waves settle down my shoulders before I head back down the stairs.

Joel watches with wide eyes as I make my slow descent. I have to fight a giggle from escaping my lips when his jaw literally drops as I move into full view of him. His hands immediately find my hips when I’m within reach of him and his eyes roam over my figure once more.

“God damn,” he mutters under his breath. My cheeks warm again.

I pull from his grasp enough to do a little twirl so he can see the whole dress. When I turn around I hear a sharp intake of breath from him before he grabs my hips again to pull my body against his. He immediately buries his face in my neck, kissing up the side of it as he pulls my hips flush with his. I lose myself in it for a second, allowing myself to melt against him as he bites down on my neck and grinds against me.

“Joel,” I say breathily. I remember the dinner on the table in front of us and grab his hand as it attempts to roam down my thigh. “Joel, stop, dinner.”

“Screw dinner,” Joel groans and runs his tongue over the last place he nipped on my neck.

I laugh at his eagerness to suddenly ditch the meal he spent all this effort setting up. It’s tempting to cave, to follow our desires and let him take me right here. Even though we just spent last night together, I still can’t get enough of him. He leans in to kiss my neck again and I twist away.

“Okay now, hands to yourself. I want my date mister.” Joel sighs and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Whatever she wants,” he says. He flashes me a grin again.

He makes his way to one of the chairs and pulls it out for me. He pushes it in after I sit down, then grabs the uncorked bottle of wine from the middle of the table. I watch him pour a glass for me before making his way to his chair. He pours himself a glass too. After he pours his glass he lifts it in the air.

“To our weekend in paradise,” he says, reaching across the table to grab my hand. I squeeze his hand and smile.

“To our weekend in paradise,” I repeat and clink my glass against his. We each take a sip, refusing to let go of each other’s hands until we eventually have to in order to cut the steak.

Despite the fact that this technically is our first date, it feels more like we’ve settled into a domestic routine. We don’t make the typical small talk where you ask about each other’s lives or hobbies. Instead he asks about the shop and my restoration project. He tells me how excited the girls were for their trip. We hold hands whenever we can and I see him stealing glances of me through the corner of my eyes as I tell him a story about Bill’s heated exchange with a customer today.

When he’s done eating Joel patiently waits for me to finish. He stares at me like I’m the only thing worth seeing. I fidget self consciously under his gaze.

“What?” I ask, finishing my food and bringing my wine to my lips to take another sip. Joel grins and shrugs.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he responds. My face warms again as I put my glass down. I keep my eyes on the candle wax that’s begun to drip onto the tablecloth.

Joel rubs circles on the back of my hand for a moment and then gets up. He turns on some music in the background. He takes a couple of the empty dishes from the table, moving them to the sink. I finish my glass of wine and get up to help him clear the table but when he turns to see me with dishes in my hand he almost looks offended.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, taking the dishes out of my hand. He places them in the sink while I look at him confused.

“I’m helping clean up,” I respond, grabbing the two candles from the table and blowing them out. He grabs my wrists once I’ve placed them on the kitchen island and pulls my chest to his.

“Your only job right now is to stand there and look pretty. Let me take care of you.” I roll my eyes at him. The constant argument between us coming up yet again, his insistence that I sit back and let him take care of me. It’s annoyingly predictable at this point.

I sigh and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He smiles, thinking he won the argument. I lean my head against his chest as he wraps his arms around my waist. Neither of us said anything about dancing, but we slowly find ourselves saying to the music. He grabs one of my hands from his neck and twirls me slowly in a circle.

When he pulls me back to him his hands grip my back as he dips me. He leans down and brushes his lips against my clavicle while my hair fans out below me. He presses soft kisses down my chest, stopping just above the hem of my dress. He notices then, my lack of a bra and groans, pulling me back up to stand. Joel takes a step back, his eyes darkened with last.

“Show me,” he says. I slowly move my hands to the straps around my neck. I pull the tie until it loosens, keeping my eyes on Joel’s as I let the dress fall to the floor around me. He licks his lips and lunges forward the second it hits the floor.

One of his hands grips my neck as he kisses me passionately while the other squeezes my butt. He walks me backward until my hips bump into the kitchen table. I let out a moan when his lips leave mine to pull one of my nipples into his mouth instead. His fingers pull me impossibly closer as mine roam across his shoulders.

He lets go of my nipple with a pop and moves on to the other. My hand moves down his chest as he does so, fighting to undo the buttons of his shirt. I finally manage to get his shirt open as he pulls away. Joel’s eyes rake over my figure, consuming me as the candlelight flickers behind him.

“You’re so damn gorgeous baby, like a piece of fuckin’ art,” I giggle and he pushes me back, laying me out on the kitchen table.

It creaks under the pressure of my body laying on top of it. I almost ask him to get me down, but I forget the words as he starts kissing down my breasts and stomach. He stops at the waistband of my underwear. I whimper and tug at his hair in anticipation. He pulls my panties down my legs, his hands running down my skin gently, and shoves them in the pocket of his jeans.

He gets down on his knees in front of me, pulling me to the edge of the table and hanging my legs over his shoulders. I prop myself up on my elbows to watch as he dives into my dripping core. His tongue laps hungrily at my folds. I throw my head back in pleasure, biting my lip as my body begins to shake. He grips my thighs tightly as he sucks on my clit.

“Fuck baby, you like that?” I whimper and nod my head. His lips twist into a smile before he thrusts his tongue inside me, curling it and pulling me closer to him. His nose bumps my clit sending shockwaves through my body.

I’m so close already. I pull at his hair while the coil builds, whimpering and shaking as I get closer and closer to the edge. He takes one of his hands from my thighs and sinks two fingers into my heat, immediately curling them to hit the sensitive spot inside me. I moan and shift on the table which creaks again.

My breaths are coming out in short pants as he continues working me up. He thrusts his fingers harder, lapping at my folds with more fervor as my body teeters on the edge. I look down to see him peering up at me with hungry eyes, watching my every reaction as though in worship. The look in his eyes is what pushes me over the edge.

My hips buck into him and I pull his hair as my orgasm crashes over me. He continues his pace, allowing me to ride out my climax for as long as possible. When the pleasure turns to sensitivity I push his shoulders away. He cleans my folds gently with his tongue in my aftershocks and places gentle kisses up my thighs before raising himself from the floor.

His shirt still hangs across his shoulders, the front completely unbuttoned to expose his bare chest. I move my hands up his chest as he stands between my knees and kisses me softly. My hands linger further down as he deepens the kiss, his tongue moving against mine as I unbuckle his belt. I shove his pants down his thighs and he helps push them down to the floor and off to the side.

He moans into my mouth as my hand brushes against his bulge on the outside of his boxers. I trace the outline of it with my finger and feel him shiver against me. I reach in and pull his cock out, pumping it a couple times in my hand. He pulls away from my lips and rests his forehead against mine as his breathing gets more shallow. He lets me play with it for a second, and then pulls his boxers off as well. His chest heaves as he watches me position his tip at my entrance.

“Fuck sweetheart, just like that.” He groans and then begins to push in. I moan quietly at the stretch of it. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the size. He pulls me further onto his cock with one hand on my hip as the other grips the back of my neck. “That’s it darlin’ let me in. Takin’ it so well.”

I moan again, one hand grasping the back of his neck. The other is tangled in the tablecloth underneath me as he pushes the rest of the way in. I bite my lip to stifle my sounds while he waits for me to adjust. He scans my face with his eyes and moves the hand on my neck to my jaw, brushing my lip with his thumb.

“It’s okay baby, nobody’s here. You can be as loud as you want.” He reminds me.

We’re completely alone, for a whole weekend. No taking care of anyone. No worrying about washing the girls up. No hiding for either of us. I had forgotten what it felt like to be free from that kind of responsibility.

He slowly pulls out and then slams back into me. I let out a high pitched moan as he continues to pound into me, my hand on the table gripping the tablecloth desperately. He sets his pace hard and fast, groaning each time he pushes in.

The table shifts with each thrust, creaking as it does, but I couldn’t care less at this point. Joel leans his face into my chest and kisses my breasts. My hand leaves the tablecloth to grip his shirt instead.

“That’s it baby, let me hear you sweet girl. Let me hear those sounds you make.” Joel says against my skin. I moan louder and pull him closer. He starts to thrust even harder.

I feel my next orgasm building in my core. I clench around him and he moans out as well. He kisses up my neck, leaning his forehead against mine as I get closer.

“Don’t stop. It feels so good. Joel! Please don’t stop.” He grins at me as he keeps his pace.

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart. Fuck! You feel so good.” I slip my hands under his shirt to scratch at his back as I teeter on the edge of my climax.

The only sounds in the room are our shared moans and the increasingly loud creaks of the table as it thumps with each thrust. Joel plus his forehead away from mine to look over my figure, his eyes settling on where our hips join. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer. He groans and thrusts harder. The table groans as well and then crashes to the ground, sending Joel and I to the floor with it.

“Shit,” Joel says when we hit the ground, but he doesn’t stop.

I should be more concerned about my broken kitchen table, but all I can think of right now is how good this feels. I lay down, my hair fanning out across the messy table cloth and flower petals.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” I moan. Joel moves his hand to my folds, his thumb being to circle my clit.

“That’s it baby, let go. Come for me. Come on babygirl.” I moan so loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear as my second climax crashes over me. He pulses inside me as I clench around him, staving off his own orgasm until mine subsides.

As I come down he sloppily thrusts into me a couple more times and then pulls out, ropes of come splattering against my thighs and lower stomach. He groans as he lets go and then collapses on top of me.

We both pant as we come down. My hands start to play with his curls as he rests his weight against me. After several minutes he rolls over slightly so I can breathe better, but keeps his head on my chest. The coarse hairs of his beard tickle as he breathes in and out.

“I made chocolate strawberries for dessert,” he says and I laugh loudly. He chuckles as well, running his hand down my side absentmindedly.

“What about the table?” I ask. Joel looks at the broken piece of furniture beneath us as if just now noticing it and shrugs.

