#sorry for reblogging again to those who keep seeing this but trying to put the word out there for those who don't know

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: I am tireddddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Professor Smith dresses you in a set of pajamas; white with blue stripes. They’re not your size, you assume they might be his. You’re not sure. You’re too woozy to think about much more than your throbbing hand. 

He lays you in the hotel bed as you shake uncontrollably. You’re freezing cold but he keeps touching your forehead and saying you’re burning up. How can that be when you can’t get warm? 

Your lashes flutter between glimpses of him pacing and sitting on the edge of the bed. When all is dark, you see his shadow beside you. His breathing suggests he’s asleep but you can’t tell. He’s up again as a halo of light shines around you. The lamp limns his figure as he pets your cheek. 

“Sweetheart, shh, you’re alright,” he coos, “no need to cry.” 

You’re crying? Why? You can’t remember. Your mind is a bubble of fractured thoughts and vague scenes. You can’t make scene of much between the visions of this man. 

“Fever’s broke,” he lays a wet cloth over your brow. “Very good. We’ll be off in the morning, won’t we?” 

“Mom?” You murmur in confusion. 

“Mm, let’s take one step at a time before all that, yes?” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Back to sleep.” 

He shuts off the light and you’re cast into grim blackness. His weight jostles the bed and you feel him spread out next to you. The bed is more than large enough for you both. 

“Professor,” you croak weakly. “What’s...” 

“In the morning,” he girds. 

You accept it, “sorry.” 

“Never be sorry,” he reaches over to squeeze your arm lightly.  

You lay in silence. Your eyes close on their own. You are completely drained. You sink down into a solid void that suffocates away all light and life. When you awake again, you’re alone. You might think it was all a dream if it wasn’t for the bright hotel walls. 

You remain as you are. You don’t have the energy to get up. You lift your hand and look at the bandage wrapped around it. It feels better and your fingers aren’t swollen. You bend them. It still hurts. 

The door opens and you drop your arm. You squeak at the pain. 

“Sweetheart, is all well?” Raymond rushes over, a tray in his hand. “I was only meaning to fetch some of the complimentary breakfast before we depart.” 

You blink and shake your head, “fine. I’m... fine.” 

“I hope you like coffee--” 

“Coffee?” You whimper and close your eyes. “Coffee...” you mutter. “I went to get coffee and...” 

“Yes, that fiend meant to attack you. You see, I did not come without purpose. How could I sit back and see you neglected?” 

“You don’t... I don’t know... you.” 

“Hush, hush, you must be hungry,” he insists. “It is good to eat. You are weak from the infection still. You must take care--” 

“My mom--” you look at him. 

He sucks in air and his jaw tenses. He steels himself and his fingers twitch. “Yes, a woman who allows her own daughter be abused.” 

“She... she couldn’t stop him--” 

“She should not bring the beast home with her,” he snips. “Please, you would not survive in such an environment.” 

“Why... would you come here?” 

He exhales and his eye bats, as if he can’t control it. “Why wouldn’t I after what I witnessed? Then you would not answer. I had half a suspicion you were dead.” 

“I’m sorry, I... didn’t mean to worry you but... it’s not your problem.” 

He hums and set the tray on the night stand. He offers a cup of coffee, “are you so used to being forgotten that you cannot accept kindness?” 

“No, it isn’t... I’m sorry.” 

“And the apologies. No need for it. I am not admonishing you. I am merely offering advice.” He takes your good hand and makes you take the cup. “There is much more you need to learn than accounting, I gather.” 

You frown and look at the dark coffee. 

“If you prefer milk or sugar, I grabbed some of each,” he explains and gestures to the tray. “Of course, you shouldn’t drink that in bed else you might stain the sheets.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you push the blankets back and move carefully. 

The pajamas brush against your stomach and you look down. You’re reminded of the day before. Naked in the tub. In front of him. You’ve never been so exposed before. You slump your shoulders and go to the table and sit. 

You look down at your burnt hand and bring up to examine the bandage again, “thank you...” you raise it higher. 

“Certainly. And who wouldn’t see to the festering infection? Are you not concerned that not even your own mother cared for that matter?” 

“Can we not talk about her?” You sniffle and rest your hand in your lap. “You should take me home.” 

“Home? That is no home. Now, you should eat. Keep your strength up so you can heal properly.” He girds. 

You nod and take a cautious sip of coffee. You’re still reeling, maybe even slightly delirious. You set the cup down again and lift your chin. You look at his neck, not his face. 

“Why?” You ask. 

“Why...” He echoes as he sits across from you. 

“Why help me?” 

He takes a packet of sanitizing wipes and uses them to clean the cutlery. You watch his diligent work. Everything he does is precise and purposeful. And cleanly. He seems to detest the thought of dirtiness and yet you can only feel like filth next to him. 

“Well, it should be a question, should it? It is humane. Decent. So, I shouldn’t need to name the reason for it.” He lays down each piece before he sets to claiming a muffin, then a scoop of the scrambled eggs, and strips of bacon with sausage too. “Though if you insist, I will give one. Firstly, let us underline that point. What you need, what you want, I would be more than willing to supply, but then, circle around to your query; why should I help you?” 

He takes the rest of the cutlery and wipes it then hands it to you. He makes you up a plate as he continues, “you, sweetheart, have great potential. I’ve seen it. And that would be spoiled all for a poor foundation. Now that is not your own doing, mind you, you cannot help where you come from, and more admirably,” he sets the plate before you, “you were fighting against it and so I only thought to lower the ladder for you.” 

You blink and focus on the food. You’re not very hungry. You feel slightly queasy but you would hate to be ungrateful. All these questions already make you feel so.  

“Thank you,” you croak and make yourself look at him. “Really...” 

You don’t know how to say it. You already feel pathetic and you don’t need to sink further. No one’s ever been that concerned about you. No one ever tried to help you. Most people just laughed, called you names, or pushed you down themselves. 

“Please, don’t trouble yourself very much, eh? I have the means to help. It would be selfish not to. A sort of passing the torch. I wasn’t born to wealth myself, or peace. Life can be a war on its own,” he gives a gentle smile beneath his thick beard. “Oh, and I did take some clothing from your home before our flight. I was able to use the hotel laundry. It should suffice, though I hardly trust their cleaning staff.” 

“Yes, sir,” you answer. 

“Raymond, please,” he corrects you. 

📓

Professor Smith, or Raymond as he insists, drives you across the city. He turns in the car at the rental place then leads you into the train station a block away. He’s patient, not hurrying you, and he pays for your ticket and his. You feel guilty for the expense. 

As you sit and wait on the platform, you fidget. You chew your lip and curl your fingers, the burn stinging beneath the bandages. 

“Are you well?” He checks in. He does every now and then. 

“Um, yes...” you look at the tracks, “I’ve never been on a train.” 

“A first, very exciting,” he muses. 

You nod and let your eyes wander. You’re nervous but too much to ask what makes you so. He moves so his leg is against yours. 

“Your hand?” He prompts. 

“It’s feeling better,” you assure.” 

“Very well.” He sits back and puffs out through his nose, “we will go to my home. You can recover there and when you feel up to it, we will go over your last assignment and see you through the course--” 

“Professor-- Raymond,” you sputter as you face him. “You don’t have to do all this.” 

“I am not a man who does things he doesn’t wish to,” he replies. “I’ve explained myself enough. It is unacceptable to me to let you return to where I found you. I couldn’t allow you in such an unsafe circumstance. Especially after what I witnessed.” 

“It-- he just yelled, that’s all.” You murmur. 

“Is that all? He had nothing to do with this?” He points to your hand. 

You shrink and shake your head. He clucks. 

“You are honest and so you are a poor liar. What I saw was more than yelling, sweetheart. You will not convince me otherwise. I know, this is a peculiar situation, but it is your way out,” he says, “tell me, you never thought of it.” 

Your lack of response is enough of one. Your eyes are hot, and your mouth is dry. Your leg jiggles restlessly. 

A lull rises as the chatter of others rolls through the platform. Soon, you hear the whine of metal on metal, and a bright beam shines from the tunnel. The train speeds through and grinds to a stop.  

You follow Raymond’s every move. When he stands, you stand. As he grabs his bag, you go to do the same but he has it in hand first. He gestures you ahead of him. You reluctantly approach the train. 

“The second from the front,” he instructs from behind. “I’ve our tickets.” 

You follow his direction. You’re good at that. As a professor, he’s just as good at giving orders. As you approach the waiting attendant, he reaches around to hand over the tickets. The woman in her uniform tears of the ends and hands them back. 

You step onto the small metal footstool and then climb the stairs of the train car. You pause as he puts your bags into the netted caddy near the front. He urges you on with another point and recites the seat numbers. You find them and stare at the row. 

“Would you like window or aisle?” He tucks away the tickets. 

“Mm, what do you like?” You ask. 

“Please, have the window. You did say it’s your first,” he insists. 

You duck your head and sit. He lowers himself next to you and slips a bottle from inside his jacket. He pops the cap open and offers it quietly. You glance over at the sanitizer. You don’t want to be rude so you put your unbandaged hand out. He dollops it into your palm, then his own, and puts it away. 

He rubs his palms together and you sanitize around your bandage and your uninjured hand. You sit back and look out at the platform. He’s a very stringent man but you might only think so because you’re used to no rules at all. He’s thorough too. He seems to think of everything.  

You look at him but think better of asking what you want to. He catches your glance before you can turn back. He shifts toward you, leaning on the outer armrest. 

“Go on,” he urges, “you can say whatever you need.” 

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” 

“Please,” he opens his hand encouragingly. 

You drop your eyes and wet your lips. You’re going to sound so dumb. “Do you really think I could... I could do something? Like you? Like... like... accounting?” 

He chuckles softly. It’s not mocking or mean. It’s soothing. 

“I do believe so,” he says. “You needn’t fret. Let yourself time to heal, then all that will come after.” 

You sniff and sit back. You don’t know if you agree with him, but you’ll try. That’s all you can do. It’s what you should do after he’s gone to all this effort. 

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 To Hold or Be Held?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; writing witj this many characters was scary . pls ignore any typos or errors or mischaracterisation im learning. reblogs appreciated!!

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Nikolai, Fyodor, gn!reader ( fem terms in fyodors and mentions of boobs in nikolais parts )

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; fluff, cuddles, all those nice things, nikolai being nikolai, possible mischaracterisation

dazai

dazai doesn't have a preference. he enjoys both being held and holding you for the same reason. when he's holding you, he's holding on tight - part of him is still scared you're gonna leave him if he gets too comfortable. and if you're holding him he always finds himself melting into you, his hands shakily gripping at your clothes as he smothers himself against your chest. he adores how your hands find his hair and comb through it. if he puts all his weight onto you, you can't go anywhere, right?

".. 'm sorry .. don't get up, just five more minutes. I'll be good ..- you're warm .. 'm sorry.. "

chuuya

chuuya prefers to hold. be adores the feeling of you in his arms, it makes him feel like he's protecting you from the known - blanketed by his strong embrace. he traces 'I love you's on your back knowing you're too comfortable and sleepy to know what he's writing - his thumb writes his name into your hip when you think he's just rubbing circles. little possessive things like that, just to quietly manifest that you stay with him. he can press a gentle kiss to the top of your head and tease you for being so clingy ; even though he's holding you tight too.

".. you need the bathroom? .. you can hold it, jus' stay with me for a while longer .. I love you .. pretty thing you are .."

atsushi

atsushi prefers to hold. while he won't ever deny being held, usually he finds himself pulling you on top of him to keep you in his embrace while he takes a nap. your head on his chest and his arms resting around your waist, while he gently purrs to soothe you to sleep with him. he hasn't been able to take solo naps since you've been around - and he knows you enjoy resting with him too, anyway. so what's the harm when he tugs you over to the detective agency couch and asks you to take a quick break? you've both been working hard , after all.

"let's have a quick break, okay? we can stay finish everything later .. you're gonna exhaust yourself out, sweetheart .. just 10 minutes .."

akutagawa

akutagawa prefers to be held. he'll never admit it to anyone, especially not to you. but you can see the way he relaxes and sinks into you when you wrap your arms around him. the way he takes a long exhale and his shoulders deflate as your hand traces a certain spot on his back. he likes listening to your heartbeat, he likes knowing you're alive and with him for who he is - and not what he can do. he's still learning to love and to trust, but it's a little easier when it's by your side. he hopes you wont leave him, he'll work to impress you as he grows.

".. what? no, I'm not falling asleep. you're imagining things. you .. mm .. can you do that again ?"

nikolai

nikolai doesn't have a preference. he's like a big dog, despite his size he'll absolutely lay himself on top of you and nuzzle into your chest. if you have boobs then he won't be moving for a while, so kiss your oxygen goodbye. whenever he wants to hold you, he's not really one to ask ; he'll just drag you over onto him or use a portal to drop you into his lap, then he's clinging to you and whining desperately whenever you try to leave. he's just big and clingy, but can you fault him? he finds you so comforting.

" .. where are you going? no! you can't leave .. do you not love me anymore ?.. why do you wanna leave !.. just stay with me .. thank you .."

fyodor

fyodor prefers to hold. if neither was an option, it'd most likely be that. but he regularly asks you to come sit on his lap while he works. a small whistle as he turns his chair, patting his thigh - and he'll wrap an arm around you to keep you close. he's not too affectionate, and too much touching before your marriage repulses him. but he'll learn to deal with these little moments for a while - it gives him his energy back and helps him with a little push to finish his work so you rest together.

" .. зайчик .. come here. no, I'm not finished. just come. don't be disobedient , now .. there we are. good girl."

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Adoration or Obsession?

Yandere!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: mentions of past choking, Kurapika is pretty unstable and clingy, possessive/obsessive behavior

A/N: this is based off of this ask, so if you want context, go read that first!! Just wanted to show the aftermath of that situation, because Kurapika is very intent on trying to make it up to you… he just loves you :(

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, I have three. SFW, NSFW, and YANDERE. Just reply with which one/s you want.‼️

YANDERE TAGLIST: @adissonsss @lightshowerrr

Kurapika had been a bit distant after the incident at first, avoiding you unless it he needed to tend to your injuries. It seemed his rational side was trying to tell him to give you space to recover, to heal without him breathing down your neck…

But you wouldn’t be there, stuck in his home against your wishes if Kurapika always listened to his rational side.

So in the middle of the night, just two days after ‘the incident’s you could the empty side of your bed sink under someone’s weight, and soon after hands wrapped around your waist, pulling your back flush against a warm chest.

“I’m so sorry…”

You knew it was Kurapika who had entered your bed, but you hadn’t expected to feel tears soaking into your shirt and neck as he clung to you tightly. “So sorry, my angel… I knew you were just saying those things out of frustration, and yet…”

You could feel his arms stiffen when your breath hitched slightly as he kissed your neck. The bruises he left were still tender, every touch making you writhe in pain.

“F-fuck, it hurts doesn’t it? Oh my love…”

His grip tightened, and he wrapped his legs around you, clinging to you for dear life. Before he kidnapped you, Kurapika had been your dear friend, someone you loved with your entire heart. You knew how terrified he was to lose you, the last person he had.

And the knowledge that he could have been the very one to take your life away had him shaking in both anger and fear. He had taken you away for a reason, to keep you safe from those who wished to harm you.

And yet he had been the one putting his hands on you, someone he had dedicated his life to protecting. He still couldn’t get the sound of you choking out of his mind, the sight of the light starting to leave your eyes as you stopped fighting him.

He still had claw marks on his hands from your desperate attempts to survive. Kurapika would have a constant reminder of his actions, of what he did to you, his beloved.

“Kurapika…”

His attention was drawn to you when you spoke up, your voice soft and hoarse due to your injuries. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

Kurapika went deadly silent. The fear in your shaky voice was enough to tear his heart into millions of pieces. He had never wanted you to fear him, Kurapika wanted you to love and need him more than anything.

“No, no no no… don’t apologize, shh… I know you didn’t mean it, I shouldn’t have… I…”

He started to choke up, his heart racing and his eyes scarlet as he remembered seeing your nen energy growing weaker.

You weren’t a nen user, you could t control it like he could, and you were going to die. Kurapika had nearly killed you. If he hadn’t of snapped out of it in that moment and let you go so you could breathe, you would be dead.

“You’re… you’re fine. You’re with me, everything is okay.” Kurapika said, trying to reassure himself more than anything. He began to rock you back and forth, cooing softly as he pressed kisses into your cheeks and temple.

“You’re mine, and I’ll take care of you. I would… I will never hurt you again. Ever.”

Though a bit afraid, you were able to fall asleep soon enough from the gentle rocking. It helped that he was using his nen to help ease the pain in your neck, healing it slowly, day by day.

When you woke up, Kurapika was awake, bags under his eyes as he watched you. His hands were petting you, caressing your face and running over your hair. “You’re awake…”

He sighed in relief, relaxing against the bed. You rubbed your eyes, and noticed his were red and puffy from crying. Kurapika just looked exhausted overall.

“Did you… sleep?”

He looked away from you, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. “… a little. But…”

Kurapika couldn’t sleep much, worrying that somehow you would die in the middle of the night. So he stayed up, watching over you until you woke up.

“… I need a shower…”

You sat up and walked towards the bathroom door, a bit disturbed when he followed you. “Um…”

“Shh…”

He walked in with you, turning on the shower and grabbing you a towel. “I… won’t look. But I’m staying in here while you shower.”

His words left no room for arguing, so you undressed and got into the shower. You were too tired to complain, and too afraid of what he might do if you asked him to leave. You could tell he was unstable now, and you couldn’t predict what he was thinking or going to do when he was like this.

And it scared you.

Kurapika knew he was being clingy and selfish, but he just couldn’t shake the fear that if he left you alone for even a second, something bad would happen.

As soon as you were dressed, he was back to clinging to you. Before he had taken you away, when the two of you were madly in love, you would have been incredibly happy to have all of his attention on you.

But now all you wanted was to be left alone. He was smothering you, keeping your body flush against his as he breathed in the smell of your shampoo.

He just wanted to know that you were still here… that you were still all his.

Kurapika wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You didn’t respond, simply holding onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry I can’t love you like a normal man could. You’d probably be much happier with someone that didn’t keep you locked up in a cage like some sort of exotic animal. Someone that wasn’t so scared to lose you that he hurt you himself…”

He held onto you so tight you winced.

“But I’m selfish.”

Tears dropped onto your head, and he choked up. “I’m so selfish (Name), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… I’ll never be able to let you go.”

You weren’t really sure how to feel. On one hand, there was a time where you had loved Kurapika more than anything… but on the other, he was now your captor, keeping you from being free.

Still… you buried your face into his neck. Even captive birds wanted their owner’s comfort sometimes, and they even could give some comfort back.

“Don’t cry… let’s… just go back to bed.”

Despite the fact it was early morning, he didn’t protest, carrying you back to bed and pulling the blanket over your bodies.

“I love you…”

The words were soft, full of affection and a hint of guilt, as if his love was something shameful and scary. You nodded, laying you head against his chest as he held you tightly.

“Love you too…”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller Pt 3: October Surprises and Secrets Slurred ✨

dbf! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

-Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

-Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

-Word Count: 13.2k

- Tags: Porn with Plot, dbf! Joel, fingering, oral, face riding, dirty talk, dom! Joel, (reader is 25, Joel is mid 40’s)

- Chapter Summary: Your relationship gets more heated with a lot more intimacy going on between you and Joel, but will you finally get caught?

- A/N: I love this series so much and can’t wait to bring you more filthy scenes between these two 🤭 Sorry not sorry this chapter is so long, it’s worth it 😉 Reblogs are appreciated and I always love seeing your comments ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

October rushes through Austin as the cool, autumn breeze whisks through your soft curls. The campus is buzzing with focused, anxious students who rush to get last minute papers and assignments in for midterms. You have been diligent and already turned in your law papers, so you’re now free of midterm anxiety, unlike the other students in your classes.

The historic, massive library is filled up with laptops splayed all over tables and empty Starbucks coffee cups that sit next to their cramped hands that struggle to keep writing in notebooks. Sunlight beams through the stained-glass windows as you pass through the library, making your way out into the cold to go find your car somewhere in the mix of all the campus traffic.

As you open the library doors, you get a shot of cold air that blows right through your purple cardigan, and you wrap it around yourself to try to keep the chill from seeping down into your bones. When you cross campus, your mind wonders to Joel and how much you want to see his handsome face right now. The thought of his massive hands cupping your chin and those pretty coffee colored eyes staring down at you make you shiver with anticipation.

Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s always on your mind, never letting a minute pass without him there. You both can’t leave each other alone, not able to go a day without speaking to one another. He always asks if you have plans after school or when your shift gets over at the coffee shop off Main Street. It’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. There’s just that itch behind your ear that’s always buzzing when you’re with him. That loud, annoying ringing in your ears that reminds you that you’re sneaking around your parents, mostly your dad. You honestly have no idea how he would react to the news, so you’d hide it for as long as you could. Your mom might take it lighter, but your dad. He might actually lose it, and you do not want to see that happen.

When you get to your shining Nissan Rouge and hear the click of the unlocked door, you jump in and slam the door shut, throwing your belongings over in the passenger seat. As you put the silver key in the ignition and turn, it barely hums to life and then dies again. The glowing orange check engine light blinks in front of you, and you pound your hands on the sleek steering wheel.

“No, fuck! Please, work for me,” you beg as you turn the key and try again, praying for a miracle. The engine spurts out a pathetic, muffled sound and then magically starts up as the car hums to life once again. “Oh, thank God,” you sigh as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

Joel. He’d know what to do. You pull out your phone and dial Joel’s number in a hurry, trying to keep your patience as you tap your nails on the black steering wheel. Joel picks up on the third ring.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawls into the phone, his voice sounding like thick honey and sinking its way down into the pit of your stomach where warmth spreads.

“Hi, handsome,” you respond, a small smile spreading quickly over your face as the sound of his deep voice automatically soothes you.

“How was school? You get all your essays turned in? I don’t even have to ask, you already did. Didn’t you?” he asks with the sound of a light, raspy laugh on the end of the line.

“Just got them in today, actually,” you smile.

“Look at you gettin’ them in early. Such a smart girl, aren’t ya?” he purrs, making you bite your lip in response to the audible praise.

“Mhm,” you hum, your voice suddenly turning shaky as you look at the glowing engine light that warns you you shouldn’t be driving the car right now. Joel notices your shift in tone and responds with an edge to his voice.

“Everything alright, darlin’?” he asks concerned. It gives you goosebumps the way he’s always so protective, so careful of you.

“Umm-I’m fine, it’s just my car. My check engine light came on just now, and a few minutes ago I couldn’t even get it to start,” you respond back carefully with furrowed brows.

“Oh, shit. That ain’t good. You need a ride home? I can come get you-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “No, no. You’re at work, and my car came back on.”

“Darlin’, I don’t care that I’m at work. I don’t want ya drivin’ if it ain’t safe,” he says with a serious tone. You can tell he’s getting worked up, the way his breath falters and his sighs come out deep and clipped.

“Joel, really. I’m not that far from campus. I can make it home. Promise,” you respond with a more lighthearted response, hoping that Joel will settle with that answer.

“I don’t know if-”

You cut him off again. “Really, it’s fine. I’ll make it home,” you push.

You hear a long sigh and you can visually see him running his thick fingers through his patchy salt and pepper scruff. The vision of it makes warmth spread against your thighs as you squeeze your legs shut tight. “Fine, but I’m lookin’ at your car tomorrow and fixin’ it. S’not safe for you to be drivin’ it with your check engine light on,” he says with a raspy huff.

“Oh, you’re gonna fix it for me?” you ask with a stupid grin planted on your face.

“Mhm, gonna try my damn hardest to,” he replies as he clears his throat.

“And what do I owe you for your services, Mr. Miller?” you ask in a flirtatious voice.

You hear his low chuckle in the receiver, and it makes you giggle in response. “You don’t owe me nothin’, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure you’re safe,” he says with a light laugh. The sound makes your heart pound against your chest. Sweetheart. Safe. The words nearly take you out. He’s such a gentleman.

“Alright,” you say with a giggle. “I guess I’ll let you get back to work,” you sigh, not wanting to hang up on the handsome man that has your heart beating erratically for those gorgeous honey brown eyes.

“You be careful goin’ home, darlin’. Text me as soon as you make it there. I mean it,” he says with a serious, clipped tone.

“I promise,” you say back in a non serious tone.

“Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later, beautiful. Remember, as soon as you get home,” he reminds you with a knowing tone in his voice.

“You got it. I’ll talk to you later,” you slur into the phone.

“Alright. Bye, gorgeous.” With that he hangs up the phone as you hear the line click dead. You throw your phone in the passenger seat and turn up the radio as Breaking Benjamin blares through the loud speakers. You nod your head to the beat and start to drive off, praying the car gets you there in one piece.

The glowing check engine light stays on the entire drive home, but you make it back safely. You park the car in the hooded garage and turn off the engine, letting it sit idle in the cool room. Whenever you make it through the door, you run straight into your dad as he almost spills his hot coffee all over his pressed white shirt.

