#the most happy on ao3 I just want to thank you

[milla-frenchy]

3 sides of a man

3k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you meet the biggest seducer of the DEA. There’s no way you will fall for him. Right? Warnings: 18+ mdni. seducer!javi as we know him, soft!javi, somnophilia, oral (m), piv, creampie. No age specified.

a/n: this is written for @burntheedges 's roll-a-trope challenge. I got secret relationship with Javi 🧡 Thank you for the event Kate 👌❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏 @morallyinept for your Javi's dialogue page 🌻

It was already daylight when you woke up, rays of the sun warming your bare back, the sheets a mess at the foot of the bed. You were facing him, the sun only reaching his hand, placed on your pillow. He was asleep, naked, and his tanned ass was a call to sin. His bent knee was pressed against your bare thigh. You loved when he slept in your bed, which would keep his scent for a few days. A mixture of cold tobacco, cologne, sex. Of him.

Javi.

He sighed in his sleep, rolling onto his back. Revealing his happy trail that seemed to trace a light line down to his bush, and his soft, sleeping cock. Soothed.

You bit your lip, trying to resist the temptation. Your gaze trailed up his body, to his biceps that bore the mark of a hickey you had given him during the night, while he was fucking you slowly, lying between your thighs, keeping you consensually trapped in his arms. Desire overflowed from your folds as you thought about it. Quickly, you raised your gaze to his beautiful face, his carefully groomed mustache, his cheek scarred with the crease his pillow had given him. His messy hair, both from the dance of your two bodies and from the night of sleep.

You were so fucked.

When you joined the ambassador's office, fresh from the US, you didn't expect to break some of your principles. The most important being having a secret relationship with the biggest player of the DEA, who regularly checked out every woman in the department, and used his charm to get around the administrative burden that drove him crazy.

Peña

The first time you saw him act that way, was actually the day you met him. You were sitting in the hallway of the DEA, waiting to be received by the ambassador. You saw this man, wearing clothes that seemed glued to him and a little dated. Dark hair, brown eyes, a cigarette between his lips, walking next to another agent- a blond one. When they passed one of the assistants, the dark-haired man turned around to check her ass, and you hadn't been able to stop yourself from exclaiming a high sigh. He looked at you and paused for a moment before catching up with his coworker.

The ambassador came out of her office at the moment they reached you, and introduced you. Their names were Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. Peña held your hand for half a second too long, and your frown made him smile slightly, until your hands separated. As if you had become a challenge he had to win.

There was no way he would think you would be receptive to his play, even if he was one of the most gorgeous men you ever met.

That man was surely a seducer, but you noticed soon he was a mystery. He loved to check women out, but mostly he seemed to love the power of seduction he naturally had over them. He didn't use flirtatious looks, he didn't have a special or warm attitude. And despite all that, he didn’t have to try hard, they fell for him. You couldn't help but roll your eyes each time you were seeing their eyes sparkle when he spoke to them, or the way they would wrap a lock of hair around their finger.

They did not see that his gaze on them was fake, almost cold. That he just used them to get rid of what was bothering him in his hunt for Escobar. They didn’t realize they were the asset of the moment, forgotten as soon as he got the information or paper he wanted. Replaced quickly by some next asset. You didn’t understand how they could fall for him so easily. 

Of course, he quickly realized you were really not receptive to his play. You didn’t giggle when he spoke to you, you didn’t lean forward when you had something to ask him. You talked to him neutrally at best, but mostly coldly, calling him “Peña”, always. He gave you a piercing look once or twice, seeing that his charm wasn't working with you. 

You even confronted him one day, when you turned towards him on the stairs, and he didn’t have time to look up from your ass fast enough. You started to climb the stairs again, letting out a “no need to look, Peña. You’ll never fuck me.” He raised his hand towards him, ready to answer you, when you cut him off: “and don’t offend me by saying that’s not what you want. You won't pin my name on your list of conquests.” After that, you caught his gaze on you sometimes, but in a different way. Like a burglar searching patiently for the combination to a safe. 

You kept hearing conversations of agents talking about him and how he used his informants to know more about the sicarios. Or even some conversations between him and Steve in the corridors of the DEA:

"Are you fucking her?"

"Sleep with a communist? That would be downright un-American." 

Peña barely hid the sarcasm in his voice.

Nevertheless, you quickly learned that the man you only took for a seducer happened to be one of the best agents of the DEA. Serious, invested, abrupt. Bossy. Never hesitating to speak his mind. He had a bad reputation among some of his male colleagues. He obviously didn’t care at all, and even seemed to enjoy it, but you hated it. Hated the injustice, hated the fact that he was criticized for doing his job better than them. He wasn’t your favorite person in the world, far from it, but his professionalism couldn’t be questioned in good faith.

Another thing his colleagues or superiors might have hated was his sassiness. Sometimes you didn't even know if you should be shocked or amused by his condescending insolence.

One day he saw your half amused, half embarrassed smile, even though you tried to hide it behind your hand. From the day you met, Javi was determined to make you look at him differently. Not even like the other women did. He wanted you to really see him. The real Javi that he never showed to anyone since he moved to Columbia. Step by step, the way you looked at him obsessed him. He didn't care about other people's opinions, except for yours. Partly because you resisted him and he wasn't used to it, but also because he could sometimes see parts of your real personality that you were hiding, just like him, and it was as if he knew instinctively he would like it. So the day he heard your suppressed laughter, he knew how to behave around you.

Javier

What you didn’t know was that the man he was going to show you would make his way into your mind. Offering you sensitivity, even softness sometimes, you didn’t expect. His smile for you was warm. At first, you thought he was playing with you, acting differently just to have you. And there was no way it would happen. You tried to change the way you were beginning to perceive him. But the sincerity he showed, so different from his initial attitude, was slowly winning you over.

It took him months, but you started to call him Javier, instead of Peña. And you realized one day that you liked the sound of his first name on your lips a little too much. 

You didn't roll your eyes anymore when he was talking to you, and he seemed to act slightly differently with the women at the office. After a year in the DEA, he was not only making you smile, but laugh too, and you admired the way he stood up to the ambassador. Or the way he walked down the halls in his leather jacket. Or the way he held his cigarettes.

Your brain tried to warn you that you were screwed, but your heart silenced it. An internal battle your brain was already losing.

He became almost a friend, with whom you spoke about your previous lives. He told you about Loredo, his father and the ranch. You knew that he kept certain aspects of his life secret, but patiently, you were hoping to learn more. You told him about your childhood, in Texas too, your studies, how you had joined the Ambassador's office.

And finally, he became a friend. A friend you suddenly kissed at home one day, before he pinned you against the wall of your dining room, letting out an impatient “I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” between two kisses, to which you responded with a breathless “shut up, Javi,” your fingers lost in his tousled hair. “Javi, uh?” he growled, pushing the head of his cock in your cunt.

He fucked you against the wall, and you made him promise never to tell anyone about it, demanding nothing else from him. You really thought it would be a one time thing. Except that the way his cock spread your folds and brushed your g spot was a little too perfect. And the way he talked to you through it, half spanish half english, was way too intoxicating to stop, now that you had tasted it.

And now his tight jeans seemed to scream “fuck me” at you every time you saw him at the DEA.

You saw a clear change in his attitude after the second time you fucked. Probably because he felt you tense up when Colleen showed him her new nail polish. You couldn’t help yourself, even though you quickly pulled yourself together. But not fast enough for him not to notice. He avoided Colleen, and didn’t try to tease you about it. Didn’t play. That night, you told him he could fuck whoever he wanted, just before impaling yourself on his thick cock, after you pushed him against the couch.

“Really? You wouldn't mind?” he smiled, before grabbing your hips and imposing the rhythm he wanted. Or rather, the rhythm he knew you wanted.

You didn’t mention it again, and Colleen never showed him her nails again. He didn’t give compliments in a seductive way anymore either, didn’t turn around to look at every woman he passed in the hallway.

You loved it a little too much, when after you barely opened the door to your apartment, he would slip through the crack and wrap his arm around your waist, holding you tight against him while his lips were already pressing against yours. Your hand resting on his shoulder covered by the leather of his jacket, helped you to keep your balance as he was spinning you around. A spin that made you lose your mind for a moment while your heart didn't know how to stop spinning at all.

It was more and more difficult for you to hear some of his coworkers calling him an asshole. You asked him why he only showed them that side of himself, while you knew how much he had to offer.

“Why would I show them anything else? We work together, they do their job, I do mine, that’s all,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t care about them,” he added, looking you straight in the eye, which made you swallow loudly, hearing his way of expressing in half-words how special you had become to him.

And on top of his professional skills, he fucked you like a god, making you chant “Javi” in the darkness of your or his bedroom. He was way too hot, enjoying an after sex cigarette, lying on the couch in his jeans, looking at you with his messy hair, as if he already wanted to fuck you again.

Javi 

He respected your choice to keep your relationship a secret, but couldn’t help but let his hand rest on the small of your back for a little too long, when he followed you to the elevator. He was torturing you with his sad puppy eyes when you said ‘no’ to him, for whatever professional reason. Forcing you to frown when someone else was nearby, to make him stop. Then he would stop, smiling, and you would fall a little more for him.

It made Steve smile once or twice, clearly not fooled.

“Are you gonna see Vanessa after work, Javi?” he asked him once, in your presence. You didn’t know who Vanessa was, but the way your heart suddenly curled up on itself made you think that your brain was definitely right, months ago.

“No,” Javi answered, visibly annoyed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been there.”

Steve smirked before leaving the office.

“You’re ok?” asked Javi, eyebrows furrowed, concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied through gritted teeth, trying to catch your breath after holding it for what felt like far too many seconds. You left for a meeting, while he was rubbing his fingers anxiously.

The thing is, you loved a little too much how he kissed your lips, your nose, your neck. Feeling his moustache move down your shoulder, kissing your skin without stopping before reaching one of your nipples, sucking, nibbling, licking it. Everything about him was sensual and feline. Soft. He was made to love, kiss, fuck. And you realized that you couldn't do without him anymore. And that your heart couldn't bear to share him with someone else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked you that night, at your place, just after you hung your jacket on the coat rack.

“Talk about what?” 

He tilted his head to the side, and added gently “come on baby, don’t play with me.” 

You tried to smile. Tried to shoo away the invisible hands that were gripping your heart, squeezing it like a lemon.

“Vanessa’s a hooker,” he said, and you stopped him, reminding him softly that he didn’t have to explain anything.

“I just want you to know, hermosa. I don’t want you to get wrong ideas.”

Hermosa. It was the first time he called you that, your little heart starting to beat again and pushing back the pressure that had been increasing on it until then.

“I used to go to that brothel. But I haven’t in a while. In fact… I’m seeing only you, baby.”

“I told you I wasn’t asking anything from you, Javi,” the smile on your lips wasn’t reaching your eyes that were about to burst into tears.

“I know. But there are things we say out loud. And  things our bodies say. I see the way you tense up sometimes. And I don’t want that. There’s no one else.”

Your gaze was downcast as he processed his confession. He gently grabbed your chin, between his thumb and index finger, lifting it towards you.

“Is that ok?”

You nodded, and he gave you the sweetest kiss ever, his soft moustache brushing your skin.

“You still want this to be a secret?” he asked, and you nodded again.

“Okay. It’s hot.” His warm smile was devastating and it was impossible for you not to fall for him. “And seeing you blush and roll your eyes at me in the office… it’s really cute.” This time the smile reached your eyes, and the tears that had been threatening to fall until then dried up. He took you in his arms and kissed you, his hands resting on your cheeks as your arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

You were thinking about it, the morning after having this conversation, lying in your bed facing him asleep, while you could no longer count the number of times you fucked.

Or ignoring how fast your heart was beating for him.

Yeah, you were fucked.

And couldn’t resist the cock in front of you anymore. You wanted to feel it come to life in your mouth, thickening until your lips ached around it.

You settled right next to him, trying to move the mattress as little as possible so as not to wake him. The tips of your fingers lightly ran over his bush, strewn with little white pearls of cum, and your desire from the night that had flooded on him.

The tip of your tongue delicately brushed his cock. Both of your tastes instantly coating your throat. You licked his slit before taking his tip into your mouth.

“Hermosa?” he muttered in a sleepy voice, lifting his head to understand why he was feeling heat spreading from his crotch.

“Shhh, lemme suck your cock, Javi.”

“Damn,” he said, letting his head rest on the pillow, his fingers on his forehead. “You're gonna kill me.”

“I hope not,” you chuckled and took him back into your mouth, your lips focusing on his tip.

And you loved hearing his breathing quicken when you took him deep in your throat.

You loved how his fist tightened in your hair when you licked the thin skin of his balls.

You loved hearing him moan when you sucked his tip, or licked his shaft from his balls to his crown.

You could never have enough and you wouldn't have stopped until his hot cum filled your mouth, if he hadn't placed his hand tenderly on the back of your neck.

“Come here, baby. Wanna feel you against me.”

Your eyes locked with his for a little too long, while you were still kneeling between his thighs, your hand on his shaft, and your lips still rounded around his tip. A twitch of the corner of his lips warmed your heart. You released his cock, letting his precum flow into your throat one last time, and kissed him before laying down on the bed. He settled between your thighs, just like you loved the most. That way you could see him. Lock your eyes with his, while his cock would brush against your walls relentlessly, in the sweetest, perfect way. Like he was made for you. You loved to see that his stare wasn't fake or cold towards you. Day after day, your heart was melting a little more.

And you wanted to keep it a secret, you wanted Javi for you only, for now. You loved this little secret garden that made your story so special, only yours. You loved being the only one, seeing his warm smile and eyes.

His hand brushed your cheek as he asked “what's going on in your pretty head, baby?”

“Just you, Javi…,” you answered.

“Really? Good thoughts, or bad thoughts?”

“Oh, terrible,” you smiled, while your fingers were running through his dark hair.

“Of course. Gonna have to change that, then,” he said, nestling his wide tip at your entrance, the sensation alone making you moan.

“What about those thoughts, now?”

“A little better,” you breathed out, your playful gaze fixed on him.

“Mmmm….” He slid his forearms under your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “And now?”

You whined and hid in his neck, as he was thrusting in, slower than ever.

“They're… good. Oh my god so fucking good, Javi.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “Fuck, baby…” he added, his shaft sinking slowly until your core fully welcomed it. Your eyes were rolling back in the back of your head with every brush against your g spot.

“Keep going, Javi, please,” you whimpered. “I want more, please. I need a little more.”

“I know, baby, I'm not going anywhere. You're always so wet, so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

He kept thrusting in slowly, like both of you needed it, until you came on his shaft, and he came in your cunt, deep, so deep. Moaning in your neck. Your breaths slowed down, and he kissed your neck and your chin.

You drove to the office in two separate cars, as usual. You went to a meeting as soon as you got there. When you got back to your office and opened your drawer to put a file in it, you found a note in Javi’s handwriting.

“Already miss you. Can’t wait to have you just for me tonight, and feel your skin against mine.”

Javi p masterlist

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[honeygrahambitch]

hii, sorry to bother, i just wanted to let you know i love the way you write and your characterizations. Do you have an ao3 or any fics you're writting or have written already? i would love to see them!