“I can fix it,” he responds. “Was a piece of shit anyway if it broke just from that.”

I giggle and pat his head. He looks at me confused and I run my finger across the line between his brows.

“I can fix it, was a piece of shit anyway,” I say, mocking his tone. He rolls his eyes and presses his cheek against my chest again. “I didn’t know you could build tables.”

“I’m a contractor,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to the side of my breast. I suppose he has a point in that he literally builds houses for a living, but I figured furniture would be different than that. “Plus I do some woodworking as a hobby.”

“You do woodworking?” Joel nods. “Like what? Building furniture and stuff?”

I tilt my head down to look at him as he draws patterns on my skin with his finger. Joel shrugs and I shake my head.

“Sometimes I make little figurines. Started when Sarah was little and it just kinda stuck.” I kiss the top of his head, rubbing my hands down his muscular arms.

“I’d like to see that sometime.” I say.

We stay laying on the kitchen floor for a little while longer until Joel starts to complain about his back aching. He helps me stand up and glances over my body again. I’m still covered in remnants of him.

“Let’s clean you up darlin’,” he takes my hand and leads me upstairs.

[sissylittlefeather]

As promised...

A Very Quiet Life: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm still struggling with everything after this one, so it might be a while before there are more chapters. But, please enjoy this one!

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI!, kissing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, lil bit of angst if you squint, lots of fluff

Links to:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Let me know what you think! ❤️

Song inspo (still. I love this song)

Gifs because I can't not at this point

Meanwhile, across the street, Mrs. Walter takes note of the fact that the neighbor entered your house at 9:45am and still hasn't left...

******

You spend that whole day in bed with Elvis, only leaving to eat whatever you can find in the kitchen. At one point, he offers you a popsicle and you both fall apart laughing. It's the best day you've had in a very long time and you're sad when it has to end. At about 3:30, he puts his clothes back on, kisses you one last time, and walks out your front door.

Mrs. Walter would have missed him, except she's walking to her car to go get her kids from school. She looks at her watch, astonished. Then, she resolves to keep a closer eye on the two of you. Beth, Elvis's wife, is a good friend of hers, and she won't stand for what she suspects is happening.

******

On Thursday morning, you watch from your kitchen window as Elvis puts his wife in a cab with a suitcase. He gives her a chaste peck on the lips and you look down at the cup you're washing. He really is married. You wonder how long she'll be gone this time and if he'll want to stay again. As he's walking back up to the house, he sees you in the window and waves. You think you've both done a good job of just appearing "neighborly" and nothing more. About twenty minutes later, you hear a knock on your front door. Your heart leaps. Of course, it's him.

"Thought I'd come check on how that shower is working for you, ma'am." He holds up a box of tools. You know he knows very well that the shower is just fine. He winks and you let him in the house.

"The toolbox is a nice touch." You say once he's inside and the door is closed. He drops it on the floor and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

"I was hoping you would be home today. I don't have lessons until after noon." He says with his forehead pressed to yours.

"Elvis, what are we doing?"

"Do you want the biblical, medical, or romantic words for it?" You look up at him as he smirks.

"I'm serious. I haven't forgotten that you're married, even if you have." He backs up a bit. You don't want to hurt him, but you can't just pretend it's not true. You've never been a cheater, and you're not sure you like the idea of being the other woman either.

"Y/n, I haven't been in love with my wife for a long time. She drained the life out of me for years. You brought me back. I don't care what you call it; I'm happy with you. Are you happy with me?"

Happier than you've been in your whole life. Maybe that's enough.

"Yes." He takes that as your whole answer and scoops you up in his arms like a baby, taking you straight to the bedroom. He might be married to someone else, but he knows exactly what you want.

******

Michael's party is on the following Saturday. Elvis comes over for dinner on Friday, leaves, waits until the kids are in bed, and then comes back. He stays with you that night and sneaks out before the kids wake up again. You feel like a teenager with all this secrecy and hiding, but honestly, it turns you on a little bit. You know it can't go on forever, but for right now, it's good. Really good.

When Elvis comes back on Saturday afternoon for Michael's party, you're a little taken aback to see his wife with him. She must've come home this morning. Still, you slap on a decent smile and welcome her into your home. She seats herself on the couch and all you can think of is how you fucked her husband on that same exact spot. He looks at you nervously, obviously thinking the same thing. Thankfully, Michael and Jane and the Walter kids come barreling through the living room, saving you both any more embarrassment. Michael is still sporting his blue cast, but he's gotten used to it by now. He runs up to Elvis's wife with a marker and asks if she wants to sign it. She looks uncomfortable and says no. He points to where Elvis signed it several weeks ago and begs her. She looks up at Elvis with an annoyed glare and finally takes the marker and signs the cast.

"Michael, what do you say?" You holler from across the room.

"Thanks, lady!" He says and bounces away to keep playing. Elvis follows him and snatches him into the air, both of them laughing. You smile at the scene and then catch his wife watching you, so you turn away quickly.

You're putting some food together in the kitchen when Mrs. Walter walks in and stands with her back against the sink. You can see Elvis in the living room with the kids from where you're standing. They seem to have started some kind of game where he's the monster and they're all trying to get away from him. She startles you when she speaks, tearing your attention away from watching them.

"He's so good with kids."

"Mhmm" you answer politely.

"And he's really handsome. Don't you think so?" You look at her blankly. Why would she say that?

"Oh, I mean, yeah, I suppose so."

"Is he more good looking than your husband was?" What the actual fuck?!

"Rick was very attractive. Gorgeous brown eyes and one of the best smiles I've ever seen. Great with kids too." You turn to look her in the eye. "What exactly are you asking me, Susan?" You use her first name, disarming her a bit too. Still, she maintains eye contact.

"Oh, nothing. I just wondered what kind of home repair job takes almost six hours to complete?" Your heart stops and your whole body goes cold. She knows.

"Six hours? Are you talking about the other day when he fixed the shower? He was here for half an hour and then had to leave and come back and finish that afternoon." You answer coolly, not sure where your confidence is coming from. You can't tell if she buys your story or not.

"Hm." She raises her eyebrows and leaves the kitchen.

Holy fucking shit.

You need to talk to Elvis NOW. But you know you can't. That's probably why his wife is here. Susan has tipped her off and she's watching to see if you slip up.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You white-knuckle your way through the rest of the party, pretty much ignoring Elvis the whole time. At one point you even call him "Mr. Presley". When you do, he looks at you funny, but seems to pick up that you are on edge. He doesn't try to get your attention for the rest of the day.

Finally, the party ends and everyone leaves. You're overly courteous to his wife when they walk out the door, praying that she didn't see anything to feed her suspicions. Once everyone is gone, you sit down on the couch and breathe for the first time in hours. Your head is pounding as you try to think through what to do next. Michael is passed out on the floor in a pile of presents. Jane comes and sits next to you on the couch.

"Mama, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean, baby?" You turn and look at her. She returns your look with wide, innocent eyes.

"You usually smile more when Mr. Presley is here. You didn't smile today." Children are so damn perceptive.

"Oh, I was just stressed from the party, baby. I'm okay."

"So he will come over again sometime and you'll be happy?"

"Of course he will and yes, I'll be happy." You pull her into a hug and try to blink away tears. Even your kids would miss him if he wasn't around anymore. What are you going to do?

******

After you get the kids in bed, you're sitting on the couch trying to read when you hear a soft knock on the front door. You're pretty sure you know who it is, but you move slowly. When you answer it, Elvis walks in quickly and shuts the door behind himself.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Mr. Presley?! What the hell is going on?!"

"Susan Walter knows."

"Knows what?"

"About us!" His expression changes. He swallows hard and walks to the couch to sit down. You wring your hands and cover your face.

"How?"

"She saw you come in and not leave the other day. She's going to tell Beth if she hasn't already. And isn't Beth home right now? How are you here?"

"She went out with friends. I have at least three hours. And she hasn't told her yet or she would've said something."

"She's going to tell her. What are we going to do?" He looks down at the floor for a while, thinking. When he looks back up at you, his eyes are dark blue and he seems to have a new resolve.

"Come here." He puts his hands on your hips and pulls you close to him. "I don't care. I'll tell her myself. You want me to tell her tonight?"

You stand there with your mouth open looking down at him. Are you ready to be the neighborhood pariah?

"No... Not yet." He leans his forehead against your stomach and you put your hands on his back. "I just want us to stay good for a while. If you tell her, then there's no telling what'll happen." He pulls you down on the couch next to him and holds both of your hands in his.

"Listen, honey. You and me will be good no matter what. I promise you that." He holds one of your hands to his lips and kisses it softly.

"But with the kids... it's just not easy." You try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. He looks directly into your eyes.

"I don't need easy. I just need you." He puts his hand on your cheek and leans in to give you a soft kiss. He kisses you again, more deeply this time, letting his tongue meet yours in the middle. You feel your worry start to melt away. He keeps kissing you tenderly, and then he plants small kisses all over your face, making his way down to your neck. Then, he picks up your hand and kisses each finger gently, landing with his lips in your palm. He moves back to your mouth, dipping his tongue between your lips.

He lays you back on the couch and kisses down your neck again, nipping at you softly with his teeth, sliding his hand up the back of your shirt. You have your arms around him, kissing his cheeks and forehead and mouth any time you can get to them. It's like you're trying to sink into each other through kisses.

Slowly, he pulls your shirt over your head and runs his hands over your body. He seems to be trying to take in every inch of you. You move to take his shirt off of him and press your skin against his. There's no such thing as enough contact between you. He deftly removes your bra and begins kissing the soft and supple skin of your breasts. He drags his tongue around one of your nipples and sucks on it lightly. You moan softly and arch your back.

He kisses down your stomach to your belly button, hooking his fingers in your waistline to pull your pants and panties down together, leaving you fully naked. For the first time, you don't feel exposed, you feel free. He runs his hand from your stomach, down your thigh, to your foot, where he presses his thumb into your heel and kisses your ankle. He's giving attention to every single part of you.