“Shit, sorry dad! Didn’t see you there,” you apologize with frantic hands that steady the coffee cup in his hand.

“Careful now, I have a Zoom meeting in five minutes!” he sighs with the hint of agitation in his voice.

“Sorry, dad,” you apologize again.

Before you head to your room, you turn and tell your dad about your messed up car. “Oh, dad, before I forget to tell you. Joel’s coming over tomorrow to take a look at my car. The check engine light came on, and he’s gonna try to fix it for me,” you say lightly.

“Why didn’t you just ask me first? I could’ve taken a look. You sure asked Joel pretty quick there,” he says with his eyebrow raised and the hint of suspicion in there.

You gulp and try not to let your widening eyes give you away. “Oh, uhhh. I just thought you’d be too busy to take a look at it, and you know how good he is with fixing cars,” you shrug innocently.

“And you thought he’d be less busy than me tomorrow?” he asks with the tic of his jaw and wondering eyes staring questionably at you.

Your heart is in your chest and you feel the faint drops of sweat forming on your forehead. “I mean, I just didn’t want to bother you is all. Figured once I told you then you’d just tell me to ask Joel anyways,” you lie with a straight face, keeping your composure together.

He looks at you a few seconds and then nods, face relaxing a little. “Yeah, you’re definitely right, hun. That’s exactly what I would’ve done. Alright, well I need to hop on this call, so I’ll see you later.”

He turns into the direction of his office and you round the corner into the entryway and relax against the wall, breathing out a long sigh of relief. That was close. Too close for comfort.

You head up the stairs and back into your bedroom filled with lilac walls and scents of vanilla and citrus hanging in the air. Apartments. You need to find an apartment and fast.

The air is stuffy and hot in the garage, even though the autumn breeze blows gently outside as it carries red and golden leaves across the driveway. You’re wearing a light blue hoodie and cut off black denim shorts while you sit atop the wooden workbench in your garage. You gently kick your dangling legs off the side of the workbench and stare at the most gorgeous man working on your car. Joel Miller.

You watch the way he picks apart every single wire and car part he can get his hands on. His tousled dark curls sit slicked back against the top of his head by sweat that cakes his forehead, his grey t-shirt bunches around his thick arms every time he flexes and reaches under the hood, and his hands stay covered in grease and dirt from tearing apart your car piece by piece.

You can’t help but gawk at how ridiculously hot he is right now, can’t help the way you bite your lower lip seductively and run your tongue across the bottom of your lip in hopes to get a taste of him. You start to wonder what it’d be like to be bent over the hood of your car while he takes you from the back, start to imagine how good it’d feel to have his thick cock between your slick center as he fucks you senseless into oblivion. Can’t help the burning need in between your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and choke down a moan as slick starts to pool in the center of your lacy underwear.

“You alright there, darlin’?” he asks with concern hinting in his voice as he washes his hands in the garage sink, stepping closer to you as he wipes his hands off on a bunched up rag. “You look a little flushed there,” he says as he steps in front of you, just a few inches from meeting your knees.

“Umm, yeah. I’m fine. Just got a little hot, I guess,” you gasp out, nervously panting as your jaw drops open.

He slides up to you and stops right in front of your thighs, locking his knees up with yours as his t-shirt sticks against his broad chest and bulging biceps. You can’t help but stare at him and his pretty brown eyes with flecks of gold that sneak out and catch you unawarely. You want to run your fingers through his messy greying hair, want to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him until you taste every single part of him as you unravel yourself around him.

“Why don’t you close your jaw, sweetheart. Gonna start drooling if you keep it up,” he smirks as he cups your chin and helps you close. You swallow away all the heat and try to calm yourself as he stands before you, but you can’t. He’s too much, too fucking much.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” you say flirtatiously as you bat your long eyelashes at him, feeling your blush paint the edges of your cheeks crimson.

“You gonna tell me what you were thinkin’ about?” he asks with the tic of his jaw, leaning his weight against the bench as his hand gently brushes your hip.

“I was just thinking how hot you looked leaning over the hood of my car. And your messy curls, how I want to run my fingers through them right about now,” you smile as he leans against you, taking his other hand and placing it against the top of your thigh as he gently runs his rough hand down to your knee.

“Oh, yeah? S’that right?” he laughs as he takes his other hand and pushes your thighs apart, stepping in between them as he runs calloused fingers up and down your smooth skin, turning your breaths ragged from the heat of his massive hands on you.

“Mhm,” you choke out, already worked up from his light flirting and the weight of his thick fingers on you.

“What else were ya thinkin’ about, hmmm?” he hums out, his eyes growing darker by the second.

“I was thinking…” you start as you run your fingers through his damp curls, making him groan as your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. “How good it’d feel if you fucked me on the hood of my car,” you purr, whispering into his ear seductively. You feel the bulge in his jeans already starting to form, feel how turned on he’s getting at the thought of you spread wide open for him on the top of your car.

“Christ, baby. Such a dirty girl, aren’t ya? Wantin’ me to fuck you senseless while I make you cum all over my cock. That’s what you want, ain’t it? To make you scream my name while I make you cum again and again and again…”

His voice lowers with a growl as he wraps his hands around your hips and drags you forward, ending right on the edge of the workbench as your legs clench around his back, his hands moving over the denim of your shorts as he snakes a hand up under the material, finding your soaked lace absolutely ruined for him.

You choke out a moan as he dips his fingers under your lace, slowly spreading your folds as his thumb finds your clit and circles you meticulously, stifling another moan out of you as you dig your fingers into his back and wrap your legs tighter around him.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Always ready for me. Always so needy, ain’t that right?” he smirks as he continues circling you, making your heels dig into his back as you slide a hand through his messy curls and drop your lips to the shell of his ear. Ragged moans leave your lips as he pushes two fingers inside your dripping hole while his thumb continues dancing over your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Feels so good, daddy,” you pant, biting down on his earlobe as you hold in a loud moan while he circles you faster, getting you all worked up over him. You hear the sloshing noises of your wetness and his fingers pumping in and out of you, and it’s so fucking hot that more slick slides down your center as you start to come apart around him. You’re so close, almost there already.

“That’s right, baby. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he coos, curling up his fingers inside you as he hits the spongy part of your walls that elicit another moan deep into his ear as your toes curl in your Converse.

“Joellll,” you whine into his ear, dragging your fingers against the curls that sit matted to the back of his neck.

“What is it, baby? Can’t handle daddy’s fingers, huh?” he teases as his lips ghost across yours effortlessly. “Tell daddy what you want,” he smirks, speeding up the shift of his thumb against your aching clit.

“Want you…. oh, God,” you moan as he curls his fingers inside you nice and slow, moving them up further as you latch around him tighter.

“Go on, finish your sentence,” he smirks with clenched teeth as he works you over nice and thoroughly.

“Want you to fuck me,” you whine against the shell of his ear.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Can’t fuck you here, sweetheart. Don’t want your father findin’ you with my cock buried deep in that wet pussy now, do ya?”

You whine out as your breathing becomes hard to control, tattered moans filling his ear like a choir of angels. “No, don’t want that,” you gasp out, your fingers tangled in knots against the back of his soft t-shirt. “I want you though. Want you so fucking bad,” you groan as he continues building slick around his thick fingers.

“Wanna put this hard cock inside that pretty pussy of yours. Wanna fuck you so hard over this bench right now that you won’t be able to stand for the rest of the night. Wanna cum inside that drippin’ pussy while you moan my name as I take you from the back,” he growls as he fucks his fingers up inside you deeper, hitting the spongy area again and again as you feel your orgasm about to take flight.

“Want you to moan my name so loud when I make you cum that everyone in the neighborhood knows just who you belong to,” he growls with clenched teeth as he presses down harder on your clit, rubbing it in just the right area that you feel yourself start to spill. You feel the white hot heat start to take over as your eyes roll back and you clench up against his fingers that continuously curl up inside you.

“Joel, I’m… I’m coming,” you moan as you bite down on the scruff of his jaw, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you close your eyes and bite back your moan as you let him have it.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good fuckin’ girl. So good for me,” he praises as you take a few seconds to come out of your blissed out daze, his fingers gently releasing out of you as he brings them up to his mouth and sucks, staring at you with blown out pupils. Your eyes go wide as you watch him drink down your cum, humming to himself as he licks them clean.

“Taste s’good, darlin’. Can never get enough of you,” he purrs as he pulls your drenched underwear back over your cunt and straightens your shorts out again. You grab the back of his neck and pull him toward you, planting your lips over his as the taste of sweat, black coffee, and you enter your mouth. He wraps his hands around your hips and slithers his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste all of him as his senses envelop you, sweat and all.

Before you can get lost in him anymore, you hear the jostle of the doorknob and the squeaking hinges as the garage door starts to open. Joel jumps back out of your reach and grabs the bottle of synthetic oil off the back of the shelf, drawing his dark eyes away from you as you compose yourself with a quick breath and legs that clash together.

Your dad looks up at you with concerned eyes and purses his lips. “Honey, you feeling okay? Your face is all flushed and your eyes are so wide they look bloodshot.”

Your blood runs cold as you gulp down your nerves and flick your eyes over to Joel, watching as he stares at your idle car as he runs a hand nervously up the back of his neck. “I’m okay, dad. Just got a little too hot is all,” you say as you fan yourself with your hand, trying to get rid of the flush of your crimson cheeks.

“Oh, sorry about that sweetie. Want me to get you a bottle of water?” he asks with a gentle nod your way.

“Yeah. Thanks, dad.”

“Alright, honey. Be back in a minute.” He turns to Joel and slaps him on the back in a way that best friends only do. “How’s the car looking? Figure out what’s wrong?” he asks as he looks around the open hood of the car.

Joel loosens the top of the oil and sets it down beside the front wheel. “Yeah, there seemed to be some loose wires that got tangled around each other. I fixed ‘em. The serpentine belt looks to be pretty worn out, so I can stop at the hardware store tomorrow and get a new one. Should be an easy fix. And the car needs an oil change, so I’ll get that done real quick. Then it should be good to drive smoothly,” he says as he plays with the used towel in his hands.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Joel. You sure do take care of my little girl,” he smiles in thanks.

Joel smiles back and chuckles. “Anything for your daughter, George. I always got her back.” He turns your direction and winks at you secretly, making your cheeks turn bright red at the secret meaning behind his words.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller. Maybe one of these days I can get you to go on a date with one of Claire’s friends. Trust me, some of her friends already drool over you. Should ask one of them out. Could use a woman around the house. Maybe get you laid one of these days,” he teases as he claps a strong hand over Joel’s back.

Joel’s fists clench and his lips twitch at the mention of dating other women. You won’t lie, you feel a heavy weight against your chest and the tinge of jealousy runs hot down your throat. Joel would do no such thing. Mine.

“Nah, man. Thanks for the offer though. I’m good,” he responds. A breath you had been holding blows out, the wave of jealousy washing away as soon as he says the words.

“You sure? Wouldn’t hurt to at least have a night in with one of them. How long has it been, huh?”

“Dad!” you say forcefully, making both of them look your direction as you dig your nails into the wood, jaw locked into place. “Water?” you ask as you raise your eyebrows.

“Right, sorry. Be back in a minute.” With that he races back inside and slams the door shut.

“So, my dad’s trying to hook you up with one of my mom’s friends?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, mostly joking around with him.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. Already have my best girl right here,” he nods your way, curling his lips into a crooked smile. You can’t help but smile back at him and melt at his words. My best girl.

“That’s right. I’m your girl,” you say possessively.

“Damn straight you are,” he smirks, making butterflies flit through your stomach.

Your dad comes back with a cold bottle of water and leaves the two of you alone again, closing the door to go answer a phone call. As you let the fresh water quench your thirst, you watch Joel meander his way under your car, taking his time to change your oil out. You watch his soft t-shirt lift up just a tad, exposing thick dark hair that trails underneath the waistband of his jeans.

It takes everything in you not to go over and straddle him as he works, slipping your hand underneath his jeans as you pull his hard cock out and go down on him, taking him in your mouth nice and slow as you make his ropes of cum slide down the back of your throat. You hold back the temptation, knowing you can’t do that here. Not when your dad’s lurking around the corner of the house.

You sigh and watch him work, making light conversation with him as he puts the cap back on and crawls out from underneath the car. Grease stains his grey t-shirt, and he has a smudge of grease across his nose.

“Joel, come here. You’re a mess,” you giggle as you grab a towel from the metal shelf and jump down off the workbench, going over to stand in front of him. You wipe off the grease from his nose and wipe off his hands next, making sure you get off as much as you can.

“Baby, I could’ve done that,” he smiles as he grabs the towel from you, wiping off what he can from his ruined shirt.

“It’s fine, I wanted to help,” you shrug.

He looks at the grease stain on his finger for a second then back up at you, mischief written all over those hazy brown eyes.

You back up against the wall and raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning, Miller?” you ask suspiciously, holding in a laugh as you see the playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“Me, planning? Never,” he scoffs, the smirk planting firmly against the corners of his mouth. In a flash he cages you against the wall with his thick arms and smears some grease on your jawline. Your eyes go wide as he does it.

“Joel!” you whine as you push against his chest playfully. “That’s not funny,” you say as a giddy laugh escapes your throat.

“It ain’t funny, huh? Then why are you laughing?” he asks as a deep chuckle ruptures from his chest.

“Get it off, now,” you demand playfully as you try to grab the used tan towel from him. He grabs it back from you.

“I got it, I got it,” he laughs as he uses the pristine end of the towel to clean off the grease from your jawline. When he promises he got it, he throws the towel up on the workbench as you reel him in for a kiss. His lips are soft, plush, and they taste like Joel.

“Oh, that reminds me. I got somethin’ for ya,” he says as he breaks the kiss, digging around the back pocket of his dark faded jeans.

“You got me something?” you ask with a surprised lilt to your voice.

“Mhm,” he hums as he grabs his leather wallet and opens it up, digging around to find what he’s looking for.

“What’s the occasion?” you ask curiously, watching him dig around excitedly as his thick fingers push around old receipts and folded up papers.

“Don’t have to be an occasion to get ya somethin’, darlin’,” he chuckles. “But this is kind of an early birthday present, since your birthday’s next month.” He finally finds what he’s looking for and pulls out two tickets that have a matte gloss covering both sides. You flip them over and your eyes go wide at what the tickets say. Two general admission tickets to see Ghost at the Moody Center on November fourteenth sit carefully in your hands. You gulp back tears as you stand frozen in awe as you stare at the glossy tickets.

“Joel…” you gasp out, your eyes probably as wide as an owl right now.

“Thought you’d like ‘em. I know how much you’ve wanted to see ‘em for a long time. Took me a while to find out when they were gonna come to town, so I jumped at the chance when I saw ‘em post new tour dates. And Breaking Benjamin is gonna be their opener. I know how much you like them too and…”

You jump into his arms and wrap your hands around his neck as you thank him over and over again for the best gift ever. You grab his shirt and pull him in for a long kiss as you run your hands through his tousled curls. When you break the kiss, you stand back to look at him in his pretty face as your arms stay wrapped around his neck.

“You’re gonna take me to go see Ghost?” you ask sweetly with big eyes that water faintly.

“I’m gonna take ya to see Ghost,” he nods with a crooked smile as he looks down at you with brown doe eyes that you want to sink right into as they swallow you whole.

You pull him in for another long hug as his strong arms wrap around your waist. “You’re the sweetest, Joel,” you say as you plant your lips on his cheek, staying in his embrace for as long as you can.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles as he cups your chin, bringing his lips down on yours again. When he pulls back, he keeps his calloused thumb trailing against your jawline, making you dizzy with lovesick thoughts.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ for Halloween?” he asks as he keeps his coffee eyes focused on you, his thumb trailing light circles across your cheekbone.

“I didn’t really have any plans. Sometimes my friends will drag me out to the bars or we’ll find a Halloween party to go to. How come?” you ask, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Umm well, you wanna come over to my place? We could watch some scary movies, make some popcorn, order a pizza. I know how much you like those classic horror movies. Would be nice to have some company,” he smiles shyly as the corners of his mouth rise up into a crooked grin. He’s perfect, so perfect.

“Joel Miller asking me to watch scary movies? You don’t even really like them,” you laugh as you hang around his neck, his left hand digging deeper into the side of your hip.

“Yeah, well. You rub off on me a lot. And besides, anything to make my girl happy. I jus’ like spending time with you is all, darlin’,” he drawls, his eyes glistening with flecks of light and dark brown mixing together to make a pretty coffee color. His crooked smile makes a dimple press against his cheek, and the lines against his eyes crinkle into complete warmth that fills the hard lines in his face. You think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. Because he is.

“Joel… you leave me speechless. Truly. I’m so, so lucky to have you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” you gush to him as you rest your forehead against his.

“No, darlin’. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You stifle out a laugh and bring your lips down slowly over his, this kiss more slow and romantic than all the other ones. Who would’ve thought you and Joel Miller would’ve ever been a thing? But here you are. Completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, and you just can’t get enough.

You hear the jiggle of the door handle and see the door opening fast into the garage. You jump out of Joel’s grasp and take a few steps back, separating the distance between him even though it’s getting harder to act like the two of you aren’t completely crazy for each other. You’re out of breath, still dizzy from all the emotions of the last few minutes with Joel. And he looks the same, pupils dilated and a flushed face as he looks up at your father.

Your father stops and puts on his glasses to take a closer look. “Joel, you feeling okay? Your face is flushed too. You good?” he asks as he hands Joel a water.

“Yeah. Just got up too fast from under the car. Should be fine,” he nods as he flicks his eyes over to you, the look of affection returning to his brown doe eyes you can’t get enough of.

“Alright, well dinner’s ready if you wanna stay. She made chicken enchiladas tonight, so pretty sure you’ll wanna stay,” he laughs.

“Sure, wouldn’t miss those,” Joel nods as your dad smiles back at him.

“Well, come on. Come and get it while it’s hot.” Your dad turns toward the door and goes through, leaving it open for you and Joel to follow.

Joel takes your hand in his discreetly and leads you through, rubbing the pad of his calloused thumb against the back of your hand, making you feel all tingly and giddy inside. Before he drops your hand, he brushes your knuckles with his lips and places a slow kiss against the back of your hand. You blush on the spot and smile up at him as he returns one back, and then he drops your hand as he walks into the light of the dining room.

Fuck. You have it bad for Joel Miller and you’re falling fast. Very fast.

Halloween Night

You spend the entirety of the afternoon getting ready for your night in with Joel. You shower, douse yourself in Victoria’s Secret Bombshell perfume, and pick out the perfect Halloween costume to wear. You go with a short black mini dress that barely grazes your thighs, the long sleeves hanging off your shoulder that leave your neck and the tops of your shoulders exposed to the cool air.

You carefully fix your hair into loose spiral curls and secure a long pink bow in the back of your silky hair. You apply shimmery pink eyeshadow to the hoods of your eyelids, draw perfect cat eyes with liquid eyeliner, and purse your lips after applying the shiny pink lip gloss. After slipping on a pair of black heels, you look at yourself in the full length mirror and grab the pair of fuzzy black cat ears as you top off your costume. Joel’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in this getup.

After nervously driving over to his house, you now stand on the front of his porch and wait for him to come open the door after you ring the doorbell. You pull on your sleeves, your legs shaking as the cold evening wind hits your bare legs. After a few seconds he opens the door and pulls it back.

“Hey, sweetheart. You…” His voice cuts off as his brown eyes go wide as he lets out a low whistle, slowly taking in your figure from head to toe.

You twirl around slowly for him, letting him see all of you and watch him fall apart. “Trick r treat,” you smirk. “Gonna give me something sweet to eat?” you purr, batting your dark lashes up at him sweetly.

You hear him curse quietly under his breath and watch him rake his hand slowly over his patchy beard. “Goddamn, darlin’. Such a pretty little kitty cat. And that dress, fuck,” he bites out as he gazes his dark eyes over your long legs. “Prettiest girl that ever stood in my doorway, that’s for sure. C’mere,” he calls as he grabs your waist and pulls you into his broad chest, pressing his lips against yours as you chase the taste of his black coffee scent you so desperately love.

When you pull away you click your tongue at him. “Thought you were supposed to have a costume on today?” you say with a raised brow, playfully pushing at his chest.

“This is my costume,” he replies with an amused expression on his face.

Your eyes trail down him slowly. He wears a Halloween black t-shirt, an open red flannel, and dark blue jeans that form against his muscular thighs. You shake your head and pull off your cat ears, placing them over his tousled dark curls as you position it to balance on his head perfectly.

You laugh as you take in the big, strong man with the fluffy cat ears on. “There. Now you have a costume on,” you giggle as he just shakes his head and pulls you inside while he shuts the door behind him.

“Funny, very funny,” he chuckles, a dimple forming against his cheek which makes you only melt more for him. “Wanna take ‘em back now?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, holding a laugh in as you watch him examine his face in the mirror, sighing as he takes in the fuzzy ears atop his head.

“I look ridiculous,” he groans, crossing his arms over his chest as his biceps pull at the red flannel, making you anxious to curl up against them on the couch.

“No, you’re adorable,” you respond, lingering your hand against his soft t-shirt as you curl your hand around it.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. That’s all you. You gorgeous girl,” he says with a low drawl, his caramel eyes honing in as he backs you up against the wooden staircase, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Before he leans in, the front door twists open and he pulls away from you in a hurry, putting as much distance between the two of you before Sarah walks in.

Your eyes grow wide as you weren’t expecting her to be here tonight. Sarah gasps as her eyes flick from you to Joel, clearly confused on what’s going on. Her long curls fall over her shoulders as she stands in a Cowboys jersey and black yoga pants with war paint smeared across her cheeks.

She says your name with questions ringing in her tone. “What are you doing here? On Halloween? Shouldn’t you be at a party or something?” she asks as she looks over your outfit carefully, her eyes going over to Joel as she takes in the cat ears that sit perched atop his head.

“Uh dad, why are you wearing those?” she asks as a giggle sounds loudly across the lit up hall.

He throws the ears off and hands them back to you, running a hand through his messy curls as he works to stay composed. “Don’t worry about it,” he says defensively. “And she came over so I could work on her car,” he confirms.

“But you just fixed her car a few days ago?” she says with raised brows, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and him.

“Uhhh yeah. But the light came back on this morning, so I brought it over. Joel said he could take a look real quick. I was just about to head back out. Shouldn’t take too long,” you say with a calm, collected demeanor, giving nothing away.

She eyes you both suspiciously and finally nods. “Okay then. Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “But anyways, look at you! That outfit is so hot, my dad would never let me wear anything like that,” she pouts, crossing her arms over the orange jersey as it scrunches up underneath her.

“Maybe when you’re thirty,” he teases. She just shakes her head and sticks her tongue out at him. He chuckles out a deep laugh in response.

“Whateverrrrr,” she drawls out. She turns back to you and beams her pearly white smile as her curls bounce up and down as she moves. “Bet you’ve got all the boys wrapped around your finger in that outfit,” she smirks out. Joel’s eyes grow a shade darker as he focuses on you, trying his best not to say a word in response.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Maybe just one,” you smirk, your eyes flicking over to his brown irises as you face Sarah again, careful not to give anything away.

“Oooooo you have a boyfriend? Why haven’t I met him? Is he cute? Is he a good kisser?!” she yells excitedly as she hounds you for information.

“Sarah!” Joel warns, telling her to calm down as his eyes narrow over her.

“Sorry,” she whines, giving you a small smile as you return one to her.

“What are you doin’ back here? Thought you were goin’ to your friend’s to go trick r treatin’?” he asks with raised brows, hands on his hips as his jaw clenches up.

“I am. Just forgot to grab my purse,” she says as she reaches around you and grabs her purple over the shoulder purse and heads back to the door. “Alright, heading back out. Guess I’ll see you sometime soon?” she asks as she looks over at you behind her shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” you nod her way, waving a quick goodbye to her.

“Sarah?” Joel calls before she heads out the door.

“Yeah?” she asks before closing the door.

“Not too late, alright?” Joel says with his brows furrowed together.

“Yeah, be back before midnight,” she promises.

“Sarah?” he calls out again, making her groan at the name.

“Huh?”

“Love you,” he says softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his face relaxes into happiness.

She smiles gently and nods. “Love you too, dad.” With that she closes the door and runs off to the burgundy Cadillac that awaits her out front.

You can’t help but smile at Joel, butterflies flitting through your stomach as you take in his soft side. He’s always so careful and gentle with Sarah, always telling her how much he loves her. He’s such a softie, and you can’t help but fall for him even more as you watch him.

“What?” he asks as he snakes his arms around your waist, backing you up against the stairwell again.

“You’re such a softie,” you smile as you wrap your arms around his neck while you run your fingers through the scruff on his neck.

“Only for Sarah and you,” he grins, dropping his lips down to yours as you drink him in again, feeling every surface of his plush lips against yours.

He breaks the kiss after a few seconds and pulls you into the living room. “C’mon. I’ll get the movie started then I’ll call in a pizza for us. Pepperoni?” he asks as he leads you over to the cream colored couch and sits you down against the soft cushions.