Praise is never gonna bother me- did I get too comfortable on this app?

Anyway, thank you for saying this <3 I am really happy if people randomly come across my fics and end up liking them. Most of them are written in 30 minutes before I'm off to sleep so I'm aware they are not very complex or well-written but they exist mostly because 1) I have so many thoughts 2) i write them as a response to stress and 3) because there are so many of you who engage with them and it's genuinely fun.

Sorry about yapping, to answer your question: yes, I do have an ao3 account - @ honeygrahamcracker - but I am not active yet. There are some completed works you can go for though. I plan to post something more complex soon.

If you do want to read more, search my blog for the #blue writes tag. I am trying to group all my works under it.

[chuuyafucks]

Read a fanfic where ada dazai is still in love with chuuya but the blast from dazai blowing up chuuyas car made chuuya go deaf and dazai didnt find out until the dungeon scene. And get this.... dazai actually tries to make it up to him and learns sign language IM HURTING SO BADLY

[ahatintimepieces]

“so I know this isn’t an ask box but I don’t have an account on tumblr and needed to ask you something. Since from what I’ve gleaned this is another account of yours and you made the fic “By any other name,” I’d like to know if it’ll get that Epilogue of Luka learning to settle back into his village. (I crave ur writing- I normally like Moonjumper more than Snatcher but that one pretty much swapped my opinions around, at least for now-)” -Submitted by Anonymous Yep! That’s me! :D And, in theory, yes! I do have plans/outline for an Epilogue section of Luka adjusting back to life in the village with brambles and the inability to eat anything but fey food. I just don’t know when I’ll get to it :’o I’ve been working on personal projects and currently might be dabbling in another less intense fic just to recharge a bit. But I’m really glad you like the story <3 and @smieska-draws has a lot of lovely art for it since we bounced a lot of the ideas around together! :D and we’ve brainstormed a few other aus together that have pieces scattered around, if you’re interested!

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - omnipotent perception

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: rafayel x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, angst with comfort

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.5k (who’s surprised)

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers and alterations to ‘omnipotent perception (rafayel’s misty invasion card), slightly toxic relationship, m!receiving handjob, bathtub sex, pulling out, cummies in hair/face, lots of making out, hickeys, HEAVY references to rafayel’s lore (sea god and some abysswalker), references to rafayel’s 4* memory fragrant dream, so much angst (with comfort), soooo much feelings, sensory deprivation, sensory play, blindfolding, switch!raf, desperate rafayel, kinda withholding rafayel, clothes on in tub, p in v seggs, use of y/n, use of pet names

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | xav's version | sylus's version | zayne's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: RAF IS HERE! sooooo this one is a long one. each one of my misty invasions got longer and longer, i am a menace to myself. but this one made sense, i felt as if raf’s misty invasion had the most lore subtly stitched into it and you guys know i always try and explore some angst/lore <3 i am very happy and excited to finally close out the misty invasion series. 

i’m going to be taking a much needed break after this. i’ll likely still be writing, but slowly and in my own time. I had a brief period of motivation, after the clarity of sharing my story, but now i am back to being anxious and exhausted.

that being said, please do not send anyone hate in my name or in my defense. I have never and will never ask for that. it’s enough that i have your support, i don’t need more than that. 

special thank you to my friend @myusuchaa for helping me SO much with the rafayel lore. definitely the biggest fish forker i know <3

as always, if i missed any warnings or used too specific physical descriptors, let me know and i can do better! thank you guys for your support. i love you!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

—

It’d been a beautiful summer day, riding bicycles along the Italian coast of Verona. Rafayel had just finished his piece for an art exhibition in the capital of the picturesque city, and you’d had time to soak in the summer breeze with each other. The air was wonderfully salty, just enough to remind you of the sea itself. Of Rafayel. 

It hadn’t truly surprised you when you’d found out Rafayel had lived here before, especially now knowing his Lemurian roots. Something about the way he walked through the Veronian brick paved roads, the rustic wind tousling his beachy waves, the cloudy sun shining on his effervescent skin. Like he’d belonged here, once upon a time. 

It was the perfect day.

Even when you’d teased him about the Lemurian who’d dissipated into sea foam for a mere human, and Rafayel’s expression misted over with a melancholic nostalgia. When his eyes glazed over with a torrent of inexplicable emotions, he could tell you wanted to prod him about it. But you didn’t, and for that he was incredibly grateful. There was a part of him that longed for you to know, to remember, the truth of that story. But he couldn’t trust you with that part of him again. Not yet. 

Even then, it was a perfect day. The two of you in Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet. 

Two ill-fated lovers. 

It was perfect, he was perfect. 

Until you asked him that question. 

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

Suddenly, Rafayel couldn’t look you in the eyes. Even when the rain droplets had started to patter onto your sun kissed skin, Rafayel holding you close under his favorite cardigan to shelter you from the onslaught of crystalline water. He couldn’t look at you. He refused to look at you.

If he did, you might’ve seen the tumultuous storm flickering in his eyes. The violets in his irises bright with unshed tears, the blues dark with a bitter loneliness. 

He didn’t speak to you the entire way back to your hotel, heading straight to the bathroom. At first you think that perhaps he’s upset with you, but he only draws you a warm bath in the luxurious clawfoot tub overlooking the Italian night lights. 

When he finally does speak to you, peeling off his layers of soaked clothing, you can tell he’s masking his true emotions under a facade of classic Rafayel sarcasm. Joking about whether he should write a Lemurian handbook for you or just read you 1,001 Lemurian stories. But he surprises you when his voice cracks with a raw genuineness, one that’s masked under layers and layers of hesitancy and loneliness. You can’t quite understand it.

“You can be my caretaker. And I can tell you 1,001 stories,” he mutters, eyes trained on the ground once more, voice soft and vulnerable. 

“I’m okay with every choice you provide,” he continues as he peels your wet jacket off your shoulders innocently. When his hand reaches the inside of your coat, grazing against your exposed waist, he pulls his hand back. His face is a storm of conflicted torment.

“...But you should take a warm bath first. Or else you’ll catch a cold.”

As he turns to leave, the sight of his lean and muscled back making you blush, you muster all your courage and call out to him, “You can’t leave. You still haven’t answered my question.”

You catch his wrist, using all your force to pull him back. Rafayel stiffens, unable to catch himself before he tumbles backwards into the filled tub. 

He’s able to protect his head from hitting the edge of the tub, the water sloshing around and splashing onto the tiled bathroom floor. Rafayel sits in the tub, not a semblance of annoyance on his face. Instead he looks flustered, the warm water clinging to his defined muscles.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Rafayel’s hair is disheveled, the water making clumps of his damp hair stick to his wet skin. His eyes watch you with inscrutable emotions, waiting for you to speak. 

You don’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own.

“You can spare me the details, but there’s something important you should tell me…” you hum, walking to his side by the tub, leaning over him, “How do Lemurians express love?”

Rafayel looks startled by your question for a second before composing himself, “Do you really want to know?” The fragrant candles in the bathroom flicker, the steam of the bath dancing against the soft flames. His words seem less like a genuine question…and more like a vague warning. 

Before you can respond, Rafayel’s fingers are closed around your wrist, tugging you into the tub on top of him. You squeal as Rafayel guides your body onto his, the violent crashing of water loud against the soft sound of the rain against the large glass windows.

Rafayel looks smug, his hand holding yours against his chest. You’re messily sprawled across his half naked body when he shifts you off of him so that he can sit next to you, his strong arm wrapping around your body. The warm water is uncomfortable against your still half-clothed body, but you can only focus on the way Rafayel holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand like you were royalty. 

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone…” Rafayel mutters, his warm breath fanning against your hand, “All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” His eyes are intense as he speaks to you, hoping to convey even an ounce of the love he speaks so honestly of. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Your senses? Like…this?” You untangle your hand from his, bringing your index finger up to his lips. You barely graze his pouty bottom lip before he’s panting, struggling to speak. 

“...Your way of triggering my “senses” has only touched the surface,” he mutters sulkily, yet he has to look away from you, cheeks rosy at your mere touch. He grabs your hand, eyes locked back onto yours giving you a silent warning. 

But you only proceed further, your fingers grasping his chin, your eyes peering up at him with a faux innocence. It’s not long before your fingers wander south, pressing into his heaving chest, flitting around his sharp collarbones. Rafayel’s reaction only fuels you with mischief and confidence, the way his breath matches his heartbeat: fast, erratic, and demanding. 

He looks at you with almost…disbelief. Disbelief at your actions, but more so disbelief at the way your simplest touches can have his body reacting so viscerally. It was a testament of just how much the dark-mauve haired Lemurian loved you, his every sense reacting to you so readily.

“...Are all humans idiots?” Rafayel grits, refusing to look at you again. But his body betrays his words when your hand ventures further down. You’re barely able to register the shocked expression on his flushed face before your back is pressed into the edge of the tub, the water splashing wilding as Rafayel hovers atop you.

He’s careful not to press his body into you, knowing he’d be an absolute goner once he felt your core against his. His thick muscles twitch angrily as he holds you down against the back of the tub, your hand clutching his shoulder for support against his erratic actions. 

“Someone’s intentions are as clear as day,” he accuses you. Though his words hold not even an ounce of ill-intention, he narrows his eyes at you. Just then, the rain outside turns into lightning, briefly illuminating Rafayel’s ethereal features. The flash of light accentuates the tempest that’s brewing in suspicious eyes. 

As you watch the turmoil flicker in them, you suddenly think maybe you pushed too far, “Do you not like it?” Your voice comes out more insecure than you’d wanted it to, suddenly aware of how forward you were being.

Rafayel sighs, pausing before his voice comes out pained, “If I said I didn’t, would you stop?” 

At the hint of anguish in his voice, you move to pull your hand away. But Rafayel’s hand abandons its grip on the tub to clasp against your hand, holding it tighter against his neck, refusing to let you go.

You gasp, as his movements cause the warm water to swash around. With his forceful hand over yours, your flushed skin prickles against his alarmingly chilly skin. 

“Rafayel, your body is so cold!” you whisper worriedly, fearing he might be catching a cold. For a second you forget that he’s Lemurian, accustomed to the frigid depths of the ocean. As your eyes search his anxiously, hand still gripping his cold shoulder, Rafayel’s own eyes watch yours meticulously. 

The swirls of blue and pink in his eyes have always been breathtaking, like the perfect mix of the most expensive paints. But now, as he watches you with the depth of the whole Lemurian oceans in his eyes, you’re completely speechless to the flickering of rampant passion behind them. 

That is until he grabs your chin roughly. Rafayel was no stranger to taking what he wanted, but this was different. The way he grabbed you screamed of…insecurity. Demanding, but unsure all the same. His cheeks are tinged the prettiest of coral pinks, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he closes the distances between your faces. Quickly, so he can’t change his mind. 

His soft lips slot over yours in a bruising embrace of passion, need, and unwavering longing. There’s something mind numbing about how gently his lips take yours, yet the pads of his fingers hold your chin so forcibly, as if afraid you’d slip into the depths of the water and disappear from his arms forever. 

The thunder rumbles deafeningly but all you can hear is Rafayel. He pants into you, his mouth claiming every inch of your lips, of your tongue. He kisses you like he knows nothing else, like he feels nothing else. 

He doesn’t let you go, although you’d never want him to. You only want him to hold you tighter, pull you closer, take you harder. You want to protest when he finally pulls away, gasping as a thin rope of saliva connects your parted and bruised lips.

Flashes of light illuminate his face, making him look as ethereal as the sirens warned about in ancient tales and myths. He hesitates to speak, trying to find the words to convey the emotions he’s been trying to control since the memories of Verona had begun to overwhelm him. The memories of his past. His past with you.

“And you’re warm,” he pants, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding painfully, his body always so willing to react to you. All his senses, always so hyper aware of you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His thumb strokes your glistening bottom lip, fingers still holding your chin captive. His eyes watch you with an unbearable longing, the previously intense crinkle in them softened to a tender vulnerability. 

“So perfect for me.”

Butterflies wriggle in your tummy, and you reach your wet hands reach up to cup his cheeks. 

“Rafayel, you seem different…” you mumble, stroking the cold and smooth expanse of his cheek. He looks down, avoiding your gaze, clearly grappling with a turmoil of intrusive emotions and memories. Despite that all, his face softens under your touch, even unbeknownst to him. 

Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he’s rubbing his cheeks into your palms. The warmth of your affectionate embrace makes it difficult for Rafayel to think clearly, and he can’t stop himself from whispering, “Will you still love me no matter who I become?”

You’re speechless at the blatant insecurity in his voice, in his eyes. Rafayel was always confident, years as a world-famous artist had made him self-assured in more ways than one. But now, as his shadowed and down-cast eyes searched yours desperately for an answer, you could see just how unsure he was. You could see the cracks forming in his polished shield, the fissure spider webbing uncontrollably, on the precipice of shattering completely. 

His eyes pierce yours, fully intending to get an answer from you. You don’t even think he notices how pouty he’s become, his bottom lip protruding in an tragically adorable show of just how badly he needs you to understand him. To love him. 

To remember him. 

Unable to withstand his paralyzing gaze any longer, you yank him down to you by the chain that hangs around his neck. The silver necklace matched the shimmering bracelet he’d gifted you, that currently sits on your own wrist. 

Rafayel grunts as you pull him closer, clearly taken aback. His gaze doesn’t lighten, only becoming more intense and heated as your breath grows more bated against his own parted lips. 

“You…” he grumbles, trailing off, eyes flickering down to the beautiful sheen across your lips, before they dart away, looking to where his fingers grip the edge of the porcelain white tub. The rosy blush that dusts his cheeks gives away just how much he yearns for more, more of you. 

You find him to be so irresistibly tortured that you can’t help but hook your arm around his neck, pulling him further down until your lips collide with his collar. If you can take even an ounce of his tumultuous pain away, you’d do it.

The thunder roars violently as you kiss him, the water in the tub splashing over and hitting the bathroom tile. Rafayel is quick to relent all control, letting you take every inch of him. His fingers thread into your hair as you kiss his sensitive chest, teeth nipping at the cold skin on his collar. His whimpering gasps are audible, fingers tugging at your damp hair, as you suckle torturously at his chest, no doubt leaving a reddened bruise. 

When he finally pulls away, there’s a clear look of reluctance on his beautiful features. You try and pull him back, and he briefly lets you before pulling back, the look of hesitation returning to his thunderous eyes. 

You give up, instead moving your finger to brush against the reddened hickey forming on his collar. Rafayel looks at you, pained and begging for mercy, as your fingernails graze over the sensitive skin. 

“When humans fall in love…” you hum, admiring the beautiful bruise, “We try to leave a unique mark on them.” 

At that precise moment, the moment you mention you’re in love with him, you can visibly see the fractured remnants of Rafayel’s walls come crashing down. He pants, eyes fixed on the way your hand presses over the right side of his chest, so dangerously close to where his heart was. To where his bond with you was etched into his very soul. 

In that very moment, a flip switches in Rafayel. His eyes burn, not with anguish or uncertainty, but with a dangerous desire.