Standing up, he drops his pants to the ground, freeing his perfect erection. You look at him as he stands there. His body is strong and masculine, but somehow also gentle. You desperately long to feel him against you again.

He slides both hands up your body as he lays over you, both of you completely naked. You open your legs a little to give him access and he pushes into you easily, filling you entirely in one move. The gesture is tender and filled with so much more than lust. He keeps a slow rhythm, kissing your neck and moving his hands over your chest and stomach, like he's mesmerized by the feel of your skin. He holds himself over you and lets his deep blue eyes meet yours for a good while. It doesn't take long for you to realize that this isn't fucking. This is making love and it's beautiful. He's tender and passionate in the way he worships your body. And he's still pumping into you, but slowly, gently, letting you feel every inch of him. You wrap your arms around him and pull him close to you, letting yourself be consumed by the feeling of his skin on yours. He reaches down to hold onto your hip as he begins to thrust a little faster.

Both of your orgasms are building together as your sweat mixes with his. You kiss him tenderly and your eyes lock on to each other again. He gets a little faster and a littler faster and you feel yourself beginning to tingle as your climax approaches. After just enough of him kissing and touching and sliding in and out of you, he crashes into you in a way that sends you over the edge with him. You both shudder and moan at the same time, kissing deeply as you hit the peak of your orgasm. When you come back down, your naked bodies are intertwined so that it's hard to tell where he ends and you begin. You lay there together, pressed up against each other, for what feels like a very long time. Eventually, he lifts his head up and kisses you on the cheek and looks into your eyes.

"I am yours, y/n."

You hold back tears and nod your head. You can no longer imagine a life for yourself without him.

******

Chapter 7 will be here... someday! 😬

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley @mrsbutler99

Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know!

[lilacmuse]

September Sunshine

Thursday was my best friend's birthday, so i threw a little surprise dinner at her favorite Mediterranean restaurant with her sisters and a few close friends... I wasn't sure i'd be able to pull it off, but it worked like a charm :) She was completely shocked, stunned, and delighted when she saw us. One of our longest-running inside jokes is roasting each other about how old we're getting, so i skipped over the usual Happy Birthday balloons and got her "Happy Grandparents Day" and "Best Grandma Ever" balloons instead 😄 Overall, it was an absolutely beautiful night, and my friend's happiness made my week.

I've always had an idealistic view of love, but my idealism doesn't come from a place of naivete, it comes from genuine experience. Every form of love God has shown me has been so rare, i've never learned to crave the ordinary, and the bond between my best friend and i is an especially hard one to explain. To put it simply: God happened to place her on the street right next to mine when we were 12, and she ended up being the one person in my life who has loved me in a way that feels closest to His love.

I heard a cynical man say once that most people disappoint you once you get to know them better; that time always makes us tire of people once the initial excitement fades. I know that this might often be the case, but when your soul truly, deeply clicks with someone else's, it's a different story. Even after all these years, my best friend and i practically glow with happiness every time we're together; when we're not holding back, it's as if the energy of the entire room shifts purely from the love between our hearts. It's strange, because our personalities are opposites- she's practical, street smart, socially aware, and in touch with the real world; i'm the dreamy, head-in-the-clouds poet who's more at home in the realm of ideas than the world of the tangible.

When we were growing up, she was the rebellious one who would leap without looking, and i was the shy over-thinker who would look too long and forget to leap; i admired her bravery, and she loved my innocence. But our hearts are nearly identical- we're both wired to give people the benefit of the doubt too often, we both want to see the best in people no matter how many times they've shown us the worst, and we'd both do anything for the people we love. The longer i live, the more i recognize that there aren't many people in the world who exist like this, and it feels like a miracle that we have each other. I know many people don't believe in soulmates, but God gave me one in the form of a best friend, so i can vouch that they do exist :)

Last year, we were having a deep, vulnerable conversation about love, and i finally got the courage to be completely honest with her about how differently i see it. I'd always avoided having that conversation because we're so different; she had grown up dreaming of marriage and the white picket fence; i had always viewed marriage as something potentially beautiful but non-essential to my happiness. I was afraid she might not understand, and she was the one person whose understanding i wanted. But as soon as i explained that i can't bring myself to consider marriage unless it's to someone who has the spiritual depth i yearn for, she got it instantly- she said it wouldn't have made sense coming from anyone else, but she understood because it was coming from me.

The conversation made me realize that when someone truly loves you, they learn to step outside of themselves and into your reality for a bit; in their quest to understand you, they learn to experience life as you experience it, and understand the inner workings of your heart from the inside out. All my life, i've been wired to do that for everyone i meet, but i've rarely ever experienced it in return; most people just don't look or feel that deeply. When i do experience it- when someone just *gets* me as if we're momentarily the same heart beating in two different bodies- it's a completely transcendent, incomparable feeling, and it perfectly describes the way my best friend and i love each other. In a nutshell, that's what i imagine when i think about the kind of love i want; i'd like to be with someone who can see through my eyes as easily as i can see through his. I think what i'm describing is pure empathy- of a spiritual, emotional, and intellectual nature.

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

When my best friend and i were catching up last week, i opened up to her about a jarring experience i'd had the weekend before: there was a major Sunni convention here last weekend, so my friends and i decided to check it out on Saturday. Unfortunately, the convention itself was sold out, so we ended up perusing the bazaar for a few hours instead (people offered to sneak us in bc i was dying to hear Yasir Qadhi & a few others, but i felt like cheating to get into an Islamic lecture would be like gambling to go to Hajj 🙈). After the bazaar, we stood in the lobby for a moment, and i noticed a guy sneaking a glance at me while subtly pointing me out to one of his friends. I was going to ignore it, but he circled back and did it again. I glanced up surreptitiously, thought he looked familiar, then realized who he was with a mild pang of fear.

Several years ago- while in the midst of being intensely pressured by everyone in my immediate vicinity to get married- i decided to download one of the apps to see if i could meet someone at my own pace. I lasted about two days before the sheer number of notifications overwhelmed me, so i deleted the app and never looked back. After my cousin's wedding in June, i briefly downloaded it again purely to have something to point to when people bother me about not being married, and i realized i had tons of matches and messages i'd never looked at. One of them was a guy living in my city who had sent me multiple messages in 2019, then again in 2023, then again more recently. Though i'd never responded, his messages were nice- he seemed sweet, polite, and eager to meet me, so i decided to look at his profile because i didn't know anything about him. What i found there made my jaw drop. This is a small sampling:

...the rest of his profile was equally disturbing, as if he had somehow absorbed the terrible personality of every alpha male podcaster and condensed it into the most offensive, humorless drivel imaginable. He's allegedly a comedian, but i've met corpses with better comedic sensibilities. What i don't understand about men like this is- why would you behave like this and still go out of your way to try to talk to a practicing Muslim woman for marriage? Why would any self-respecting woman willingly choose someone so openly corrupt and mannerless? This man doesn't need a wife, he needs the guillotine 😡

After my friend and i were done being alarmed that a man like this exists and is apparently free to terrorize women, she asked to see all the other guys i've matched with who have messaged me. Her reaction was pretty much what i'd figured; she was stunned by how good-looking they are and insisted that i at least respond and give them a chance. I admitted that i've never replied to a single message, and i probably never will- i know how foolish that is, but my heart won't let me.

It's nothing at all about them- these men are incredibly handsome, capable, and well-rounded beyond anything i could ask for- the problem is always me. The superficial things mean nothing to me, and i cant bring myself to talk to dozens of different men with the hope that one of them might surprise me and turn out to have the depth i'm looking for. Until God sends me my person, i'm happy as i am. I know people malign singleness, but i think there's beauty in every season of life, and i've never taken my independence for granted. Marriage is beautiful, but so is having the freedom to truly meet yourself as an individual; to explore the inner workings of your being, and produce beautiful things as a direct consequence of that introspection. I guess what i want out of marriage, more than anything, is someone whose presence feels as satisfying and safe for me as solitude.

On a lighter note, i think my friends and i might go on a roadtrip and rent a cabin later in the Fall iA; i haven't been camping at all this year, so i can't wait. Wedding season is also around the corner, as is Mawlid- i absolutely love this time of year :)

As always, i'm praying for the state of the world, and for the liberation and safety of Palestine- may Allah (swt) hasten their freedom and aid the oppressed all over the world. To all the Palestinians who have messaged me on here: i'm doing my best to help as many people as i can, but please forgive me if i can't. May God be with you, half of my heart is always with you. ❤️

x r

[house-of-mirrors]

Happy leap day!

2024 gets an extra out of touch Thursday

[hils79]

Hils Watches Only Friends - Ep 7

If Sand gets hurt because Ray is driving drunk I am going to be mad

Well, that's better than the alternative I guess

Wait, why were there headlights shining in Ray's face if he just drove into a wall?

I love Sand so much

They literally just said he was fine apart from a potentially fractured collar bone. But okay, Ray, be dramatic.

Uh, who the fuck is this? Presumably Ray's dad? Have we even seen him before now?

Mew is one of my favourite characters after the last episode. I've legit been thinking about it since I watched it on Thursday.

Oh, he's going after Boston next. I am so here for unhinged and angry Mew. For my DMBJ fam he just became Sha Hai Wu Xie

Oh shiiiiiiiit! He just figured out Nick is the one who bugged his car

Yeah, he is definitely not going to do that

I mean you brought this on yourself my dude

Literally the worst thing you could say to him tbh

I don't know if it's just because I'm used to western messy gay dramas always resulting in death but I am lowkey worried that someone is going to snap and kill someone else before all this is over. Maybe I should ask someone who has watched it to tell me if they all survive or not, but I don't know if I want to be spoiled for it or not. I shall ponder.

SAY NO!

I'm trying to read what it says at the bottom of Mew's shirt but the font/colour is really hard to read. Where don't friends let friends go to?

I'm honestly delighted because I was so sure Top was going to ditch Mew once they had sex but nope he fell hard. Forcebook are so great I need to see if they've done any other dramas that I haven't seen yet.