“Pepperoni,” you nod. He turns on the tv and pulls his phone out, heading into the kitchen as he calls Pizza Hut and places an order to be delivered to the house.

You take in your surroundings of the darkened room. Vanilla candles sit sprawled against the glass coffee table, the large display of the tv glows in the near distance as the menu comes up for the movie Scream. You hear Joel in the other room hang up the phone as he places it down on the counter.

“You want some popcorn, baby?” he asks from the other room, his voice carrying into the living room like a song you want to put on repeat.

“Mhm and a Dr. Pepper, please,” you call back.

“I gotcha, baby. Be right there.”

When the popcorn is done popping and the cans of soda are taken out of the fridge, he joins you on the couch and places one hand on your thigh as the other one presses play on the remote, making the movie hum to life as the beginning titles show across the lit up screen.

You take a sip of Dr. Pepper and pop some popcorn into your mouth as the buttery taste slides down your throat conveniently. You curl your legs onto the couch and fold yourself against Joel, letting your arms wrap around him as his arm flexes behind you. He pulls you tight to his side as his hand runs gently up and down your arm, causing your body to fully relax against him as you breathe in his cologne and woodsy scent. He smells like a piece of heaven, your piece of heaven.

He takes a drink of his Dr. Pepper and places it on the coffee table, leaning back into you as he adjusts himself into the back of the cushions and lays a soft kiss against the top of your head, making you melt beneath him.

When the scene of Ghostface asking Casey what her favorite scary movie is comes up, Joel mimics his voice and asks you the same thing in a more southern, non scary tone. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asks mysteriously as you giggle into his chest.

“You should know this one,” you answer back, eyes flicking up to his as he looks you over carefully before responding.

“Halloween,” he answers automatically.

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner,” you yell out, pulling a laugh from deep within his chest as you hear it rumble against your ear.

“Knew it,” he says proudly. “And what’s mine?”

You lay your head in his lap and look up at him, deep brown eyes staring down at you as he awaits your answer. He’s so pretty that it physically hurts. “Joel, The Lord of the Rings does not count as a scary movie,” you laugh out as he smiles down at you.

“Sure it does. It has spiders, orcs, dark themes.”

You push his chest playfully. “It’s fantasy. This is a scary movie,” you remark as you point to the tv, watching Ghostface chase his victim across the yard.

“Yeah, well. Still,” he vocalizes with a sigh. “Would you watch all of ‘em with me?” he asks faintly, his chocolate eyes glazing down to yours.

You turn to him and nod. “Of course I would. I’d watch amything with you,” you reply with a smile.

The corners of his lips curl up into a soft smile and he leans down and kisses you without holding back at all. He tangles his fingers in your curls and you open your mouth up, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth as he finds your tongue, dancing around as you drink down the taste of him slowly, passionately.

One hand slides down to your thigh as he grazes calloused fingers up and down your inner thigh, making you breathe heavier as he bites at your lower lip, heating up the room as the two of you start to get lost in each other. His hand reaches up, up, gently sliding the edge of your dress up your thigh, working his way nice and slow to where he wants to be. To your aching center that yearns for his touch.

Before he can make it any further, the doorbell rings, forcing the two of you apart as you lift up off his lap. He sighs as he pushes off the couch, muttering something under his breath that sounds like a complaint of interrupting him when he was busy with you. You giggle at his ramblings and wait till he comes back.

You hear the exchange of pizza and money and can smell the fresh cheese and pepperoni that wafts through the air of the dark living room. After another minute, Joel comes in and sets the pizza on the coffee table, telling you to eat up. You grab a slice and take a bite, letting the warm goodness fill your stomach as you set your eyes on the movie again, trying to keep focus on that instead of the handsome menace of a man that sits next to you.

“So, what’s so attractive about a killer that wears a mask? I don’t get it. With all the viral videos of masked men goin’ around, I don’t get the fuss. I even catch Sarah’s friends talking ‘bout it sometimes.” Joel shakes his head and takes another bite out of his pepperoni slice.

You giggle in response. “I don’t know. Guess that’s kind of a part of the dark romance culture now and can be kinda thrilling? A masked man in the bedroom. I mean, I get why they like it. It’s just something new and intriguing, a little dangerous, exciting even…” You stop there, not wanting to give away that you too might have a mask kink.

“Oh, is that right?” Joel smirks deviously, one of his eyebrows rising higher as he looks directly at you. “You into that shit, too?” he asks curiously as he takes his last bite, lapping his tongue along his lower lip and wiping away the last evidence of red sauce from his mouth. You try your best not to bite your lip, wanting to lick every single scrap of sauce off him slowly.

“I mean, I get the hype. Guess it would be kind of hot,” you blush, looking down at your lap to hide the crimson of your cheeks.

“I knew it,” he says as he claps a big hand on his thigh in knowing. “So you’re saying if I ever bought one of those dumb masks, you’d want me to wear it in the bedroom?” he asks as his eyebrows go up curiously while his hand digs into the back of the couch forcefully.

“I think I’d just prefer to see your handsome face, Joel. Besides, I don’t see you doing that anyways,” you laugh and hit him playfully in the shoulder.

“You’re right, darlin’. Don’t think I’d do that either,” he chuckles.

“But,” you lean into his chest and press your glossy lips to the shell of his ear seductively. “Think I’d let you put me in some handcuffs though,” you purr out as you tug on his earlobe and pull back with a sly smirk on your face.

You see the way his pupils expand and the way his chest rises and falls deeper as the blood flows thicker in the veins of his neck. You see the way he adjusts himself on the couch and clears his raspy throat. You started something, and now he’ll have to finish it.

You smile to yourself triumphantly and turn to face the tv, scooting up to the edge as you reach for your Dr. Pepper and take a refreshing sip, setting it back down on the glass coffee table when you’re done.

You hear Joel’s voice come out raspy and deep behind you. “Is that right, sweetheart? You’d let me handcuff those pretty wrists to my headboard?”

You squirm on the edge of the couch and press your legs together, feeling the heat start in your center like a volcano that’s about to rupture. “Mhmm,” you hum out carefully, trying to suppress a moan from coming out of your throat.

“Hmmm.” He leans over and presses his lips against the shell of your ear, his hot breath breathing down your neck and making you feel things you can’t control. “Think I need to go buy a pair of handcuffs then, sweetheart. Show you all the ways I can make you cum while you’re tied to my bed. What do ya think of that, huh? Sounds… erotic as hell,” he whispers darkly in your ear, leaving you panting for more as you keep your eyes focused on the movie on the big screen, watching Ghostface run down the stairs after his next victim mercilessly. He presses a gentle kiss against your cheek and scoots back into the couch, leaving you breathless and wanting.

Just when you think he’s done teasing you, he starts playing with your pink ribbon and runs his hands through your long waves, making your heartbeat gallop like the hooves of a racing Clydesdale against his touch.

“Such a pretty pink ribbon in your hair, baby,” he teases, starting to tug on your hair harder now as he pulls lightly on the curls.

“Mhm, it is,” you reply with a breath held.

“You know I love when you do your hair like this, in these curls. So long and soft to the touch. Can easily do this.” He tugs your head back and pushes you down into the couch. Your hands grip the side of the couch while your ass is up in the air, exposing all for Joel to see.

You feel his hands raise your skirt up to your hips, exposing the meaty flesh of your ass as you feel the cool air brush against the backs of your bare thighs. You hear Joel hum out in approval as he fixes his massive hands over your ass, one hand trailing down as his fingers brush the soaked material of your lace which makes a groan escape your lips.

“White lace, huh? Looks s’good on you, sweetheart. Already so wet for me, ain’t ya? Look at you drip, so fuckin’ wet, baby. Goddamn,” he whistles as he takes his thumb and trails a long line down your center, gathering more slick against the material. You whine out and he chuckles lightly.

“S’right, baby. Gonna make you really whine in a minute,” he murmurs as he slides the wet lace down your legs, gently unclasping your black heels and dropping them to the floor as he unhooks the lace from around your ankles and disposes them on the ground, leaving you completely bare for him to look at.

He slides his calloused thumb over your wetness, and you shiver with need. “Joel, please,” you beg, another whine purring out of you as you feel the pad of his thumb ghost across your clit, leaving you with a pent up cry in your chest.

“What do ya need, baby? Tell me,” he asks, barely touching your folds with the tops of his fingertips which makes you clench up over nothing.

“Need your fingers, your mouth,” you beg, your voice high-pitched from want. With need.

“That so, darlin’?” he teases as he spreads your folds with the tips of his index and middle finger, sliding them up until you can feel them pressed against your clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles as you hear the wetness gathering on his fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as you dig your fingers into the side of the couch, clawing your light pink fingernails as a way to get ahold of yourself before you’re lost into a sea of lust.

“S’right, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need,” he coos.

Before he takes it any further, he drops his hand from your center and lays back against the couch, leaving you out of breath and waiting. “Why’d you stop?” you whine as you turn in the direction he’s in and see him smirking up at you with trouble written all over his face.

“C’mere,” he calls as he curls his index finger in his direction, beckoning you to come over to him.

You look questionably at him and raise a brow. “What?” you ask as you slowly scoot your legs over his, dropping down on his hips carefully.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Not there, sweetheart. Up here,” he smirks as he points to his face. Your eyes go wide at the meaning.

“You want me to…” you trail off, unable to finish your sentence.

“S’right. Want you to sit on my face. C’mon now,” he smirks, a devilish grin taking over his face as his eyes grow dark. He places his hands on your hips as he slides you up his broad chest, stopping just before you get to his neck. You pause right there, blushing as all of a sudden you get extremely nervous.

“Joel…” you choke out, unable to finish your sentence.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he says gently, lifting your dress above your hips as it exposes your bareness for him. He drags his eyes down your center and licks his lips, his eyes blown out as you feel his breath pick up beneath his chest. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. Drippin’ and screamin’ my name,” he groans as his eyes devour you in full. “C’mon now. Sit on my face,” he demands.

You gulp and scoot your hips up, hovering just above his mouth as you stay there, nervous and turned on at the same time.

“I didn’t say hover, sweetheart. I said sit,” he demands, digging his hands into your hips as he tries to lower you down, but you hold back, afraid to crush him.

“But won’t I crush you?” you ask with your breath caught in your throat.

“The only thing that’s gonna crush me is if you don’t sit the fuck down and ride on my face. Now sit!” he growls as he forces your weight down on top of him, the curls above your mound sitting atop his curved nose as he breathes you in deeply.

He inhales your savoury scent and drags his rough tongue all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your folds, catching the end of your clit as you whine out with need.

“Goddamn, baby. Taste and smell s’good, darlin’. Hold on tight. Not gonna stop till I make you cum all over my face, not gonna stop till you moan my name, not gonna stop till you’re all mine,” he growls as he hooks his arms around your thighs and dives back in.

He slowly drags his tongue over all of you, slotting himself between your folds and lapping meticulous circles around your puffy clit. You feel more slick spill out of you and feel him take your bundle of nerves into his mouth, sucking and slurping as every single nerve ending comes alive against his mouth. When he releases, he shoves his tongue into your wet hole, plunging into your core as you vibrate and fall apart against him.

You twist your fingers into his tousled curls and moan his name with a lull, lost in complete bliss as he works his tongue up and down up and down, making the room foggy with the smell of your arousal and the loud moans you’re giving him. “Joellll, fuck,” you moan as you pull at his hair, sliding yourself up and down his mouth as you ride his face exactly like he wants you to.

He groans at your movements, groans at the way you tug on his curls as his tongue works and works to make you fall apart around him. He slaps your ass hard and digs his nails into your thighs as he speeds up his hot tongue.

He’s pulling, sucking, munching at your clit as you feel the building orgasm. You feel it start in your spine, sliding down to rest in the pit of your stomach as you’re almost there, feel it about to take flight as your toes curl and your fingers slip deeper into his wild locks. He knows you’re close, knows exactly what he’s doing. He can’t speak, too far gone in pleasuring you with his mouth, too deep with sucking your throbbing bundle of nerves again and again as his nail beds prod into your flesh.

He loves to feel you come apart, loves to taste your arousal drip down his throat, loves to hear you moan and thrive while you’re about to come undone, and loves when you pull his hair and moan his name while he has his way with you.

You grind your pussy against his mouth, feel how soaked you’re getting him, and it just makes you that much closer to spilling yourself all over him. You feel him groan against your folds, hear him practically whisper the words into your ear as he licks and sucks you repeatedly into his drooling mouth.

Atta girl. There ya go.

Say my name, sweetheart.

C’mon. Give it to me. That’s a good fuckin’ girl.

He pulls your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks hard, setting off every single nerve ending in your body. He sucks nice and slow and you feel yourself fall apart right there on his hot tongue. You roll your hips and feel the heat slide down your body as you clench over nothing and spill yourself all over his mouth, hearing his groan as he laps up all your slick while you fist his hair roughly through your fingers.

You take a minute to let your panting die out and wait for your body to come back down to earth after your intense face riding orgasm. When you slide back to rest on his chest, you see just how drenched and glistening his mouth and beard are from all your slick and cum. And fuck is it hot.

He smiles up at you as he catches his breath, his blown out pupils relaxing into pure brown warmth as he watches you with admiration on his face. It’s probably the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“Rode me s’good, baby. Love the taste of you,” he hums, his crows feet crinkling up at the corners of his eyes as you get lost in those pools of warm honey.

“Yeah, well, I have an excellent instructor with an experienced tongue,” you purr, winking down at him with a big smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles and responds, “Always happy to put my tongue to good use. Especially for you.”

You bite your lower lip and grin down at him, completely entranced by him. You’re so lucky, so fucking lucky. The luckiest girl in the world.

You shift off him and start to turn the other way as you move your legs away from his chest. Before you can crawl to the other side of the couch, he grabs your calves and pulls you back toward him. “Now where do you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” he asks with an edge to his voice.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you ask as his large hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you back up to him as he tangles you around the roots of him, firmly planting you to his chest.

“M’not done with you yet, baby girl. You’re gonna give me another one,” he purrs, his deep voice thundering out of his chest like a bear ready to attack.

“Another one? But I’m… I’m so sensitive and…”

He shuts you up quick. “No, you’re not too sensitive. I know what you can handle, and you’re gonna fuckin’ take it like the good girl I know you are,” he growls as he drags you back up to him, hovering just over the edge of his mouth as you feel his hot breath connect with your wetness that’s already dripping for him again.

Fuck.

He wraps his strong arms around your hips and tugs you down where your folds are connecting with his plush lips, and the feeling is already overwhelming. But you need it, need him. You suck in a breath as he licks a long stripe up the entirety of you and you moan out for more.

“Need you so bad, daddy. Please,” you beg, digging your hands into the thighs of his dark jeans as your nails embed in him.

“I’m gonna give it to ya, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna lick every inch of that pretty pussy,” he purrs as he licks another stripe up your folds, spreading you out to devour your needy clit.

You groan out and dig into his jeans, needing something to latch onto. When you open your eyes and look down, you see his bulge pressed against the thick fabric of his jeans, begging to be released.

You take your hand and grab around his thickness, working him through the denim of his pants. You hear him groan under your touch and bite your lip at the idea that dances through your mind. You’re going to sixty-nine with him. This is what’s going to send you over the edge.

You carefully unzip his zipper and free his bulging erection, taking him in your hand as you see the precum release from his slit and lap over the edges of his tip, working your hand nice and slow over him to spread the precum over his entirety.

His skin’s soft in your hand as you slide it back and forth over his large length, feeling the thick veins that spider around him that end just underneath the tip of his head. His head is red and swollen and screaming for you to taste him, and you’re happy to oblige.

Just as you meet your lips at his head and slide your tongue across his drenched tip, he shutters underneath you and lifts your hips just enough to speak as you feel the salty precum slide down your throat all hot and bubbly like.

“Fuck, baby. What’re you doin’?” he says with clenched teeth as you squeeze his cock, gliding your hand up and down his shaft as you turn to face him, smirking down at him with a devilish grin forming on your lips.

“What do you mean what am I doing? Isn’t it obvious? We’re sixty-nining,” you purr, licking your lower lip as you watch his pupils blow out into big black pits.

“Sixty-nine, is that right? You’re a dirty girl, kitty cat,” he smirks as he takes his index and middle fingers and pushes them inside you nice and slow, curling his fingers up to hit that spongy soft spot that makes you clench up against him and moan out slowly.

“That’s right, right there. That feel good?” he asks as you bite your lip and nod at him, choking out another moan as he curls his fingers higher, setting a wildlife throughout your entire core.

“Yes, daddy. Feels incredible,” you groan as you rock against his fingers, letting your own hand twist up and down his hard, wet length in your hand. You want to taste him, now.

“Fuckin’ sixty-nine. And with the prettiest girl in the world? Shit, baby. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger like that pretty pink bow in your hair,” he says with a gentle laugh that sounds a little like unbelief in his voice.

You giggle out a laugh as you stare at him as he smiles up at you between your legs. “Got you wrapped around my finger, do I?”

“Mhm, that’s right, sweetheart. All mine,” he says with a crooked grin curling up over his lips, sending your heart into overdrive.

“All yours,” you confirm with a soft smile.

He takes a minute to look at you, warm eyes focused on your face softly. Then his eyes shift into something dark and carnal as he brings you back down to his mouth.

“Well, go on, darlin’. I’ll take care of this needy pussy while you show me how good you can suck my cock,” he smirks, letting his fingers release from you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down on him again. You choke out a moan as his tongue presses deep into your folds and up your dripping hole.

You focus back on his hard cock in front of you and go back down, circling his head as you lap up his salty precum and then dive down on him, taking his long length in your mouth as your hand slides up and down him slowly, savouring his taste on your tongue.

You take him as far in your mouth as you can, making sure you hit the back of your throat and choke on him while tears spill down your face as you take him deep in your throat over and over again.

You hear his moans fill the room as his tongue circles your clit, hearing your own moans get washed out by the sound of you gagging on his thick cock as your spit drips down his length and into the coarse hairs that cover his base.

The wet, sticky, messy sounds of Joel eating you out and the gagging sounds of you deep throating his massive cock again and again mix together, forming a wet, harmonious melody that reverberates off each other. It causes more slick to slide down your center as he licks and sucks and pulls on your needy clit. It’s too much, too fucking hot. This is the best, most intimate thing you’ve ever done. But you have a feeling this won’t be the end of it because he’ll want more, you’ll want more. It’s only going to get hotter, more primal, more possessive as you continue.

Joel Miller may be a fucking menace, but you’re no better. You’re a temptress spinning your web as you trap him, seducing him to you, pulling him and making him yours. Both of you wrapping each other into a complete tangle until both of you are completely, irrevocably bound to one another. Just like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to him as he is to you. Two hearts beating wildly for the other just the same.

The room is hot and sticky as both of you get lost in each other’s ecstasy. Moans echoing off the walls as you both are close to orgasm, both so fucking high off each other that you never want to come down. You just want to stay where your bodies are panting in sweat as you continuously get lost in each other’s bliss and euphoria. You’ve never experienced a high quite like this before. Never experienced anything ever like this. It’s just you and Joel, two bodies completely consumed in the other with no plans of ever slipping away from each other. It’s just Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You start to clench up, feel your walls fluttering as they’re about to spill, feel the way he sucks your clit into his giving mouth as his tongue travels up the entirety of you, covering you in his own spit and drool. And it’s so fucking hot.

“C’mon, baby girl. Give it to me. Cum for me. Wanna feel it,” he groans as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks hard. And that’s when you come apart for him, that’s when you feel yourself let go.

You release your lips from his cock and feel a string of drool fall from your lips and attach to the tip of his head, thinking of nothing as you throw back your head back and moan his name as it echoes across the room. “Joellllll, fuck,” you moan as you release white hot liquid all over his mouth. He’s greedy and takes it all, licking you clean as you hear his mouth drink you up, leaving nothing behind.

You rub up and down his cock faster, feeling him stiffen underneath you as his breath goes shallow. Ragged moans leave his chest as he grips your thighs tight and moans out your name slowly.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” he slurs as you lap at his tip, teasing him before you take him again.

“That’s it, daddy. Go on and cum for me. Wanna take you all in my mouth,” you purr as you wrap your mouth around him again, bobbing up and down as you deep throat him, hearing the gagging noises that send him over the edge. He’s right there, just on the edge. You go down again and hold your mouth there as you take him deep, feeling your throat constrict around his thick cock.

“Baby, m’gonna… gonna cum… oh, fuck,” he moans as you feel thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat, swallowing his large load down as the salty, delicious taste dances down your tastebuds.

You work over his length nice and slow, not stopping till he’s finished cumming. And just when you think he’s done, he surprises you and pours out more inside your mouth.

You see his hand shoot to his sweaty forehead as he grabs at his messy curls, see his eyes roll back as he moans your name again and again. It sounds like music to your ears, something angelic and addictive sinking into your soul at just the sound of him cumming. It’s your sanctuary, your favorite tune in the world. And you’d never get enough of it, never.

When he’s finished sending his spend down your throat, you slowly release your mouth from him as drool cakes your chin. His cock is so messy with spit and drool that you blush at the job you just did on him.

You feel his chest heave up and down underneath you, his breathing gradually slowing down little by little. You take a second to catch your own breath, gulping down breaths of fresh air that smells like him. There’s something beautiful in the rhythm of both of your breaths in sync. It’s almost like you share the same heartbeat, something so intimate about it that you can’t even shake the euphoric feeling. It’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced. He’s the best thing. Joel is.

After a few minutes he helps you sit up as he pulls his briefs and jeans back up over his softening cock. When he sits up, he grabs your lace panties from the floor and pulls them up over your legs, securing them back into place over your overstimulated pussy. He pulls down your dress over your thighs and lays back down against the couch, bringing you down with him.

You sink into his side and wrap an arm around his chest as he cradles you in his arms gently. He takes his hand and runs it up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps over every square inch of skin he marks as his own. And this feels right, all of this feels right. He feels right.

He presses a kiss against your forehead and showers you with the perfect aftercare cuddles. He’s so good, the absolute best at aftercare. It’s always been your favorite ever since the first time he did it with you in this very living room that you sit in now. Joel Miller might be dominant in the bedroom, but he’s a big softie underneath it all. He’s the perfect combination of rough around the edges and pure honey everywhere else.

“Did s’good for me, sweetheart. Always do s’good for me,” he purrs as he places another gentle kiss over your forehead. “My perfect girl,” he whispers, and you can’t help but smile at the words. My perfect girl.

“Mhm, your perfect girl,” you whisper back as you snuggle into him more, sinking into his chest as his soft t-shirt scrapes along your jawline.

“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, his raspy chuckle that sounds like a symphony of guitars in your ear.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

As the movie comes to an end, Joel grabs the controller and puts on Halloween as you hear the theme song play from the speakers. He relaxes his arm back down around you and pulls you closer to where your cheek is nestled in the crook of his neck as he takes his other hand and runs his fingers through your waves. And this might be your favorite thing ever. Being in his arms. You never want him to let go. Never ever.

You feel yourself start to slip into unconsciousness, feel yourself relax into him as the darkness pulls you under. You don’t know when, you don’t know how, but after a few minutes of cuddling you and Joel fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth as sleep takes you down fast.

And then something happens, something unexpected and unwelcome.

After what seems like hours of sleep, you’re woken up to the harsh lights of the living room being turned on. You jolt awake and sit up, blinking a few times to get your eyes situated to the fluorescent lights above. Joel rubs his eyes and follows your lead, adjusting to being woken up from a deep sleep. Your jaw drops when you see who’s standing in the corner of the room. Sarah.

Oh, fuck.

“I knew it, I knew!” she jumps up and down as her long curls bounce up and down along with her, a big smile spread across her face as she can’t seem to keep her excitement down.

“Shit,” Joel mutters under his breath as your eyes go wide in panic. You try to speak but you can’t. You’re frozen, not knowing what to do or say. You’ve been caught red handed.

“I knew it all along! This is so exciting! You and dad? Oh my God, I’m a genius,” she squeals as she jumps again.

“Sarah! Calm down,” Joel warns as his eyes narrow slightly. Sarah stops jumping but continues beaming at the both of you. You feel like your heart is about to come out of your throat. Your dad. What if she tells your dad?

“Sarah, you’re not gonna tell my parents are you? They’d kill me,” you rush out with your breathing uncontrolled. It feels like you're about to throw up with the knot that’s in your stomach. Joel notices your panic immediately and does what he can to calm you down.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he urges as he cups your chin and turns you toward him, his deep brown eyes almost calming you down. Almost. “She’s not gonna tell them. Right, Sarah?” he asks as he turns to her, giving her that knowing look.

She imitates her lips being a zipper and acts like she zips them tight. “My lips are sealed. Promise,” she nods as she looks back and forth between the two of you, your anxiety slowly calming down at the confirmation.

“See? She won’t say a word. It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he confirms as he soothes you over, one hand rubbing your thigh to calm you down. You nod in acceptance.

Sarah calls your name and you look up. “I’ve noticed the way dad’s looked at you for a while now. Been wondering when he was going to make a move,” she laughs, shaking her head. “He’s liked you for a long time, even if he never told me. I could see it in his eyes.”