“If you say so…” he rasps, leaning in until your breaths mingle into one. As his eyes flicker closed, lips ghosting along yours, he whispers, just before his lips claim yours. 

“Join me, then.” His lips press into yours, holding back as to not take you completely.

“Let’s drown in the ocean.” He inhales your torrid gasps, his words deceitfully simple. 

“Together.”

Rafayel kisses you, instantaneously consuming you. He pants into you, unable to soften the way his body reacts to you, the way his senses consume you until there’s nothing left of him. To him, loving you, losing you, and repeating the cycle…felt exactly like that.

Like drowning. 

He throws all that emotion into the way he kisses you. The embrace is so intense that it makes tears form in your eyes, emotions welling in your chest so tightly you fear you might burst. 

When he pulls away to breathe, you look up at him, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened, knowing exactly which question you were referring to. What he didn’t expect was for you to be so direct. His eyes dart around, but you hold his face in your palms before he can physically turn away. He opens his mouth to speak, before pursing his lips again in hesitation. 

You gently prod him, fingers stroking his locked jaw, “Raf?” 

“It…” he starts, eyes crackling with emotions. Rafayel struggles to find the words. He knows exactly what he wants to tell you, but can’t find the words to express it to you. 

It’s not that he wanted to be withholding, least of all with you. He would give you anything. He had given you everything, time and time again. To the point where it destroyed him. 

But the fear of having it all taken away, again, had made him so reluctant to lean back into the wind, like he’d done so many times in the past. Too scared of how much of himself he’d lose again in the never-ending cycle of falling irrevocably in love with you. 

And yet, as much as it took from him, it didn’t matter. Because you were everything to him.

“In this human world…it’s not difficult for a Lemurian to become lonely,” he laments wistfully, eyes misted with a faraway look. 

He continues. “But in all the lives I’ve lived, I almost never felt lonely,” Rafayel gently smiles at you, a smile filled with a wistful sorrow. 

“Really? Why?” you ask genuinely, still soothing his hardened jaw. His features had softened considerably as he peered down at your wet form, the tension between his legs growing visibly.

Rafayel chuckles. His answer was simple. 

Because, there was always you. 

But that was a tale for another time. 

“Are you trying to trick a foolish Lemurian into giving up all his secrets again, my little human?” he whispers huskily, leaning down to kiss at the skin under your ear. 

You’re about to ask him what he means by again, but the words die on your tongue when Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck. His fingers find the buttons of your drenched top, unbuttoning it feverishly, desperately shedding your layers of clothing off of you.

Before you know it, you’re naked in Rafayel’s arms, his own bare manhood pressed insistently into your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. Though the rest of his body is chilly from the rainwater, his throbbing erection burns against your skin. Even submerged in water, you can feel his pre cum oozing onto your leg, hot and thick.

His lips trail down your shivering body, kissing the grooves of your collar, teeth grazing the swell of your breasts. He’s nearly heaving, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. And truthfully, he couldn’t.

The dam of his emotional barriers absolutely decimated, the flood of his unabated passion overwhelming his senses. There is only you. The smell, the sound, the feeling, the sight, the taste of you. 

A Lemurian in love. Utterly, brokenly, and wholeheartedly. 

You try to match his intensity, pulling at his soft and wavy hair, drawing him closer to your naked body. You thrust your chest towards him, wanting him to claim you like he’d done so many times before. 

Rafayel chuckles at your obvious desires, but more than willing to oblige. His Queen. 

His lips close over your breast, his lips cold but his tongue wet and hot against your nipple. The warm water splashes messily against your clashing bodies. The lightning outside flashes, the shadows of your lewd acts dancing against the bathroom walls.

“Nnghnh, R-Raf!” you wail, his skilled mouth devouring you whole. Your spine arches into his demanding mouth, the wet splashes of the bath and the ravenous slurps filling the acoustics of the hotel bathroom. 

The pleasure of his tongue is so intense that your body can’t help but squirm backwards. Rafayel chuckles almost cynically, as he captures the back of your neck with his long and slender fingers. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to run away from me,” he pouts, leveling with your drooping eyes, body already delirious from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to bring you. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, bringing your chin up so that your eyes meet, “Don’t make me wait anymore, please.” 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable pout, his eyebrows furrowed in a sulky plea. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, twirling his wavy hair into your fingers, bringing him closer until your foreheads are pressed together. 

“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper breathlessly against him, his face so close you can feel the length of his eyelashes against your cheek.

Rafayel gulps, his neck bobbing with the pressure of how forcefully he has to restrain his senses, restrain himself. It’s so clear how vulnerable he is to your every whim, so you take the opportunity to push him below you. His glimmering eyes shine with confusion, but he lets you climb atop him, hissing when your slick cunt presses down on his cock.

“What are you doing, Miss?”

You don’t answer, leaning over the tub to grab Rafayel’s damp cardigan, bringing it up to his face. He raises an eyebrow in question at you, his palms resting in the fat of your hips as your bare pussy drags against his pelvis. 

“Do you trust me?” you grin playfully at him, spreading the cardigan out and preparing to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Rafayel seems to know exactly what you’re planning. He looks up at you, inexplicable emotions reflected in his glassy eyes. 

“I do,” he whispers finally. His worlds are simple, yet something about them rips through your consciousness, filling you with a torrent of bittersweet fractures of a lost memory. 

A memory of another time Rafayel told you those same words.

I do.

Rafayel can read the confusion in your eyes, and squeezes your hips reassuringly. You’re shaken from the confusion of your mind-bending memories. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, you clear your throat and carefully tie the soft and expensive cardigan around Rafayel’s head, effectively cutting off his vision.

You lean down to whisper against his ears, lobes pink with excitement and anticipation.

“Let me show you what else humans do when we’re in love.”

Rafaye’s entire body quakes, his chest rising rapidly at your unabashed words. His fingers dig into your hips as he does his best to limit his embarrassingly visceral reactions to your body. With his vision limited, all his other senses are heightened to your will. 

With your lips at this ear, your neck is exposed to him. The smell of your pheromones mixed with your perfume clouds his thoughts, the urge to drive his teeth into your pulse so unbelievably overwhelming. But your palm on his chest pushes him down, your lips trailing down his ear, down his neck, and to his chest. 

With his eyes covered, his skin is all the more sensitive to your touch, 

“Please,” Rafayel rasps, nails digging into your thighs, “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

You giggle at how adorably needy he’s become. You can tell just how much the blindfold affects him, his body more readily reactive to your lips, your fingers, your words.

Even with his eyes covered, Rafayel can’t help but pout. The inability to see you, his beautiful Queen, made him all the more desperate.

You decide to indulge him, fist closing around his cock under the water. Rafayel’s hips jolt violently, his lower half lifting to chase the friction of your soft hand. While he cries out in pleasure, you kiss down to where the water meets his defined chest.

“O-oh fuuck,” Rafayel hisses, his head thrown back on the edge of the tub, neck straining into the cool ceramic. His hips buck up into your fist wildly, your hand moving far too languidly for his taste. You continue to tease him slowly, his cock and your hand completely submerged under the surface of the water. He whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip, continuously thrusting up into your hand.

You take his desperation as an opportunity to torture him more, moving as gently as you can so that you can move up to his ear without him noticing. With your hand still pumping his oozing cock under the water, you whisper into his ear, letting your tongue graze his earlobe.

“When humans love someone…we want to make them feel good,” you whisper seductively into his ear, purposely letting your words come out in hot breaths. Rafayel jolts and squirms in response, fingers gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles are pale white. 

“Sh-shiit,” he hisses breathlessly as your hand pumps up and down faster, the movements causing the water to ripple. His muscles flex under your touch, shining with a wet sheen against the flashing glow of lightning. 

“So? Does it feel good, Raf?” you murmur into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to where his throat bobs with the heavy beat of his pulse. 

He thrusts himself into your hand violently, voice coming out in a gravelly groan, “Yes. You always feel so fucking good. S-so soft.”

Surprising him again, you take his lips into yours, insistently pushing your tongue into his mouth, all the while your fist continues to jerk him off. You catch every one of his unabashed moans with your own mouth, the muffled sounds of his pleasure mixing with the thundering storm outside.

It’s a furious clashing of saliva, teeth, and pure unfiltered passion. His fingers digging into your waist, your fingers squeezing his cock so tightly it threatens to have him spilling all over you and the filled tub. 

When you pull away, the spit dribbles down Rafayel’s chin and onto his damp chest. He looks adorably flustered, the cardigan still covering his eyes. With his sight gone, the feeling of your tongue against his, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your plush thighs against his twitching muscles is all the more intense. His body, all the more pliant for you. 

“Hah – if you keep going, I’m g-gonna–”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his words when his cock lurches in your greedy hands, thick and burning rivulets of cum shooting into the lukewarm bathwater. It’s strangely beautiful, like a ribbon of iridescent pearls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafayel gasps, nearly choking over his own rapid breath, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub.

His body convulses with his orgasm, a broken mantra of swears and lewd groans the only thing audible even in the roar of the storm outside. 

“Nnnghnh – b-baby,” Rafayel whines as you pump him through a mind-numbing overstimulation, desperate to see you. But you don’t stop, only giggling as you watch even more cum spurt from his angry pink tip. 

In a sudden flash of splashing water and strong fingers gripping your thighs, you find yourself under Rafayel again, his hand holding the back of your neck protectively as he slams you into the edge of the tub. His cardigan no longer covers his eyes, likely discarded somewhere on the wet floor.

Your eyes are wide from the whiplash of his sudden movements, “Rafayel?”

His sunset eyes blaze wildly as he watches you, the sight of you so utterly indulgent and overwhelming after having his vision returned to him. 

“Will you let me worship you?” 

His question is vulnerable, desperate. He looks at you so damn hopefully that it’d be impossible to say no even if some insane part of you wanted to. 

You reach up to clasp his cheek in your hands, pulling him closer until your noses brush against each other, “Yes, always.”

With the breathy desperate utterance of consent leaving your lips, fanning across his open mouth, he loses it.

He forces your thighs wider, gripping you by the fat of your hips and dragging you towards him until your bare cunt brushes right against once-again hard erection. You were used to Rafayel’s virtually non-existent refractory period, his cock upright and commanding attention so quickly after his orgasm.

The lukewarm bath water makes every touch feel much more fluid, all the more intimate and sensitive. Your grip the edges of the tub for support, Rafayel’s movements erratic and unpredictable. He leans down towards you, your bodies as close as the confines of the tub will allow. 

“My Queen,” he mutters under his breath like a vow, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. Without another warning, he pushes himself into you. 

You squeal at the stretch, your arousal making it easy for him to push into you completely. Rafayel groans as he enters you, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his large hands wrapped around your thighs. 

Rafayel is absolutely not shy with his cries of pleasure. His body shudders even though he hasn’t moved since seating himself fully inside of your warm and impossibly tight walls. 

When he doesn’t move, you screw your eyes open in confusion, doing your best to speak through the wonderful stretch of his cock inside your quivering walls, “R-Raf? Are you okay?”

Rafayel doesn’t speak, but the glow of the storm outside illuminates the way his throat bobs, every fiber of his body overstimulated with the pleasure of your body gripping his, refusing to let go.

You move to shift towards him, worried about the way he’s locked up, but that only causes your body to involuntarily squeeze around him. Rafayel hisses, pushing you back down gently, his fingers caressing your cheek.

“I-I just need a second.”

“A-are you okay?” you ask worriedly.

“You’re so tight, so warm,” Rafayel chokes out, his fingers tightening around your cheek and thigh. You can vaguely feel his cock growing inside you, and it’s then you realize he’s paralyzed, not by hesitation or pain, but pleasure.

You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, clenching down on his manhood snug inside you. Rafayel moans, his hands coming down to grip your thighs in a silent warning.

“No more teasing me,” he cautions with a pout, one hand shifting to rest on your naval. At your mischievous grin, Rafayel presses down. 

You cry out, eyes rolling back as he forces the walls of your pussy to rub against his cock. Rafayel wants to smirk at your helpless writhing, but the sensation is also overwhelming for him. His body heaves, nearly collapsing on top of you, only catching himself by gripping the sides of the tub.

Your fingers wrap around his trembling biceps, eyes urging him to take you.

Rafayel swears, obliging at the fucked-out look in your eyes. He unsheathes himself fully from your addicting gummy walls, barely even leaving his tip in, before shoving himself back into you.

The newfound vigor of his thrusts makes the water in the tub slosh wildly, splashing all over your face and hair. But you could care less, because the feeling of his excitement bruising its way in and out of your throbbing cunt is literally all you can think about. Pathetic moans of pleasure, the only sound you can make.

Rafayel fares no better, strings of beautiful grunts leaving his own lips. His pelvis slams into your soft inner thighs, the sound of the water against your colliding skin sinfully mixing with your combined moans. 

“You’re so – nghnh – perfect for me, Y/N,” Rafayel groans as he drives into you, the tip of his cockhead brushing into your cervix and g-spot all at once, at every thrust. 

His hands clutching the tub on either side of your head cage you in, making it so the only thing you can focus on is him. And the only thing that his senses can perceive is you.

The only thing he can see is you, your tears mixing with the soapy water, the reddened love bites blossoming on your skin.

The smell of you heightened even against the fragrant scent of the bath soap, your pheromones driving him to the edge of insanity. 

Your wanton cries for him, fueling him to fuck you harder, the sounds of your sweet pleasure making his own noises come out unabashedly. 

The taste of you lingering on his tongue every time he bends down to capture your lips in his, saliva running down both your chins. 

But mostly…the feeling of your perfect walls constricting him, pulling him in, refusing to let go. The feeling of your hands, pressed deep into his twitching muscles. Your soft thighs locking him against your sopping cunt. 

God, he was so in love with you it was nearly pitiful. 

“You’ll always be my Queen,” Rafayel babbles, thrusts becoming erratic as he becomes overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories that’d resurfaced in Verona, “My entire heart.”

You nod vigorously at his words. “Always Raf,” you gasp, holding onto him as he pounds into you even harder, your spine thudding into the tub, the water cushioning the blows.

“You better never leave me,” he broods, putting every ounce of emotion into the way his cock claims every inch of your poor cunt. The word ‘again’ dies on his lips, the writhing artist above you opting to save that for another time.

“W-would – nnghnh – never leave you.”

His wild eyes focus on your words. He says simply, the subtleist hint of insecurity and doubt playing in his shaky voice, “I’m gonna – hah – hold you to that.”

You bob your head, wanting him to see how serious you are, see just how much he meant to you.

Your fingers venture to your clit, desperately pent up from all the sexual and emotional tension that’d built up from today. Rafayel doesn’t see you immediately, his head thrown back in a drawn out groan, his body glistening with sweat and bath water, chiseled muscles twitching with his impending release.

When he finally glances back down, he sees your fingers furiously pawing at your clit and he nearly growls at the sight beneath him.

His voice comes out broken and husky, uncharacteristically so for the normally charismatic and smooth-talking painter. He gently pushes your fingers away, his own lengthy and skilled fingers replacing yours.