DAMN! He burned his birthday gif right in front of Top. I mean obviously I am sad Mew is sad but this is honestly so dramatic and highly entertaining

Good luck with that, my dude. And you know I respect that he's willing to fight for Mew when he could easily just go back to his fuckboy ways

I mean he could probably stand to quit drinking permanently but neither of those things have anything to do with a hurt arm

Well, I'm glad they've apparently got over the huge fight they had when Ray was drunk. Sand deserves better though.

It's a nice touch that someone thought to put lines on Ray's shoulder from where he's been wearing his sling all the time.

On the other hand Ray has exactly zero facial hairs yet claims he hasn't been able to shave for days. I have more hair on my face than he does!

That's probably a better vice to have tbh

Because you are?

Yeah, you tell him!

I JUST WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY FOREVER 😭

If Ray and Mew fuck I am going to lose my goddamn mind!

Nope, instead Boston has arrived to see them holding hands in a comforting way and leap to conclusions. He's 100% going to tell Top about this.

And I'm back to being worried not everyone is going to survive this. I don't know which is worse. The anxiety of not knowing or the anxiety of knowing and having to wait for it to happen (if it happens)

Gah I'm at the image limit again. You can tell it's a good drama when that happens because I have a lot to say. I'll be back with part 2 in a bit

[serenasoutherlyns]

passionately, i'd say chapter 6

Kincoy :) Mature. Thanks for the request, @albatrossisland! ao3

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry Adam’s being hard on you,” Jack says as Claire settles down on the couch beside her, glass of wine in hand. She places her hand on Claire’s thigh soothingly and she melts into the touch, feels herself relax a little. “I think he’s feeling a little responsible, too.”

“Adam Schiff projecting,” Claire says, “not very like him. But I appreciate the thought.” Claire sighs after she speaks. “Smith’s lawyer. That’s something,” she says. “I think I’d be relieved.”

“He’s got no reason to be,” says Jack, “I’m going to insist he be standby counsel.”

“Good call,” says Claire. She sets her glass down and lets her eyelids droop, leaning against Jack’s chest as she does. She yawns, and apologizes. Jack responds only with shh. She lets the music in the room wash over her.

“It’s not your fault, Claire,” Jack says out of nowhere.

“It is, in a way.”

“No,” says Jack, and Claire doesn’t bother fighting back.

---

Claire is glad she took the subway instead of her car today, because she is far too tired to drive, and because the throng of people around is forcing her to keep it at least a little bit together. She’s now not only staring down her part in these deaths but a lawsuit because of it. She wants to go home, get in bed, and cry. This job is really, really starting to wear her down. What good is she getting done? She feels a few teardrops fall, but puts a stop to it quickly.

Now he is your problem, Ms. Kincaid.

She hopes her mascara isn’t running when she gets back to the office.

“You can’t leap tall buildings either,” Jack says reassuringly. And she’s right: Claire even remembered that week being especially bad, she was being pulled so many ways. She had yelled at her mom over the phone that Thursday from just how stressed out she was. She missed a phone call. It wasn’t a crime. Three people are dead. One will never be the same. Maybe she should take a cruise, maybe she should plant a garden. She comes so close to crying again. Jack brings her in for a just-appropriate-enough hug that she wishes could include a kiss.

“Go home, Claire,” Jack says when she pulls away. “Don’t fight me,” she continues when Claire opens her mouth, “you’re exhausted.” Claire nods, because she is.

“Okay,” says Claire. “See you?” she says, a little pathetically.

“Give me two hours,” says Jack warmly. It takes her just a little longer than that to get to Claire’s apartment. Claire is already in her pajamas watching whatever old movie is on TV. She even has some microwave popcorn and a Hershey bar. Jack’s face breaks into a giant grin when she comes in, and Claire catches it, bewildered.

“What,” she says, amused.

“You’re just very cute, and,” says Jack, reaching into her bag, “I brought these.” She pulls out a bottle of red wine and a Hershey bar.

“Good, now I don’t have to share,” Claire laughs for the first time in what feels like days.

“You weren’t going to,” says Jack, setting her things down and taking her shoes off.

“Well, now I don’t have to feel bad about that.”

“That’s more like it,” says Jack. She walks over to Claire and kisses her. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” Claire responds. Jack sits beside her and holds her hand.

“I hate this movie.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” says Claire, putting her chocolate down. “I’m bored of it.” She mutes the TV. She gets up and climbs into Jack’s lap, kissing her as she does, relishing Jack’s deep breath in.

“You’re not tired?” Jack says.

“Exhausted,” says Claire, dipping down to kiss Jack’s neck. Her hand reaches under Jack’s shirt and Jack hums in pleasure. “Fucking exhausted.” She hopes Jack can pick up the I need you buried inside those words. Jack does, because she suggests the bedroom, and they can’t get there fast enough. Claire wakes up comparatively refreshed.

---

Claire can’t bring herself to care that she’s leaving her apartment in her sweats. Adam didn’t take her off all her cases, but screw it, it’s a Saturday, she can afford not to work one day out of the week. Even if she can’t, she’s going to. She meets Jack at the little pizza place down the street from his, the one that’s always full of smoke, with the sticky floors and the TVs that show baseball. A few people watch the game, but mostly it’s full of people like them, letting the afternoon catch up to them. Jack’s got on her leather jacket and jeans. Her hair is pulled back with a claw clip, but little half-gray tendrils hang down beside her face. Claire wishes Jack would stop dying her hair sometimes, she is so endlessly fond of that shade of silver.

“He knew the risks. He chose to ignore them,” Jack says. Claire is a little jealous she didn’t think of it first.

“Depraved indifference, murder two. Not bad,” Claire replies, “Good luck with it.” She tries her best not to sound bitter. In a way, she’s glad to have been taken off the case. She still feels like it’s her responsibility, though, and she hates how it got ripped away. But Jack asks her to be second chair.

“Claire, Smith didn't slip through the cracks because of you. The system worked the way it's supposed to.” Jack is pointing out exactly what Claire doesn’t like about all of this, what’s been swimming through her mind for days now. She doesn’t know if she can stomach the system anymore.

“Doesn’t that scare the hell out of you?” Claire asks, hinting at what’s going through her mind. She’s been dreading Jack’s reaction.

“You’re thinking of resigning?” Jack asks, and Claire is surprised that there’s no hostility, no disappointment there. Maybe a little condescension, but Claire puts that down to the real wisdom she has about the profession. In a way, Claire is soothed by it. “Help me put James Smith away,” Jack pleads with her after they talk about it (though they only scratch the surface), and Claire finds she wants to.

---

They talk about going somewhere nice after work, but they end up grabbing some takeout and going back to Jack’s. They do eat at the table instead of the couch, though that’s more because they got soup than anything else. Claire is still tired, and today didn’t help. The only sound in the room is Jack slurping noodles, but she doesn’t mind the lack of conversation. She’s tired of hearing voices, though the only one that’s echoing in her head is Joanne’s. You let him do this to me. You let him out. Her trance is broken, though, when Jack says, “Do you want to move in together?”

“I--” Claire says almost before the words even register, then shuts her mouth.

“We spend more nights together than apart as it is, Claire.”

“I like my apartment,” she says.

“Then we’ll live there,” says Jack with a shrug. “Just think about it.” Claire actually gives it a thought, now. What it would be like to share a bed every night, to have their toothbrushes beside each other, to merge their record collections. Maybe they’d fight over bills, or whether to leave a light on when they left at night. After a second, she realizes that half of that is already done. The more she searches, the fewer reasons she can find to say no, and the more she wants it.

“Sure,” she says, smiling for what feels like the first time in days.

---

“He mailed me his summation. We're lucky. He could've hung the jury,” Jack says, and Claire feels cold for a second. The system worked the way it’s supposed to, and they got a guilty man off the streets. But it doesn’t feel like victory. “Oh, Claire,” Jack says, noticing her.

“I know,” Claire replies.

“I’m glad,” says Jack. “Do you want to go home now?”

“Dancing,” says Claire. “I want to go dancing.”

“Alright,” says Jack, amused. “If that’s what you want.” They’re lucky it’s a Friday. As they rise from the couch, Jack places a hand on her shoulder. She opens the door into the cold night first, and interlocks their arms for a plausibly-deniable moment. There are seats on the subway at this hour of night, and Claire rests against Jack. As the doors close, she tilts her head up and looks at Jack, her strength, her gentleness.

“What?” Jack says. Claire kisses her, and feels the reassurance of it all deeply.

“I love you,” says Claire when the kiss breaks. “Thank you.”

“I love you too, Claire,” says Jack. They get off the train only a couple stops down, and when they get in the bar (playing swing, Claire knows what Jack likes) it’s warm with bodies. Jack leads. They get a little tipsy and stay for hours, until the place starts to clear out. They go back to Claire’s apartment, their apartment soon, and when they wake up in the morning, Jack makes French toast and Claire makes lattes with the Moka pot. When breakfast is gone, Jack takes her back to bed, and the world narrows to the two of them.

[aijamisespava]

Netherlands Has Entered!

Next up on this Super Thursday of sorts (and leap day), we have the Netherlands. Similar to Switzerland, they've sent more ballads or mellow songs than upbeat (2021 being the exception since 2019). And by the looks of it, Joost Klein will be breaking that streak with his newly released song "Europapa" which I will listen to...NOW!

And just like that, we have our second Dutch entry in Dutch in three years after over a decade without one. This only makes me more excited for the contest as a whole (even more so with other languages returning as well like Estonian making its return in 11 years with 5MIINUST). While the song is catchy as all get out (there is so much staging potential I'm super intrigued), I love the touch Joost puts in the song (the "From: Me To: My parents" at the end made me a little emotional as I write this) which will certainly make it stand out in May!

[faithinhome]

Neighbor Next Door - Stephen Strange/ Female OC

18+ | minors please dni

Summary: anna had always thought the doctor next door was attractive. and one interaction left her itching to get more of him.