You just look over at Joel and smile at him. “Yeah, I’ve liked him for a long time, too,” you say quietly. Joel meets your eyes and smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling up to form those perfect dimples again.

“This is so cute, I think I’m gonna throw up,” she says as she claps her hands together.

“Alright, alright. Go on up and go to bed, it’s past your bedtime,” he says as he points at the clock that says five past midnight.

“Okay,” she groans. “Night, love birds,” she sings as she leaves the room and heads up the stairs.

“You sure she won’t say anything?” you ask nervously, anxiety still swirling through your gut.

“If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s keeping secrets. So, think we’re safe,” he confirms as you blow out a breath you had been holding.

“That’s a relief. I guess she was bound to find out at some point, right?”

“Yeah, guess you’re right,” he says as he nods his head. His calloused thumb shifts against your jawline and he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You lean into him and get lost in his scent, in his abundance of warmth. When you hear the creak of the stairs, you pull apart from his lips fast.

Joel leans over the couch annoyed and peeks up at the stairs. “Sarah?” he asks in a deep voice, warning her to stop spying.

“Uhh, yeah?” she asks nervously.

“Bed. Now,” he growls. She obeys and runs up the stairs, not wasting a second of time. He sighs in annoyance. “She’s never gonna let me live this down,” he groans.

“Hey,” you say as you grab his hand and entangle your fingers in his. “I’ll be right there with you through it.”

He rasps out a chuckle and looks you in the eyes, calm brown eyes returning to look at you. “You want me to take you home? I can drop your car off tomorrow.”

You shake your head no. “Can I stay here tonight? Don’t really want to go home. I’d rather stay with you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. You always have a place here.” He pushes a curl behind your ear and pulls you back in, planting his lips against yours as a warm wave of peace and serenity cloud your mind.

“C’mon. Let’s get you up to bed.” He pulls you up and picks you up bridal style as you squeal out and wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss his cheek and tuck your head against the crook of his neck as he carries you up the stairs. And somehow you know it’ll be okay. Things will turn out okay because you’re with Joel.

So when he pulls you tight against him under the sheets and you're wrapped in his t-shirt with his arms around you, you know you’re in good hands. Nothing can ruin what you and Joel have. Not even your dad. Joel has your whole heart and nothing can change that now.

Tags: @amyispxnk @janaispunk @blueseastorm @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @heartstoptrying @littlevenicebitch69 @getitoutofmymindwrites @akah565 @keylimebeag @dugiioh @laurrrra @untamedheart81 @roostersforevergirl @itsokbbygrl @pedrostories

Part 4

[fanficsat12am]

when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

Lucifer & Mammon

Happy New Year everyone!! Hope ya guys had a great flippin holiday time :> As always, notes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated <33 Have fun reading!!

Leviathan

Putting himself down was second nature to him at this point—sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It especially got even worse after getting into a relationship with you. His mind refused to believe that anyone could ever love someone like him. 

Levi dreaded the day you’d finally see what he sees and ultimately decide to leave, but he wouldn't hold it against you. Why would you settle for someone like him when there were countless others in the three realms who could give you so much more…

“Hey, you okay?” you asked worriedly, noticing his glazed look and how his eyes had dimmed. “O-of course I’m fine! Pft, why would I be lol,” he stumbles out, trying to keep up his facade—but of course, you saw through it. 

As he tries to get back to his game he can feel your eyes piercing him. 

“I’m going to ask you how you are one more time and I would like you to answer me honestly,” gently taking the controller in his hands from him and placing it aside. “Now tell me, what’s up?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, the words not too foreign to his tongue. 

“If this is about last week I've already told yo-” “Ugh, that’s not what I meant…” he cuts you off, trying to find the right words. 

“I-it’s just…you could have had ANYBODY else, but instead you’re stuck with me. I can’t 1v1 Beel's body, Diavolo’s money, Asmo’s looks- heck even stupid Mammon’s got charm! I'm just Levi, the plain old third-born…” he bites his lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. His efforts proved futile as he felt its warm trickle slowly dripping down his face, one after the other.

A part of him wanted to take back everything he just said—to restart and pick a different approach. But this wasn’t another one of his games. This was real life, and in here you've only got one shot. It was game over, he knew he had lost. 

He shut his eyes tight, listening closely for the sound of you finally walking out those doors. He couldn't bear to watch you leave him. 

You shake your head at the absurdity of his words, cupping his face into your hand. “I’m not stuck with you, silly. I choose to be here.”

Opening his eyes back again he's met with you smiling at him, the sight making his heart skip a beat. 

“I’m here because I can’t get enough of you. I love how your cheeks would go red when I catch you staring at me,” you say, leaning closer and leaving a kiss on his cheek. 

“How your brows would furrow and your eyes would squint whenever you’re focused on your game,” sending a kiss by the bridge of his nose. 

You gently grab his wrist and fumble on the soft skin of his palms with the pads of your thumb. “How you’d start gesturing with your hands a lot when you talk about the latest anime you’re into,” you reminisce, another kiss now to the back of his hand. 

“How right before you fall asleep, you hold me closer and whisper to the dead of the night how much you love me,” you say as you end it with a tender kiss to his lips. 

“And each day I find myself falling for you even more. They could try to give me the whole world, but they’ll never be you. So please, stop thinking you need to earn my affection because you don't. Not now and not ever.” 

You lift his face up to meet your gaze, looking at him as if you see right through him. “There is nothing I would change about you. You are perfect in my eyes.”

He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He was left speechless, his mind going haywire with everything you had just said. 

Seeing how his brain had completely stopped working, he let his body do all the talking instead. He wordlessly wrapped you in a tight embrace, cherishing the warmth of your body against his. 

The bitter taste of the sin he was meant to represent felt absent. Levi sensed no need to be envious of others when he had someone like you to call his.

Satan

Not once had he let himself think that he could indulge himself in something such as love—for wrath did not deserve the peace of love. While love held everything together in its warm embrace, wrath tirelessly tore with its cold unforgiving hands. 

Despite their differences, there was no denying that both were blind. Just like a moth, you were entranced by the beautiful embers of his flame, blissfully indifferent to the heat. 

He stared at his reflection with disdain. The obsidian black horns adorning his head felt heavier the longer he looked, not to mention the tail that whipped mindlessly on its own. He gritted his teeth in disgust, delivering a blow to the mirror that sent it hurdling to the ground. Through his ragged breaths and the rapid beating of his heart, he hears a voice not of his own. 

"Satan?" you called, breaking him from his trance-like state. You softly closed his door behind you, hands outstretched and unsteady. 

With each step you took, he took two back—his mind screaming at him to stay away from you but his heart yearning to leap into your hold. 

"Hey, it's okay," you reassured, taking a step towards him. 

"No it's not!" he screams, backing away from your approaching form. 

Hearing the crunch of glass under the weight of his shoes, he takes notice of the mirror he broke just moments ago. Reflected on its cracked surface was a distorted image of him; a monster.

"Please, let me help," you pleaded, trying to close the gap between you. He hastily steps back, tripping on his own feet and leaving him a heap on the floor. 

"Don't come any closer!" he screams, the room shaking with the sheer volume of his voice. You kneel to his level, quickly engulfing him in your arms. 

‘Run. He doesn't deserve you. Just stay away.’ He repeated in his head like a silent prayer, hoping that by some miracle it would come true. 

But as he felt you hold him tighter, he knew you would do nothing of the sort. As he trembled in your arms, he wills himself to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind since the day you'd started dating. 

"Why?" he whispered softly, almost inaudible if not for the heavy silence of the night. "I could lose control. Why do you insist on staying? To even consider feeling anything for a monster such as myself is just…foolish."

You think about your answer carefully, knowing that what you say next will mend or break the man in your hold. "Loving someone takes courage. To trust someone with your heart and believe they would keep it safe. Keep you safe. Let the three realms call me foolish but there's no doubt in my mind that I love you, Satan. Not the Avatar of Wrath, you Satan,'' you answer truthfully, pouring every ounce of your heart into each word.  

Gently taking hold of his chin, you tilt his head up to meet your eyes. "Tell me now Satan, will you hurt me?" you ask, the demon shaking his head immediately. He wouldn't dream of ever wishing to cause harm to you. He would die first before anybody, let alone himself, hurt you. 

"Then it is not foolish of me to love you" you say, your words unfaltering. 

Tears welled in his eyes, accepting defeat at the hands of your love and melting deeper into your embrace. As he lays on your chest, he turns to face where your heart would be and whispers an oath. "I love you, MC. I shall protect you with my life" he vows, sealing his promise with a kiss.

Asmodeus

As the Avatar of Lust and the Jewel of the Heavens, he was always the talk of the town. You, on the other hand, weren’t too familiar with the gossip world. Although you knew that was going to change once you officially became a couple. 

You took no mind to it, brushing them off with a small wave knowing that the wrong move could only add more oil to their flame. But Asmo wasn’t like you. He could feel all the looks they gave him, the incessant whispers and murmurs whenever he’d turn his back. 

He typically had no care for whatever lies people have heard about him. The same could not be said though when they had the audacity to include you into the mix. It was slowly chewing away at him and he couldn’t deny the pit of doubt slowly churning inside him.

“I saw MC out with one of the brothers last week. They’ve been getting closer recently. I wonder what happened between them"

"I saw them leaving school with Simeon yesterday, I’m surprised that’d cheat on Asmo with someone like him” 

”They’ve got the most powerful people of the Devildom wrapped around their finger and they’re still with Asmo? Damn”

The final blow was realizing that everything was better without him in the picture. Your smile wasn't just bright, it was brighter, you weren't just happy, you were happier. 

He slams his door shut, sliding down the wooden surface as he feels his legs give underneath him.

‘Can’t you see? They were never the problem. No matter what you do, you could never satisfy them. Once again you've proved to be useless.’

‘You think they’d just be swayed by your face? By the number of followers you have? Underneath it all you're nothing. It's just pathetic.’

He shook his head, gripping and pulling on his delicate sand blonde hair. No matter how hard he cupped his hands over his ears, their words never ceased. His eyes pricked with tears, months of silent torture finally finding his moment of weakness.  

You on the other hand were beyond worried. You were no stranger to Asmo’s flamboyant walk outs but this was different. As you neared the door to his room, you could hear silent sobs and cries on the other side. Knocking softly, you worriedly call out to him.

“Asmo?” The sobbing stops, rendering the halls eerily silent. “Darling, what’s wrong? Can I come in?” Still no response. 

Asmo freezes at the sound of your voice, the loud thumping of his heart drowning out the constant knocking on his door. An internal conflict rages within him. Not only is the person causing all this mess of emotions on the other side of the door, but the only one who can make it all go away as well. 

“Please talk to me. I need to know that you’re alright.” Just as you’re deciding if you should get some help from the others, the door opens. From it, a hand grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you inside and closing the door. 

Looking around, the usually bright and pinkish room was cold and dark. You could barely see anything with the only light coming from his window. 

The crisp silence of the night was cut by the uneven breathing of Asmo who was still by the door. You reach out to gently place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sweetie?” you call, fingertips only a few milliliters away, when his voice stops you in your tracks. 

“Do you love me?” he whispers. 

“Of course I do,” you answer immediately, not missing a beat. 

You gently grab him by the shoulder and turn him to face you, your heart breaking at the sight of your lover being in so much turmoil. 

“Oh, Asmo…” your hand tenderly holds his cheek, the other wiping away the tears that have yet to cease from falling. 

“Each day, I hear another rumor about you finding somebody else…” he pauses, taking a deep shuddering breath. “If you’re going to do it, please just do it already and save me the mascara.”

He knows that watching you leave will hurt more than any hangover can ever do to him. It would be like he was falling from the pristine white gates of Celestia again, powerless as he saw all he held dear fade into a memory of what he had once had.

He could try to convince himself that the rumors were true. That you were only ever with him for his fame and looks and that he never cared about you. But of all the lies that have circulated, that would have been the biggest one.

“Honey, I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever,” you say as you tuck a lock behind his ear. “If you think I’d ever love someone after you then I have failed in showing you how much you mean to me.”

Through blurred vision, Asmo tries to find an ounce of deceit within the windows to your soul; a malicious grin, a break in eye contact, a drop of sweat. Nothing. 

He lets out a shuddering breath he didn’t know he was holding, pressing his soft hands upon your own and interlacing it with his. It was stupid of him to ever doubt your feelings for him. To hell with what they thought of the both of you. All he cared about now was now, being here in your hold, forever.

“You’re so cute sometimes, darling…" he whispers in amusement, a small smile finally making its way onto his lips. 

“Please tell me I still look fabulous even after all that tears. Ugh, my eyes are gonna be so puffed up tomorrow!” 

You chuckle at his comment, happy to see him start coming back to you. “Still ever so stunning, My Prince.”

“Let’s stay like this for just a bit more, hm? All this crying made me tired. Then after, we can run a nice warm bath for the two of us. Doesn't that sound wonderful?” He murmured, melting more into your touch.  

“Whatever you’d like, darling,” you replied, pressing your forehead to his. 

And there you stayed, forehead to forehead, hands intertwined, just you and him in the comfort of each other's touch.

AN: Thanks a bunch for reading!! Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments <33

[scoonsalicious]

7.3 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (unprotected piv, slight praise kink, slight size kink)

Word Count: 2.8k

Previously On...: You finally got Bucky's dick down your throat <3

A/N: Again, sorry about yesterday, besties! My spirit child took precedence. At least this is a decent-sized, smutty update!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You were pretty proud of yourself, you had to admit. You had no idea how many women Bucky had slept with over the years (and, if you were being completely honest, you really didn’t want to know), but given he was well over a hundred, you figured it had to be a pretty decent number. Yet, here he was, lying next to you, trying to recover like you’d literally just sucked his very soul out of his body. You swore you’d never swallowed so much cum in your entire life, let alone at one time. For a moment there, you’d briefly wondered if you’d be the only person in history to literally drown in cum.

You’d never enjoyed giving your ex-husband head before, but giving it to Bucky had felt almost like a religious experience. He’d allowed you to take your time, to set your own pace, and do what felt natural to you– not just grab both sides of your head and fuck your face like a fleshlight, the way Connor had been so fond of doing. Your mouth was going to be so sore tomorrow, though. It was like having a forearm in there. You laughed quietly to yourself. Totally worth it.

“What’s so funny, doll?” Bucky asked, rolling over onto his side so he could face you properly.

“I was just reminiscing about how huge your dick felt in my mouth, Sarge,” you told him honestly. 

Bucky wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “Major,” he moaned into your shoulder, “you keep talking like that and you’re gonna get me going all over again.”

You smiled and scooted closer to whisper in his ear. “That cock was so big, I thought I was gonna choke on it, Sergeant.” Bucky shivered and, sure enough, you could feel the appendage in question hardening against your stomach as you spoke. He was insatiable, and you loved it.

“Come back with me to the Compound tonight,” Bucky said. “It’s closer than your place and I’m not going to be able to wait much longer to be inside of you.”

You sat up, torn between being touched that he wanted to take you back to the home he shared with his friends, and wanting to just jump his bones immediately. In the end, being horny won out. “Why wait, Bucky? We’re both already naked, and you’ve already blown one load out here. What’s a couple more?” You reached down and grabbed his semi-hard member, stroking it gently. 

“Fuuuuck,” Bucky groaned. He sat up and placed a hand over yours to cease your ministrations. “Sugar, we can’t,” he said through gritted teeth, as though it pained him to put a stop to your actions. “This is a public park. What if we get caught?”

You threw your head back and laughed at that. “Bucky,” you said through your giggling, “that’s half the fun! Besides,” you said, turning a bit more serious once you saw the concern in his eyes, “it’s after hours on a Sunday night. No one is coming to the park now. And even if they did, what are the odds of them finding us? We’re so far off trail.”

“They could see the lanterns,” Bucky said, “and follow the light. And I just… Nevermind, it’s stupid.” He turned his face from you, embarrassed. You were beginning to love the way he shied from you when he was afraid he was going to say the wrong thing.

You frowned and gently tilted his chin so he was facing you again. “What’s ‘stupid’? Bucky, you can tell me; I’m not going to judge you, I promise.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips. “I just… don’t want anyone else seeing you like this,” he murmured, running his vibranium hand down your shoulder. “You look like a fucking goddess tonight, Major. I want to be the only one that gets to worship you.”

His words couldn’t have had more of an impact on you if you had been physically struck by them. “Bucky,” you whined, pulling him close to kiss him. You had a fleeting thought of self consciousness, that he’d be able to taste himself on your lips, but he didn’t seem to care as his tongue sought entry into your mouth. He kissed you like he was dying of thirst, and your lips were the only source of water for miles.

“Let’s compromise,” you told him once you’d broken apart. “We can blow out some of the lanterns, so we’re not so easy to find.” Bucky nodded, seeming to like the idea of your offer. “Then,” you continued, “you can fuck me under the stars.” 

*

The two of you must have looked absolutely ridiculous, you thought, traipsing around, completely naked, as you collected all of the things that Bucky had brought for your picnic and packing them away into the basket, save for the blankets and some pillows, giggling like idiots the entire time. You wanted to have everything packed up as neatly as possible before blowing out the lanterns, so that when it did come time to finally leave, you wouldn’t risk leaving anything behind because you’d been fumbling around in the dark. You’d both completely forgotten about actually eating dinner.

As you worked, you kept sneaking occasional glances over at Bucky, admiring the way the light rippled over his body. The man was essentially made entirely of muscle, and yeah, you’d seen him naked before, in the confines of your condo, but something about seeing all of him outside, under an open sky, did something to you. It made you feel… feral.

“You okay there, doll?” Bucky asked, causing you to refocus and clear your head. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good. Why?” you asked him.

Bucky smiled as he walked over toward you. “Well, you stopped moving, then got this dazed look on your face, and you were just kind of staring at my dick,” he said. Reaching you, he put his hands on your hips and playfully yanked you toward him. 

You chuckled at his apt description of what you must have looked like. “Just admiring the scenery, Sarge,” you teased. You could feel your desperation for him growing by the second. You took his hand and guided it down your body, between your breasts, down the skin of your stomach, until you had it against your aching heat. 

Bucky took the initiative of running two of his thick fingers between your folds, gathering your copious slick. “Oh, sugar,” he said, his voice almost patronizing, “you’re fucking soaked.” He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked off your arousal. “Shit, you taste so damn sinful. Be a good girl and go wait for me on the blanket while I finish up, alright?”

You nodded and did as he asked. You watched as he quickly finished gathering all the lanterns and blowing them out, one by one, until he was just a silhouette of shadow among shadows. 

“Hey, sugar,” Bucky said through the darkness as he climbed toward you across the blanket. Your eyes were adjusting to the starlight, and though you couldn’t make him out perfectly, you could see him much easier.

“Hi, Sarge,” you replied with a soft giggle as you reached for him. “Come fuck me, please.”

“Oh, doll,” Bucky purred, “I’m not going to fuck you tonight.” He kneeled down on the blanket, resting back on his heels, and, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, he picked you up, positioning you so you were facing him, straddling your legs on either side of his torso. “Tonight, I’m making love to you, Major. Put your arms around my neck.”

You obeyed him dumbly, his words having driven all rational thought completely out of your head. Bucky reached underneath you, putting his hands under your ass and using them to pull you close to his chest. “Are you ready?” he asked. 

You nodded desperately; you were practically dripping for him by this point, but something hit you. “Fuck,” you hissed. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“What happened to my always prepared Girl Scout?” Bucky asked with a grin. 

“I thought we were going out to dinner!” you told him in exasperation. “I didn’t think we’d end up fucking in the middle of the woods! I just assumed we’d end up fucking back at my place, where I have copious amounts of condoms!”

Bucky laughed at that. “Well, maybe we should both start carrying them at all times then, sugar. Just in case. Seems we’re making it a habit of not always gettin’ to a bed in time.” But then his face turned serious. “If you’re worried about diseases or whatever,  you don’t have to be– the serum, it prevents me from contractin’ anything, so I can’t pass stuff on, either. Kind of like a catch-all vaccination. The only thing we’d have to worry about is… well,” his eyes glanced down to your belly. “You know. I can always pull out before I finish, if you want.”

Just the idea of feeling him inside of you, with absolutely nothing between you, invaded your thoughts and filled your mind like a thick smoke, reaching every crevice of your brain until it was all you could think about. To actually feel him cum inside of you… “Don’t you dare,” you said, a little more sharply than you intended. “Pull out, I mean. Fuck, I wanna feel you, Bucky. All of you. I’m clean, and I’m on birth control. I can pick up some Plan B in the morning, just to be safe.”

Bucky closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck, sugar, if you’re sure.”

You tightened your grip around his neck. “I’m so sure, Sergeant Barnes,” you said. “I wanna feel every inch of you inside of me.”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex without a condom before,” he confessed. “Don’t take it personal if I don’t last. It just means you feel so fucking good, I couldn’t help myself.”

You snorted at that, and Bucky grinned at you. “As long as you make sure I cum, too,” you said, kissing his jaw, “I don’t care how long you last.” You both knew he would never leave you unsatisfied.

“Hey.” Bucky jerked his chin so he was looking into your eyes again. “I’m really glad that, this first time for me without anything between me and a dame, it’s with you.”

You didn’t have words to describe how that made you feel, so you did the only thing that would properly convey the depth of your affection toward him– you kissed him as you lowered yourself onto his dick. You were so wet, he met virtually no resistance as he tilted his hips up into you. And your body, now after your… eleventh, or was it twelfth?-- time in two and a half days, knew how to welcome him.

“Holy fucking shit!” you gasped.

“What is, doll?” Bucky asked, eyes wide with concern. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Do you have any idea how deep you feel inside of me right now, Bucky?” you asked him. “It’s like I can feel you in my soul.” 

“Fuck,” he grunted, and then he started using his arms to guide you up and down on his cock, sliding himself nearly all the way out before pulling you back down on him again, and each stroke felt like ecstasy. “Damn it, doll,” Bucky said, looking down to watch where his cock disappeared inside of you, “you feel so fuckin’ good! I don’t know if I can ever go back to fucking you covered again!”

“Oh, god, Bucky,” you moaned. You didn’t know if you could go back, either, not with the way you could feel every single vein of him drag against your inner walls. His motions were deliberate, slow, gently feeding the fire instead of pouring gasoline on it the way he usually did. It was intoxicating.

“Look at me, sugar,” he begged, his voice holding a tone of longing. Your eyes met his, and despite the dark, they shone. You couldn’t look away as he pumped into you. “You’re fucking amazing, Major,” he gasped, timing his statements to match his languid thrusts. “So goddamn beautiful.” Thrust. “You make me laugh.” Thrust. “You’re brave as hell.” Thrust. “You’re independent.” Thrust. “Strong.” Thrust. “Smart.” Thrust.

He kept praising you as he increased his rhythm, hips thrusting up into you faster and faster, the whole while keeping his eyes locked on yours. The coil inside of you was tightening, constricting the expanse of your lungs, making your breath come out in shallow gasps. 

You kissed him, putting every ounce of lust into the motion, moaning into his mouth as he never broke stride and brought you closer to the edge. “Bucky,” you moaned into his mouth. “Fuck, Bucky, you’re making me feel so good, honey. Don’t stop, please!” 

“Never, sugar,” Bucky grunted back. “Fuck, wanna make love to you until the day I die.” You sucked in a breath at his words, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. Bucky’s thrusts faltered. “Doll,” he said, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from your cheek, “did I say something wrong? I’m sorry!”

“No!” you cried, shaking your head as you worked your own hips to make up for his loss of motion. “No, Bucky, shit, honey, you’re saying everything so right. I’m crying because I can’t remember the last time I felt so goddamn happy.” 

Bucky resumed his thrusts with a renewed purpose. Getting up on knees, he repositioned you so you were lying on your back, his giant frame leaning over you. “Come on, sugar,” Bucky grunted as he snaked a hand down to your clit and began to rub. “Need to feel you cum around my cock. Show me how happy you are, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow to bring your face closer to his. Grabbing a hold of the chain that held your name, you pulled his face to yours and kissed him. “‘M so close, honey,” you moaned into his lips. “Need you to give it to me.”

“I wanna give you everything, Major,” he grunted, kissing you again. And then, suddenly, it was all over for you, the coil snapping, and you were falling, shouting his name to the stars and the sky. Bucky’s thrusts lost their careful rhythm, and you could feel him spilling into you, wave after warm wave of cum pouring down your channel. 

“Fuck, sugar,” Bucky cried. “Can feel you squeezin’ me. Shit, baby– you feel so fucking good, sugar. ‘S so good, can’t stop cumming.” His words lost all meaning as they devolved into grunts and moans as he collapsed on you, his hips still thrusting as if with a mind of their own.

The weight of him should have been suffocating, but instead, you never felt safer than you did with his body splayed on top of yours. He held you to him, as though afraid that, were he to let go, you would float away on the breeze, and you felt so light after your orgasm, you very well could have. Mumbling sweet nothings into the side of your neck, Bucky’s flesh hand found your hair, stroking it. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into your skin. “Thank you so much, Major.”