“Let me,” he begs, hips stuttering as he nears his second release, “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

His sweet words make you shiver, your body convulsing around him. Rafayel shudders as you grow tighter around him. It felt like you were nearly cutting off his circulation, in the best way. 

Rafayel’s fingers on your quivering bundle of nerves have you seeing lightning even with your eyes screwed tightly shut. He truly had the hands of a god, fingers slender and deft, the pads of his digits hardened from years of skilfully maneuvering expensive paint brushes. Your body was his canvas, and he’d spend hours creating art with you. 

“R-Rafayel, I’m soo – nngh – c-cloose,” you slur, your body arching into him, head thrown back until all you see is the ceiling above. 

Rafayel heaves at the sensation of you coming undone around him, his fingers still rubbing furiously. There’s a bright desperation in his glowing eyes, the need to see you cum on him as strong as the need to fill you up with his endless seed. 

As his body trembles above you, his fingers grip the tub so harshly his knuckles have turned taut and deathly white. 

“I-I’m close too, baby,” he groans, “Please, can I cum?”

You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him release with you But Rafayel wants to hear you. 

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.” His voice is so brokenly desperate it drives you closer to your release, the sound of his lewd pleas so utterly erotic. 

“Ra-Rafayel, n-need it s’bad. Shiiit – please!” you all but scream, his insistent fingers pushing you into your orgasm. 

Rafayel chews on his bottom lip as he watches how beautifully you explode on him, so unbelievably close to finishing himself. He desperately wanted to cum inside you, but he knew if he did that he would be at the point of no return. You’d very well spend the rest of your trip in Verona locked in your hotel room, his cock nestled inside you until you literally begged for mercy. And maybe not even then. 

So with every ounce of will he had left, he pulled out of you as he came, standing on his knees so he could wrap his fist firmly around his cock as he came. The force of his cum so strong it shot all over your damp breasts and even your face, your expression still contorted in the ecstasy of your climax. 

You watch in awe, your cunt convulsing around nothing, your orgasm tapering off, as Rafayel trembles through his own pleasure. His cum is hot as it splashes onto your wet body, some of it shooting into your hair. Honestly the sight of how powerfully his cock erupted makes your stomach lurch in arousal.

Rafayel whimpers through his endless orgasm, his fist pumping up and down as he finishes on you. You’re left quivering beneath his imposing body, mesmerized by the white ropes of cum that shoot from his angry red tip. 

When he finally finishes, his glassy eyes watch you, absolutely awestruck. He bends down, his forearms trembling as one grips the side of the tub, the other stroking your cheek. He catches a rivulet of his milky seed with his finger, grinning cheekily at your reddened face.

“I’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful.” 

If it’s even possible, your cheeks burn even more furiously. You swat his fingers away.

“Shut up,” you whine, looking around at your bodies, joined in the filled tub. You inwardly cringe when you notice there’s more pools of milky white fluid than there are bubbles at this point. The amount of cum he gave you every time was nothing short of a phenomenon. 

“It’s everywhere!” you shriek dramatically, hitting his chest above you, “We need to get cleaned up!”

Rafayel’s grin widens, and before you can ask him what he’s scheming, he uses the finger still on your cheek to smear his cum around.

“Rafayel!” you yelp, trying your best to inch away from his filthy fingers, coated in both your arousals, struggling due to the limited space of the tub.

“But you look so exquisite like this,” Rafayel murmurs, fingers capturing your chin, pulling you up to look at him, his eyes hazy and sated, “My beautiful Queen…”

He dips down to press a lingering kiss to parted lips, mouth hitched open in excitement. When he pulls away he grins playfully at you.

“Besides, it’s good for your skin. Lemurians have a lot of uses, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Is that why your skin always looks so flawless?”

Rafayel’s cheeks flare, his eyes averting from yours, “Okay! Let’s get cleaned up shall we?”

You smile widely, unable to contain your fit of giggles. Your body shakes with your laughter, making the water ripple, “You’ve tried it haven’t you?”

Rafayel’s sheepish expression answers your question, “No! Shut up!”

“I knew it!”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[gloomwitchwrites]

You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.

Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.

These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control

Word Count: 4.4k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.

There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.

His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.

When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.

Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.

Your name is there and 3 new messages.

Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.

At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.

The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.

Beneath the picture are two texts.

Thanks for the flowers!!

I love you!

But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.

Fuck. What the actual fuck.

Someone else did this.

Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.

No. It’s likely not him.

Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.

By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.

But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.

“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”

I didn’t get you any flowers.

Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.

“Did you like the note?”

You frown. “What note?”

The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.

“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”

With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?

Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.

The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.

“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”

Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”

When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.

The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.

Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.

When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.

That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.

Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.

You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.

Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.

“All day?” you ask softly.

Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.

“Take these off.”

“Simon—”

“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.

Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.

Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.

Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.

Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.

Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.

Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.

As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.

Bloody hell.

Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.

Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.

Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.

Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.

Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.

You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.

“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.

“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.

Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.

Naughty girl.

Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.

Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.

Right now, you’re getting undressed.

And Simon is much more interested in that.

Flowers can wait.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.

It’s just a little prank. A tease.

Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.

The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.

It buzzes again.

When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.

Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.

That’s sweet, love.

But I didn’t get you flowers.

Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.

You tap out a reply.

Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!

Kyle’s reply is instant.

Note?

You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.

I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.

Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.

You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.

Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.

Oh shit.

You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.

Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.

“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.

He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I didn’t send you those flowers.”

“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.

Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.

There is no card. No note. You made it all up.

“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.

“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.

Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.

“When I find the fucking wanker that—”

“Kyle!”

He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”

Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”

“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”

Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.

You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.

You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”

Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”

You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.

“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.

You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.

Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”

Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”

“Kyle,” you breathe.

“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”

You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.

“Wider,” he almost growls.

You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.

“Tongue out.”

You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.

“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.

Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.

There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.

To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.

Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.

Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.

“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”

You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.

“That’s my good girl.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny’s ears are ringing.

“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.

On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.

And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.

No. Fuck that.

Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.

“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”

Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”

Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.

He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”

“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.

“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”

It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.

“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.

When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.

Punishment is needed.

“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.

As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”

Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.

Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.

You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.

It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.

“Spread them.”

You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.

He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.

Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.

“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”

That’s a start.

Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.

But even then, you’ll have to wait.

You’ll have to beg.

Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.

Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.

He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.

Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”

“Johnny, please,” you beg.

“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”

“Please,” you say, drawing it out.

“Please what?” he prompts.

“I want to come,” you murmur.

Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.

“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just—please.”

Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”

You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.

He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.

Johnny withdraws. Straightens.

You’re still hanging on the hook.

He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.

“I won’t.”

Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”

You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”

“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”

John Price

John isn’t one for texting.

You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.

Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.

But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.

John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.

You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.

John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.

Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.

“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.

And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.

“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.

John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.

“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”

He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.

“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”

“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.

“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”

You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.

“I bought them,” you grumble.

John’s hand eases. “You what?”

“I bought them,” you snap.

“I knew you did.”

Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.

“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”

You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.

“Get to it,” he purrs.

John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.

He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.

John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.

“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.

“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.

“Say it again,” repeats John.

“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.

“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.

“I’m yours, John.”

“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.

The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.

You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.

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[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[tteokdoroki]

𐙚 🪷 TRUTH OR DRINK katsuki bakugou .ᐟ

⋆˙ᝰ about ! “you love me, you take care of me. that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done f'me." with the release of your husband's newest album and the announcement for his latest tour, the two of you are invited on set to film a special kind of promotional video for newlyweds. hopefully, this married couple leave without a hangover. ( 4.8K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, fluff, suggestive, angst if you squint, celebrity!au, all characters are aged up to 20s, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, drinking, newlyweds, exes, some family issues, long-distance, idol!bakugou, fem + model!reader - not beta read!

aali’s love letter ! happy birthday bakugou! another splendid year for our lord saviour dynamght !! i posted this late boo but its out!! i hope you guys are still able to enjoy <3 ty to @cuntcure for helping out n motivating me !! - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“fuck, we’re really doing this, huh?”

across from you, katsuki bakugou shifts uncomfortably  — ruby red eyes darting around the plain white set. studio lights glare from all directions, illuminating the slight sweat that beads at the blonde’s hairline. artificial lighting, bright and made to capture everything, refracts of the pearling perspiration and almost creates the illusion of a halo around the crown of your partner’s head. almost as if he’s an angel.

reaching over the small table that the producers have set up between you both, you grasp at katsuki’s rough fingers, toying with them as if to test the waters before you hold them fully — once he’s comfortable enough to accept your physical affection. his palms are warm and a little sweaty, but that doesn’t stop you from giving them a gentle squeeze. 

“it’ll be fun,” you whisper, keeping your voice low and calm as the production crew continues to contrastingly flit around you in preparation for the shoot. “and it’ll be great promo for your album!” lifting his hands, you press a kiss to the blonde’s knuckles as though you’re sealing a promise, ensuring that they’re not empty. you smile reassuringly and bakugou returns it awkwardly, drawing back just a tad when a member of production sheepishly approaches the table to set down three different bottles of alcohol, two shot glasses and a pitcher of pineapple and coconut juice as your mixer of choice. 

glass bottles of whisky, rum, and vodka glit under the white light too.

“we can back out at anytime,” comes your soft reminder once the crew member retreats to check the sound mic and cameras along with some other staff. “i want you to be comfortable.” 

bakugou shakes his head, this time, bringing the backs of your hands to his lips — pale blonde lashes fluttering as he shuts away ruby framed eyes and takes a breath to calm himself. “wanna do it. like y’said it’ll be good. fun.” when he opens his eyes again, he’s looking at you with a toothy smirk that never fails to send a shiver down your spine and butterflies in a flurry through your tummy. “besides, we haven’t been able t’do somethin’ like this together in a while.” 

nothing beats your grin after that and with a few more touch ups to your make up ( the both of you ) — you’re ready to begin filming. 

“okay guys!” the director on set claps their hands. “wanna start us off? who are you and what are you doing here today?” 

you give katsuki’s hands one last comforting squeeze before his crimson gaze slinks towards the camera that’s now rolling, fixating on its blinking red light as it matches his stare. “‘m katsuki bakugou ‘nd this is my wife,” he juts his head over to you gently, muttering your name with love laced between each of its syllables. 

you too turn to face the camera, award winning smile settling gracefully on your lips. “and today we’re playing truth or drink!” you squirm excitedly. “we’re really happy to be here! thank you for having us!” 

“i’m not.” 

“katsuki!” 

with a laugh behind the camera, the producer speaks again. “so, you’re some pretty special guests. what do you guys do? how long have you two been married?”

bakugou rolls his eyes at the enthusiasm. “i’m a singer-songwriter slash idol or whatever you wanna call it…and i’m on tour right now. so buy my album or you’re shit.” 

“and i’m a fashion model slash content creator. we’ve been together for like…five years? married for half a year? a year?” musing out loud, you switch your gaze from the camera to katsuki — letting him know with your eyes that he’s doing a great job.

“eight months, three weeks ‘n two days.” he corrects you seriously, causing sweet laughter to bubble up on your lips. 

“sorry, folks. eight months, three weeks and two days.”  you retort jokingly. bakugou rolls eyes ruby framed eyes again.

“okay, so still pretty new. let’s start with a shot, shall we?”

ever the gentlemen, your husband  pours you a decently sized shot using a drink he knows you like without even asking. he even tops it off with a mixer because he knows that sometimes you can’t get past a bitter aftertaste if the alcohol is too strong. once done with yours, he fills up his own glass before clinking it against yours — both of you knocking back the shot with practised ease. 

“god, that shit’s strong.” the pale blonde grimaces. 

despite having a facial expression to match, you somehow make light of the situation. “really puts hairs on your chest, doesn’t it, kats?”

“you like my tits naked and juicy, shut the hell up,” smirking cockily, katsuki slides your shot glasses to the side and toys with the stacked white question cards in front of him. “her words not mine.” 

“anyways…first card please.” 

doing as he’s told, katsuki flips the first card over — skimming the letters written in bold on the other side before he slams it back down. “‘m takin’ a shot.” 

the shoot has barely begun and you already find yourself bursting into fits of adoring, amused giggles. “no! it’s not even your question to answer! you have to read it, it’s the first card!” you whine playfully.

“alright, fine,” flipping the card over again with a dejected air about him, bakugou announces the question to both you and the camera. “when was the last time we had sex and where did it happen?” 

“oh god.” you pinch your brow.

“told ya. no shots, it’s the first card. y’gotta answer it, babe.” bakugou teases as he casts the card aside, leaning back in his chair slow and sexy like while he watches you hungrily. it’s like making you embarrassed has made him forget that he’s on camera. 

sighing through your nose, you pout at the camera and producers who watch eagerly. “on the way here.” 

“on the way to this shoot? oh my god!” 

“yes! omg. shut up, this is so embarrassing. katsuki don’t laugh!” you practically wail as the set bursts out into laughter. “god, okay. it was on the way here and in the back of the SUV with the partition up. don’t ask me how we had time. katsuki always makes time.” 

said katsuki wiggles two fingers towards the camera knowingly and chokes back a raspy chuckle when you frown in response, scooping up your own card. “next question,” your say as your gaze skims the card. “who is your least favourite parent in law? oooh, spicy.” 

“definitely her dad,” your husband points a thumb in your direction without hesitation but mouths his words straight into the camera. “you’re a piece of shit by the way.” 

the producer pipes in. “can we elaborate?”

“my dad was never the most supportive of my career…but claims everything i have is because of him. it sucks, he's a narcissist and we don’t really speak because of it.” you answer truthfully, attempting to shrug the weight of your familial situation off. you know that most girls dream of having their father walk them down the aisle on their wedding day…but it’s just not in the cards for you. sensing your anger, your hurt and your pain beginning to rise to the surface, katsuki takes the card from you and grasps at your hand — eyebrows raised earnestly into his hairline while he checks to see if you’re okay. a small, wistful smile plays at your lips and you give your partner a gentle nod. “it’s okay though, my mum, mitsuki and masaru have been great parents. katsuki’s mum and dad kept me grounded throughout our engagement, pretty much designed all of my wedding outfits. they were all custom.” 

“outfits? as in multiple?” 

“ah yes! mitsuki insisted that i had changes throughout the day.” you beam, a giddiness replacing any negative emotion you once felt. your future mother in law had done everything in her power to make you feel like a princess on your wedding day — to this day it made you feel extremely grateful for your positive relationship with bakugou’s family.

“they still fuckin’ spoil her, ma styles her for a lot shoots,” the blonde scoffs but the adoration dancing in the almost brown flecks of his carmine eyes tell a different story. “no seriously, ma ‘n pa love you so much. you’re like the daughter they never had.” 

“aw, that’s so cute. i’ll cry.” 

katsuki’s turn to pick a card rolls around again, but he doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time — index finger toying with your engagement ring. “what’s was the most stressful part about planning a wedding?” he reads. “oh, definitely the micromanaging from other people. shit pissed me off,” your husband answers almost straight away, already preparing to fix himself a shot when the producer asks him to elaborate. 

he shakes his head and the producer turns to you. “our managers thought that they could have a say in our ceremony since it was like the celebrity wedding of the year,” shrugging, you fix your own shot which makes your spouse grin. “we ended up having one public and one smaller, private wedding to say fuck ‘em. and no, they didn’t fire me for this.” 