Tags: age gap (25F & 40M), cheating (but not in the way you’d think), strong language, smut.

click here to see anna’s dress for the party

Chapter 10: Britney Spears

anna and strange sat across from each other. this was a bit different. anna expected to feel completely intimidated and uncomfortable after they’d just had the hottest sex ever in her dressing room. but she oddly felt calm.

she was still intimidated. it was impossible to not feel that away around someone like him, but she wasn’t a total nervous wreck. this felt natural.

stephen told her about his divorce, and anna felt herself so a little internal happy dance. it probably wasn’t the best reaction to have. of course she sympathized and felt bad for stephen. but she was happy he’d finally made that decision.

he shared about his future plans and about buying a house as soon as possible.

huge flex.

the two didn’t stay for long, exhausted by the events of the day and well, the events of what transpired 40 minutes ago.

stephen dropped anna off and anna left a text in her group chat. she didn’t know how the two were going to react. if they were going to be excited for her or chew her out for making a stupid decision. either way, she didn’t care. that night, she went to bed with a smile. stephen had somehow managed to feel like the most beautiful girl ever. like no one had ever made her feel before.

***

a few days had passed and stephen had been busy making a shift to his new place.

her friends had mostly made fun of her but been supportive. that was good enough.

one thursday night, anna was hanging out with wanda and sam. she’d just received news that her cousin was rapidly recovering and they’d gotten together to celebrate.

the three friends had gotten drunk.

big surprise.

anna left the group to use the bathroom.

she washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror, posing before giggling at herself. alcohol always made her happier, more confident and sadly, horny.

every. single. time.

she picked up her phone and looked at stephen’s contact. she clicked on the picture, smiling. it was a picture of him smiling.

she bit down on her lip, trying to look up his instagram.

she tried several different usernames before she found it, squealing excitedly.

she went through it, whining to herself.

anna wanted him so bad right now. it didn’t help that they’d had the most mind-blowing sex just a week ago.

anna had a bad idea.

a very, very bad one.

but she was drunk, and horny and desperate. and she didn’t care.

she began by taking her top off. she was about to take her pants off but decided against it. she turned in the mirror, adjusting the bra to fit better. she fixed her hair and touched up her makeup before picking up her phone.

it took her about 10 minutes to find a picture with a pose she was satisfied with.

she started to become a little hesitant but wanda had started to bang on the door, “girl, i gotta pee so bad!! for the love of god, come out of there!”

“you can jizz off to doctor strange later!” sam called out after her as well. “or i’ll pee on your couch.”

“you guys are gross!” anna laughed, wrinkling her nose. she quickly sent the picture and put on her shirt before coming out of the bathroom.

“thank god!” wanda exclaimed and breezed past her.

stephen picked up his phone as it buzzed. he was laid on the couch with a blanket, watching tv at his new place.

he picked it up, his brow arching when he noticed it was a text from anna. his heart leaped to his throat when he opened the picture, his mouth slightly ajar.

his eyes ran over anna’s body and he felt his pants grow tighter. “fuck.”

he sat up straight. what did this mean? she’d just sent the picture. no context, nothing. whatever it was, it was working. stephen couldn’t stop looking. his mouth went dry and he bit his lip.

should he respond? of course he should respond.

‘holy shit’ was the only thing he could muster up. because it was true. holy fucking shit.

he was so fucking turned on.

‘you’re so fucking hot’ stephen texted again without a second of hesitation. was it getting hotter in the room?

anna checked her phone as soon as she felt it buzzing, tilting it away from wanda whose eyes were glued to the tv anyway. she smiled widely to herself as she read his texts, licking her lips. ‘am i turning you on, daddy?’

maybe having had another glass of alcohol was not a good choice.

the response was quick. ‘so much princess.’

princess.

the word made her giggle. this felt so good. she couldn’t stop. ‘so sorry i’m not there to take care of it.’

‘do i have your permission to take care of it myself? you helped enough with the picture.’ anna’s cheeks burnt at the response. he sounded so desperate and it felt fucking great. she loved it.

‘yes, doctor. you have my permission. go to town as much as you want. that picture’s all yours.’

just like me, she thought. but even in this state, she knew that would be too far.

stephen felt like he could practically come from just reading her responses.

the moment he read them, he imagined her saying it in her dazed out sex voice, reeking of desperation and lust. but stephen didn’t have to be told twice.

‘such a good girl’ was what a responded with before he got up and went to the bathroom, locking it behind him.

anna wanted to go knocking on his door right now, right this very second. but she had some discipline. besides, she was drunk. there was no way her friends would let her do anything stupid in this state. even though she’d already pretty much started the stupid.

***

the very next day, anna woke up to a text from wanda.

scarlet mommy: hey, annie. i got some news regarding strange. let me know when you’re up. i didn’t want it to be the first thing you see.

anna frowned, imagining the worst. she called wanda immediately, sitting up straight in her bed.

was he okay? was he hurt? what did this mean?

wanda didn’t answer, much to anna’s frustration.

she looked down at her phone and a new text from wanda popped up.

scarlet mommy: hey sorry i’m out i can’t really answer the phone.

anna-hath-a-way: is he okay??

scarlet mommy: yeah he’s okay. he literally lives across from me so i saw him w some girl?

oh.

anna’s heart sank.

anna-hath-a-way: oh? what were they doing?

scarlet mommy: just hanging out. but i saw them go into his house last night.

last night.

when he was ‘taking care of it’, did it mean with that girl?

anna’s heart picked up pace and she swallowed the painful lump growing in her throat.

she felt her phone go off and looked down.

wanda sent her a blurry picture of stephen with someone and her heart sank ever further.

anna-hath-a-way: what the fuck??? that girl looks like a super model

scarlet mommy: she’s average at best.

anna couldn’t help but smile a little to herself. her friends really lied to make her feel better without a moment of hesitation.

but anna realized she’d just been kidding herself this entire time.

he was so well known. he was hot, and rich as fuck.

why wouldn’t he be getting supermodels? and they weren’t exclusive. they were friends with benefits at best.

what was really stopping him from hooking up with other women?

anna felt like jealousy was about to rip her apart from the inside. she felt so… insecure. she hated it, so much.

the night they shared at the event… that was probably nothing compared to the sex he’d probably had with her.

anna shook her head and got out of bed. she was spiraling. she knew if she didn’t try and calm down right now, it would go out of control.

tears stung at her eyes. she didn’t want them to fall. god, she didn’t want to cry.

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry, she begged herself.

she knew if she cried now, it would mean this meant something. that stephen meant something to her. she didn’t want to admit it. because clearly, she didn’t mean anything to him.

she cursed herself as tears fell, sitting back down in defeat. “fuck!”

scarlet mommy: annie? you okay? i’m sorry. but i really thought you should know.

anna grabbed her phone, typing through tears. ‘no, i’m okay. i appreciate you doing that. thanks for letting me know. i’m okay, though.’

scarlet mommy: are you sure?

anna-hath-a-way: absolutely. don’t worry about me.

scarlet mommy: okay. i love you, okay? i’ll call you as soon as i get the chance.

anna-hath-a-way: love you too, wands. thank you.

anna stood up, wiping her tears away. “pull yourself together. fuck her. fuck him. i can’t do this to myself.”

anna entered her shower, trying her best to hold back tears. how could just seeing stephen with one girl make her feel so worthless?

this wasn’t right. it wasn’t fair to herself. but people were right, jealousy is a disease.

and doesn’t a disease need to run its course? unless there was a cure?

and to this day, anna could never find the cure to jealousy.

later that day, stephen sent out invitations for the house warming party to everyone.

he called her personally an hour after he did but anna didn’t pick up.

it was so hard, though. she wanted to talk to him. she needed to. but she had self-worth. at least a smidge of it. she needed to have some sort of self discipline. it was the only thing that could keep her from spiralling.

stephen: hey, just wanted to invite you to the party personally. i invited wanda and sam too! i really hope you’ll come. i’d love to see you there.

anna picked up her phone in anger, her jaw clenching as she read his text.

anna: okay.

stephen didn’t say anything back for some time and anna just threw her phone away in frustration.

he eventually responded, ‘everything okay?’

she didn’t respond and ignored his call.

he called her again. and a third time.

eventually, she decided to text him or he wasn’t going to stop. ‘yeah. i said okay. like i’ll be there.’

‘great!’

anna immediately left the chat and went to call wanda. “wands, i need you to make me like look probably the sluttiest i’ve ever looked in my entire life for tomorrow.”

“uh. hi to you too. tomorrow, for stephen? we’re going?”

“hell yes we’re fucking going. are you going to help me?”

“it’s a shame you’d even ask.”

anna smiled to herself. at least her friends never let her down. “i love you.”

“i know.”

***

“wanda, that’s a literal bra. she can’t wear that” sam expressed his disapproval as wanda held up an extremely cropped top.

“why not?” she pouted.

“listen, we gotta go for classy slutty. that’s a look that really gets people. you don’t wanna look trashy.”

“okay, but i need to look like, really hot.”

sam sighed and stood up, stopping anna from pacing. “annie, you’ve got to relax. you need to understand that the girl in the picture is the most generic woman i’ve ever seen. okay? you’re fucking hot.”

“yeah listen, we get that” anna murmured. “straight men are stupid. they love generic hot. they’d die for generic hot.”

sam looked over at wanda, he had no idea how to convince anna that she had nothing to be insecure about. anna had a response to everything, it was like she didn’t even want to believe anything else.

“let it go” wanda mouthed to sam. she knew anna wouldn’t listen to reason.

“okay” sam sighed. “i still stand by what i said. you’re fucking hot. and you don’t need to be worrying so much. but let’s move on. wanda, what else we got?”

through a lot of deliberation and some mix and matching, they came up with a perfect outfit. sam was in love with it. and anna was in love with sam for cooking it up.

it was a little black dress that hugged anna’s body, and it didn’t have sleeves. sam paired it up two black gloves that went above her elbows and a puffy collar around the ends of the gloves.

“this bow in the hair would totally top it all off” wanda smiled as anna admired the outfit in her mirror.