You let out a shuddering breath, hands gripping the muscles of his upper back as you held him, legs finding their way around his waist. “Thank you, Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “That was everything.”

After a few moments, Bucky gently rolled off of you, but his hands never left your body as he held you close, running his fingers along the meridian of your spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asked you. Always considerate, always checking in. It made your heart swell with affection. Fuck, with love for him.

“So good,” you told him. You placed a gentle kiss on his pectoral. “How are you feeling? Did you have a good time?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, sugar?” he asked with mock incredulity. “Every time I’m with you feels like the best time of my fucking life. And I’m not just saying that,” he added, anticipating your incoming protest. “You… I don’t know what it is you do to me, Major. I just know that, when I look at you, things feel right, for the first time since I shipped out in ‘43. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

But goddamn if this man didn’t know how to say just the right words to you. “If you’re not careful, Bucky Barnes,” you said, hoping to put enough tease in your voice to mask how sincerely you felt the words you were saying, “I’m gonna end up falling in love with you.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: sleepy af

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“You need a box, doll?” Bucky flutters his fingers toward your plate, “you don’t gotta finish all that.” 

You look down at the untouched half of your sandwich. You’d barely poked at the pesto salad on the side either. You can’t help it; your stomach is swirling like a storm. Aside from that, you’re so self-aware that you make certain each bite is tidy and small.  

You bring the napkin to your lips before you answer, “oh, sure, I guess. Um, thank you.” 

“You have a big breakfast?” He wonders as he lifts his glass, squinting at its emptiness. 

“I...” you sniff. You didn’t eat at all. “I’m too nervous.” 

You cringe as your honestly flows free. You don’t know why you said that. Maybe it’s the similarly empty glass in front of you. He smiles, his dimples showing handsomely on his bearded cheeks. 

“You don’t gotta be,” he sets the glass down, his forearm across the table. “Is it me? I make you nervous.” 

You look away and cup your chin. You purse your lips and inhale slowly. You dare to face him again. You nod into your hand. 

“What about me makes you nervous?” He wonders, his eyes sparkling. It has to be obvious. So obvious that he must be teasing you. 

“You know,” you murmur. 

“Genuinely curious,” he clears his expression and sits back, “we’re having a good time. Good chat. So... you’re nervous, why?” 

“Because you’re...” your brows squiggle, “you. I’m just me.” 

“And what’s so bad about being just you?” 

You scoff, “I think... maybe you made a mistake. I’m not... anything.” 

“What does that mean?” He prompts. 

Before you can answer, Hailee appears. The slim server offers you a refill. Bucky waits for you to answer first. You decline and he puts his hand over his own glass. 

“We’ll take the cheque,” he says and she flits off to do his bidding. He returns his attention to you before you can shrink further, “well... what do you mean?” 

Your eye drift evasively. He just latches on and doesn’t let go. It’s overwhelming. You watch Hailee as she taps the tablet on the bar top across the roof. You glance at Bucky again. 

“I’m not tall or thin or a supermodel,” you say quietly. He leans in as he tilts his head thoughtfully. 

“If I wanted that, that’s who would be sitting here with me. I don’t mind that you’re a little small. It’s... I like it, actually. And a supermodel? Doll, those types got nothing on you.” 

You touch your cheeks then drag your hands away, “thanks, but...” 

“But?” He echoes. 

“Nothing. Nothing,” you assure him meekly, “I just... I’m not sure about all this.”  

Hailee once more returns. She hands Bucky the bill and he doesn’t even look at it as he slides his wallet out of his pocket. He hands her his card and the slip of paper. Once more, she’s off. 

“Not sure?” He says. 

“Sorry, I just...” once more you look at the server as she swipes his card. When you look back, Bucky’s watching you intently, “please keep your money. You paid for lunch, that’s enough.” 

“But doll--” 

“Please, I don’t feel right taking it,” you put your palms out and drop your hands, “thank you for lunch but I’m not cut out for this.” 

“Hm,” he clicks his tongue and leans his chin on his knuckles, “don’t decide right now. I get it. It’s a lot at once. So think about it and get back to me.” 

“I... I’m telling you,” you wilt, “I don’t think... I’m not what you think I am.” 

“I have no idea what you are, doll,” he extends his fingers under his chin, “but I like what I see and I want more.” 

You shakily bring your hand to your neck. He can’t mean it. He can’t want you. No way. If you say yes, how long does that last? You didn’t come here for lunch or an ‘arrangement’. You need a job. You need something sustainable. 

Besides, you never thought you’d ever consider being a prostitute. That’s what he’s suggesting, isn’t it? You’re pathetic but you have some standards. 

You sigh. You said no once, maybe more, maybe not firmly enough, but he’s not hearing you. So you will ‘think about it’ and repeat yourself later. 

“Alright,” you agree as you lean back and pull your hands into your lap. 

“All I’m asking for is a chance,” he says. Your heart pulses tightly. He’s asking you? “Let’s get your leftovers packed up and I'll take you home.” 

“Oh, uh, I can get a cab--” 

“Nah,” he waves you off, “I’m here. Merv’s gotta get me back to the casino as it is.” 

🃏

“You’ll call me, won’t you, doll?” Bucky asks as Merv stops outside the curb of your mother’s house. 

You peek up through the tinted window and back at the man beside you. He shamelessly has his arm stretched over the seat above your shoulders, the scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. You nod dumbly before you process his words. 

“Yeah, I will,” you assure him as you undo your seat belt and untangle your purse from the strap. 

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he pulls his arm away and brushes your shoulder then down your sleeve. 

“I won’t, like I said... I’ll think about it,” you reach for the handle and he hums. 

“I had a good time. I like talking to you, doll.” 

You stop yourself from fleeing like you so desperately want to do. You turn back to him. You’re struck by him, not for the first time. Someone like him noticed you and did all this. It feels like you’re drowning. You can barely think straight. 

 “Me too. It was really nice,” you breathe. 

He stares at your, almost expectantly, and his lips curve slightly. Are you forgetting something? Heat speckles over your cheeks. Is he leaning in? 

“Hey, don’t forget your leftovers,” he sits back and reaches to the other side of the seat, picking up the box. 

“Oh, thanks,” you take it, your fingers touching his. 

“Don’t let me keep you, ‘cause I will,” he winks, “I’m sure you got someone waiting for you.” 

“Uh, yeah, my mom won’t be home yet but...” you suppress your irrelevant thoughts. You’ll give the sandwich and salad and to Roxie. She never complains for free food. “Yeah, er, thanks.” 

He chuckles and claps his hand down on your leg, “too sweet, doll. It’s my pleasure and there’s a lot more where that came from.” He squeezes and removes his hand, “just making a last-ditch case for myself.” He inhales and his shoulders rise and he fixes his collar, “have a good one, alright? Take it easy, think...” 

“I will,” you affirm once more, “er, bye.” 

You open the door and barely keep from tripping onto the curb. You peer back one last time and attempt a smile, trying to hide the sinking pit in your chest. You don’t need to think about it. You simply cannot give him what he wants. 

You shut the door and back up. You stand cluelessly and wait. When the car doesn’t move, you spin and scurry away. God, how much more awkward can you get? 

You resist the urge to look back as you let yourself in through the front door. The TV babbles from the next room as you twist the lock. Roxie lazes across the couch as the fan oscillates over her. The summer heat has the space stuffy and sticky. The rented house doesn’t have central air and the portable AC crapped out last year. 

“Hey,” you come up to the back of the couch, your anxiety still buzzing behind your ears. You feel different and you feel like she’ll sense it in an instant. You almost want her to say something. 

She doesn’t look away from the screen as she grumbles back at you. 

“Um, mom’s not home yet, right?” 

“Don’t think so,” she yawns, her arm draped above her head against the arm rest. “It’s like three. You sleep all day?” 

You frown. She usually sleeps later, granted, she works until sunlight most nights. 

“No, I had an interview.” 

“Huh, Wendy’s?” She asks. It’s probably an innocent question and a fair assumption, but it still cuts like an insult. 

“No, uh, whatever, I don’t think I got it.” 

“Too bad,” she says. 

You leave her. She’s too enraptured with her reality TV binge. You suppose if you were just waiting to start working, you might just want to shut off too. That’s exactly what you want in that moment. To stop thinking about everything. 

It’s not just Bucky and his offer or whatever you should call it. It’s about your mom and Roxie and being the resident disappointment. You don’t like being dead weight but it seems like it’s all you’ll ever be. There’s more than just yourself to think about in this and yet you just can’t see yourself saying yes. 

You don’t really know what you’re saying yes to. What is it exactly that Bucky wants from you? Sunny lunches and conversations about disco music? You don’t think that’s it but you’re too afraid to think about the implication behind his proposition. 

So you won’t. You won’t-- you can’t accept it. You can’t bring yourself to do... that for money. If you did and your mother ever knew the truth, you shudder to think. No, you can tell an easier lie. 

Sorry, mom, didn’t pan out. Again. But I’ve been applying all around. I’ll get something. 

🃏

The first text Bucky sends, you respond to. It’s the same day as your interview. No, that’s not what it was. He sends a good night and you echo the sentiment. It’s easier to pretend behind a screen. 

You don’t sleep well despite his tidings. You toss and turn and don’t drag yourself out of bed until noon. Your mom’s already at work and you can’t stand to face her. Not since you told her it was another dead end. Roxie’s snoring in her room. 

You go out on the back steps and sit in the sun. It’s all muddled. You know you shouldn’t. You won’t. That’s not you. And even if you could find the courage to say yes, you’re just not that girl. You aren’t the one to be flaunted on a rich guy’s arm. Or the kind to go for manicures and to wear layers of contour. And that’s what he’ll want, even if he says now, it isn’t. Men just want pretty things and you’re not. 

The days pass in a similar idle daze. Every night, he texts. A little back and forth but you say you’re tired and check out after his usual, ‘sweet dreams, doll.’ Two days, three days, four, five, six. A whole week and you know that you have to say it. No. It’s almost as hard as a yes would be. 

When the ‘good morning’ pops up in your notifications, you’re frozen. You can’t even fake it. You can’t hit the automated reply generated by the app. You just lock your phone and put it in your nightstand drawer. You’re a coward, just like you’ve always been. 

You scroll through the job boards. You’ve been spending most of your waking hours trawling them. The postings don’t come as quickly as you apply. Some, you’re sure, you’ve submitted your resume to at least twice. Well, that shows dedication, right? 

You hear your mom come home just after five. You finally sit up from your chronic hunch and groan at the pang between your shoulders. Ugh, that’s not good. You get up and come out as your mother sighs and drops her purse on the table. 

“Hey, I took some drumsticks out,” you say, “I’m gonna do the buffalo sauce.” 

“Oh, hon, that’s amazing, I’m so tired,” she drops into a chair and props a foot on her knee, rubbing her arch, “I need new insoles.” 

You watch her guiltily, chewing your lip. Even if you’re not going to say yes, you almost wish you’d taken that thousand dollars. She wouldn’t have to do overtime so much. You cross your arms. 

“What do you want with it? We got some of the crinkle fries or--” 

The doorbells chimes and you hesitate. It isn’t often it rings. Not for anyone by the landlord on an impromptu visit. You peer over at the same time as your mom. She sends you a curious look as she stands. 

She hobbles away and you feel guilty for letting her. You shy away and wait by the counter. You listen to her footfalls and the schlock of the front door latch as she slides it back. It opens with the usual squeak and you hold your breath as you listen. A low drone meets your mother’s exhausted hello. 

Oh. It wouldn’t be... It can’t be. You assure yourself that you don’t recognise the timbre but even your denial isn’t that strong.  

Slowly, you make your way to the hall and creep down towards your mom as she keeps the door half-way shut against her. It’s him. You hear him say your name. Oh gosh. 

“I’m just following up on her interview. I called but maybe her battery died?” Bucky says. 

You wince and near your mom. 

“Uh, yes, she’s here, I’ll just go--” 

“Mom,” you interject and she jumps in surprise. 

“Oh,” she trills with laughter, “there she is.” 

She lets the door open as you step up next to her, your chest fraught with dread. You stare at Bucky as his blue eyes bore into you. Your mom touches your elbow gently. You’re suddenly overly conscious of your pajama pants and baggy tee. 

“I’ll let you two... chat,” she retreats and leaves you there to his mercy. You can’t beg her to stay without giving yourself away. 

As she heads back down the hall, you step outside and draw the door shut. You know better than to trust her not to eaves drop. How many times had she listened through the doorway when Roxie had one of her boyfriends over. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky crosses his arms. Is he mad? Does he know you were ignoring him or does he really think your phone died?

“Hi, uh...” 

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he intones. 

“Um, yeah, I... I’ve been... distracted.” 

He nods, a skeptical wrinkle in his forehead, “sure. It's been a week, lots of time to think.” 

You gape up at him. He wants an answer. Now. You have one, but you just can’t say it. You’re silent as tension roils in the humid air. He swoops back a dark lock but doesn’t break his gaze. 

“Look, I... I appreciate your offer and everything else but what you’re asking... if my mom knew...” 

“Hm, yeah,” he puts his hands on his hips, “I thought of that too. You’re a sweet thing and I can see she loves you. It’s unorthodox but I only wanna take care you. Not everyone will understand that.” 

“Right, so I don’t think--” 

“Well, I think she’d be more suspicious if you walked in there and told her I came all the way here not to offer you a job,” he insists, “don’t you?” 

“Y-yeah, but--” you sputter. 

“So, she doesn’t need to know why I’m here, does she? You can tell her you’re working at the casino.” 

“Sure, but I don’t...” you shake your head and look down. He’s right.  

If you tell your mom you missed out on another job, you don’t think you could ever look her in the eye again. It wouldn’t just be another let down but an actual lie. You have an opportunity here. Maybe not the one you thought, but it’s money. After years of living off your mom’s hard work, you owe her. What’s a secret to her not having to work twelves? 

“We get along, don’t we?” He asks. 

You nod. He’s been less than unkind. You can’t really name a single fault on his part. 

“So, I don’t get it. The money, it’s just a bonus,” he explains, “don’t think of it as me paying you to spend time with me, so much as us enjoying each other and both getting the perks from that.” 

“But... but...” you wet your lips with your tongue and clamp them tight. 

He’s cornered you. If you had a few more hours, you could’ve found the strength to take your phone out and type out your rejection but face-to-face? You’re hopeless and you think he knows that. He watches you expectantly. He isn’t hoping, he knows. 

You blow out between your lips and turn your head away, “she can’t ever know.” 

“Doll, for you, I'll keep my lips sealed,” he says, “whatever you want, you got it. That’s the deal.” 

[kairiscorner]

do one where peter accidentally catches miguel giggling and smiling like a dumb ahh bc of our rizz on text 🤪🤪 (ooc ik but let me live k)

ofc dracuilina bc i wanna see that too :> HOPE YA LIKE THIS MWEHEHEHHEE

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

photo creds: @atreus1526 on tiktok !! (though i got the pic from pinterest, do lmk if they have a tumblr !!)

a/n: yes, i finally made something like a text fic, sorry if it isn't very good 😭😭😭 also if anyone steals it, two things: 1) why would you 2) i will fuck you up don't you dare (・∀・)

when you rizzed him up too good – miguel o'hara x reader

miguel was having a slow day at HQ, not many anomalies needed to be captured and sent back to their home dimensions, and no canon events were disrupted any time this week. it was a little too quiet in the usually rowdy and chaotic halls of the spider society, what broke the pure silence that filled his dim office was the sound of your text.

miguel saw your messages, and immediately texted you back. he could never leave you on read for too long, that was his guilty secret. he loved, yet hated, indulging you–you always got a little too comfortable and sometimes pushed his buttons, but he loved you nonetheless.

miguel sighed as he saw those three white dots dancing on his screen, and he was questioning why his profile picture had his sleeping face with a horse's ass on the blanket. he should've burned that gift from peter b, he never should've accepted any gift from that man.

his phone dinged and tore the silence asunder with another message from you.

and he thought that'd be the end of it–well, partially thought, because it was you he was talking to–but it clearly wasn't. and nothing could prepare him for the next couple of messages you sent him.

he sounded desperate, but he kept reminding himself he wasn't desperate, you were desperate–he was just giving you what you wanted. which was what he also wanted. badly. right now. especially when he had barely anything to do.

he felt his cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrowing out of a unique kind of frustration, one that didn't fully piss him off, but made him wish something. wish that... he was there with you, could have that steamy hot shower date with you and just...

fuck, you decided to be all cutesy again. you know how much that riles him up. and makes him do things he usually wouldn't be caught doing.

he felt a small smile crack on his face as he saw your little kaomojis, your petty texts of sarcastic revenge, and how snarky you could be... it made his heart beat a little faster, made the muscles in his cheeks raise and his smile widen; you made him chuckle. that was how much he loved you, loved everything about you, and you made him go a little crazy over you and your natural charms.

it was just then that peter b swung into miguel's office all casually, asking him if he's seen the horse ass blanket that he gave miguel. "yeah, uh, that was apparently a wedding anniversary gift mj got me. if i don't get it soon, i–" peter b rambled as he looked up at miguel, who was preoccupied with his phone.

he raised an eyebrow at two things: 1) miguel knew how to use a phone? 2) was he... smiling?

peter b swung over behind miguel and peered over his shoulder, seeing his texts with you for a hot second before miguel whipped his head around and replaced the gleeful grin from earlier into a frightening scowl.

"parker." he greeted him monotonously as miguel put his phone away. peter b smiled, knowing that you made miguel's day a little brighter. "nevermind, keep the blanket." he said as he pat miguel's shoulder and swung back out of his office, trying to keep in the urge to laugh aloud at the image of miguel's head sticking out with the horse's ass on the blanket.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @arachnoia @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @meeom @melovetitties

[inklore]

of the essence

premise: working alongside tangerine to retrieve something as minuscule as a briefcase should be easy–would–have been easy if there wasn’t history between the two of you and you weren’t at each others necks or annoyed senseless by his need to be right, or your need to have him inside of you.

pairing: tangerine x f!assassin!reader

word count: 2.9k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected sex, creampie, enemies who are partners who aren’t really enemies but are definitely lovers, tangerine has a big dick this is canon, cocky behavior, banter, public sex (unrealistic dicking in those tight ass train seats), dirty talk, pet names, spanking, mentions of violence and death.

etc: ya girl has booked a one way ticket on the tangerine slut train! sorry i’m late to the ride but i’m here now and i hope you enjoy this!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It was foolish of you to think that there would be any civility between the two of you, that you could actually do this job in peace without him getting on your nerves or you grating at his. “It’s just a quick grab and go, no big deal” your boss had said, and as it always goes that was too good to be true.

“Tangerine will also be there..” she had trailed off after you had accepted, after you had put your eggs into one basket and already started with a game plan; upon hearing the rest of her words you were smashing said eggs with the bottom of your boot in irritation. 

The want—need—to deny the job. To tell her to pick someone else because the thought of being near said fruit with a beautiful mustache was not only frustratingly distracting, but the two of you couldn't stand each other.

Not after too many nights spent in tangled sheets and the constant head butting and one-upping the two of you always did—putting your team at risk all because the two of you refused to agree on anything. 

But you needed the work, sitting idle for too long made you overthink, made your skin crawl and impulsiveness kick in to the point of destructive behavior. 

So as amazing as saying no to this job sounded, you couldn’t afford it. 

Thus how you’ve ended up here; in a silent train car across from the one person you’d kill not see again. Trying not to put your nails into his eye sockets from how he’s looking at you and the snarky comments that never seem to end, flowing like an overbearing stream from his mouth.

The more he talked the more your blood boiled. The more your eyes stared at his mouth. The more you thought of events from the past that needed to stay there. Not bombard your brainstem with ideas that had no business being there at a time like this; thoughts that make you think ‘what's the worst that can happen?’

This. This is the worst that can happen. 

“Where’s the new bloke?” Tangerine’s head turns to the side, a ghost of a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. The roll of your eyes making that annoying expression spread to an even more annoying grin. 

“Couldn’t cut it.” You say passively, grip the book in your hand that you pathetically thought you’d actually be able to read—to be distracted by. 

He hums, fingers tapping on the armrest of his seat. 

“Couldn’t keep up with ya?” 

“Can anyone?”

“Not without effort,” his eyes move in a sweeping motion from your feet to your face. Slow. agonizing to your insides. Annoying. “That’s for certain.” 

“Thanks.” You scowl, grumbling under your breath. Bring the book up to your face, try to read any of the words on the page without focus. 

“I meant no disrespect.” 

“That’s shocking, feeling under the weather today?”

An airy chuckle leaves his lungs and goes straight to the bottom of your stomach. You try to ignore how you can feel him shift in his seat. How you know he’s pulling at his navy suit, making himself more comfortable. Manspreading his legs to the point where there’s no more room between your knees and his. One of his lengthy legs pressed into your inner thigh. 

You should have sat in Lemon’s seat when he got up. 

Fuck. 

“Still can’t take a compliment I see.” 

“Still don’t know what a compliment actually is, I see.” You mock, can feel the edge of the paperback digging into your palm to the point of one little bump of the train and you know a paper cut is bound to happen. The bouncing of one of your legs starts, the deep shallow breaths, all signs of your irritation getting ready to bring itself to the forefront. Cause a scene that needed to be avoided right now. 

“It was a compliment.” 

“A backhanded one.” 

You know he’s the one rolling his eyes now by the puff of frustrated air he lets out from behind the book. 

And maybe most of this irritation was coming from the fact that he was right. Your last partner was a fool. An incompetent one. Where, yes Tangerine was a fool, more often than not, but he was at least competent and good at his job. The partner you had been assigned didn’t know the difference between a glock and a rifle, an ass from its cheek—he was the definition of new blood, sour blood, a trainee without a clue which is how he ended up in a shallow grave. A welcome blessing to you when a bullet pierced through his chest cavity. 

But not everyone was Tangerine. 

The two of you may not play nicely while working together but he was damn good at his job and the two of you always got the job done and on time. Even if Lemon screamed at the two of you to stop bickering for half of it. 

The reasons why the two of you shouldn’t work together was better than you getting saddled with another idiot. 

Annoyance and attraction aside, Tangerine was damn good at his job—too good most times and you’d choose this back and forth over the latter always. Because even through his cocky-knowing-remarks and that annoying raise of his brows he always did that sparked some fuel in your lower belly when the two of you would bicker over right wrong, left right, up down; he had your back, you could trust him not to put a bullet in it or get himself killed. 

“Were you the one who shot a bullet in that poor bloke's heart?” The tip of his pointer presses itself into the top crease of your book, pulling it down to reveal his grin. “You can be candid with me,” his lips twitch cockily. “I won’t tell a soul if you got a little homesick for me and had to do it to reunite us, promise.”

You flick his hand away, “as if.” Your mouth falling open to make a show of your gag of disgust, “it would have been a justice for me to put him out of his misery. But now I’m wishing the bullet had changed directory and hit me instead. I’m the one who really needs to be put out of their misery.”

“Oh,” he clicks his tongue. Lips turning down into a frown, “you’ve missed me. You can’t deny it.”

“Deny.”

“You wouldn’t have taken the job if you didn’t.”

“I needed the money. Eating is a wonderful thing.”

“So is our time spent together.” Just as the words slip out you can feel his knee press further into your thigh. See his back slink just a little lower into his seat as he does so. Eyes cast down to where the heat from his knee and your thigh is causing your nerves to clench up—to go haywire. 

“It’s a waste of time.”

“I’d have to disagree.”

“Would think there was something wrong if you didn’t.”

Before you can pretend to read the next sentence from your book, before you realize he’s reaching out for it, he snatches it from your grip and tosses it in the seat next to him with ease—leisure—as he scoots forward, his knee following suit and pressing itself at your covered center. The intake of breath that fills your lungs at the swift friction as he does so frustrates you for a different, more dangerous, reason. 

The back of his palm wrapping itself around the back of your neck to bring you forward with him, nose to nose. Your scowl deep and threatening. 

“From what I remember correctly, you didn’t think it was a waste of time to have my cock inside of you the last time we found ourselves partnered up.” 

“Things change. I got smarter.” 

“Oh you’re already smart, love. We know it’s not that.”

“Fuck off.” You try to pull yourself from his hold but the more you tug the tighter his grip becomes, and the more your insides melt and make your underwear slick. 

“As much as I love this little game of ours, time is of the essence. I’d love to have you riled up and holding a knife to my throat but we’re on a tight schedule.” With more added pressure he has your lips centimeters from his, the warm puffs from his breath and deep rumble of his accent making your mouth buzz and draw in like a moth to a flame.

Except this flame is annoyingly addicting—to his mouth and that annoying knockoff pornstache above it, that golden chain that makes your mouth water at the remembrance of it dangling over your face when his weight is on top of yours—and always leaves you in a bigger mess than you started with.

But it’s a flame you clearly aren’t strong enough to turn from. 

Because when he says, “We have about thirty minutes before Lemon comes back, before the train stops and people fill the car. So stop being a brat and take what we both know you want.” Your insides go from melting to liquid lava that seeps down to your core and singes your pussy until it’s throbbing—and denying the reality of it would be as idiotic as what you do next: 

Wasting no time in climbing into Tangerine’s lap, the huffs of frustration and growls mixing together as your mouths come together and teeth sink into lips, bites turn into tears, and nails dig into clothes until you can only feel skin underneath the beds of them. 