“so a follow up, when you announced your engagement to the world what was a difficult thing you dealt with publicly?” someone from behind the camera asks.

pursing your lips, you look to katsuki for an answer. “the fan wars? some of my fans were…are still caught up on my ex and others think the great singer katsuki bakugou is too good for an influencer like me.” 

“they don’t know shit. you’re too good for the world baby, i don’t deserve you.” 

“corny ass,” you snort directly into the camera’s shot. “i’m sure that’s one of his song lyrics.” 

“is fuckin’ not!” bakugou pouts, though he’ll deny that he was later. “pick another damn card.” 

he pushes the pile towards you once more and you cheekily swipe one from the middle to make the video a little bit more interesting for those watching from home when it comes out. hopefully the viewers get a laugh out of bakugou calling you a cheater and you sticking your tongue out at him in retaliation — he pinches it back. 

“ouch! owie, okay! okay, let go!” flipping the card so that the text is facing you, you begin to read it out loud slowly — nearly bursting out into an incredulous fit of giggles at the question printed in thick black letters. “this is so ironic, baby you’re gonna love this one,” katsuki raises a brow, intrigued by the coy smile you’re barely trying to hide now. “i dare you to call an ex and remind them that you’re happily married.” 

a small silence echoes throughout the studio as you stare at one another, waiting and waiting, until a loud, raspy and haughty laugh rips through bakugou’s throat. 

“what’s so funny?”

the blonde sat opposite you, still as handsome as the day you first met him — with glittering gem eyes that sparkle under the studio lights and a toothy smile that never fails to melt your heart, suddenly grows shy. a rose tint spreads its way over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks that have lost their youthful roundness, katsuki blushes softly but laughs with his entire body — only just embarrassed by the secret he's about to reveal to his most dedicated fans and the rest of the world. 

leaning forward on the table, elbows on the edge, while you tuck your chin in the seat of your palm — biting your lip in amusement. “do you wanna tell them or should i?” 

“i wanna take a fuckin’ short first. can i?” katsuki asks, almost innocently. he knocks back a glass of dark, bitter whisky once he gets the go ahead. “she’s my first. my first everythin’. girlfriend, time, wife—“ 

“i sure hope i’m your first and only wife, kats.” you cut him off swiftly, a mischievous lilt layered thick on your tone.

he slings an arm over the back of his chair, waving you off lovingly. “—you know what i mean, sweets.” bakugou shrugs in the direction of the producers. “i don’t have an ex to call.”

“okay, we’ll have your wife call one.” 

at the film crew’s suggestion, your voice raises an octave, notes of surprise littered through out your melodic voice. “me? who would i even call?” you can’t help but snicker, trying to reach for the juice used for mixer so you can plan your escape route out of the dare. 

your husband snatches the bottle from your reach, holding it protectively against his broad chest. “call shindou.” he grunts out low but highly amused. 

“oh no, i’m not doing that. let me take the shot katsuki.” comes your instant response, tone turning slightly serious.

“who’s shindou?”

“her ex.” 

“my ex.” 

the both of you announce in unison, though you’re a little less entertained by your menace of a blonde husband — still guarding the drinks as he chucks the used question card to the side. 

“why not?” 

“cause it’ll be mean? he still hasn’t recovered from finding out i’m dating the idol he used to train with. yanno, the one who debuted over him.” 

bakugou clicks his tongue cockily.  “he’ll get over it. call him. c’mon, it’ll be funny and you love making me laugh.” 

“alright fine but you have to swear you’ll answer the next one.” you turn to the camera. “he’s right though, his laugh is the prettiest in the world.” 

bakugou blushes as you pull out your phone and scroll to the bottom of your contact list, surprised at yourself for not blocking and deleting the number. holding up the sleek device for everyone to view, you jab a thumb into the speaker button and watch with baited breath as it begins to ring throughout the studio.

“hello, yo speakin’,” a voice a little higher pitched than your husband’s filters through the speaker. it’s familiar, but doesn’t hold any of the comfort that bakugou brings. it’s been years since you ended things with your ex, the relationship was rocky and full of miscommunications and mistrusts before either of you skyrocketed to fame. there’s no malice between you both or a reason to cause katsuki why worry, you hope, but talking to yo shindou nowadays is akin to talking to a stranger. 

giving the camera an awkward thumbs up, you reply shyly. “hi shin, what’s up?” 

“oh hey sweetheart, this is a nice suprise.” your ex purrs through the line. you click the buttons side of your phone to turn up the volume — making sure his every word is picked up by the mics in the room. 

bakugou chimes in, clearly looking for an opportunity to show off. “hey asshole, don’t get too excited.” 

“hello to you too kats, what can i do you for princess?” 

“shin, don’t call me that. also we’re shooting truth or drink right now — newlyweds edition with kats. they wanted me to call, tell you i’m married or something… which i’m sure you know by now.” explaining in a rush, you push at bakugou’s forehead, right between arched, dark blonde brows to keep him and his laughter at bay. 

“it’s all anyone can talk about these days, especially when i’m on set. married couple of the year.” 

the producers mouth to you to ask shindou a question, in which you almost miss underneath the sounds of your newlywed husband suppressing snarky jokes and giggles. “they’re telling me to ask you if you’re happy for me ‘n kats. you don’t have to answer—“ 

“i am. happy for you. katsuki, as big as of an asshole as he is, makes you way fucking happier than i ever did. he’s good to you, but you’re better to him. the world wants to see you guys grow old together… i hope it stays that way or else i’ll have to swoop back in—“

cringing along the millions that will be watching in the near future, you slice through his words politely before bakugou can blow a gasket. “thanks, shin. you’re sweet.” 

“anything for you, sweetcheeks—“ 

“alright, alright. you’re pushin’ it now, freak. r’member i’m the one clapping these sweet cheeks and i’ll always be a better fuck than you—“ abruptly, your newfound husband snatches up your phone — growling possessively down the line as if to ward your ex off. 

“okaybyethankyou!” squealing you hang up the phone and breathe a heavy sigh of relief, head banging on the table in front of you as you try to hide your flustered face. “that went better than expected.” 

the blonde before you shrugs nonchalantly as if he wasn’t seconds away from reaching into the phone and tearing shindou’s head from between his shoulders.  “i do love an opportunity to show you off, rub our marriage in people’s faces.” alas, he pours you both a shot, adding a mixer to yours, sort of as a reward for making it through the call. “kay, next card,” he swipes one from the top of the pile once more, carefully murmuring its contents into the studio’s cool air. “can the both of you name one person you would have invited into your marital bedroom on your wedding night? see if you’re both thinking of the same person. easy. on three?” 

“sure! one, two—“ you count, the temperature of the room raising as it awaits your big reveal. “kirishima.” 

“kirishima.” katsuki says at the same time before smirking cockily at the film crew. “next!”

you join him just as your foot flirtatious slides up his leg from underneath the table. “kats says eijirou is packin’, by the way.” your husband’s smile fades into an embarrassed look, everyone in the room laughing along with you. of course he’s seen it. of course you’ve talked about this before. “anyway, my turn! most romantic thing i’ve ever done for you? c’mon now kats, you can think of something. i’m pretty sweet.” 

reaching for your hand for the nth time during the shoot, bakugou laces his fingers with yours — decadent dark red eyes instantly drawn to the big rock on your engagement ring and the simple gold wedding band that sits above it as he recalls everything you’ve ever done for him. every gesture; every text, every act of physical touch or service. it would be hard to choose just one romantic thing.

the silence as he ponders almost fills you with dread, a nervousness fluttering about in your chest like a butterfly whose wings are beginning to fail them. they’d have to edit this part out if he couldn’t think of anything. 

but then, those plush pink lips that kiss you and call for you, part gently and a soft sentiment escape’s from between them. “you love me,” is all bakugou can say, eyes wide and genuine. “you take care of me. that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done f'me…and, if we’re talkin’ specifics, you remember that time just before my album came out? before our wedding? i was fuckin’ stressed ‘n i was always locked up in the studio, trying to figure out the track list, the final song…” 

you nod slowly, exhaling deeply through your nose. “yeah?”  the background noise from the crew, cameras and mics wither away until it’s just yourself and bakugou in the room — holding hands as though you’re one another’s life lines. 

“it was three am ‘n you were in another city for a shoot but…you still made the drive over to have dinner with me. to make sure i ate,” the tip of katsuki’s rough and calloused thumb brushes over the bumps formed by your knuckles. “just to help me run through things even though i was freakin’ the fuck out and you had a flight to milan the next day. you ate with me and that meant a lot.” he seems wistful as he talks, forgetting that the world will be able to see his heart beating all tender like when the cameras are put away and the footage is polished up.

perhaps he doesn’t care if the world sees him being so vulnerable with the woman he loves on screen. they’ll usually find such openness hidden between the lyrics of his songs. so, perhaps it’s the little alcohol running through his system. nevertheless, quiet love and appreciation seeps from katsuki bakugou’s pours into the quiet atmosphere of the set, the emotions crash over you in waves that you welcome — almost reducing you to tears brewed just for him.

“you asshole,” you sniff, lacking all the spite the insulting nickname carries. “i didn’t think that night  meant so much to you… i just wanted to see my baby. wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

cocking his head to the side fondly, the blonde singer uses the back of his hand to wipe at your free falling tears you hadn’t realised were there. bakugou doesn’t let go of you the entire time. “don’t cry sweets, you know i hate t’see you cry.” 

watery laughter bubbles up on the seam of your lips. “don’t tell me what to do,”

“you said she drove from another city, would you guys say that distance made things difficult for you?” 

“sometimes,” you answer the director truthfully. “while we were engaged we’d plan our wedding across different time zones. when i was awake walking for fashion week he was sleeping in his studio making songs.” you explain, looking to katsuki to confirm.

he nods along with another squeeze of your hand. “it was hard yeah, but we got through it. now she has my ring on her finger ‘n she’s stuck with me.” 

“send help.” you mouth to the camera.

resuming the game, you snatch up a card and secretly hope that the question is a little more light hearted than the previous. “has my line of work ever made you jealous? oooh, good one,” adding the card to the ones already discarded, you squirm in your seat — excited to know your husband’s answer. “no shots! i want you sober and honest.” 

“i’ve hardly had anythin’ to drink!” katsuki snorts. “what’s the sayin’? a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts? let me have something.” 

“no! i want sober words and sober thoughts, that’s the aim of the game, stink.” 

katsuki rolls his eyes so hard you fear they might drop out of his skull. “spoiled brat,” he mumbles begrudgingly, sucking his teeth. “okay before anyone says anythin’, i’m a secure guy. i trust and value my girl’s word above anyone else’s. i love seein’ her on billboards in every country i visit, on magazines at every airport I’ve ever flown from…”

“it feels like there’s a but coming.” 

“wait for it…” you hum gleefully.

“but i hate that one cover shoot you did with that nerd, izuku, for vogue. that’s it. never do that shit again.” bakugou finishes, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

nearly leaping out of your seat, you point at your husband — bewildered. “i knew it! you said it didn’t bother you!”

“of course it did! he had his grubby arms wrapped around you! he stinks.” 

“you did not just call izuku stinky, he’s got a feature on your album!” 

“his feature can kiss my ass,” you know that bakugou is only half serious, the two have written some beautiful songs together and the cover hardly meant anything — izuku models from time to time as well. it just so happens you also work for the same brands. “my turn again, rate my proposal on a scale of one to ten. how good did i do?”

“nine point five.” you nod assertively, speaking to your audience with love bursting through your heart. “he proposed to me at his first sold out concert, like literally stopped singing and apologised to all of his fans because he had something important to say. that’s when he asked me, in front of his entire world. kats’ is real private so it meant so much to me…”

the blonde leans back in his seat but brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss directly to your wedding rings. “only nine point five? cheeky fucker.”

“it’s only ‘cause your genius-self decided to chuck my ring into the crowd?” you scoff. 

“oi! i have good aim, you’re just shit at catchin’ things!” katsuki scoffs back, nudging you with his foot under the table. 

“back to the game love birds.” 

the two of you put your playful little spat on the back burner and you grasp the next card. “how many years into our our marriage do you think we’ll stop having sex—?” 

“never,” katsuki cuts you off, looking directly into the lense as he jabs a thumb in your direction. “i can’t ever get her off my cock. she’s fuckin’ insane.” 

heat flares up underneath the surface of your skin in embarrassment. “fuck you.” 

“right after this shoot, sweetheart.” he winks right back at you before nodding down at the cards. “last two, yeah? did your life turn out as expected?”

chewing on your bottom lip, you give the question some thought. life has an unpredictable nature, no matter who you are or where you come from. if someone had told you a year into your college degree, that you’d be in front of sorts of cameras as a profession for the rest of your life — you wouldn’t have believed them. if someone had told you that you’d find the love of your life shortly after, you would have called them a liar too. your past has been heavy, a dark cloud you never thought you’d be able to escape — hauntingly daunting.

and even though you know that it’s a burden to place the weight of your happiness on someone else’s shoulders — but you know that katsuki has always been your golden, blinding light at the end of the tunnel. he’s something you never expected, but someone you entirely deserve after everything life has thrown at you. 

“no, it hasn’t,” you whisper softly, ever so slightly distinct. your lover leans in, watching you curiously from over stacked question cards and bottles of barely touched alcohol. “i never expected to be so famous so young, that a silly little dream of mine could come true. that i never expected, i still can’t believe it…but, it’s like… meeting you. falling in love with you, on top of all that? it’s like i was destined to be with you, kats. you’re my soulmate. i knew that from the start.” 

just like you earlier, emotion wells up inside katsuki. it breaches the cavity of his chest, slows down the rate of his heart and lungs and brings a slight shine to his beautiful blood red eyes. he sniffs but doesn’t dare look away from you — reading deep into your soul despite knowing the pages of it off by heart. “i feel the same,” he mumbles, reaching over to cup your face even with all of the cameras around. “i never expected to go on tour, sell albums and make music…but i feel like my heart always knew you were waitin’ for me.” quietness fills the space between the two of you, neither of you needing to say much. you cup the wrist of his hand that touched your face, leaning into his palm and pressing a kiss to it. “we’re so fuckin’ corny.” 

“you love it.”  you reply instantly. “i love you.” 

“see?” katsuki asks the production crew as he draws the last card for both of you — holding it out for you to read. “cornball.” 

“it’s cute! she’s cute and corny!”

“what about the rest of our marriage do you look forward to most?” since the video shoot is coming to an end, and you hardly want to cry any more, you both decide to make your answers short and sweet. “i look forward to spending forever by your side, taking over the world one continent at a time.” you gush, meaning every single word, smiling adoringly. 

“ditto, can’t wait to grow old with you, brat.” bakugou mirrors your expression and finally, finally ends the shoot by pressing the ghost of a kiss to your awaiting lips. you feel warm knowing how comfortable he’s grown over the course of filming, even more so at all of the truths he’s given you tonight. 