“oh my god, that’s lovey, wanda. thank you. thanks a lot, guys. i… wearing this makes me feel beautiful. thank you.”

sam smiled and ruffled anna’s hair. “you are beautiful, annie. don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not.”

anna smiled and hugged the two. “i’m so grateful for the both of you. thank you.”

anna curled up in her bed that night. she couldn’t help herself, she went to stephen’s account, lurking through his posts. she missed him. she hated having to ignore him and be cold. but her ego was also too big for her own good. she needed to protect herself.

she sighed as she stopped at her favourite picture, smiling to herself as she stared a few seconds.

maybe she should try seeing if he had any pictures with the girl? she tried to dig a little deeper but didn’t find anything. she did find a couple of women that would always comment under his posts. but he didn’t seem to pay attention to them, so she didn’t mind. it was still a little annoying though.

but she reminded herself they weren’t a thing. she probably shouldn’t even consider being a thing with him because he’d just had a divorce.

so she kept her phone away and closed her eyes, willing herself to go to sleep. besides, she had a pretty dress and a support system by her side. she didn’t have to worry about anything.

***

anna woke up to no text from stephen. she was sort of hoping he would text her to confirm if she was coming.

if he wasn’t busy fucking his fucking groupie.

okay.

anna had to stop.

we.

are.

not.

dating.

she got dressed for the day and set to work. which took her mind off things and toward creativity. and she desperately needed exactly that.

at least soemthing good was coming out of this predicament, like fantastic lyrics and soulful music.

anna ended up working a little longer than she’d intended.

“anna, get dressed!” wanda reminded her for what felt like the thousandth time. wanda and sam had arrived an hour prior to this to get dressed at anna’s place and she’d been working.

“almost done” anna murmured, eyes glued to her screen.

“dude, you have like 30 minutes.”

“oh shit” anna murmured to herself. “okay, fine. give me like 2 minutes.”

“we’re gonna start packing a bag for you.”

“thank you!” anna called out.

she perfected a few changes and saved her work before running to her room, quickly undressing.

she put on some light makeup. “fuck, i wanted to do a whole thing so i could look good.”

“girl, you look amazing!” wanda reasoned as she did anna’s hair, adjusting her bow.

“no, i do this makeup like everyday.”

“and it looks great.”

“fine” anna huffed and stood up. she was a little pissed. she hated that she sucked at time management and now her plan wasn’t going to be well executed. she was going to look like crap in front of that fucking supermodel stephen had slept with. he probably didn’t even want her anymore.

the three filed into sam’s car.

“anna, stop frowning” sam laughed as he drove.

“whatever, sam.”

“jeez, you’re acting like a teenager.”

“just let me be. i’ll be fine.”

so sam and wanda decided to give her some space.

anna tried to relax, focusing on her surroundings. it was a beautiful day, even if it didn’t feel like it. the trees were so green and beautiful. there was a light breeze. anna was calmer by the time they arrived to the party. “is this outfit too much?” she asked one last time.

“never” sam shook his head. “let’s go.”

anna went in, holding on to her present. she’d just bought him a cute little key holder he’d lingered around a bit as they were walking back from the pizza place the other night.

she kept her present with the rest.

stephen was immediately by her side when he noticed her.

“anna, i’m so glad you’re here” he smiled, he was so happy she’d come. especially because she’d sounded so off today.

“hi, stephen” anna smiled up at the man, her anger melting away. the guy was so beautiful, it felt almost impossible to be mad at him. she averted her gaze, wanting not to get sucked into his sweet gaze. “uh, congratulations on the new home. guess you can have anyone over now, hm?”

sam stepped up, gently elbowing anna in the process. “stephen! dude, wow! this is practically a mansion. did you once save a mayor’s life?”

stephen laughed and greeted sam with a hug.

once he was done greeting everyone, he frowned as anna began to pass by him without saying a word.

without thinking, he reached out to grab her wrist.

anna stopped, her chest fluttering. she looked down at stephen’s hand and back up at him.

“anna” stephen breathed out softly, studying her features. “you…you look beautiful.”

anna wasn’t expecting that, although she had dressed up for just this.

“oh, t-thank you.”

her heart sank as she gazed over at his shoulder, a familiar figure approaching.

the fucking supermodel. in all her sexy glory.

“i can promise you you’re going to change your mind in less than 15 seconds” anna chuckled, trying to play off her very passive aggressive statement as playful.

stephen’s brows furrowed as he let go of her. “what do you mean?”

“turn around” anna said and walked away.

stephen frowned after her, turning when he heard a woman speak.

he smiled and greeted her, thanking her for coming before looking away, searching for anna.

what was going on? why was anna being so distant and weird? did it have to do with him?

what did she mean he was about to change his mind?

was it because stella had walked up to him? but why would she say that about her? did she know her?

stephen wanted to get a hold of sam but he was glued to anna and wanda.

no surprise there.

he sighed in defeat and turned to greet more guests.

guess he’d have to wait for his answer.

“you need to zip it” sam chuckled. “poor guy was so happy to see you.”

“i can’t help it” anna hissed. “i just… i need to know. and i need to be pissed about it. and i wanna act like he’s my boyfriend. and i don’t wanna be worrying about some fucking six foot 10 out of 10 model.”

“she’s a 4. on a good day” wanda chimed in.

anna couldn’t help but laugh. “wands, i love you. please don’t ever stop lying to make me feel better”

“bitch, who’s lying?”

“he literally said you looked beautiful” sam argued.

“and i bet he told fucking britney spears over there that she looked ethereal” anna murmured bitterly.

sam was about to say something about how she was being unreasonable but if you seek amy by britney spears came on. “oh, no.”

anna groaned. “i love this song but this was not the moment for it.”

sam couldn’t hold back his laugh. “this feels like some sort of a sign.”

“what kind of sign?”

“i don’t know. just breathe in the britney, bitch.”

anna sputtered, laughing. “okay. i see wit isn’t your strong suit.”

“don’t even. you know that’s not true.”

anna left to use the bathroom after a few minutes, and sam looked over at wanda, “you think we should let her drink tonight? i don’t know if she’ll try to fuck stephen or fuck him over.”

wanda shrugged and giggled in response.

stephen was paying attention to anna this whole time.

she seemed a bit off, but then she’d start laughing with her friends. he couldn’t really tell if something was upsetting her or not.

he went in as soon as he noticed anna was gone.

“hey guys, how’s everything going?”

“oh great” wanda smiled. “thanks for having us.”

“of course” stephen smiled. “i hope i’m not intruding but uh, is anna okay?”

wanda went quiet and just looked over at sam. she was not about to attempt lying.

“she’s.. fine, yeah” sam smiled, knowing he was on his own with this one.

stephen was going to say something before he saw anna walk over. her smile melted as soon as she saw him.

usually, he’d seen the opposite happen. so this hurt a little.

“hey guys” anna murmured before turning around to order a drink.

“anna?” stephen spoke up, shifting uncomfortably. “i- i haven’t seen you in a while. how have you been?”

“oh me?” anna smiled as she briefly glanced over at stephen. “i’m fine. you?”

“i..i’ve been good too” stephen responded, feeling uneasy, especially with her friends around to witness this. “what’s new with you?”

“oh, nothing” anna shrugged. “well actually, i hooked up with my ex last night.”

sam almost spit out his drink, coughing as he reached for a napkin. “sorry. uh, it’s my gag reflex.”

wanda rolled her eyes. she couldn’t believe she hung out with these idiots.

“oh that?” anna chuckled. “yeah i didn’t have any of that last night.”

stephen’s eyes widened as soon as he realized what she meant. he felt like he was speaking to a wall right now. “oh well uh, good for you. i hope you enjoy the party.”

“you too” anna smiled over at him before looking away. “and uh, enjoy your guests too.”

at this point, wanda and sam had huddled to the side, which stephen was grateful for.

stephen raised a brow, he didn’t know what was going on. “anna, is…is something wrong?”

“no” anna shrugged, thanking the bartender for the drink. “how much is it?”

“free of charge” the man smiled and nodded at stephen before walking away.

“thanks for the free booze, stephen” anna smiled at the man before taking a sip.

stephen sighed. he wanted to keep pushing, but it didn’t feel right. part of him just wanted to apologize for whatever it could’ve been. but he wasn’t sure if she was in the mood for that.

“oh look, your blonde friend’s coming over. again.” anna smiled and pointed at the blonde walking in their direction.

stephen turned to look at stella before returning to anna. “stella?”

“yeah, sure” anna shrugged.

“do you… do you know her?”

“no, but you clearly do.”

“pardon?”

“well, she’s here. and she was at your house last night too. so.”

stephen’s brows shot up. “is this what all of this is about?”

“all of what?”

“about her?”

“why would i care about… bella?” anna remembered her name, she was just being spiteful.

“how did you know she was at my house last night?”

“i don’t” anna laughed. “i was with my ex, remember? i’m just joking, stephen. cause i got laid. so i was joking about you getting laid with your friend. i’m sorry, i didn’t execute it too well i guess.”

stephen’s expressions softened. there was almost a sadness in his eyes at the mention of anna’s ex. “okay.” he nodded, putting on a smile. “i’m glad you had… fun last night. i’ll see you later.”

stephen turned and left, without waiting for a response.

anna wondered if she’d gone too far.

sam and wanda slowly slid back next to anna.

“why dont you just ask him?” sam asked anna.

“what?” anna frowned.

“yeah. it’s better than killing yourself over what might or might not be.”

“i can’t just ask him about who he hangs out with. i’m not his girlfriend.”

“but you’re literally acting like his wife by the way you’re behaving with that passive aggressiveness.”

“i mean i told him i fucked an ex” anna whined. “do i just tell him i lied?”

“yeah, sure, just say you got defensive.”

anna really hoped she could be as relaxed and calm about things the way sam was.

she shook her head and looked down at her drink, the last night they’d spent together playing in her head.

the things he’d said to her. about how she was the most beautiful there. he always called her beautiful or pretty when they had sex. and it had always felt special, like it was all for her. that was why she wanted to just be his, every single time. she’d tell him she was all his, that she belonged to him. because he made her feel secure like that.

but now she wasn’t sure if that even meant anything.

stephen called for everyone’s attention and anna turned, but not before uttering a dramatic sigh. she’d have to look back at that gorgeous, gorgeous face. the face that belonged to a man who wasn’t hers.

stephen started off by thanking everyone for being present.