His mouth is all over your neck—fingers having already torn at the button up and tossed it to the dirty floor, your bra torn and beside it—tongue running along your collarbone to the column of sensitive flesh that he sinks his teeth into. The friction of his mustache leaves a burning trail along the way. Making your head fall back and breasts press to his chest. 

His fingers make quick work of the mechanics of your jeans, helping you maneuver out of them in a way that takes little effort and keeps you pressed to him; keeps your fingers in his hair tugging and pulling, keeps you rocking against his hardness that presses full and thick against his slacks. His mouth still on your skin, refusing to let go. 

When his pointer loops itself into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side, his knuckle pushing into your wet folds and moving along your aching clit, a hum of approval is kissed against your chest. 

Tangerine’s chin digging into the top of your breast as he looks up at you with a smirk that only makes you whimper now, “knew you missed me.” 

“Shut up.” You want it to sound meaner, argumentative, but it slips out attached to a moan as his knuckle presses circles against your clit. Your legs shaking around him. Nails digging into his scalp. “If I admit it will you fuck me already?”

“You know I’ll give you anything you want, you need only ask, love.” The grin on his lips before he presses them to yours in a rough kiss of passion, and lust that burns so deep you don’t remember where or how it began; makes something ethereal swoop in your stomach. Makes your fingers move faster than lightning to unbutton his slacks, his large arm holding your back tightly as he lifts up to pull himself out. 

To have his cock on full display and in his palm. His large hand looking small compared to the thickness of length, of how heavy he looks and feels. A low groan slipping from his parted lips, “love when you watch me. But-”

“Time is of the essence.” You repeat his earlier words, don’t think twice in moving his hand away and grabbing his warm shaft in yours. Lining it up at your entrance and sinking down on—too fast, too quick—his thickness opening you with a burning stretch that has you swallowing down a hiss, eyes clenched, body bowing forward, head pressed against his. 

A simultaneous “fuck” leaving the both of you. 

“Missed you.” You breathe, give yourself a minute to acquaint yourself with his size again. To remember how it feels to be so full. 

“Would think there was something wrong if you didn’t.” He repeats you this time, your matching smirks molded together by lips and tongue as he takes your mouth. Kissing you like he fucking invited the act. 

And then you’re moving, your hips gyrating back and forth as Tangerine’s palms at your ass guide you. A too slow of a pace set by him wanting to savor the moment, but only makes you want him more. The slow gyrate soon turns into you bouncing on his cock, your cunt making an obnoxiously wet squelch each time you drag it up and down his length. 

The train car filling with sounds of skin, breaths, and moans as you ride him. As he slaps your ass, as he bites at the top of your breast. His hair falling out of place and over his eyes. Your body ablaze. Marks dug into the side of his neck, bruises littering your hips, chest and chin rubbed raw from his stache. The two of you getting completely lost in each other, forgetting everything but this; the mission, the arguments, the tension, the frustration coming out, seeping through, finding a home in the way you fuck, kiss, are annoyingly addicted to the fire that burns between you. 

That gets harder and harder to ignore the more time spent apart. The more time you force yourself to hate him when your insides are telling you to shut up and fuck him. 

Each moan you let out, the next louder than the last, Tangerine swallows down. Sucks down with how he plays with your tongue—bites down with the sweet nips he gives your lower lip. 

“Forgot how pretty you sound,” he grunts against your chin. “And how fucking beautiful these things are.” His palm engulfs your left breast to squeeze and pull the nipple in between his swollen lips. 

“Fuck,” you hiss. Look down to watch his half lidded eyes stare up at you, to watch the bruises he sucks onto your supple flesh. That perfect strand of hair falling over one of his eyes to make him look even more like a sexy-tortuous-asshole. “Forgot how much you talked during this.”

“Forgot how much you liked hearing it.”

You begin to shake your head, a retort ready at the tip of your tongue, a loud “ahh” replacing it as he delivers a hard bite to your nipple. 

“You can lie to anyone you need to. Just not me.” Your breast feels like it's on fire, the trail of saliva he leaves behind doing little to cool the burning flesh. “I see you.” He grunts against your chest, your neck, the apex of your jaw.

“Yeah?” You swallow down a moan, nails like talons dug into the concrete of his shoulder. “What do you see?”

“A strong,” his hips thrust up, shocking you forward. Smooshing your chest to the open skin of his blue dress shirt, his skin just as hot as yours. “Powerful,” another thrust. “Woman,” another. “Who wields a knife just as good as she takes a cock.” 

A chuckle breaks through your string of moans, rattling your shaking chest. “You really need to work on your compliments.”

“Am I wrong?”

You hum, whimper when you feel the pad of his thumb bring itself against your clit. “No,” you shake your head. “Never wrong. Annoyingly.” You add the last part like a gospel of truth. A truth you’d forever hate and love on the same string that has you about to come on his cock. 

“There’s my smart girl.” 

You hate how those stupid words make you clench around him, how they make you moan and move faster against him. How your legs start to shake, fingers digging deeper into the meat of his shoulders. 

How when you both finish it’s at the same time, perfectly insync, your bodies working together, wordlessly proving how well the two of you are together—in so many irritating ways. 

Once the two of you start to breathe normally and you feel the train come to a slow stop, you’re standing, righting your clothes in the reflection of the windows and going back to normal. As if it never happened. 

The way it should be.

The way it always goes.

That look of irritation trying to cover the sex-flush your skin still has, as you bend down to grab your book he had tossed earlier. Tangerine’s wrist coming to wrap around yours to pull you to his chest, you think it’s some after sex sweetness he’s showing—it wouldn't be the first time—but then you hear Lemon’s voice and feel him brush past you and something inside you deflates a little.

The tiniest bit. 

But Tangerine, being the suave asshole that he is, doesn’t let that deflation stay flat for long. “If time wasn’t of the essence I would have made you come three more times on my cock. Since you like to disappear on me, I need to take all I can get from you.” 

“What? Do trains no longer have bathrooms?”

His chuckle makes the slightest of smirks spread across your teasing face, “ooh, this time I’m going to make you work for it. Beg me.” 

“That’ll be the day.” You snort, pulling yourself from his grip with ease as you sit back down in your seat. Ignoring the feeling of exhilaration you get from his come leaking from you and staining your underwear. 

“Or the next,” he looks at his watch, shrugs and fixes his suit as he sits across from you, “hour. Give or take.”

Game on.

[merowkittie]

Art Therapist!Reader x Task Force 141

Summary: Today we’ll get to look at the first client, John Price.

Notes: I should comment that I’m not sure if I want this to go in a platonic route or a romantic way so we’ll see from here. Might make the readers decide. <3

I hope i capture all of the boys good, because I’m still fairly new writing for the cod men.. sorry if they’re very ooc </3

Oh boy.. writing this took a minute and I’m so not impressed with this one but trust.. this will get better :)

Do reblog, like, and comment to lmk what you think about this!

Thank you, sweets! 🎀

Part One. Client One: John Price.

The clack of your heels were heard through the halls as you smiled brightly, excited to get to know one of your new clients.

You had two sheets on a clipboard in your arms, a notepad in the other and a tote bag in your left arm.

You had some things you’d like to discuss with him, comforts, favorite snacks and tea. These are important you know! You always got the jitters when you had a new client.

Walking into your small office you sat your bag down on the side of your chair, and placed the clipboard and notepad neatly on your desk.

A sigh left your mouth and you rolled your neck around, trying to crack it and find relief.

“Mm.. ok, where to start..?” You mumbled to yourself as you looked at your bag and nodded.

Starting to unload everything you put your thermal cup filled with peppermint tea on your desk, a sketchbook, coloring book, and coloring pencils neatly into a pile.

Next you pressed the button on your work phone to hear all of your new voice mails and put lights on, in the dimly lit room.

You had two lamps that brightened the room with a nice yellow hue and a flower lamp on your desk that shined a pink light.

“Ms. Kate left a voice message, it says, ‘Good morning, you said 9:30 but we’ll be there a bit earlier than that. He’s adamant about being early to things. John is a very— He’s a man that likes to stay on the move you know? Keep that in mind. He likes his hands full. Anyways, see you around 9:20– 25. Thank you, Again.’ —”

You laughed at her comment, knowing well you like to have your hands full too and can’t stay doing nothing for too long.

The time on your clock stated 9:15, so they’d be here soon. There wasn’t much else you needed to set up in your cozy office but you decided to fluff out the pillows on the couch across from your desk and prep your notes.

Finally, after you killed some time drawing in your sketchbook you heard a knock on your door. There was quiet chatter.

“Come in please!” You called out, closing your sketchbook and looking up towards the door.

In walked in who you assumed was Kate Laswell and behind her was a handsome gruff looking man. He was very well built, a nice beard and mustache and he looked around the same age as the woman. He also had a nice ass but you shook your head away from those thoughts.

Standing up your walked around your desk and grinned widely, you stated your name and then, “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you. I’m very excited for todays session if you couldn’t tell..”

“Nothing wrong with that. I’m hoping this goes smoothly.” The man, who you’re sure is John, smiles at you and nods approvingly.

“Yes, you won’t give her a hard time right?” Kate jokes and he shakes his head and raises his eyebrows.

“She should be worried about Soap. That man is a twat sometimes.” You chuckled along with him and waved your hand dismissing that.

You pointed to the couch and asked them to have a seat so you could talk to them about basics first and grabbed your notepad and a pen, sitting in your chair.

“Before we start, I want to re-introduce myself. My name is y/n, and I’ve been doing art therapy for three years. I have a degree in arts and a degree in counseling/therapy.” You waved your hands around as you talked.

Kate and John nodded at your words as you spoke and they seemed pretty impressed with what you said.

“Kate Laswell, John Price. It’s nice to meet someone enthusiastic like you.”

You smiled at the comment and then let the two settle in on the couch. Tapping your fingers in your desk you spoke again.

“Ok so, I’m sure you may have questions that you wanted to ask personally! Some worries and concerns?” You tilted your head to the side and smiled, “Or would you like me to give you a brief explanation on what I strive to achieve with art therapy?”

“It’s be nice if you explained it better.. I feel like this is too childish for a man like me.” John commented.

“Mhm, I understand what you mean. A lot of people believe that but it’s all about what works for YOU. Art is a form of expression that anyone can use. Why not incorporate that into helping others and finding yourself too, Hm?” You aided.

It was a bit silent in the room after what you said. John nodded his head, his arms crossed over his chest and pursed his lips, turning to face Kate.

“I like you. Hopefully the boys will too. God knows we need this type of energy with the line of work we’re involved in.” Kate sighs, “I’ll take my leave, and be back around.. 10:30?”

“Yes! 10:30 or you can come around 10:25. Either works for me, If it works for you,” You got up and extended your hand, “Thank you, by the way. I live my life as optimistic as possible and like to bring that into the workplace.”

Kate nods and shakes your hand. Her hold is firm and strong, she’s a kind woman.

“John, play nice.” She said, facing the older man, before leaving and giving you a smile.

After she left you looked at Price and clapped your hands together.

“Well, now I have some personal questions for you. These are about boundaries but I hope you do know we might have to cross them once in a while ok?” You sat on top of your desk this time moving your notepad and pen onto your lap.

John folded his hands on his lap and looked at you in your eyes. It was silent for a moment yet again, though you didn’t mind. If he needed time to formulate his words you’d give him all the time in the world.

He opened his mouth then closed it, with a huff he said, “There’s not many boundaries I have, I’m sure you’re supposed to start slow when doing these sessions, yea?” you nodded, “So I believe you won’t be asking too much about me yet, so when the time comes.. I’ll be somewhat of an open book.”

He smiled at you slightly, tight lipped and tapped his fingers against his knuckles.

You took a breath in, then let it out. Humming at his words you write down on your note pad:

‘Price. Little to no boundaries at all. Open book maybe by the third sesh.’

His eyes watch your fingers as you’re writing, he’s a bit tense, not really knowing what to do. He can already imagine Simon being worse than he is right now.

“Ok so! I do have a question that Ms.Kate didn’t really specify, and I forgot to ask. Is there a problem that’s bugging any of you? Or is this just to maintain a good mind set— or close to an ok mind set?” You put your hands out, trying to elaborate in a more understanding way, “For example, keeping your anger in check, having an outlet to let out heavy emotional burdens.. those types of things?”

John ran his fingers through his beard and tapped his foot on the ground, thinking on what you said. He didn’t exactly have any thing bugging him, he’s been working in the military for well around 18+ years and that’ll get you used to the atrocities you see.

“I’m pretty sure Kate had the latter in mind when doing these sessions. I know I don’t have much bugging me, I’m about ready to retire sometimes,” he joked with a laugh, “It’d be nice to have an outlet from what we do every now and then.”

You laughed with him and nodded your head. His words resonated well with you. Anyone knew that working in the military/army would drain you. Could leave you mentally unwell after years.

So you strived to understand and learn each and every one of these men. To hopefully be able to aid them in different, helpful ways.

“Well, im glad you think so! Now, I actually have something I want you to do today. It’s very simple.”

Pulling out a coloring book and some color pencils, you held them out in front of you, “So, we won’t be doing anything too big— yet! I have a coloring book here that goes based off of mood. It’s also a journal. I want you to write in this everyday, starting today, ok?”

John raised his brows at you and you raised yours back. He scratched his beard and looked down at the coloring book with different mood faces on it. He took a copy of one book and a pack of coloring pencils you offered after.

You opened up the book to the first page and pointed to the happy face. Underneath the face were lines and a quote that asks you why you were feeling the emotion you were feeling.

“Currently I’m feeling happy, I’ll take a yellow pencil and color that face in.” You explained simply, “I’m feeling this way because I’ve had my favorite tea, my cat cuddled with me this morning, and I’m looking forward to my new clients.”

Once you finished you turned the book around and showed John. “That’s all you have to do. Nothing too long, but if you prefer to do that I don’t mind. Just don’t give me a word or two. I want one to three sentences.”

You watched as he began to do what you did. He colored in the neutral face with a brown colored pencil and underneath he wrote two sentences explaining why he felt that way.

For the rest of your session you introduced yourself more and had him give you tid bits about his life and line of work. In your mind you wanted to have this space be as personal but comfortable as possible.

You talked a bit about your life as well, giving him insight into your day to day life and how your other sessions go sometimes without disclosing private information about your other clients.

Soon enough the time came to when he had to leave and your session ended.

As Kate waited by the door, you put your hand out towards John, “I hope to see that book filled out. If anything is bothering you after today, write it down and we can go over it, yea?” He nodded his head shaking your hand, and let out a gruff ‘yes’.

He left with that and you were alone in your office thinking over this mornings events. It was slow paced and simple. You didn’t like unpacking a lot of information on the first day. Over time they’d get more comfortable and the art part of this would help them express how they felt without speaking. Actions are always far bigger than words.

You cracked your knuckles and went back to your chair, looking through your schedule planner, tomorrow you’d have a man by the name of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

Huh, what a name.

Tag list: @speckledemerald @mxtokko

If you want to be notified when more parts of this series comes out please lmk and I will add you to the tag list <3

[megamindsecretlair]

Hey, what happens in the incubus Tyrone Fic? Does the reader ever find out what Tyrone is? Why does Tyrone want the reader to carry his child? Is it just list or is it part of a bigger plan?

A/N: I got two asks about this. Could be from the same one, but I'm combining them. Except for reader trying to escape. Sorry, but we fuck monsters here 👏🏽👏🏽 also, reader does see Tyrone's true form in part 1 and kept fucking him 😈 she's on board 😌

Pour Into Me, Part 2

Pairing: Incubus!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, breeding kink, possession kink, all consensual. Pet names. AU Tyrone. Non-inclusive language.

Summary: Every night, you dream of the same man. A perfect man who makes all of your dirty fantasies come true. Upon receiving some news, you decide to go to him for answers and end up with a beautiful surprise.

Word Count: 4,075k

Part 1

A/N: Ya'll sicka me yet? LOL. Whew, this has also been sitting forever, please forgive me! Hopefully this was worth the hype because it sure tickled my brain. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @badassdoll @monaeesstuff

You stared at the positive pregnancy test with a mixture of shock, fear, and happiness. All of it roiled in your gut as you stared at those tiny lines indicating that you were, indeed, pregnant. Sure you thought of it constantly and you fucked your dream man enough times that it was a possibility, but you didn’t actually think it was possible.

After Tyrone began visiting you and you went through test after test, you didn’t think about the consequences of bringing new life into the world. You found your perfect man and you wanted to keep a piece of him. A crumb. A string to tie you to him so that if you ever lost him, you’d have something to prove he existed.

It was a childish, silly notion, but it was yours. No man on Earth would compare to Tyrone but after last night, you were apprehensive about going to sleep tonight. You were drowsy all day. Forgetting words and names. Your eyes drooped to the point that if you closed them, you weren’t going to wake up again any time soon. 

In the heat of the moment, you saw his true, bestial form and you weren’t afraid. After all, you had already given your body to him. You had already opened your legs for him and welcomed him home night after night. Hell, you hoped and prayed for this baby and let him finish inside you. You let his seed take root to grow this precious life.

Could you face it without the cloud of desire? Could you look at the pretty wrapping after seeing what he really looked like underneath? 

You would not call yourself a coward. In fact, you were a little spontaneous. A little like a daredevil as you chased the fastest and most freeing feeling. The rush of danger and wind on your brown cheeks. But you glanced at your bed with a bit of fear creeping in.

You weren’t afraid of Tyrone…maybe a little. But he had ample opportunity to kill you, if that was his goal. If you were going to keep this…baby/thing/dream child then you needed answers. You needed to know what you were signing yourself up for.

You turned the bathroom light off, yawning for the hundredth time that day. You approached the bed and climbed onto the soft cotton sheets. Sleep beckoned you instantly, pulling you deeper and deeper into dreamland.

There was no beach to greet you this time. There was no bed of clouds or mountaintop or any other previously wonderful sight that Tyrone took you to in your dreams. This time, you were standing in a villa.

Standing on a balcony, overlooking a sea of wild, dark waves crashing against a black, sandy shore. The sky overhead was nearly black with heavy clouds and the taste of rain on the air. Mist drifted softly from the clouds but nothing substantial enough to ruin your hair or outfit.

You wore the same lavender pajamas you wore to bed, bare feet on the cold hard tile beneath you. This place seemed empty. Bereft. Pillars stood behind you as you twirled to take in your surroundings.

You gasped softly as your eyes landed on Tyrone. He stood next to one of the pillars, half in view as he watched you. Gone were the ethereal outfits of white. He wore charcoal gray, loose-fitting pants and long-sleeved T-shirt that hung slightly off of his body.

His real form had red eyes, sharp teeth that slightly poked from his mouth, and wilder hair than before. He could almost pass for human but there was too much otherness about him that gave you the illusion of a werewolf more than a humanoid being. 

“It’s alright,” you said.

He stepped away from the pillar and approached you as if you were the one he needed to be wary of in this scenario. Like you could have any affect on him. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said.

You bit your lip and played with your fingers, twisting them in your grip to keep you tethered to any tendril of normalcy. It was perfectly normal to talk to this man outside of some grand villa with arched windows and stone work at the bottom. 

“I didn’t think so either. But, I should probably tell you..”

“You’re pregnant?” He jumped in, a burst of joy etching across his face before he schooled it once more into wariness. His eyebrows furrowed, his smile dropping away. 

“Guess you would know that,” you said with a small smile.

You expected to feel repulsion or perhaps more fear once you actually got in front of him. All you could think about was how happy he made you the past few weeks. Not only from the sex, but from your many talks. You shared things with him that no other living person knew. 

That was what you missed the most. You missed talking to him. Snuggling up to him. You just missed him. And the longer he stayed there, watching you like a stranger, the more that elusive fear did hit you. But it was a fear that you’d never hold him in your arms again. Fear that you’d never get to feel him inside of you.

“It’s safe to say that you owe me some answers,” you said. 

“Will you walk with me?” He asked. He made no move to get closer or touch you. You wished he would. That he would close this gap between you. Your heart seized in your chest. He was happy about the child, but was he happy about you? Or was his goal only the child? Would he snatch it from your stomach and run away to do who knew what with it?

You’d never know if you didn’t take him up on his offer. So you nodded. He nodded in agreement as well and walked back into the villa. He held the door open for you and you walked inside. 

It was like a museum of weaponry. The walls were painted a deep, blood orange red and on it were weapons of all kinds. Staffs, knives, daggers, swords. There was some art mixed in but it was more like splotches of color than anything resembling art in the real world. 

He didn’t say anything as he led you deeper inside, passing by training rooms and open bedrooms. So many, many bedrooms. Some were occupied with beings that sort of looked like him if you squinted. The same species? 

Questions swirled in your head. He led you down a set of stairs and then towards the back of the house. He led you to one of the many rooms. This one was closed off, dust swirling through the air with the bit of light that did reach the room.

You opened your mouth to ask something but he put his finger to his lips. The room was small, like a forgotten receiving room or waiting room for those people who weren’t staying very long. The furniture was old and out of style, at odds with the rest of the villa. 

Tyrone went to the back of the room and pushed against a wall. It opened under the pressure and he beckoned you to follow. You didn’t necessarily want to, but you needed answers. You walked through and the air turned moist, stone walls beneath your touch. There was no light in here and you swallowed audibly. 

Tyrone lightly tapped your hand and brushed past you, leading you down the hall. If it wasn’t for his magnificent presence, you wouldn’t have known where he was. It was a short trip down the passage, before he pushed through another wall and light reached you. Your eyes stung from the sudden, warm light but you quickly adjusted.

This room was like a private study. Big enough to be classified as a home office, it held wall to wall bookshelves filled with thick and heavy tomes. There were some small books, but it looked like the books were well worn. The desk in the middle of the room was filled with open books, notebooks, and drawings.

You took in the couch, the blanket, the plates. “What is this?” 

“Research. These mu’fuckas don’t read and sealed this place off a long time ago. There’s other libraries but it’s just for show,” he said. 

He moved forward in the room, gathering up wayward plates on his way, and sat on the edge of the desk. He gestured for you to sit on the couch. You did so, hugging your body and looking at him. 

“What exactly are you?” You asked slowly.

“I think you call us incubi,” he said.

“Sex demon,” you clarified. You raised your eyebrows and fought off a smile. The way he fucked, you believed it. 

“We gain energy from sex, yes,” he said. He crossed his arms, vibrating with nervous energy. You were worried that he was breaking some kind of code by allowing you here. Though from what you saw earlier, it seemed like there were plenty of humans who came here. Why had he never taken you here before? 

“So all this time, you’ve really looked like this?” You asked. You waved to what he looked like now. He was still sexy with thick arms and a strong jaw. You wanted to touch him. You hated this space between you. 

He nodded and looked away from you. 

“Tyrone, please. I need answers,” you said.

Tyrone took a deep breath. He began to explain more about his world. He didn’t precisely know where he came from, but he knew they were tasked with siphoning energy from humans’ dreams. Some do it through fear, some through happy memories, and some through anxiety dreams. He siphoned energy through people’s sex dreams. Sometimes he participated, sometimes he didn’t. He hadn’t siphoned energy by joining with humans for quite a while until you came along.

He explained how his world was ugly, dull, and gray. He was surrounded by petty incubi who saw humans as a food source rather than the gift they were. Every time Tyrone entered a dream, he was blown away by how vibrant humans were. How no matter what they went through, they still dreamed. Still hoped. Still tried. 

And he was tired of living like this. Living like a pest surviving off of scraps. One night, your body really did scream out for him. He beat away other incubi intent on siphoning off your powerful sexual energy and he wasn’t going to interrupt. He honestly wasn’t. But the moment he saw you, he wanted for the first time in his life. 

What he wanted was you. He wanted to see you, talk to you. He spent every moment he was awake waiting for you to fall asleep so that he’d get to hold you. Touch you. Fill you up with him and never let go. He thought by introducing you to many worlds and fantasies, the perfect dream man, that you wouldn’t see past what he wanted you to see. He was so lost inside your body last night that he let the illusion slip. And he was worried that you’d never want to see him again.

You rubbed your belly throughout his speech. This was so unlike anything you were thinking of. You weren’t expecting…this. You processed his words. Some of it you understood and some of it you didn’t. What you took away from it was that he felt like an outsider among his people. And he cared for you, in his own way.

“What does our baby have to do with it? Did you really want one with me or were you going to take it away to live…here?” This was what you really needed to know. The moment of truth. Was he going to steal your baby? Was this how they procreated? Foisted babies on unsuspecting women and then stole them as soon as they were born? 

You felt protective over it already. It was yours. And you would be damned if anyone, Tyrone included, tried to take it from you. You stood up from the couch, too nervous to continue sitting and listening to all of this. You were scared of what would fall from his mouth next.

“I really wanted one with you. But I don’t want to lie. If you had an incubus, I would be required to raise him here. He would also be an anchor point for me in your world. I’d be able to…stay there.”