“that’s a wrap! thank you so much guys!”

katsuki salutes the camera, finishing up for you. “we’ve been the bakugous playin’ truth or drink. buy my album, see me on tour, buy a magazine with my wife’s beautiful face on it. like and subscribe.” all the while, you reflect on everything that you’ve learned about your husband whilst filming — that he loves you a lot more than he lets on, that you have his heart for all of eternity, that nothing in this world and cause his love for you to waver, 

and as your matching wedding bands continue to gleam beneath the dimming studio lights, you only hope that he knows that you feel the exact same way about loving him too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[shellshocklove]

just crazy love | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: joel had hurt you badly, but can you forgive him?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s and the porn industry, smoking of cigarettes (it's the 70s alright), mentions and drinking of alcohol, misogyny (bc of the times™), readers uncle is a character in this but his name is not mentioned and there's no description of looks, angst, swearing, use of pet names, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), praise kink, some size kink (pornstar!joel has a big dick), soft!dom joel, no use of y/n

a/n: this is part three and the last part to my little 70s!pornstar!joel mini-series. i'm overwhelmed by the love i got on the previous part. i honestly thought everyone had forgotten about the orginal one shot as it had been so long 💀 i really appreciate all of you who's left a comment, reply or sent me an ask! makes my heart all mushy 🥺 thank you to @dustydaddyyy for all the help and for reading through it! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

On the way home from set, Joel started to think he’d fucked up.

You were so quiet, quieter than you usually were, and it made him worried. After wrapping his scene with Cheryl, he’d immediately looked for you, but your place in the corner where you’d stood watching was empty. He’d noticed you slip out during his scene but thought nothing of it as he knew being on set wasn’t your favorite, but then you came back, and Joel had found it hard to conceal his happiness behind his acting.

His head had been filled with memories and fantasies, memories and fantasies of you. The look you’d get in your eyes when he kissed you, blown out and wide. The feel of your soft hand wrapped around him this morning, the feel of your wet pussy tight around his cock. The sweet taste of you on his tongue. Shit. You were intoxicating. Joel couldn’t get you out of his head– and he didn’t want to try either. One look at you and those pretty eyes, and he came harder during a scene than he can remember ever doing – no need to fake any groans or moans.

It had been a long time since Joel had felt something so strongly for another woman. It must’ve been his high school sweetheart, he thought, that first teenage love, that all-consuming love that made that one special girl feel like the most important person in the world. And sure, after he moved to LA he’d dated, had a couple of girlfriends, but it never went anywhere, and his job, his job always made it complicated. Joel didn’t want complicated– so he stopped dating and got his fill of human touch through his work instead. It made his life easy, but then he’d seen you at the bar by yourself at Tommy’s club, and Joel didn’t want easy anymore.

Joel was a charming man; those southern manners had gotten him far in life, and especially with the ladies – it was no secret. And maybe he’d turned it up a few notches that night, he could admit that – hoping it would hook you in. He’d almost gone against his own rule. The rule he’d set for himself after one particularly nasty break-up a few years back: his rule of no sex outside work. He’d told himself he was protecting himself– protecting himself from getting involved into something complicated again, from getting hurt, or hurting someone he cared for. But then he’d met you, danced with you, talked to you, and Joel didn’t care about protecting himself anymore.

You weren’t someone to take home at the end of the night for a quick fuck. You were so sweet, and shy, he couldn’t help but want to get to know you better. Learn what made you smile, what books you liked, what music you listened to, but also what noises you made when you fell apart. In that dark dingy club, Joel had realized how special you were.

Maybe it was stupid what he did? He could’ve gotten your number a number of ways, but the alcohol was talking and suddenly he was offering you a job before really thinking it through – but at least he had a reason to see you again.

You were a good assistant, and he appreciated the work you did for him, his life had gotten much easier after hiring you. But you were so professional, and what Joel wanted to do to you was unprofessional. You kept on top of his schedule, took his phone calls, scheduled meetings, predicted what he needed before he even knew he wanted it. You were nothing short of a great assistant, but the more he worked with you it was clear that there were things about his job you weren’t as comfortable with – and Joel couldn’t blame you. From the outside his job was unusual, and fucking on camera wasn’t for everybody, but Joel had come to know – it especially wasn’t for you.

A couple of months in, Joel had started to think you were a virgin. At first, he thought it was just your steadfast professionalism, but your reactions to what he considered normal things in his line of work, made him wonder. Not that there was anything wrong with you being a virgin, he just couldn’t understand how anyone could look at you and not want you to be theirs. And maybe it was wrong, but it turned him on a little too, something possessive deep inside loving the thought of you being his, and only his.

He wanted you, wanted you to be his, and the more he got to know you, the more he had to fight to hold back his growing feelings. Joel could hide behind his personality, hide behind the way he loved to flirt, loving the way you squirmed from his compliments– from his teasing. It was cute, it was so goddamn cute, but it didn’t fix the ache he had inside only you could sooth.

After Pismo Beach, Joel knew he was fucked. In the car on the way back to LA he’d had trouble watching anything except your face; the beautiful glimmering sea you drove along might as well have been an oily puddle for all he cared. Nothing was sweeter than watching you hum along to the Joni Mitchell cassette you played on repeat. Joni’s mezzo-soprano clung in his ear like a warning. Yes, help me, he was falling in love too fast, but damn if it didn’t feel good.

Now a different song filled the space of his car, as he drove you home. Crosby, Stills & Nash’s melodic guitar picking hummed a low tune, their three-part harmonies flowing from his car speakers.

“Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams, he worries.”

So yeah, Joel was worried. That rosy hue that had been tinting his world when he looked at you, had now faded to a drab dirty pink. You didn’t even look at him, and hadn’t muttered as much as a word to him since he found you in his trailer – where you’d been flicking through his papers from the meeting – after the scene ended.

“’s everythin’ alright?” Joel spoke across the silence that had grown between you.

You didn’t move your head from where it rested against the window; your face bathed in red from the sea of brake lights on the freeway. You weren’t moving much, so Joel allowed himself a good look at you. He watched the way your body curled in on itself in the seat, your fingers picking at your nailbeds – it made him pull his brows in a tight frown.

“Did he hear a goodbye, or even hello?”

With a brave hand he reached out to touch you, stroking the back of his hand against your cheek. “Hey,” he said, “did ya hear me, my sweet girl?”

“They are one person. They are two alone. They are three together. They are for each other.”

You pulled away from his touch immediately, shifting in your seat, and Joel felt his heart sink in his chest. “I’m fine,” you muttered, an unfamiliar sting in your voice.

A loud honk behind him released Joel from the shock from your tone, and his hand that had been previously dancing along your delicate skin, fell to the gear stick. Releasing the clutch slowly, Joel’s car rolled forward, following the slug traffic. You clearly weren’t fine.

“Stand by the stairway, you’ll see something certain to tell you, confusion has its cost.”

Joel let the music fill the space while you stayed quiet, a bubbling panic settling in his chest as the day played on repeat in his head. Everything had been so great earlier, until it wasn’t. He’d seen it in you after the meeting. Joel knew he should’ve said something, and he’d simmered with it all throughout the meeting, but Joel also knew better than to speak against Ronald in a setting like that.

Ronald was the best thing that had happened to Joel’s career. He was a big name in the porn industry, only managing the very best in the game. Eight years had passed since Ronald had discovered Joel.

It had been the summer of ‘67, his first year in LA already in the rear view. He’d come with a guitar case and a dream of making something of himself. Joel had chased that dream around in circles, and a year into it, he’d been free falling towards rock bottom. The gigs he’d dreamt would line up as soon as his feet touched the hot Californian sand, never came, and had it not been for Tommy, who’d made the move with him, he’d be homeless.

The whole exchange had been bizarre. Tommy was working as a busboy at a club on The Strip at the time, and as an employee, Tommy got a discount at the bar. Joel knew how to take advantage of his little brother’s benefits, and occupied a seat at the bar every weekend where he drank almost free booze, and flirted himself to a one night stand, or two, or three.

He’d sat by the bar one Saturday like usual when a man sat down in the seat next to him. Joel paid him no mind at first, continuing to smoke his cigarette and enjoy his whiskey. Then the man had started talking to him, asking if he knew this girl he’d slept with last week. He was about to deny ever having talked to someone matching this girl’s description, concerned that this man was a husband or a crazy ex-boyfriend of some sort, when the man started telling him that she dabbled in porn. Nothing crazy, just some nude photoshoots here and there, but she’d told him all about Joel and his impressive package.

Joel was about to tell the man to go fuck himself – the conversation twisting into something way too weird for Joel to navigate – when the man, Ronald, had offered to manage him. 

Sure, Joel was gifted, blessed, some might even say, but it had sounded too good to be true: getting paid the big bucks for just having sex? At the time, it had sounded like every man’s pipe dream but now, Joel owed Ronald everything.

If the movie deal with VCA went through, Joel’d owe him even more. It was a miracle he was this sought after in the first place. The top consumers of porn, Joel knew, and he supposed the entire porn industry knew, were predominantly men looking for big boobs and a willing woman, neither of which he was. But the tide was turning with the rise of the women’s movement, and Ronald had thrown his net into the pool of opportunity at the exact right moment.

The cynical part of Joel told him it paid his bills – he’d been so desperate in that club – but now, now he was living large as his popularity had continued to grow, and grow, and grow. He’d paved his path towards success, towards the success he’d dreamed about those eighth years ago. And sure, it felt good to be sought after and desired by women everywhere, but if he was being honest, the only woman he wanted to be desired by in this moment, was you.

He loved your gentle nature, that shy, almost timid, way you looked at him. No one had looked at him like that before. It felt so much more real, but it was like something was always holding you back, like you could never allow yourself to just be, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Joel recognized that feeling, he did. He was from the south after all, and as far as his family was concerned, Joel was a sinner. That guilt they instilled in him– he’d sat with that a long time, years spent learning not to hate himself for the choices he’d made, unlearning years of shame. To not feel guilty about his desires, to embrace all that life had to offer with open arms, to dream, to eat until he was full and still have room for dessert.

“Love isn’t lying, it’s loose in a lady who lingers.”

Clearing his throat, Joel spoke again, “Somethin’ ‘s clearly wrong, sweet girl.”

“Please don’t call me that,” you sighed, voice strained like you were close to crying. The broken sound of you shattered something inside him.

“Saying she is lost, and choking on hello.”

Finally, the traffic picked up its pace, and Joel changed gear, gaining speed for the first time since you got on the freeway.  

“My sweet girl?” he asked, “I thought you liked that?”

Crosby, Stills & Nash sang their last lines, before the song faded into some disco song Joel had never heard before. It was loud and obnoxious, and your answer drowned in the beat. Joel’s hand was on the volume button in less than a second, turning it down.

“I didn’t,” you repeated in a whisper, “I don’t.”

You shifted your body closer to the door, and Joel knew he had to do something to make you feel better.

“How about…” he started, his hand shifting from the gear stick to land on the thick of your thigh, “I’ll drive us back to my place, and we’ll pick up where we left of this mornin’, huh? Would that make ya feel better?”

You crossed your leg over the other, making his hand slip from your thigh. “I’m too tired, Joel– it’s been a long day… and I didn’t get enough sleep,” you sighed, eyes closed and defeated.

“You sure? Swe–” Joel cut himself off before he could say it, the sweetness turning bitter on his tongue.

You didn’t answer, didn’t look at him, didn’t let him touch you. Something tightened in his chest. You were slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Maybe this wasn’t about the meeting after all?

“’s this about Cheryl?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and calm, to conceal the panic bubbling in his throat. “’s just for work– was just actin’.”

You took a deep breath, and held it before you spoke, like you were practicing what to say before you said it. “It’s fine, Joel– I’m not your girlfriend.”

Not his girlfriend. Not his. Never his.

This time he couldn’t look at you, his hand gripping tightly around the steering wheel as he glimpsed your apartment complex down at the next turn.

“I thought–” Shit. A breathless chuckle devoid of any joy left him. He was speechless. 

Pulling into the parking lot next to your car, Joel didn’t know what to do. He watched you gather your things, while the heaviness in his chest grew.

Was it over before it had even begun?

“I’m…” you drew a shaky breath, “I’ll see you at work.”

And then you were gone, slipping out the door and leaving Joel alone in the swollen silence of your absence. His heart hammered in his chest, his breathing growing shallower as he watched you hurry across the parking lot in the rear-view mirror.

Move you fucking idiot– run after her, his brain told him, but he couldn’t move an inch. Shit. Shit. Shit. His chest tightened, and tightened, his fingers clawing at the rough fabric of his jeans as he started gasping for air. He’d wanted you for so long, and now you were gone. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? With shaky hands he managed to roll down the window, the fresh evening air filled his lungs as he tried his best to calm down.

Joel had fucked up.

When Thursday rolled around, and Joel still hadn’t heard from you, he started to wonder if it was excessive to file a missing persons report. He’d tried to call you multiple times since Monday, but your phone was always off the hook. The hollow beeping of the busy signal doing nothing to calm the panic building in him since Monday.

He’d been so stupid, and he’d cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. Embarrassment suffocating him at the fact that it hadn’t settled in until Ronald had shown him the first rough cut of his chemistry test with Cheryl yesterday.

It had been Cheryl’s idea, the whole innocence thing. She’d pitched it to him after the meeting ended, telling him how excited she was for this opportunity, and how much she was looking forward to finally filming later. Joel had played along; he was at work after all – it was his job. So, he turned on the charm, tested the chemistry waters, and agreed. She was new to the industry and young, it made sense.

What didn’t make sense was what he’d called her. Sweet girl. He’d called Cheryl that multiple times without even realizing it – too lost in his thoughts of you, and how he wished it was you with your lips wrapped around him.

Joel was fucking stupid.

He’d convinced you to watch him get a blowjob from another woman right after you’d confessed to never having given head before. He knew you were inexperienced, but that had never mattered to him. Joel thought it was kinda nice to explore sex with you – to find out what you liked, and what you didn’t. It made it exciting again – it wasn’t just work. But hearing himself praise Cheryl for making him feel good was the last straw for him – he needed to apologize to you.

How he wished he’d been able to convince you to stay in bed that morning– to forget about the stupid fucking meeting. Finally, he’d had you. Finally, he could kiss you, and hold you, and make you feel good. The sweetness of you, of having had you, now bitter as he realized he’d probably never get that back.

Wiping a sweaty palm on his jeans, he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for someone to buzz him into your apartment complex. He knew he shouldn’t be here, he could get you in trouble, but he needed to see you, to talk to you face to face.

“Hello?” a static voice croaked through the busted speakers of the rusting door buzzer.

“Pizza delivery,” Joel answered, and not a second later the door buzzed.

Trudging up the stairs the words he’d rehearsed played on a loop in his head: He know you probably don’t want to see him ever again, but he needed to apologize for what happened on Monday. He never meant to hurt you the way he did. He understands he was never your boyfriend, but that was what he wanted to be, and he’s sorry for the way he acted.

Stopping outside your apartment door he drew in a deep breath before he knocked. It felt like he stood there for hours waiting while nothing happened. That worry he’d felt for days now tugging harder at his neck. Joel knocked again, a little harder with the shout of your name, and added ‘It’s Joel’ for good measure. Again, nothing. When he repeated the action a third time, the door to the neighboring apartment flew open.