“i would also like to thank stella, a friend and real estate agent for getting me this place” stephen smiled, extending an arm in her direction as she raised her glass, smiling as people clapped.

great.

so she was his friend and his real estate agent too. how come she’d never heard of this friend until now?

anna clapped and put on a fake smile, studying stella before it got too much. she looked away and back at stephen when she realized that he was already looking at her.

she looked away, turning back to her drink.

stephen was mesmerized by how anna looked tonight. he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. the way the dress hugged her body, was surely a huge turn on. and the puffy gloves made her look like a princess.

there was a reason he called her a princess every time they had sex. that’s all he could see every time he looked at her.

he hated that she was so distant though. and he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it had to do with stella.

wanda and sam wanted to leave a little early, and anna agreed to tag along. they left to say their thank yous as anna waited outside, tears stinging her eyes.

yeah, stephen had told her she looked beautiful. and yeah that felt fucking good. she was ready to let go of everything negative she was feeling about him when that happened, until stella approached the scene again. then it felt as if the compliment meant nothing. sam and wanda met anna back outside.

“you should have at least come to say goodbye, annie” sam murmured as he stood next to her. “he kept asking if you were okay.”

“whatever” anna slurred, clearly a little drunk. “just because i don’t wanna come see him all the time, that means something has to be wrong.”

“how much did you drink?” wanda chuckled, fixing anna’s hair.

“it was free booze, so i didn’t even count.”

“only for you” sam spoke softly.

“huh?”

“you know the booze was only free for you, right? the rest of us had to pay for it.”

“what? no. you guys paid for your drinks?”

“yeah. anything extra we got had to be paid for” sam laughed.

“no?”

“yeah. when i asked the guy why he was charging us and not you, he said he’d received special instructions to serve “the beautiful girl in black” free everything, no matter how many times she asks.”

anna’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help but say, “did stella have to pay?”

sam rolled his eyes, laughing. “i don’t know about that.”

“why.. why would he do that?”

sam shrugged with a smile. “he seems to like you. and he seems to care about you a lot, too.”

“oh, god” anna complained. “and i acted like an ass the entire day.”

“guys, i’m gonna go back” anna piped up after a beat of silence.

“what?” wanda raised a brow.

“yeah, i gotta go back and thank him. or apologize. or something. i can’t just leave. you guys go.”

“anna, dont be ridiculous.”

“guys go, i’ll be fine, i promise.”

“just don’t…don’t fuck him again, okay?”

anna clutched her jacket and smiled. “no promises. thank you, love you guys.”

and with that, she began to head toward stephen’s door. she noticed others were starting to leave as well and she smiled at them as she made her way to the gate, ringing the door bell.

“can you believe her?” wanda shook her head.

“young love” sam laughed.

“well, partly.”

“wow!” sam laughed harder. “don’t do our beloved dilf like that.”

anna was nervous. she didn’t know what she was going to say.

she should just be honest. say she was grateful for the little special treatment and she was just a little off about other things.

what things?

should she ask about stella?

stephen opened the door and anna smiled to herself, ready to meet the man.

her smiled faltered when she saw stella beside him.

“anna!” stephen’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled. “is everything okay?”

“uh, y-yeah, i just-“ she looked between the two, her cheeks warming. “sorry, i’ll…maybe i’ll come back later.”

she turned on her heel and began to walk away.

“anna, wait” stephen called out. he asked stella to wait and went after her.

“anna” he reached out, gently grabbing on to her wrist. “please stop walking away from me.”

that broke anna’s heart. he sounded so sincere, and a little sad.

anna turned, meeting stephen’s eyes. “sorry. uh, i just came to thank you for the free booze. sam informed me i was the only one that got free refills?”

stephen let go, and anna could swear he was blushing. “y-yeah. hope that was okay.”

“more than okay” anna smiled. “thank you so much. just for the record, i didn’t fuck my ex.”

stephen raised a brow. “oh?”

“yeah. um, i was dared to say that. we were playing a stupid game before we left my apartment.”

stephen felt a huge relief off his chest, and he smiled a little wider.

“okay, well, thanks for clarifying. a-are you okay, anna? did i do something?”

anna looked away.

fuck.

“i don’t know” she sighed. “i mean, no. you’re fine.”

“tell me.”

“it’s nothing.”

“anna, please. something’s clearly bothering you.”

“who’s the blonde chick?” anna blurted out and stephen froze.

“stella?”

“yeah, her.” she couldn’t tolerate listening to her name being said one more time.

“she was my real estate agent. we met in medical school but she dropped out but we remained friends.”

“i’ve never heard of her?”

“she was in paris for the longest time. just got back and we met up last night.”

“and you brought her back to your place?”

stephen’s expressions hardened. “how would you even know?”

“wanda saw you two.”

stephen sighed, running his fingers through his hair. he really didn’t like how much her friends snooped, but he didn’t voice that out loud. maybe there was a better way to phrase that later.

“anna, what do you want me to say?”

“i don’t know” anna refused to meet his eyes, afraid that she might start crying.

“no, i didn’t have sex with her last night.”

anna sighed out in relief. but she still wanted to know why he had a woman he hadn’t met in so long so late at his place.

“we just hung out last night at my place.” stephen continued. “you know how this city has zero night life. things were starting to close by like 6.”

but you brought her home in the middle of the night, anna thought to herself.

“so what you have like, supermodel friends now?”

“she’s…not a model.”

“you know that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean? listen, do you want to come inside? i don’t want you freezing out here.”

“not while britney spears is still there.”

stephen had hold back a laugh. this was a serious situation, but that was fucking funny.

“what’s the issue?” stephen asked, stepping closer.

anna felt like her heart was in her throat as he stepped in.

she stayed quiet, her mind racing.

“anna, look at me” stephen spoke, his voice lower and gravellier than usual.

anna hesitated but looked up to meet stephen’s eyes, feeling the lump return.

this was why she wasn’t looking at him.

“what’s the problem here?”

anna had a feeling stephen knew and that he was just being cocky.

“nothing” anna’s jaw clenched as she held back tears.

“then why did you avoid me all night?”

“i t-thought… i don’t know.” it was as if stephen’s blue eyes pierced through her. his face was stern and gaze focused entirely on her, and anna felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“what did you think?”

“stephen, please.”

“please, what, anna?”

“stephen” anna felt like she had to gasp for breath. the energy between them was undeniable.

what if she confessed her feelings right now? what would that do?

would it ruin everything they had? would it give stephen an upper hand?

“yes, baby?”

“fuck, don’t call me that” anna looked away, her voice choking.

“why not?”

“‘cause im not your baby, stephen. you and i know that.”

“then what’s the issue here?”

“i don’t know, okay?” anna refused to meet stephen’s gaze. “i just…i’m jealous at the thought of you hooking up with someone else, okay? i don’t know why. i know we’re not together. but maybe it’s hook up jealousy. i don’t know. maybe it’s a thing. but i feel it and i don’t know what to do about it.”

stephen gently placed a hand underneath her chin and brought her face up so their eyes locked. “i haven’t hooked up with anyone else. ever since the first night we spent together. and i’m not planning to.”

it’s more than that, anna thought to herself. i want to embrace you right now. i want you to hold me tight, not just when we’re hooking up. i want you around. i want to wake up and cuddle next to your warm body. i want to wake you up with breakfast and kisses. i want you, stephen. i want you all to myself. i like you, stephen. please be mine.

that’s all anna could think about right now.

but “okay” was all that came out of her mouth.

“you can always tell me how you feel, anna” stephen said, studying her face. “even if it might not make sense to you. you always say you’re there for me, even for the not fun parts of it. doesn’t that make us friends? i want you to be able to talk to me like a friend, even if it’s about…about us.”

anna nodded, her eyes stinging with the tears that threatened to show themselves if she didn’t look away.

“thank you, stephen.” anna whispered.

“do you…do you want to come in now?”

“no, stephen, i just…i’m gonna go home. i just felt like i had to say something after sam said i was the only one to get free drinks.”

stephen smiled. “okay, i’ll drop you off.”

“no, that won’t be necessary.”

“hey, it’s no big deal. it’s only a 15 minute drive. come on, i don’t want you to be alone.”

“stephen, i’m fine.”

“anna, i’m dropping you off.”

“okay” anna chuckled softly. “thank you.”

“i’ll get my car. don’t go anywhere.”

as soon as stephen turned and began to walk away, anna let her tears fall and wiped them away quickly.

she breathed out slowly, trying to compose herself. she smiled at stephen came around with his car. she stepped into the passenger seat, “thank you so much.”

stephen pulled out of his driveway.

he glanced briefly at anna before returning his eyes to the road. “you look stunning. i couldn’t take my eyes off you the entire night.”

anna blushed, smiling to herself. “you look pretty handsome yourself, doc.”

stephen smiled, relaxing against his seat. “so, is it true?”

“what?” anna looked over.

“that you have no gag reflex?”

anna’s eyes widened and she looked away, gazing out the window. she couldn’t hold back her smile. “wouldn’t you like to find out?”

stephen laughed. “hey, you brought it up.”

anna smiled, looking over at him. she ran her eyes up and down. “i could show you.”

stephen seemed surprised but he felt his pants tighten at the suggestion.

“like, now?”

“sure, why not? when you stop at my apartment.”

“i- are you…sure?”

“consider it a thank you gift for the free alcohol.”

“fuck anna, you’re so good to me.”

anna smiled to herself, looking down at her phone.

“um” she spoke up, her smile melting. “so sam and wanda are at my place, for whatever fucking reason. what do you think about a little parking lot blowjob session?”