The weight of his words was like a physical slap. Stay…with you? He’d be able to stay? Live in the real world? 

“What about your…people? Wouldn’t they come for him if he did end up being like you?” Your emotions were all over the place. You were happy, excited, scared, ready to throw up. Underneath it all, underneath all the noise and confusion, you were so damn elated that you shook where you stood.

You didn’t care about the logistics. You didn’t care what it would mean. You’d have your perfect man and a baby to boot. It’d be tough explaining it to your family and friends. They wouldn’t understand the incubus part of it. But you had told them you’d been seeing someone. Getting pregnant this fast wasn’t exactly in the cards, but fuck it. You were tired of not living your life for you. 

“I’d protect us,” he said. He leapt from the edge of the desk as if he were ready to ride into battle this second. He crossed the room towards you, still so careful to not invade your personal space. But you backed up against the nearest bookshelf anyway. His eyes drooped, catching the movement, but he balled his fists at his side. “I’d fight to my last breath to protect you and our baby.”

You smiled at him. Grinned actually. You rubbed your fingers together. This couldn’t be real. But you didn’t care anymore. “So, you…still want to be with me?” 

Tyrone stalked closer, crossing the boundary into your personal space. Your breathing turned quick, heart thumping painfully against your chest. You looked up into his eyes while he crowded you. He smelled like heaven. Something soft, light, and wonderful. 

He brought his hands to either side of your head and leaned against the bookshelf. He dipped his head closer to you and nudged your nose with his. “Have I done such a poor job of letting you know what I feel for you?” 

His voice was soft but deep, skating over you like a physical caress. Your thighs tingled, taking in his scent and looks. He looked damn good in that outfit. It was loose fitting but the color looked good on him. 

You licked your lips and shook your head. He pressed light kisses to your jaw and cheeks, intentionally bypassing your lips. No matter how many times you moved your head, trying to taste his lips again, he moved away at the last second. 

He slid one thigh in between your legs and you gasped, pussy clenching painfully. You gripped onto his shoulders to steady you. 

“So warm,” he said. 

Your fingers flexed on his shoulders as you looked into his eyes. He looked at you like he wanted to eat you up with a spoon. 

He kissed along your neck, driving you wild with his soft, sweet kisses. This was so different from how you’d previously been with him these past few weeks. “Lucky I can’t get yo ass pregnant again,” he whispered against your neck.

“Tyrone!” You screamed. 

He licked your neck. You shivered with a low moan. Your head thumped back against the bookshelf. Tyrone continued to lick and kiss and tickle you. You were turned on, breathing too heavily and feeling so clunky. He was so smooth, big, and strong by comparison. 

He brought his lips back to your jaw and then grazed your lips. You leaned forward but he leaned back at the last minute with a smile. “Tell me you want me,” he said. 

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “I want you,” you said. “I…love you.”

Tyrone grinned and crashed his lips against yours. He grabbed the sides of your head and mashed his lips against yours. It was sloppy, wild, and desperate. Completely at odds with how he was normally. And you loved it. You wanted more. You needed more. 

Tyrone turned you around and walked you backwards towards his desk. He pushed all of his research onto the ground and laid you down like a full feast spread just for him. He tugged your sleep pants down, revealing your legs. He kissed your legs as he pulled it down, leaving nips and bites in his wake.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

He helped you sit back on the desk and pulled your sleep top off. He grinned, taking in your body like it was the first time he was seeing you. He kissed you again, hands trailing down your sides. 

He kissed down your body, stopping to kiss your belly. He lingered there, head bent in prayer or benediction, and then moved lower. He grabbed your legs and spread them wider. He took in your glistening sex and moaned. 

“So fucking wet and pretty, angel,” he said. 

You moaned. “Please.” You couldn’t stop moving and gyrating. The desk was cold beneath your body but you were burning up. You were desperate for whatever he was going to do to you. You just needed him to hurry the hell up. 

Tyrone bent down and his tongue dived into your pussy. Teasing and licking around your clit. He didn’t completely lick it, not yet, content to torture you. “Ouue fuck!” You screamed out. 

Tyrone glowed with your wails and screams. Your legs were flailing, opening and closing around his head. Your hands flew to his hair and tugged on the neat braids. He growled into your pussy, falling forward and flattening his tongue against your pussy. 

He began to finally suckle your clit, slurping up your sloppy juices and moaning at the taste of you. “Please, please, please,” you shook against his heavenly mouth. You were close. So close. Out of your mind with–

“OH!” You moaned and screamed out your pleasure. You jerked and twisted as he still ate you out. He licked up your runaway juices, smacked his lips, and returned to your clit with a satisfied hum. 

He ate you until you calmed down, burning lungs calming down into something more manageable. Tyrone stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hands, grinning and showing off sharp teeth. That only turned you on. You grinned back and kept your legs open. 

Tyrone moved in between your legs so that he could pull you into a sitting position. He kissed you, soft and sweet. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips. Your heart threatened to fly right out of your chest. 

“You mean it?” You asked.

Tyrone pulled back and looked you in the eye. “I really mean it. If you’ll have me, I’ll never let you doubt me again.” 

“I want you,” you said. You tugged on his own pants. You could see his dick tenting them already. His dick sprang free, bobbing in place. The swollen head leaked precum. You licked the palm of your hand and then started pumping his nice, thick dick.

He groaned, eyes half closed, and his lips parting on a sigh. You stroked him faster, using a mix of your spit and his precum to grip him how he liked. His head dropped forward, head bumping against yours.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He only got bigger, feeding from your mix of sexual energy. He gripped your hand, stopping you. You pouted with a tiny whine.

“I wanna cum inside,” he said. He kissed you, taking your protests from your lips before you could say anything. He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his pants. Then he was right back between your legs, pulling you closer to the edge.

He gripped his dick and rubbed it through your slick folds. Your teeth began to chatter as a full body shiver overtook you. You looked down, past your tummy, and watched as he pushed his dick inside.

You shared a low, deep moan as he began to work himself inside. You clutched onto his neck, pulling him towards you and trying to sink onto him quicker. You wanted him deeper. He chuckled at your neediness.

“I don’t wanna hurt the mother of my child,” he said. 

“Shit,” you moaned. Why was that so hot? Why did the thought of carrying his baby make you so insane with desire that you were getting wetter just from the notion? You were pregnant with his baby. Your belly would swell with his child and your titties would get bigger. 

He must’ve had the same thought because he moved his lips down to your breasts and suckled on your titties as he stroked deep inside you. You felt him in your belly, moving and poking the deepest part of you. 

Your legs hiked higher on his hips, opening yourself up further to him. His dick stroked the walls of your pussy, veins dragging against it and making your eyes water. “Oh shit, oh shit. Right there, baby, right there,” you moaned.

“Hmm, talk to me,” he moaned.

“Right there, baby. I’m gon’ cum,” you moaned. Your eyes were wide as you looked at him. He was stroking deep, moving his hips in a steady rhythm. Your orgasm rose in your lower belly like a wave on the ocean, gathering speed and strength.

When it finally rolled over you, you clutched Tyrone to you and screamed loud enough to go through the walls of the villa. You screamed and let him hear how good he was fucking you.

“Hmm, look at you, angel. So fuckin’ pretty cumming for me. It feel good, don’t it? I wish you could see how pretty you are,” he said.

His words of praise only made you twitch harder, shaking and gripping onto him as if he were your only lifeline. “Cum with me,” you managed to croak out.

Tyrone grinned and fucked you harder, stroking with a punishing pace that had you seeing stars once more. Your nails dug into his arms. He showed no indication that it hurt him. In fact, he seemed to like it since his dick twitched inside of you. His strokes turned sloppy and uncoordinated, rutting into you at this point.

Your pussy sucked him in, gripped him tight. “That’s right, angel. Don’t let me go,” he said.

“Never,” you moaned and shook your head.

“Never?” He asked.

“Never, never,” you chanted as another orgasm ripped through you. Your legs closed around his hips and he groaned, breath panting and fanning over you. He finally came, bathing your insides with his cum. 

Hot jets of cum filled you to the brim and he continued to pound into you, biting his lip, and groaning. “Can’t fuckin’ stop,” he groaned.

You screamed and screamed, finally biting into his shoulder to keep from tearing the villa down with your whines and cries. The edges of his world started to turn blurry, growing darker the more you huffed to calm down. 

“No, I wanna stay!” You yelled.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. His dick twitched one last time inside of you. He covered you in kisses as you were pulled steadily from his arms and back to wakefulness. He was no longer inside of you.

A sob hiccuped in your chest. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to be apart from him. Your hand pushed across your cold bed and your head flopped onto the bed. Tears stung your eyes. A hand came around your waist and pulled you closer to a warm, thick body. 

You flipped over, staring into the soft reddish-brown eyes of Tyrone. He looked less demonic here, less animalistic. But he still looked like he didn’t quite belong. 

“T-Tyrone?” You asked.

He grinned and kissed your cheek. “I can stay,” he said.

You screamed and turned over, throwing your entire body on top of him and peppered him with kisses this time. You both screamed and celebrated all night, enjoying this little miracle. You were never giving him up.

Never.

Lordy, if you need some more after that, here ya go! The Secret Tyrone Files

[yandere-yearnings]

I won't keep this up for very long, but I think I do owe it to all my mutuals, followers and those who'd just browse on occasion or who found a safe space in this blog.

My previous account under the same name disappeared about a week ago, and it was sudden enough that I'm sure some of you may have chalked it up to Tumblr deactivating it. In actuality, it was because I deleted it myself.

I haven't been in the best mental state as of recently, even before I first started the blog, but I thought things would get better over time. My intention isn't to turn this into a rant or vent, so I won't expand but, I think all the self-imposed pressure I was placing on myself to write, paired with other factors had just pushed me to the point of breaking. I had a panic attack, and didn't give myself the time to calm down and think things through after, when I had decided to just give up.

My biggest regret is not making at least one final post, because I know how jarring it can be to have someone there one second, and find out they're gone the next. I can't imagine the worry I put some of my friends on here through, nor can I ever apologise enough that I still won't feel guilty.

I have a habit of leaving abruptly like that when I'm overwhelmed. Every time I promise myself I won't do it again, I end up breaking it. At the very least, this time, I'll try and have realistic expectations of myself and take breaks when I need them instead of impulsively deleting weeks and months of time and effort.

It's ironic to me because I'm the type of person who saves every single thing I write just in case anything happens, but I didn't do that with most of the content that I had on this blog — because I wasn't expecting things to turn out this way. Some of my works are probably still floating around Tumblr thanks to reblogs, so if anyone sees anything and lets me know, it'd help me find them again. For the most part, I'll probably have to start over from scratch anyway.

Unfortunately, all my unanswered asks are also gone, and I had a lot of them. I'll try to put out things for the ones I can remember somewhat. If you've sent any in that I never came around to, you're free to send them in again if you still want a response.

This got lengthier than I anticipated, but I hope it was a sufficient enough explanation. I'm sincerely sorry for any distress or just negative feelings I may have caused. I'm sorry to my mutuals who I left without even trying to talk to. I'm sorry that I took away a safe space for some of my followers, because I used to get the sweetest messages about how my writing helped and how my ocs would make everything feel less lonely. I truly hope this can become a place like that again. I'm gonna try my absolute best.

[violetsaffron5]

Dirty Little Secret (2)

Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • ← Chapter 1

↳ 2 | Confessions

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Both you and Satoru have been keeping secrets.

words: 7.1k

cw: restraints, edging, vaginal fingering, oral, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, cum play, praise kink, pregnancy sex

an: thank you to everyone who has read this little two-shot, especially those who have liked, reblogged and left comments. Those seriously keep me going. I'm not always able to reply to them, but I do read all of them and love them, so thank you!

The boutique store bell dings loudly as you run your hand through several silk dresses looking for a new one to wear when you see Satoru again.

You sigh as you walk around the store, listening to the quiet, barely audible music playing on the overhead speakers. You stop to look at a simple black dress with a cinched waist, visualizing the way it would accentuate your curves before grabbing it off the rack to try on.

Satoru hasn’t been around the last few weeks after his wife showed up at the hotel looking for him because he had missed their therapy appointment.

Every time someone would come to the club with a similar shade of hair, wearing sunglasses or you’d hear a boisterous laugh from across the building, your hopes would instantly rise - that it would be Satoru back to watch you dance and whisk you away for the night.

It hasn’t happened. You’d gone home disappointed every night you’ve worked.

“Excuse me,” a soft, tender voice rings through the air at the front of the store, “can you tell me where you keep your…”

The voice sounds familiar like you’ve heard it before, in a different tone, but you’re unable to place it until you round the corner of the aisle you’re in and spot her.

She looks the same as the last time you saw her, a spitting image from your nightmares manifested in real life to torture you for the sins you’ve committed with her husband.

The picture of perfection: long raven hair in loose curls, high-waisted gray pencil skirt, white top, and cropped jacket. She has black heels on which make her slender legs look even more elegant and long, accentuating her height as she talks to the store attendant.

You’re frozen in place, just staring as your heart beats so frantically in your chest that you feel like it could jump out and explode onto the tile of this tiny boutique.

And then the overhead bell dings again, almost silently due to ringing in your ears and thoughts racing through your mind until you see a head of unmistakable white hair walking towards the woman.

Get out.

That’s the only thing you can think as you take a few short, shallow breaths and look at the garment in your hands with a furrowed brow.

It’s so pretty, and you were going to purchase it but now you just need to put it back and leave as quickly as possible.

As you try to calmly walk down the aisle on wobbly legs, back to where you grabbed the dress you find yourself wishing you had superhuman abilities. Preferably one where you could turn invisible or even warp away and end up anywhere in the world, just so you don’t have to be in this situation right now.

“Shit! I’m so, so sorry,” you frantically yelp when you turn the corner, ready to shove the dress onto any rack and sprint out of the store because you’ve just run into Satoru’s wife.

And not only that, you made her spill her coffee all over her well-pressed, tailored outfit.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you place a hand over your stomach, taking a deep breath, silently talking yourself into not vomiting on her as well.

You’re expecting the worst. Who wouldn’t?

Either she’s going to recognize you from the hotel or Satoru has been working on their marriage, going to counseling like she wanted and that’s why you haven’t seen him in almost a month.

She’s going to know who you are, splash the remnants of her coffee all over you in retaliation, or worse.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she places a gentle hand on your upper arm and gives a sincere smile before shifting into a look of concern, “Sweetie, are you okay? You look a little sick.”

There’s a horrible feeling at the pit of your stomach when Satoru walks up from behind his wife, placing his hand on the small of her back lovingly.

His eyes are unimpeded by his glasses, shining brighter and more crystalline than the prettiest of oceans. They sparkle as he looks down at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like it’s some divine justice to find you here talking with his wife.

“Satoru, honey, can you be a dear and pay for her dress? I don’t want to cause her any more trouble.”

“You got it.” He retorts cooly before leaning down to place a peck on her lip causing the butterflies in your stomach to scratch and claw. 

You could have handled her being a bitch. Being called every name under the sun if she knew who you were, which she clearly doesn’t. But being nice, and sweet is so much worse.

She doesn’t deserve what you’ve been doing behind her back.

“No, that’s okay,” you manage to croak out finally, “I was going to put it up anyway.”

“Nonsense.” Satoru cuts in, “I bet this will look great on you. Besides, it looks like you’re having a strange day.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, “Yeah, you could say that.”

His wife cocks her head to the side smiling before turning, leading the way to the register upfront, before curiously stating, “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

You begin to answer, an automatic response whenever anyone says they recognize you, “Oh, I dance at-”

“The dance studio.” Satoru interrupts, “She’s a dance instructor.”

“Uhm. Yup. Some would say that.”

She furrows her brows, looking between the two of you before Satoru speaks again, “Don’t you remember? She was one of the instructors for the kids.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” his wife says with a heavy sigh, and a soft laugh, “I didn’t recognize you out and about.”

“No! No, that’s alright,” you smile weakly, confused, “it’s been… a few years since I’ve worked with them, I guess.”

You make uncomfortable small talk with Satoru’s wife, shifting on your feet, trying to quell your stomach while Satoru talks to the man behind the counter, seemingly about anything under the sun, just to take as much time as he can.

It feels like an eternity has passed when the shop attendant finally hands Satoru the bag your dress has been placed in, along with a receipt before he then turns on his heels, handing it to you, letting the tips of your fingers graze over one another in the process.

“Um, thank you. I’ll… see you around?”

It’s a question for Satoru and you know he’s aware, watching the way you bite your bottom lip waiting for his reply as his wife offers a kind, “of course,” before patting Satoru’s arm and walking away.

“Perhaps,” is all he says in response to you, looking you up and down before turning around to follow his wife.

The club is loud tonight, with more bass-heavy music playing than you would typically choose to have during your sets. The lights are the same; dark around the bar and club with colored spotlights on the stage for the performances.

You haven’t danced in over a month. Feeling sick on an almost nightly basis has caused you to move from centerstage off to the side. Now, rather than taking your clothes off, you’re pouring shots and mixed drinks for tips instead.

Satoru hasn’t been in.

In fact, you haven’t seen him since the day he bought the dress you’re currently wearing.

Whenever you’re missing him more than you care to admit, you find yourself wearing this dress or — if you’re not working — the black Versace sweatshirt you stole from him. The sweatshirt is your favorite token of the times you shared.

Because it’s comfortable and oversized and you look in it while you lazily lie on the couch eating too many snacks. Not that your growing belly seems to mind.

“Oh, my god. Sukuna’s here!” Uraume squeals next to you, causing Manami to poke her head in from the back, immediately searching for Suguru. You turn your back to the bar leaning against it.

No point in looking out in the club for Satoru. You know he’s not here. He never is anymore.

Even though Satoru hasn’t come in, his friends have. And you watch as they throw their money down the drain in bottles and bottles of alcohol, whisking away one or several of the dancers, bartenders, or patrons.

And on those nights you can’t help but wish you were still able to spend time with them. But they don’t pay you any mind, and you don’t ask about Satoru. It’s like you’ve never spent time with them outside of the club.

And that level of rejection stings.

“Uraume, I heard Sukuna say he wants to spend some time with you,” you mention offhandedly, folding your arms across your chest, tilting your head in their direction, and flashing your eyebrows.

They waste no time in grabbing a few of the finest bottles the club has to offer before scurrying off in his direction. You snicker to yourself before Manami pouts, telling you how to mean you are while nodding your head toward a customer that’s just sat at the bar.

You’re met with clear blue eyes when you turn around. Eyes you’ve missed, eyes that have always looked like they can see into your soul and wants to devour you whole if you let them, “Who the fuck was that?”

“Uhm, they’ve seen Sukuna around and have a little bit of a crush- why are you here?”

You’re nervous and fidgety and the glass you’ve picked up to pour a drink feels as if it will fall out of your hands at any moment due to your sweaty palms.

And now, more than ever, you wish you could pour yourself a shot. Or rather drink straight from the bottle and pretend Satoru isn’t sitting in front of you.

Your cheeks heat at the sight of him. He’s always looked good, even more so tonight with his black button-down and black slacks, no shades hiding his gorgeous azure orbs from the world, and white hair strategically messy, hanging over his forehead.

Your heart aches, wanting to reach out and touch Satoru’s hand. To sit in his lap and kiss his lips, to taste the spearmint on his tongue that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you don’t miss.

The good and the bad. You’ve been through both with Satoru.

Now, the unexpected.

“Hear you’re pregnant.”

His voice is clipped with annoyance, eyes wandering your frame as you turn away from him to grab a few bottles. He doesn’t have to order anything, you know what he wants anyway.

“That’s none of your business after you fucking ghosted me.”

“Wanna know how I heard?” He muses, picking up the glass you slide across the bar in his direction before taking a sip, watching you over the rim.

“I don’t care.”

“I got a very interesting phone call this morning that someone leaked it to the press for a lot of money,” he continues anyway and your face could melt from the hole he’s burning in the center of your fucking eyes right now, “you told someone about us.”

You stare back, heart racing, but you don’t have any words to defend yourself. Everyone at the club has been made aware of your… circumstances, and why you switched from dancing to bartending.

But only one person was able to piece it together with a devilish grin, promising to keep your secret. 

Your manager, Mei. 

She watched, day in and day out as Satoru would come in, pay mass amounts of money for your company and take you away with him when he left.

If anyone else had been paying as much attention as her, they would have been able to figure it out too.

“Breaking your NDA,” he continues, swirling the liquid in his cup before taking another swig, “not a smart move. You know, I can sue your ass into the ground for defamation, take everything from you. You and your kid won’t have a home, let alone a leg to stand on. You’ll have to continue being a whore to make ends meet.”

You stare at him, tears threatening to escape the corner of your eye as he stares back, unwavering, emotionless. Your blood is boiling. Pissed that he would come in, in front of everyone, and talk to you this way.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He always has been, but never to you, not like this. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Seems like you weren’t going to bother telling me at all.”

“Did you expect me to just call you up? Say ‘Hey, by the way, I know we’ve been fucking for the last year but now I’m pregnant, surprise!’ while you’re standing next to your wife?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Satoru seethes through clenched teeth as another patron comes to the bar, raising an eyebrow at your obviously shaken demeanor.

You grab the towel on the counter, wiping a few spots where alcohol had splashed while making Satoru’s drink, hands shaking as you choke back a sob, refusing to look at Satoru or the other guests.

“Can I get a-”

“I can’t do this right now,” you interject, shoving the towel in Manami’s hands as she comes up from the back, “I’m going on break.”

You stand, outside, against the brick wall of the club in a dirty ally taking several deep breaths, head tilted back, eyes closed, as you focus on your breathing.

The pregnancy was a shock. You and Satoru had only been together one time, unprotected, and fate decided to play the cruelest of jokes on you.

You cried when you found out. Debated on calling Satoru, unsure of what to do. You’re still not entirely sure what you want to do.

You’re still in the first trimester, so you have plenty of options, though none of them seem all that appealing.

Kids were something you always saw yourself with. Way, way, in the future.

And not from this sort of situation. You had always hoped to be more settled, calmed down, and less wild than you are now, having wanted to live your life to the absolute fullest before bringing life into the world.

But sometimes life has other plans. And now all you can do is move forward and figure out your next move.

The door from the back entrance creeks open, and you know who it is without having to turn your head or open your eyes.

There is one thought that’s been in the back of your mind, should you ever see Satoru again, should he ever find out;

“You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to be involved in any way.” Your voice is quiet, dejected, “I’ll deny the claims to the press,” You open your eyes, watching him from the corner, “I’m not even sure if I want to keep it.”

He nods his head slowly, hands in his pocket, expression almost sad at your announcement, “Maybe we should talk this through before either of us makes any rash decisions.”

The car ride is quiet, and tense, as Satoru takes you to an apartment complex near Shibuya.

It’s not uncommon for him to take you to places you don’t recognize, but you’re more nervous tonight than any other, unsure of what’s going to happen.

You’ve never seen him this mad before.

He doesn’t bother opening the door for you, opting instead to quickly get out of his luxurious car and begin walking to the lobby from the underground parking garage you’re in, expecting you to follow suit.

And you do, diligently, quietly.

Your heels click on the marble flooring, echoing through the silent lobby as you watch Satoru nod his head toward the concierge before stopping at the elevator.

Satoru swipes a card before pressing a button for the penthouse. The ride to the top is the same as the ride here; tense, terse, and the air is thick with anger and words left unsaid.

The elevator opens at a small lobby, with one door directly in front of it where Satoru swipes his card again before opening it. Expecting you to follow him inside.

And once you’re there, your back is immediately pressed against the door, Satoru’s lips on yours in a wild, frenzied, yet passionate kiss.

The kind of kiss where your teeth scrape together, where you wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft tresses as he kisses down your neck before licking a strip up from your chest to cheek.

“Satoru…” it’s not a complaint, even if you meant it to be one.

Having him here and now, in your arms once again, something you didn’t think was going to happen is more than you could have asked for.

Satoru presses his body weight against you, pushing you harder into the door before lifting you by your thighs, and carrying you out of the foyer.

After a few turns, you’re laid gently on a soft surface, Satoru climbing over you as your tongues continue to meld together, until he eventually pulls away, thumb tracing the outline of your now kiss-swollen lips.

“Stay here.” He demands, before getting off the bed and walking to a door on the other side of the room you’re in.

It’s an overly large bedroom with two nightstands on either side of the oversized bed, a dresser across with a mirror to the side of the bed, and modern paintings akin to something an interior decorator would select.

But it’s also filled with objects you recognize. A stand filled with the little black sunglasses he likes to wear at night, a hamper next to the dresser, overflowing with soft black tee shirts he likes to wear under his button-ups.

“Move to the top of the bed.” You're startled from looking around when Satoru emerges, but do as he’s said, resting your head against the softest pillows you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on. Like little clouds brought down from the highest points in the sky, just for you.

He sheds his shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the hamper you saw earlier, before undoing his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clatter before crawling onto the bed, eclipsing your body with a nefarious smirk.

Satoru presses his lips against yours in a slow, sensual kiss, like you’ve never experienced from him before. Your lips move in tandem, tongues tangling together as you relax, melting into the way his large hands slide down the length of yours while straddling your hips.