“She’s not home,” your neighbor told him, a hint of annoyance in her voice. She was dressed in a formless paisley patterned dress, hair thrown back in a low ponytail as she bounced a crying baby in her arms. When Joel’s eyes landed on the little girl in her arms, she told him, “You woke her up with all that banging.”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he said earnestly, “I never meant to–” The baby screamed louder, face red from exertion.

“Sure, you didn’t,” she scoffed, with a roll of her eyes. She bounced her daughter, shifting her hold to hike her up over her shoulder, hand tap tapping at her back as she started to bounce her.

Sliding his hands into his jean pockets, Joel didn’t know what to do. Awkwardly he cleared his throat, tilting his head towards your door. “D’you–” Joel started, before your neighbor cut him off.

“No, but I saw her getting picked up by an older man about an hour ago.” Something about the judgement in her tone didn’t sit right with Joel.

He nodded at the information. Your uncle. Joel remembered now. Your uncle was coming to visit – taking you to dinner. What had you said on the phone again? An Italian place in Santa Monica?

Pulling his car keys from his pocket, he thanked your neighbor – making sure to apologize once again for the ruckus, before he hurried back down the stairs. He walked with long steps towards his car. The sun was setting on LA, turning the clouds and the city pink, but he paid the beautiful sight no mind, his eyes set on the Italian restaurant in Santa Monica where he knew Deborah worked.

“Well would you look at what the cat dragged in.”

Joel turned his head towards the source of the familiar voice, only to find himself eye to eye with Deborah, and her raised eyebrow.

The air smelled like garlic and basil, and the restaurant hummed with conversation over the sound of Dean Martin. She was adorning the restaurant’s waiter uniform, a short red dress over a white collared shirt, while balancing a tower of dirty plates in her hands. He almost didn’t recognize her, she looked so different from how he was used to seeing her – all dolled up at Tommy’s club.

“Deborah,” he acknowledged with a nod, plastering a polite smile on his face.

“Don’t you ‘Deborah’ me, Miller,” she told him with a scoff, placing the tower of dishes down on an empty table before crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m lookin’ for–”

“I bet you are,” Deborah replied, raising an unimpressed brow, “She ain’t here.”

Joel sighed, his face pulling into a defeated smile. “I know she’s with her uncle, Deborah. She told me she was takin’ him to an Italian restaurant in Santa Monica– As far as I’m concerned, that’s this place.”

Deborah shrugged nonchalantly, and Joel felt himself start to get annoyed. “Sorry, haven’t seen her in months.”

“Deb,” Joel let out through an exasperated sigh, a hand coming up to rub his eye, “Listen, I–... I just came to apologize, okay? I did somethin’ stupid that I shouldn’t have, and I need to apologize to her f’it.”

Deborah scoffed at Joel’s words, shaking her head with a bitter smile. “I bet you did something stupid... always the same thing with you Millers, hm? You always do first and think later.”

Confused, Deborah’s tone made Joel raise a single eyebrow, “Sure we still talkin’ about me?”

He hadn’t heard much from Tommy about what had gone on between him and Deborah, but he knew it hadn’t been very pretty. Tommy had just broken up Maria for the umpteenth time when they’d started going around. It was never going to last, Joel knew it the second he’d met Deb. Tommy always came back to Maria somehow, it didn’t matter how badly it had ended – like an endless figure eight they’d always meet again in the middle.

“Potato, potahto,” she said with a falsely sweet smile.

“Look, I ain’t my brother, okay? Never have been, never will be. Now I ain’t got a clue what went down between the two of you, and I’m damn near sure he deserves all the rage you’ve got to throw at ‘him, but it ain’t my business to sort out, so don’t go makin’ it my business...”

Deb tightened her arms over her chest, green eyes glaring at him, still, Joel could see a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes, too. “Apologize for what? You dock her pay or something?”

“No,” Joel let out with an annoyed breath.

“So what, you fired her?”

“No, Deb,” Joel said again, his voice heavy with exasperation.

Deborah quieted down for a second as she scrutinized him, her eyes boring into him. Then, her eyes cleared, and she shook her head.

“You got handsy, didn’t you?” she asked eventually, raising a questioning eyebrow. Joel couldn’t hide the guilt on his face, it told her all she needed to know. Her hands fell to her sides, “Jesus Christ, Miller... don’t you get laid enough at work?”

“Look, it ain’t like that,” he said, shaking his head as he felt his cheeks heat up, which only embarrassed him more.

Joel Miller doesn’t blush.

When Deb crossed her arms again, expression expectant as she looked silently at him, Joel sighed. “Deb… I really like her– and I know ya’ll are friends, and you want to protect her, but you gotta give me a fair shot, too... I never meant to hurt her, but I did, and if I have to spend the rest of my life apologizin’ to her every single day then that’s what I’mma do, but I promise you, you’re going to get sick of me real quick.”

There was a moment of silence in which the two of them looked at each other, before Deb raised a finger to point at Joel, taking a step forward.

“You listen here, Miller,” she said, wagging it under his nose, “Just this once, I’m going to be nice to you, for old times’ sake... but if I so much as hear a squeak from her you’re acting like a bastard, then you bet your ass I’m coming the hell after you.”

Joel nodded slowly, pulling in a deep breath through his nose as he pursed his lips.

“Anythin’ else?” he asked, raising a semi-impressed eyebrow, but Deborah only scoffed at his tone, poking him in the chest a final time.

“Yeah, tell your brother to stop calling,” she said, looking up at him, before nodding towards the back of the restaurant, “Unlike her, I don’t give second chances.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Joel said with a nod, but his voice was already absent as he finally spotted your familiar shape sitting in a booth at the very back of the restaurant.

Twirling your fork absentmindedly through your spaghetti, you listened to your uncle yap on and on about the boys at the garage, and the car he’d just driven down here.

“It’s a beaut,” your uncle said through a mouthful of his own pasta, “1971 C3 model, nice dark green color Ralphie repainted. You know I’m not a convertible guy myself, can’t give up my truck, but I could see myself in one of them cars out here– apparently, it’s being sold to some high-profile actor or something.”

“Really?” you asked, trying to steer this never-ending one-sided conversation towards something somewhat interesting.

“Yeah, you know I don’t keep up with them celebrities, but I’m pretty sure I was talking to the client’s manager on the phone.”

You nodded, letting your fork fall to take a sip of your water. Your uncle hadn’t let you order yourself a glass of wine, the impression that you were still that innocent little girl you were back when you worked in his garage shop hard to shake. Your uncle, on the other hand, nursed his beer.

“That’s exciting,” you said with a small smile.

“Oh yeah, we’ve got this bet going at the shop about who it is–” Your uncle cut himself off as a broad figure approached your table. Looking up from your plate your breath hitched when you saw the man before you.

“Joel?” His name fell from your lips before you had time to think, your brows pulling together in confusion, before something tugged at the hurt in your heart. What was he doing here?

“Hi, sweetheart.” His face wore a quiet smile, eyes scanning over your form.

“W-what are you doing here?” you stuttered out, a panic racing in your chest while a lump formed in your throat. You couldn’t do this here, especially not in front of your uncle.

“I was in the neighborhood– saw y’all through the window and wanted to…” he trailed off, finally noticing your uncle. “Sorry, sir,” he reached out his hand to your uncle in a greeting, “Joel Miller, I’m–”

“Joel’s an actor,” you cut him off, “he starred in one of Mr. Cooper’s commercials a few months ago,” you lied.

You could see the kink in Joel brow at your lie, that quiet surprise he then played off with a charming smile. “Yeah, that’s right– a beer commercial, wasn’t it?” He looked at you with one eyebrow raised. Biting down on your lip you confirmed the lie with a nod.

“You do look a little familiar,” you uncle said, dragging the words out like he’s pulling them from his memory, “they show your commercial on the TV?”

“Oh, I haven’t been payin’ attention, but somethin’ like that,” Joel shrugged, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his tight Levis, his signature western belt buckle glinting in the low light. “Y’all mind if I join y’all for a drink?”

“Not at all,” your uncle smiled before you could say anything. Joel lifted his hand to get Deborah’s attention to order himself a beer, before he squeezed himself into the booth next to you, his knee bumping into yours as he got comfortable.

Having lost your appetite, you shifted your plate to the side to make room for Joel. It was a tight squeeze in the booth, the warmth of his body flooding your senses, the familiar scent of cigarettes and of his cologne making your heart ache.

How could you miss him, and hate him all at the same time?

Deborah served Joel his drink quickly, checking in at your table at the same time. Her eyes were focused on you as she cleared the table, asking you a silent ‘You okay?’ which you quickly nodded at. You knew she’d make up some crazy excuse to get you out of any situation, but you didn’t know if you could handle it if she did. It was easier to just suffer through. You’d suffered enough this past week; you could handle another hour.

The days since you’d seen Joel last had been spent between your bed and your couch. Unfocused eyes rolling over reruns as you let a blanket of numbness fall over you as the hours passed you by. You felt so tired, that kind of tired that sits in your stomach, heavy and pulling you down, every step a drag and every breath a strain. You’d isolated yourself for days, hadn’t showered for days, you were too tired to do it, and what did it matter anyway?

You’d tried to cry, but you couldn’t make the tears fall. You wanted the release, and to feel sorry for yourself, but nothing came. And what good would it do? Nothing. You were nothing. Nothing to yourself, nothing to Joel, and nothing to this lonely city. Just some small-town girl who thought she could change who she was, who she was always destined to be.

After two whole days on your couch, you had to get up, you had no choice. You wanted to cancel, to tell your uncle that you’d come down with the flu, but you knew he was driving all day, and you wouldn’t have a clue where to call to reach him. So, you’d sat up, ate a piece of bread, and had a shower. Every minute you tried to not think of Joel, tried to not think about the way he’d kissed you hello in your hallway, the way he'd held you through the night as you slept soundly in his arms, how his gaze had felt over your features on your way back from Pismo Beach – it was all too much. Every nice memory ruined by the way his voice had echoed ‘Sweet girl’ to Cheryl.

Sweet girl. Feels so good, my sweet girl– just like that. My sweet girl.

How stupid you’d felt hearing those words. You’d fooled yourself into thinking there was something more between you and Joel. You weren’t special, and that was the worst part, because he’d made you feel special. He’d made you feel desired– like he actually liked you. Or maybe that’s what hurt the most – to realize that to him you were just one girl among many.

You’d placed your phone back on the hook in the afternoon, anticipating your uncle’s call, and when it rang, you were relieved to hear his familiar voice down the line. It was all so complicated. The relief a strange mix with the suffocating memories of home. You were different now than when you worked at his shop. Still shy, but still different, more grown up and more independent. He didn’t know you anymore. No one knew you anymore– well except for one person.

You’d felt free with Joel– even before, when he was just your boss. He’d challenged you, made you come out of your shell, challenged your shame, and challenged your guilt. And watching Joel small talk with your uncle, you started to wonder if that was the reason why it had hit you so hard? Joel had let you be yourself, while still challenging you. He’d let you be shy, while still feeling sexy. He’d made you feel seen, until you’d been forgotten.

“You guys will have to excuse me, I need to take a leak,” your uncle said, pulling you from your thoughts, and getting up from his seat.

With his glass raised to his lips, Joel only gave him a short nod as he watched him walk away from your table. When your uncle was out of earshot, Joel dropped the act, shoulders relaxing as he gently placed his beer on the red and white gingham.

His face looked tired, eyes sparkling with melancholy. “I’m sorry for showin’ up here all unannounced,” he started, fingertips tapping lightly over the cloth, “you weren’t pickin’ up your phone and I need to talk to you.”

The lump on your throat grew larger as you tried to swallow around it, lost for words. “F-for what?” you said, voice hoarse and not louder than a whisper.

“I think we both know for what,” he sighed, “I fucked it up with you– never should’ve said those things to Cheryl– even if it was just actin’. I got so caught up in you, I didn’t realize what I’d said until it was too late, and I’m sorry.”

“I-I, J-Joel,” you stuttered, brows pulling together tightly as you searched for your words.

“You don’t need to say nothin��� right now, but I wanna drive you home ‘f that’s okay? Wanna have a proper talk with you.”

His hand was shaking as he placed it gently on your shoulder, the touch making your eyes fall shut as a hitching breath escaped you.

“Joel,” you whispered.

“Please,” his hand moved gently up your neck to cup your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending goosebumps down your spine. “Please, I need to explain myself.” His voice sounded pained and full of sorrow. “I’m beggin’ you, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes slowly, breath shaky as you tried to hold back the tears pressing behind your eyes. His whole face shifted when you met his eyes, melancholy turning to worry, his other hand coming up to cup your other cheek as he shifted closer.

“Hey,” he said it so softly, “Sweet girl, sweet sweet girl, please don’t cry.” His forehead fell against yours, his mustache tickling your skin as he pressed ‘I’m sorry’ into it.

“O-okay,” you managed to stutter out against your better judgment.

Joel lifted his head, brown warm eyes finding yours as his thumbs rubbed gently into your skin, “Yeah?”

Behind Joel, you noticed your uncle exit the men’s room, and you jerked out of Joel’s hold. His brows tightened together in a confused frown before you gave him a short nod in the direction of your uncle. Joel gathered his hands in his lap, his eyes tracing your uncle as he squeezed back into his seat. He gave Joel a look you couldn’t decipher, jaw locked tight and eyes piercing, before he turned to you with a plastered smile.

“Alright, what do you say, sweetie? You want some dessert?”

Your eyes flicked quickly from your uncle to Joel, and then back again, “No, I think I’m too full, and um… it’s getting late.”

Your uncle hummed, “Yeah, been a long day for sure.” Shifting in his seat your uncle fished his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s see if we can get a hold of that pretty friend of yours,” he said, turning his head to search for Deborah.

As he got her attention, Joel fished his pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his shirt. He lit himself a cigarette as you watched your uncle hold up his wallet and point. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at Joel, watching the way his lips pursed around the cigarette as he inhaled.

“I think I’m also gonna use the restroom before we leave,” you peeped, getting to your feet before anyone could say anything. You felt Joel’s hands graze the back of your legs as you squeezed past him. The touch quick but gentle, but still leaving a burn of longing either way.

Pushing open the door to the restroom you took a deep breath. Joel was here. Joel was here and he wanted to apologize. Pacing to the end of the room, you discreetly dropped your head to check the stalls. No one. Good. Leaning your weight over the stone sink, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

What were you doing? One touch from Joel and you fall apart?

You released a breathless laugh and shook your head at yourself; you were in over your head, but at the same time a bubble of relief sat in your throat. He was here after all, he wanted to explain himself, and you knew that deep down you wanted to hear it.   

When you made your way back to the table, something in the air had changed. “There she is,” your uncle said, gathering his jacket, “Ready to go?”

“Um…” You looked to Joel, but something about him looked different. His shoulders looked tense, the cigarette pinched between his fingers were close to burning out, but it was his face when he looked at you that made you worried. The previous tenderness gone, replaced by a clenched jaw and eyes that wouldn’t meet yours.