“i’m up for anything. as long as it involves you.”

anna bit down her lip, her heart pounding.

she noticed stephen’s bulge and she was already starting to feel her heat pulse. fuck, she wanted to get on her knees right this moment.

once they drove into the parking lot, anna confirmed once again that stephen’s windows were tinted.

of course they were. rich bastard.

he reclined back in his seat and anna crawled on her knees, grabbing at his thighs.

“are you…okay, there?”

“yeah” anna breathed out softly. “don’t worry about me.”

she was more than okay, what with stephen’s crotch in her face.

“fuck, daddy” anna breathed out as she reached out to rub stephen’s hard on against her hand. “all of this for me?”

stephen let out a low grunt, holding back the urge to rub back into her hand. “yes, princess. you turn me on like no one else.”

anna smiled, that’s what she liked to hear.

she began to unbutton stephen’s pants slowly, pulling his zipper down.

she pulled his boxers down, stephen lifting his body momentarily.

“fuck” anna breathed as his cock sprung free.

“all for you, baby girl.”

anna smiled and spat on her hand and stephen thought that was the hottest thing ever.

honestly, stephen found every little thing anna did extremely hot.

she could just be blinking and it would turn him on.

anna grabbed hold of stephen’s cock, rubbing it with her hand before leaning in and peppering kisses against the tip, smirking to herself when she heard the man gasp.

she let go of it and began to lick up his shaft before puckering her lips around the tip, swirling her tongue against the edges.

“oh my god” stephen breathed out. he didn’t even know this could feel so good.

“wanna milk every little drop out of you, daddy” anna whined before taking in his length, feeling the tip scratch her throat but she wasn’t even all the way down.

“fuck, princess.” stephen groaned as he grabbed a handful of anna’s hair. “i didn’t know you were this nasty.”

anna hummed in response, trying to fit all of him in her mouth.

she pulled back, panting softly.

stephen was about to ask if she was okay but anna dived in again, hollowing her cheeks as she practically swallowed his cock up.

“good god, anna” stephen gasped at the sight before him, moaning as anna began to bob her head gently, her tongue circling around the base of his head.

“jesus, fuck!” stephen threw his head back, unable to hold himself back from rolling his hips against her mouth. “so good, baby.”

anna pulled back with a pop, regaining some breath before going in again, grabbing onto stephen’s thighs needily as she began to bob her head again, whimpering as he hit the back of her throat.

anna’s whimpers against his cock sent shivers throughout stephen’s body. his grip on anna’s hair tightened and he held her in place as he began to buck his hips into her mouth.

anna surrendered control as stephen fucked her mouth, saliva dribbling down her mouth.

her eyes began to tear up from the fullness.

stephen stopped as soon as he noticed it, pulling back from her, earning a whine in protest.

“baby, are you okay? do you need me to slow down?” he asked softly, leaning in to brush his thumb against her cheek.

“what? no.” anna whined needily. “need your cock. please. fuck my mouth daddy. and don’t hold back. please.”

stephen took a sharp intake of breath. “shit. you’ll be the death of me, anna.”

he grabbed her hair and shoved his dick into her mouth, fucking it relentlessly as she moaned against it.

stephen threw his head back, a series of grunts escaping his lips as he felt something coil inside. “going to come, princess.”

he looked down at her, “let me come on your pretty tits.”

anna pulled back and wiped her mouth, grabbing the top of her dress and pulling it down, along with her strapless bra.

stephen watched her as he jerked himself off with his hand, his hips bucking as stream of white squirted out. “fuck, anna. oh, god.”

he came all over her breasts and her dress.

he thought she looked beautiful, her face flushed as she looked up at stephen with big doe eyes, biting down on her lip.

and anna couldn’t take her eyes off of stephen as his hips bucked and the way the sweat gleamed against his skin. she’d drained him like she promised she would. and she felt so proud of it.

stella might be competition, but not when it came to giving perfect blow jobs, she wasn’t.

“fuck” stephen breathed heavily as he went limp against his seat, anna smirking in satisfaction.

she crawled out for under him, sitting beside the man. part of her wanted to take a picture of his cum all over her, just so she could treasure it forever. because that was everything she’d been yearning for, everything she’d desperately needed from the guys she dated, but never got.

“do you have any napkins?” anna asked, looking around his car.

“yeah,” stephen panted. “let me get you cleaned up.”

“i got this” anna shook her head. she found a pack of wet wipes in the dashboard. “perfect.”

she pulled out several wipes, cleaning herself up.

stephen cleaned up and zipped up his pants, watching the white stains on her dress. “sorry about that.”

“are you kidding? now this dress belongs in a museum.”

stephen laughed. “what are you gonna tell your friends?”

“i won’t have to say anything. they’ll understand. you are the certified dilf after all.”

“thanks for the ride.” she chirped as she stepped out his car, closing the door behind her.

stephen blushed as anna leaned in to peck him on the lips.

stephen watched as anna walked away, yearning even more for her touch.

…

a/n: hi! i wanna apologize for disappearing and not even showing up to provide an explanation. i didn’t give up on the story. i was just dealing with stuff and i couldn’t write anything or even get myself to post on here. it felt like too much and i’m back with a much longer chapter than i’d usually do to make it up to you all. as always, thanks for being here and let me know what you think ❣️

fic index: Neighbor Next Door

TAGLIST

@kentucky-criedfricken @sherlux @evelynrosestuff @thewinterpoet2 @lokislov3 @nabiiturner @withalittlehoney @lokiego @cemak @chocokitty @whore4sherlockholmes @thegardenerofeden @partiallyinfluencial @eazy-emf @vi0letdaze @justobsessedwithyou @kezstarzz @444errorr

[miodiodavinci]

leap day and out of touch thursday and dungeon meshi thursday and also crevan’s birthday,,,,,,,,,,i should celebrate,,,,,,,,,

[theretirementstory]

Greetings from a cloudy Bar sur Aube, where it’s 7c at the moment. We are due a maximum of 10c so it’s not going to be that much warmer. It has rained a lot but we have had some high ish temperatures along with a weak sun but it’s the rain you remember especially when it’s a very heavy downpour and you are soaked!

I did smile when I saw the Drappier Champagne van at the Gendarmerie, the Drappier driver wasn’t delivering so I wonder if he had been speeding or worse still “drunk in charge of the champagne van”.

Anie messaged on Sunday afternoon to say could she come visit me, of course, I produced mince pies and coffee cake along with one of the new teas Monique had bought me for Xmas. She stayed for about an hour, it was enough really, I am finding it hard to concentrate on hearing French for longer than that. She always brings some gift and this time it was a small jar of the herb sariette and a jar of marmalade. I baked a batch of cheese scones yesterday, I added some sariette and herbes de Provence, they were really lovely.

Monique has been in touch keeping me up to date with her blood tests, appointments etc.

My fortnightly blood test was due and the nurse arrived promptly. The results are not coming back as quickly as previously but perhaps it’s the tests requested that make the results arrive later.

The plumber came to install the new boiler, amazing all finished in 3.5 hours! Oh the luxury have having lovely hot water “on tap”. You don’t miss something until it is taken away from you.

My grandchildren are with “The Photographer” this weekend and then it’s “the big adventure”, they are going to London from Monday to Thursday to go to the Zoo and the Natural History museum.

“The Ex-Graduate” will be starting her final week at the bar, where she worked part-time while studying and full time since her studying finished. She starts her new job in a couple of weeks so she will be given a new title on here too 😊.

“The Trainee Solicitor” is working his socks off and will be looking forward to a little break away from home for a few days. Next week will be busy at work as two staff members are on holiday but you can only do as much as you can do in the hours you are at work so just keep that in mind!

So let’s have a look at my music choices this week. I don’t know how I hadn’t thought of this one before now. I have no idea what makes a good guitarist I just know that some music just gets to you. Here is one of the guitar greats doing what he does best! The song was released in 1999 😳, it is “Smooth” by Santana featuring Rob Thomas. Well if that doesn’t get you moving I am not sure what will!

The second song is one that always makes me “feel good”, I want to get up and leap around. We go way back to 1970 for this hit from George Harrison, the song is “What is Life”. Enjoy listening to these tracks today.

So today was the day I had been looking forward to, the day of the visit to the gorgeous “La Belvedere” restaurant for lunch. I was disappointed when Maud messaged to say she had had bronchitis and was still coughing so thought it best to cancel the restaurant. Oh well until the next time 😉. I am going to make myself something “tasty” for lunch 🤞and if I get out of bed now, I may be able to prepare a super dessert too.

It was the knitting group on Friday and I must say we were a little depleted! The 92/93 year old lady is suffering with her back so was unable to attend. The newest member of the group had previously been into hospital for an operation and therefore didn’t arrive until about 4pm. Helene, a lady who suffers from some neurological problem couldn’t come as she was unwell and her husband (who brings her) was also unwell. It was just as well I had decided to go! I was only going to stay for a couple of hours and forego the cake and drink, however, I brought the “tarte” home with me and enjoyed it after my evening meal. We were discussing the best things to make to sell at the markets. It was suggested that we tried key fobs, I produced a pattern for some pendants and earrings and will photocopy the pattern to take back in a fortnight. The ladies were impressed with my little cardigan . It has been decided that from now on a receipt needs to be produced to show the cost of materials, I guess that puts paid to a refund for me, as the wool I have had for years, so no longer have the receipt. Oh well does it matter, it gets the wool used up 😊.

Now I am going to “put my best foot forward” (wish I knew which one it was 😂) .

I think this photo should be called “house on the hill”.

I wish you all a good week until next week.

[ivythevoidcat]

Ahh, 29th of February. A once in a 4 years day, finally here at last. People born on this day are a year older after 3 entire years of wait, the 6 hours we lost for the past 3 years are given back to us and the temporal instability is prevented, The Leap is reformed and the Moon spirits satisfied.

And today is a special day, because it’s a Thursday. This Thursday falls on the one day in 4 years when we get extra time.

So for today, we’re neither out of touch, nor out of time.

[edmundthearchwizard]

I just realized that The Leap Day will be on out of touch Thursday

out of touch, out of time amiright?