He smirks when you let out a breathy sigh before raising both your arms above your head, crossing your wrists, and using a soft white fabric to tie them to the bedframe.

You watch with big doe eyes as he tests the knots he’s created, making sure they’re not going to break loose before looking at you with softer eyes than you’ve seen all night, maybe ever. Satoru studies your face, eyes flickering across your features before his gaze shifts down.

“Pretty dress,” he pulls on the shoulder strap letting it snap against your skin when he lets go, “is this the one you were buying when you spilled coffee on my wife?”

Your brows furrow, realizing just how helpless you are in this position before swallowing thickly, answering quietly, “Y-Yes.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, fingertips gliding over the skin of your chest causing goosebumps to form before grabbing the thin silk fabric at your breasts-

“What-”

He rips the fabric open, exposing your bare chest.

“A- ”

Another tug and the fabric rips down to your navel.

“Shame.”

Your chest is heaving, tits rising and falling in anticipation, wondering what he’s going to do next.

You’d be upset that he just ripped an incredibly expensive dress if there wasn’t a fire burning in your core, desire running rampant, waiting for him to touch you in all the ways you’ve been dying for the last few months.

Satoru leans over you, pulling out a silk black fabric from his pocket, gently sliding it over your head to cover your eyes. It’s so dark you can’t see a thing out of it and it fits so snugly there are no cracks to make out any light.

You turn your head a few times, trying to find an angle that lets you see something but it’s useless. 

Satoru sighs, content while sucking a few small marks on your neck before nipping and licking his way to your breast, slipping a nipple in his mouth while palming the other.

Your back arches off the bed, wrists tugging on the smooth fabric tied around your wrists as he pinches and tweaks each nipple with his thumb and forefinger, gently tugging on the other with his teeth.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, thrusting your hips up to try and meet his, to find stimulation while he’s rolling his fingers and tongue over your hardened buds.

He chuckles, watching how you shamelessly squirm beneath him in pleasure, cock straining in his slacks from the sight.

Satoru loves seeing you like this. All needy and helpless, waiting for you to inevitably beg him to fuck you. And he will. But not yet.

You don’t deserve it yet.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when he lets go of your breast with a pop, squeezing the other before letting his hands roam to your waist and hips, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses in his wake, dipping his tongue in your belly button.

You lift your hips when he moves the fabric upwards, making it easier to allow the dress to pool at your waist, exposing the unreal wet spot that has formed at the center of your panties, soaking them.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs more to himself than you, palming his hard cock through his briefs at the sight before massaging the plush skin of your thighs, lowering himself between them.

“Fuck, Satoru!” You cry out when he gives an experimental lick up the center of your panties, leaving a too-soft, too-gentle kiss right on your neglected clit before moving to kiss and lick your thighs.

You want nothing more than to have at least one of your hands free to thread through his soft white hair, keeping him at your center to extinguish the flames that are swallowing you whole right now.

You attempt to close your legs around his head in sheer neediness, but Satoru pushes your thighs apart.

“Keep your legs open.” He commands, forcing a loud whine to leave your lips.

“Satoru, please, I need you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, snapping the band of your panties to expose your glistening pussy to him. He licks his lips at the sight, running two thick fingers through your slippery folds.

“Oh god,” you moan out, much to his amusement, rutting your hips in a poor attempt at keeping the slightest amount of stimulation he just gave.

“Need me here, baby?” He asks condescendingly, watching you through his long, thick snowy lashes as you gasp, feeling his tongue run up your center, “fuck, you taste so good.”

“Please-pleasepleaseplease,” you’re begging while he teases, letting his tongue explore every part of your newfound sensitivity.

And then he just stops.

You try your best to look around, unable to see anything still but you can feel the smirk that’s spread across his face right now against you.

“Satoru,” you’re whiney, needy and you want to keep rutting your hips to fuck yourself on his tongue but he’s moved his hands to your hips, halting any movement. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps your legs spread wide open and hands cemented on your hips to keep you from moving.

“Satoru… please, please fuck me, baby, please.”

Normally that would work, begging for him to make you cum, but not tonight.

Satoru laughs into you, the vibrations from his voice shooting to the tips of your fingers to your toes, causing them to curl.

He’s teased you before, but tonight is different, more cruel. He’s still pissed and he’s making it known with the way he won’t let you have any stimulation.

“Please… I need you,” you pant out in desperation, voice so deliriously needy you don’t have any time to be embarrassed about how badly you want him, need him right now.

He perks at the trembling of your voice, watching as you lay your head back on the pillow in defeat and he laughs. Hot breath fanning your core before he enthusiastically licks along your folds, letting go of your hips to sink two fingers into your cunt, easily finding your sweet spot.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he focuses on rapidly flicking his tongue across your clit until you’re moaning all staccato and pretty for him, pulling on the restraints hard as you shatter onto his hand when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

He works you through your release, watching you shiver and tremble, walls fluttering so delicately around his fingers. He’s losing his patience, losing his will to keep himself from you any longer.

When you come down from your high, head lolled to the side, Satoru pulls the blindfold off to reveal a devious glint in his eye.

“Is it mine?” He asks suddenly.

“I-What?”

“The baby. Is it mine?”

It’s something that’s been nagging at him since he found out you were pregnant.

Sure, when he asked last time you were together, you told him you weren’t seeing anyone outside of him, and that made him happier than it should have at the time.

Now he needs to know if everything he’s done over the last few months has been worth it. That his absence from you has been worth it.

“Yes-yes, it’s only been you, baby. Only you.” The corners of your eyes are wet, tears having escaped with nowhere to go with the blindfold on, “the baby’s yours.”

Satoru’s cock twitches and jumps at your confirmation, unable to keep himself from you any longer, so he leans down and licks up your cheek to the corner of your eye before pressing a tender kiss to your lid.

“Satoru, can I-” you tug on the silky white ropes still binding you to the headboard, “I need to touch you.”

As soon as Satoru unties the knots, your hands are cupping his face as you hastily kiss him, letting your hands linger on his broad shoulders, down to his chest and hard abdominals.

When he pulls away, you latch yourself to him, sitting up as he sits back on the balls of his feet, never breaking the kiss. Your hands easily find the waistband to his briefs, sliding them down to free his hard length.

He groans in relief as soon as you grab his cock, tip red and sticky with precum as you use your thumb to spread it down his length, pumping several times as helps you out of the tattered remains of your dress. 

Satoru grabs your hips, tugging towards the middle of the bed so he can line his cock with your entrance, running the tip through your soaked folds several times before rubbing his sensitive tip in small circles on your clit.

He’d tease you until the end of time and space just to watch the way you writhe under his touch in desperate desire and anticipation.

But he’s not that patient today, not after not being able to have you for so long.

“Fuck-holy fucking shit-” he groans, throwing his head back as he presses his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “you’re good, so, so good to me, baby.”

Your back is arched off the bed as he fully seats himself inside you, running his hands along your breasts and waist, stopping at your stomach, staring almost longingly.

Satoru helps adjust your legs over each shoulder, locking your ankles behind his head as he immediately starts pumping into you at an unrelenting pace.

You feel nothing but Satoru as he leans down, pressing your knees to either side of your head, kissing you feverishly as he sucks small bruises onto the smooth columns of your throat, at that spot just under your ear that always makes you sigh.

“Right there, keep going,” You beg as your walls tighten around his cock like a noose, soft walls sucking him in, begging him to stay.

He would. He’d live inside you for all eternity if you’d let him.

Satoru brings his hand to the base of your neck, squeezing slightly, “I fucking love you. I really fucking do.”

Your brows furrow, gasping out a surprised moan, watching him with upturned brows at his confession, one you had convinced yourself wasn’t real, one that was due to drugs and sex.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Satoru, I-I,” You’re stammering, trying to find the words.

This isn’t something you’ve ever planned on saying, a feeling you’ve been trying to keep buried in the darkest pits of your heart, trapped away in a tiny box that you’d throw into the ocean and never see again if you could.

This is too much, he’s too much, but you can’t keep running from the feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long.

“I do, baby -oh, my god- I love you,” Your hands are tugging him closer so your lips meet fervently as his hips continue to wildly piston into you.

It’s angelic to him, the sound of your voice, your confession. Everything you do, so opposite of him but allowing him to corrupt you in unimaginable ways, sinfully so.

“Say my name, tell everyone.” He growls into your ear, slamming his hips into yours impossibly harder.

“Satoru, S’toru, S’toru” you chant deliriously, over and over again as he thrusts his hips until your orgasm rips through you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you.

He makes you cum so many times it’s impossible to keep track, and he’s lost count too, but he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer.

“Cum again, baby,” he tangles his hand into your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcing you to look up at him, “you can do it, you’re such a good girl, so pretty - cum on my cock.”

There’s not much you can do but listen, walls spasming, legs shaking, back arching off the bed until your soft breasts meet his chest. He kisses you again, spitting into your mouth, moaning against him as his tongue plays with yours.

He thrusts for a few moments that feel like an eternity, gripping your hair so hard you’re convinced he might rip it out until he cums so hard he’s positive he would have gotten you pregnant if you already weren't.

Satoru watches your chest heave, tits rising and falling so beautifully with each breath you take before he sucks in a breath, nuzzling into your neck and pulling out with a wince.

He’s shameless, so he watches the way his seed spills out of you, drips down your ass, and onto the sheets of his bed.

He chuckles when you shutter, pulling your hips away from him due to over-sensitivity when he runs his fingers through your folds, dipping two inside you to coat them in his release before shoving them to the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Good girl,” he whispers while you roll your tongue over his digits the best you can, sucking on them as he pulls them out of your mouth with a soft pop.

You lay your head back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded and a goofy grin on your face. He lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss you, letting his tongue explore every crevice, tasting himself on your tongue while helping you roll to your side as he slides in behind you.

“Look at you,” Satoru whispers, blue gaze looking at the way your bodies lay together in the mirror across the bed, fingers nibbly tracing your belly, drawing several small infinity symbols, lost in thought, “Gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment while you stare back at him, watching the way he nuzzles into your hair, and kisses your neck and shoulder gently.

“I want you to keep it. I want to see you glowing,” he mutters quietly, “so big and round, full of me.”

You take a deep breath, looking away from the mirror before letting out a low, self-deprecating laugh because this isn’t a good thing, is it? You’re newly pregnant with a married man’s child.

There’s no way this is going to end well.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks, confused when you pull away from his grasp, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“To pee. The last thing I need right now is a UTI.”

He hums, rolling over onto his back pointing in the direction of the attached bathroom, shamelessly watching the way your hips sway before you close the door.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking over your features.

Nothing looks different. You still look like the same person you were three months ago, albeit a little more tired.

You’ll have to find a new norm. With Satoru… his wife and two other children. All of them will thoroughly hate you when they find out.

Which is absolutely inevitable judging by how excited Satoru seems to be.

The only mild saving grace is they’ll probably hate him as well. But you don’t want that. Not really.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes. Not those of love or pleasure but of confusion.

Confusion about the direction your life is heading and what you’re supposed to do now. Satoru is married, with a family of his own. He doesn’t owe you anything. After all, he was just a client you let yourself get carried away with.

Will you be a single mother? Will his other children hate you and your child? Will they want to be involved in their life growing up, will you even want them to be?

These are a few of the questions that race through your mind, but there are so many more, and none to be answered tonight.

You wipe your face with your hands, turning away from the mirror as several tears stream down your cheek. These hormones are going to be a real pain in the ass, you can already tell.

After using the restroom, you splash cool water on your face, trying your best to hide the evidence of the tears that escaped.

Satoru’s quiet when you re-emerge, eyes flickering between yours as he hands you a velvety, white robe to cover yourself in. It’s oversized, likely his, but rather than using it he opts to stay shirtless with baggy grey sweats.

He gives you space, noticing the red rings around your eyes, letting you look around his apartment at your leisure. You don’t go far, not wanting to overstay your welcome, especially since you just fucked your late-night lover on his marital bed.

The thought makes your stomach churn.

Walking down the hall from his bedroom to his living room, you take your time looking at the few personal photos that hang on the wall. All of his children.

His son is clearly the oldest, with dark black hair, a spitting image of his mother while his younger daughter looks like she could be Satoru’s twin with matching snow-driven hair. They both were lucky enough to inherit his crystalline eyes.

They’ll both grow up to be little charmers, just like their father.

You notice two things as you make your way from the hall to the living room, continuing to look around your surroundings.

One, all of the decor and furniture, looks like it belongs in a catalog. It’s modern but doesn’t give a homey feel. Like it’s been primarily unused.

And second, in every photo you’ve found, his wife isn’t present in any of them.

“Satoru. Where are we?”

It’s obviously his penthouse, but it looks like it hasn’t been lived in, ever. An open concept with the kitchen and living room divided by a small half wall, the kitchen is filled with the newest appliances one could ever hope and dream of having.

One of the walls in the living room is all floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the most gorgeous view of Shibuya you’ve ever seen, the city lights bright, still roaring to life in the dead of night.

You watch as Satoru walks to the living room with a glass of water, setting it on the glass coffee table before sitting on the sofa.

“I’ve separated from my wife.”

“What? Why?” You turn to him, wide-eyed and confused, heart in your throat at the news, too much excitement coursing through your veins, where it doesn’t belong.

“We just… grew apart. We married young and had kids right away. Over the years, we realized we wanted different things.”

You nod slowly, turning to look at him through the corner of your eye, “I thought you were in counseling. I heard… at the hotel, last time we were together.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting back on the couch, long legs spread in front of him, “we tried for a while, but we’re too different now, want different things.”

It’s quiet for a few moments while you turn your attention back out the window, viewing the Shibuya skyline. There’s some shuffling behind you before Satoru wraps his arms around your stomach, pulling you into him.

“I want to be with you.” A chill runs down your spine at his quiet admission, your eyes flickering up to meet his through the reflection of the mirror.

You place your hands gently over his, leaning into his touch, heart beating so loud you can hear it in your ears. 

“Why would you want to be with me? I don’t fit into your world.”

A few months ago you wanted nothing more than to believe he actually loved you when he said it that night. But now that he’s telling you he wants you, that he left his wife and wants to make this work, you’re not sure if you can.

“Besides, what’s the press going to say, the people who voted for you, once they find out about your infidelity, that you got a stripper pregnant and you left your wife for her? This… this is too much, Satoru.”

But that’s why he wants to be with you. Because you’re so different than what his life has become.

Lies, sneaking around, constantly having to save face for his family's sake and his wife’s wellbeing. At least when he’s with you he can truly be himself.

Wild and crazy, calm and relaxed. You’ve seen it all in your short time together, helping him escape the loneliness he’s always been riddled with.

Satoru didn’t mean to fall in love with you, and he’s not sure when it happened. It could have been the moment he first saw you on stage, the most beautiful woman he’s sure he’s ever laid eyes on, or it could have been when he realized you liked to spend time with him and not his money or things he can provide.

You’re the only person he’s been with within his marriage. He hated himself after your first night together, but being with you is so freeing, in ways he hasn’t known, having been tied down to his overbearing wife for years, that he couldn’t stop himself from coming back for more.

After a few months, he realized he hated the way other men would try to garner your attention, and knew they couldn’t treat you like he could. Couldn’t match your energy the way he can.

“I want you to quit stripping.”

“Uhm, no? I like what I do, why would I stop?”

He sighs, it’s heavy, frustrated. And honestly, he wasn’t expecting a fight since he can take care of you in ways you’ve never even considered before.

“The papers, journalists, people on the street. They’re all going to call you a myriad of names, tear you apart and rip into your past to bring you down. It’ll be easier if you quit while we’re ahead.”

Also because he hates the ways guys look at you in the club. Hates the thought of someone else being able to put their hands on you.

If you did it with him, what would stop you from letting another man come and whisk you away from him?

“I’m not going to quit my job because of the decisions you made, Satoru.”

He runs his hands over his face, groaning, “fine, fuck! Just… I can…” he stops to think, waving his hands in front of him a little, “I can change the conversation. Say I support you with your career.”

“So you’ll lie?”

“Not exactly. I’ll just flip some words around and make it work.”

His reputation is ruined, nobody is going to accept him and his wife separating. Not when he’s built his entire career around being a family man. He has to find a new way to work this, otherwise, his career will be ruined too.

“Is that what you do… twist words until you get your way?”

“That’s part of the job, babe.”

He comes back behind you, grabbing your hand, leading you through his living room, down the hall, and back to his bedroom, “we can worry about all of this later. Let’s just be together before shit hits the fan.”

Satoru lays you back on the bed, nestling himself between your thighs. You accept the slow deep strokes he gives, unlike any you’ve ever experienced from him before.

You stay like this until reds, purples, and blues flitter across the sky with the rising of the sun, until you’re both spent, falling asleep in each other's arms.

“Is this your wife’s?” Your staring at the dress Satoru is handing you, early in the morning with a disgruntled look on your face.

“I’m not that insane. I bought it for you.”

You squint your eyes, judging him for buying you clothes to keep here before having actually spoken to you about it. You begrudgingly snatch the dress from his clutches and put it on, opting not to cause a fuss over something as trivial as that.

It’s a little snug, a little smaller than you would have picked out for yourself, but you’re not really in a position to argue when you have nothing else to leave the apartment in.

Lest you go naked, but something tells you Satoru would rather have an aneurysm than let that happen.

He’s in a white button-down, black slacks and is putting on his watch as he stares at you through the mirror in his bedroom.

“Just so you know, there’s going to be journalists outside waiting on us.”

“O-oh, um… Why?”

He takes a deep breath, walking over to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“News broke last night about you being pregnant and my separation.”

It’s the reason he went to you last night and picked you up from the club. He knew this was going to happen overnight and he wanted to save you from having to deal with it alone.

You nod and don’t ask any more questions as you go down the elevator to the front lobby of the apartment complex, squeezing Satoru’s hand as he puts on his dark square shades, offering you a pair to help cover your face a little.

You’re sick to your stomach, not sure if it will ever settle. This isn’t how you thought your life would turn out, the pregnant mistress of a well-known politician, but you have no choice now but to see it through to the end.

When the doorman opens the lobby door, lights flash, cameras shutter and there’s a loud buzzing from journalists asking questions you can’t make out filling the open space.

Satoru makes his way through the crowd, following someone in a black suit to a fancy black car out on the street, holding the door open so you can squeeze into the back seat.

Now, all you can hope is that the two of you can make it work, and he won’t leave you and your child for another woman, like he did his wife.

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui

[sweetlummie]

The hell am I doing here?

Mood board made by my lovey love @iamasaddie tysm 💗💗

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Creep!Joel Miller x plus size!fem!reader

!!! 18+ content. If you’re a minor go away !!!

A/n: Here we are! My 3rd installment to my now series! I hope the smut parts are good and makes sense! Also not proofread so any and all mistakes are mine! As always constructive criticism is welcome! Enjoy! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 🫶🫶💗💗

Warnings: creepy behavior, stalking, facefucking kinda- , cum eating, lmk if I missed any!

W/c: 1.4k

Creep (pt.1) Weirdo (pt.2)

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・

It had been a few days since your sleepover with Sarah, you left their house in a rush and with so much guilt. When Sarah called and asked why you left before she woke up you made the sorry excuse saying you had to do homework because you forgot that you had an early due date. She was a little confused but she didn’t press on. Joel on the other hand was dying, this man didn’t know how to cope with what had transpired between you both. You hated him now didn’t you? Every day he hoped to receive a call or a text from you saying you didn’t mean those harsh words you told him that night. You didn’t mean them at all and you loved him. But that didn’t happen. He was losing his mind- he needed to see you, needed to hear you speak, needed you in your entirety.

Sarah had tried to get you to hang out at her house again but you always refused. You would only hang out with her if it was at your house or it was out in town. You didn’t want to see Joel, you didn’t even want to see Sarah still consumed with your guilt. But you couldn’t just ghost your best friend no matter how bad you felt it wasn’t fair for her to be punished for your bad decisions.

Sat alone in your room you’d often think about how he made love to you.. No matter how awful you felt you couldn’t help but put your hand in your panties trying to replicate the delicious feel of Joel. Too often did you masturbate to the thought of his thick cock or his thick fingers stretching you out perfectly. The more you thought about it the more you felt bad for how you reacted but there was always a nagging voice inside saying that you did the right thing. That what you both did was highly inappropriate and should never happen again. As you went through your post-nut clarity you decided that no more. You had to move on, it was for the best. Even if it hurt you to the core, it had to be done.

.。･:*♡ ♡*:･。.

Summer had passed and Sarah had gone back to college. It was also radio silent from both yours and Joel’s ends. Little did you know that a few days earlier Joel lost it and began keeping tabs on you. Before work he’d drive past your dad’s house to see if your car was still in the driveway or not. During his lunch he’d slowly drive through the different parking lots of your college to spot your car. When he’d get off of work he’d pass by your dad’s house once more, just to be sure you got home safely.

After a few days of his stalking, he had spotted you walking out of college. You looked so beautiful and radiant, he smiled at the sight of you. His smile quickly soured when he saw who you were with, who was making you laugh. You were with some lanky kid, he had seen the look on that boy’s face and he knew that look all too well. A boy like him couldn’t handle a plump goddess like you. Only he could. Why did that asshole feel so entitled to be in the mere presence of his girl?

Enraged, Joel sped off to his house. Once there he made his way to his room. He took out his phone. Fuck it. He was gonna text you and demand answers as to who that kid was and why he felt the right to be around you.

Baby. who the fuck were you with today?

WHO fucking was he?

Why was he so chummy with you huh?

Answer me.

He spammed your phone and when you wouldn’t answer after several hours he took matters into his own hands. Getting in his truck he sped to your house, he knew your dad was working late for these past few weeks so he wasn’t concerned with getting caught. He knocked loudly at your house door calling your name.

Eventually you came out with an angry look on your face. “What the hell are you doing here?! I thought I told you not to look for me.” You spat out in anger. “You gonna tell me who that boy was princess? Or do I need to fuck that information out of you brat?” He replied in a low growl as he shoved his way inside your house slamming the door behind him and locking it. You walked backwards towards the living room. “What are you talking about Joel? What boy?” you asked as he inched closer to you, making you fall back on the couch.

“Don't play coy baby.. That boy you were smilin’ and laughin’ with earlier today as you were leavin’ campus.” he chuckled darkly as he towered over you. He gently grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. “Don't tell me you forgot how good I stretched that pussy of yours some nights ago. Why you doin’ this baby hm?”

You gulped as your lips trembled, why was this turning you on? The simple fact he just admitted to stalking you should’ve turned you off- should’ve made you kick him out but it had the opposite effect on you. You shifted your thighs as you felt your arousal leak out of you. “Sorry… he was just a friend.. Nothing serious..” You didn’t know why you felt the need to explain yourself to him. He wasn’t your boyfriend and you promised yourself you’d stay away from him but here you were falling into his arms again. “Thas not good enough baby. I don't like when my girl is laughin’ around someone who ain’t me. Oh and don’t think I’m lettin’ you go unpunished for ignorin’ me either. So be a good little girl and show me how sorry you are.”

He spoke condescendingly as you felt butterflies in your stomach. Fuck morals, fuck your principals, you let your arousal take over your actions as you stood up and got on your knees. You looked up at him and went to unbutton his pants. “Thas a good girl.” He encouraged you as you freed his rock hard, throbbing cock. “Go on baby, put ‘em in your mouth.” You’ve never sucked cock before so this was all entirely new but you had seen women give blowjobs to men in different pornos you’ve browsed. You spat on your hand and began to pump his cock, he groaned as he bucked his hips into your hand. You leaned down and kitten licked his tip, before you took him in your mouth. You only made it halfway when you began to gag and tear up. “Easy princess go slow f’me. Don’t hurt yourself. Breath through your nose.” He encouraged and you nodded your head. Doing as Joel instructed you eventually were able to take him completely in your mouth. You had a steady pace that was making him whimper out and his thighs tremble. “Fuck so good baby..” He grabbed your hair and began thrusting in your mouth. At first he started out slow then as if something snapped inside of him he began to thrust his hips harshly and wildly. Your eyes widened as more tears spilled out and you held onto his hairy thighs for stability. After a few more ruthless thrusts he came down your throat.

He pulled out and grabbed your chin. “Open wide baby.” You opened your mouth to show the pearly spend that was inside. “Thas a good girl. Now swallow it all. Don’t waste a single drop.” You closed your mouth and swallowed. The salty taste of it all overbearing your senses and it slightly hurt your raw throat as it went down. He brought you up to your feet and placed a rough kiss on your mouth.

“There we go baby. That wasn’t so hard. Now stop ignorin’ me and maybe I’ll fuck you again real soon.” You were dumbfounded, completely gobsmacked. You just nodded your head as Joel smiled darkly. “Good.. Gonna get goin’ now baby.. Remember your pussy is mine. Your little throat is mine. You are mine.” You watched as he left your house and heard him drive away. You were deeply enamored at this point, he had imprinted on you. You knew were completely fucked.

* ・‥…━━━━━━━ *˖◛⁺♡ ━━━━━━━…‥・