“Actually, Joel said–”

He cut you off, “I’m gonna stay for another drink…”

His words dropped to the pit your stomach where they weighed you down, your feet frozen to the tiled floor. When Joel still didn’t look at you as he handed you your jacket and purse, you knew something was clearly wrong. Beside you your uncle crowded your space. His hand landed on your shoulder where it rubbed harshly into your skin, almost possessive as his eyes locked on Joel in a way that said, ‘good man’.

“I’ll drive you home, sweetie.”

With a hand resting at your back, your uncle guided you out the restaurant without as much as a mutter of goodbye to Joel. You looked back at him, not once but twice, but he still didn’t look at you – his eyes were glued to the foam of his beer as you vanished out the door.

Back inside your uncle’s rental car you were quiet, sitting with your thoughts as they swirled around your head. You’d been so close to believing Joel; that he was actually sorry, that he wanted to apologize. But once again you’d been a fool. Leaning your head against the window you felt so silly– silly for getting your hopes up.

“I– uh,” your uncle cleared his throat, “That Joel back there, sweetie, he’s not who he says he is.”

Lifting your head you turned to your uncle with a frown, “I don’t–”

Your uncle cut you off, “I don’t want to be telling you this– lord knows I don’t want your aunt knowing about this but…”

You watched how your uncle’s grip tightened around the steering wheel, his nervousness infecting you. What was he talking about?

“But what?” Your voice rose an octave, as you let out a nervous breath.

“Joel does porn,” your uncle revealed. He said it all dramatic, like he was in a movie and this scene was the turning point for your character. You had to restrain yourself to hide the laugh tickling your throat as he continued, “I thought he looked familiar, and– jesus, don’t you ever tell anybody about this but… he’s in a couple of movies I keep in the basement.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your eyes staring straight ahead down the road. You cringed at the new atmosphere settling in the car, stuffy with embarrassment and a picture of your uncle getting off to Joel stuck to your retinas. You wanted to hurl, this new picture not something you’d ever want to visualize. You were quiet as the revelation settled, your brain searching for words, but it was like they’d all fallen out your ears.

“Listen,” he cleared his throat of the discomfort, “I don’t know what he is to you, if he’s your boyfriend or what–”

“He’s not,” you squeaked, ready for this conversation to be over.

“I saw him kissing you when I stepped out of the toilets,” your uncle accused sternly, a biting lilt to his voice.

“Kiss me? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you protested, confused about how he’d gotten it in his head that Joel had kissed you.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” he started to yell, “I saw it with my own two eyes, don’t you go lying to me.”

Your heart picked up its pace, all the blood in your body turning to ice in your veins. Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t want you seeing him anymore– that kinda filth he’s involved in…” he shook his head, “it’s sinful and I don’t want him getting you involved in that.” Your uncle’s voice was stern, words spat through gritted teeth.

You were frozen in your seat. Your heart beating so fast you thought it might burst through your ribcage. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. All too quickly you were transported back home, back to who you used to be. You drew a shaky breath as a single tear spilled down your cheek.

“What would your parents say if they knew what you were doing down here? Who your friends were? That Deborah? Did you see how short her dress was? The city of sin this is,” your uncle continued as he pulled into the parking lot outside your apartment complex.

With eyes glued to your hands, you couldn’t get a single word to come out of your mouth – like they were stuck to the back of your throat where they formed a painful lump. After parking the car, your uncle turned to you, a finger brushing over your cheek in a suffocating touch.

“Sweetie,” he started, voice gone softer, “I’m worried about you. You’re out here all alone– all alone with all this temptation. Wouldn’t it be nice if you came back home with me, hm? Get you back where you belong?”

"I–..."

The words stayed stuck in your throat, unable to rise over the anxiety that gripped you at the thought of returning home to your parents. How different your life would be, back to the way it used to be, an old prison you'd hoped you'd left far behind you. Yet you felt numb, finding yourself incapable of uttering a single word of protest as your uncle nodded self-righteously. 

"I think that's the best, sweetie," he told you, his tone sounding entirely too convinced, "Tell you what Hon. . . I'm gonna be driving back down tomorrow, and I'll be damned if you aren't sitting in this seat all safe right next to me, alright? So why don't you go and pack your stuff and a bag, and I'll be by in the afternoon to pick you up?"

You said nothing, the rising panic in your throat rendering you almost paralyzed. Your fingers desperately reached for the car door handle; you needed to get out of this car. 

Unaware of your distress, your uncle bid you a contented 'See you later' as you stepped out of his car, slamming the door shut. 

Finally, he drove off. You watched him disappear with a knot in your stomach until he was just a tiny dot on the horizon, wishing he would stay that way as you tried desperately not to throw up your dinner in the parking lot.

“Hello?”

The electric static of your voice filled Joel with a deep sense of relief. His grip around the phone handset tightened as he forced out a clumsy, “It’s Joel.”

The sigh you sent down the phone tickled up his spine, but before you could say anything Joel continued, “I just wanted to apologize to you… for last night.”

He’d felt awful all through the night and into the morning. He’d fucked it up again. Letting you leave like that last night was the hardest thing he’d done in a long while. Had you not gone to the bathroom and left him with your uncle, none of this would’ve happened.

You sighed again, “All you do is apologize Joel, but do you ever mean it?”

Joel face contracted into a grimace, “I do, sweet girl, you don’t know how much I mean it,”

“Joel…” your voice sounded pained, and it shattered something inside him. He just wanted you to be happy, and loved, and taken care of, but all he’d done was hurt you, again and again.

“It doesn’t matter how much you mean it Joel… none of it matters anymore.” The tone of your voice scared him.

“What d’you mean, sweetheart?” he hurried.

“It’s just… you don’t need to worry about me anymore, Joel– I’m leaving LA tonight.”

Joel felt his heart drop to his stomach, a rising panic bubbling under his skin as he stumbled out, “What are you talkin’ about, sweet girl?”

“I’m going back home tonight. I-I don’t know when I’ll be back– if I’m coming back. Joel, I can’t be your assistant anymore.”

“Fuck being my assistant!” he spoke through gritted teeth, holding back from yelling out in panic, “What d’you mean you’re leavin’?” Joel’s voice faltered as his heart caught up with what was about to happen.

He was gonna lose you. You would never be his. He was losing the first girl he thought he could really love. The girl he wanted a future with. Hell, the girl he could see himself grow old with. Joel knew it was fast, way too fast to be feeling like this about you, but right now, all those shitty romance novels about finding ‘the one’, all those weeping love songs about love at first sight – after you, they didn’t seem so stupid anymore.

“Joel, it’s– it’s okay.” Your voice had gone soft, but he could still hear the strain of hurt in it.

“It’s not, sweet girl, nothin’ about this is okay.” Joel’s eyes fell shut, his thumb and pointer finger coming up to squeeze at the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t lose you. “I’m comin’ over– We can’t be doin’ this over the phone.”

“Joel,” you sighed.

“I’m comin’ over,” he reiterated, and hung up.

You were carrying a bag to your car when you saw Joel’s car pull into the parking lot. He must’ve noticed you right away as he’d hastily parked next to your own car – his wheels screeched against the asphalt. As you made your way across the parking lot, you watched how he almost jumped out the car like he was in a hurry, coming around the back to fill the space between your cars.

“Joel– you really didn’t have to come all the way out here,” you told him when you got close enough, stepping past him to place your last bag in your back seat. He leaned his hand on your door, holding it open for you, his broad form shielding you from the blazing afternoon sun.

Inside, your apartment was left half-empty. You’d left most of your things, only bringing your clothes, your pictures, your records and your record player, and your books. 

You didn’t need much more where you were going.

The thought still made your stomach turn in on itself, the dread of going back home had trickled down your back ever since last night. But what choice did you have? It was either your parents finding out about your job and Joel, or going back home. You knew your uncle; he’d never keep this a secret if you didn’t do as he said. If your parents found out it would be over for you. You didn’t even want to think about it; they’d disown you if they were feeling nice, or send you to an asylum if they were feeling extra nice. If you didn’t go now, they’d never let you come home again, and it scared you, you were already on thin ice for moving to LA in the first place.

“Are you just gonna pretend this isn’t your uncle’s idea?” Joel’s voice had a bite to it, and it caught you off guard. Standing to your full height you raised a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. His face wore none of the anger you’d heard in his voice, instead there was a veil of sadness coating his features.

“I– Why do you think that?” You tried to keep your voice steady, normal, you didn’t want him to hear how scared you were.

“’Cause of what he told me back at the restaurant,” he closed your car door, “told me he knew who I really was and to stay away from you– he didn’t want me taintin’ you with my filth.”

Your eyes fell shut as your hand came up to rub at your forehead. So that’s what happened yesterday? Letting your hand fall, your eyes fell over Joel’ face; over his neat mustache that tickled you in just the right way whenever he kissed you, over his soft curls he’d let grow out the last couple of months, and over his eyes. His brown eyes now swirling with something you hadn’t seen in them before. Shame?  

“I done fucked it up haven’t I– you associatin’ with me? He’s takin’ you back to your daddy, ‘s that it?” When he met your eyes they softened, a veil of his regular self now concealing that blink of insecurity.  

You shook your head as a lump grew at the back of your throat, “You just– you don’t understand Joel.” The words came out strained as you felt tears push behind your eyelids.

“Hey,” Joel softened immediately, his hand wrapping gently around your upper arm and sending a warmth through your body. “You’re okay, sweet girl, tell me what I don’t understand.”

He stepped a little closer, but not too close, his hand traveled up your arm in a soothing gesture. Your eyes fell shut again, squeezing them tight to stave off your tears. You’ve never talked about it before with anybody. Never talked about your family and how trapped you’d felt by their rules and their expectations; the guilt they’d instilled in you for never being able to live up to the person they wanted you to be.

You shook your head, “I don’t think I can,” you half-whispered.

“Sweetheart, I– I know I fucked it up with you, and I know I ain’t your boyfriend or nothin’, but I do care for you– I care for you more than you think. I wanna be there for you when somethin’s wrong. So please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you looked at him. Those warm like whiskey eyes staring at you with concern and with a hint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Adoration? Fondness? Love?

“My uncle will be back soon,” you said, voice low, “he wants to get on the road before dark.”

“’s that really what you want?” he asked then, his hand slipping from your arm.

“It’s– it’s complicated, Joel.”

A sigh escaped him, as he ran a hand over his face, “Yeah… I just wish you weren’t leavin’– wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

He didn’t look like himself. Eyes shining with sadness, and that usual cocky lilt to his voice gone, exchanged by something low and strangled. His face contorted into a crooked smile, his shoulders shaking with an unhumorous breathy laugh as he shook his head.

“Shit–”, he snickered, “life’s cruel sometimes… you finally fall in love with a girl and then…” he shook his head.

You felt like you’d been hit by a truck. Fall in love? In love with you? Joel didn’t look at you, his hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he started to walk away, rounding the tail of his car.

“Fall in love?” you asked, hands falling to your side in shock, “with me?”

Joel stopped at your voice, “Couldn’t help it,” he shrugged with a sad smile.

Those tears you’d fought so hard to stave off finally broke loose, a single tear running down your cheek – the tear in the dam of your sadness. Joel’s arms were around you in an instance, strong and steady. He held you so close to his broad chest, that familiar scent of cologne mixed with cigarettes making a sob escape you as you realized you’d never be able to be this close to him ever again.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his shirt.

Joel’s grip around you tightened as he dipped his head against your cheek, “Why are you apologizin’, sweet girl? I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“I don’t want to leave,” you whispered; your tears staining his shirt.

“Then don’t– stay,” Joel said, soothing a hand across your back.

“I-I can’t– they’ll… they’ll hate me if they find out.”

“Find out about what, sweet girl?”

“You… the porn… everything. He’ll tell them and I’ll never be able to come home again,” you cried into his shirt.

“Okay,” Joel sighed, loosening his grip around you, “let’s go back to my place– we should talk.”

“But my uncle–” you started to protest, but Joel cut you off.

“He doesn’t decide over you, sweet girl, you make your own decisions– you hear me?”

His hands found your face, his massive palms holding you gently as he rubbed his thumbs down your cheek, drying your tears. You could only nod.

You’d never been inside Joel’s house before, you realized, as you trailed after him up the steps to his front door. He lived in one of those houses at the top of a long hill where he had the most incredible view over LA. You knew porn paid him the big bucks, but he’d been sensible when it came to his home – well, sensible for LA. 

It was a one-story house in the shape of an U; inside, the hallway opened up to a living room where big glass doors framed his back yard and a kidney shaped pool. Warm, dark toned wood paneling clad his walls and made the space feel masculine, but inviting.

With a hand hovering over your back he guided you towards his couch. “D’you want a cup of tea?” Joel asked you as you sat down on his leather couch. He looked nervous where he stood, palms running down the side of his leg like he didn’t know what to do with them. It was contagious.

“Um, okay,” you nodded, shifting a little in your seat and folding your hands in your lap.

Waiting for Joel to come back from the kitchen you tried to steady your stuttering heart. You’d been mostly silent on the drive over, trying to wrap your head around the fact that Joel was in love with you – the fact never seeming to stick to your brain in the right way.

It felt ridiculous – Joel, a successful pornstar, being in love with you. But stacked on top of his confession was the fact that Joel was a pornstar – making a living out of having sex with other women. You didn’t understand how exactly it bothered you, but you knew that it did somewhere deep down – but then again did you have any right to be bothered by it if it paid your bills.

“Didn’t know if you took sugar or not so I brought the bowl.” Joel pulled you from your thoughts, placing a steaming cup of tea and a small crystal bowl filled with sugar on the coffee table in front of you.

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, your hand finding the string to bop the teabag as you watched the steaming water turn darker.

You felt the cushion dip as Joel sat down, a seat of absence between you. 

The air felt loaded. Loaded with the week left behind you. Loaded with Joel’s lingering confession. Loaded with the uncertain future. Joel watched your hands, eyes fixed but far away.

“I… uh,” Joel cleared his throat as he searched for his words. “I wanna apologize to you for– for everythin’ that happened at work on Monday.”

You felt yourself not, drawing back your hands to rest them in your lap, a finger clumsily picking at your nailbed.

“There ain’t no excuse for how I was actin’– for the things I said… truth is, the way I feel about you, I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You make–” Joel tipped his head, a smile coating his lips, “you make everythin’ just brighter– like everythin’ will be alright as long as I have you… And I know this all feels fast, but I’ve been crazy ‘bout you since I first laid my eyes on you. I ain’t ever believed in that ‘love at first sight’ crap but,” Joel hesitated, like the words hung at the tip of his tongue but wouldn’t let go.

“But?” you encouraged.

“I think I do now.”

His words tasted so bitter and so sweet. Tipping your head downwards your eyes found your hands.

“Joel…” you shook your head, trying to will the words to form. “This… I don’t understand.”

“What ain’t you understandin’, sweet girl?” He shifted his weight, leaning closer but still maintaining a respectful distance.

“Why me?” You looked up from your lap, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” He breathed out in shock.

“I mean, you’re Joel Packer– you can have any girl you want… and I guess you already do– at work.” You swallowed around the growing lump in your throat, tears pushing behind your eyelids.

“Well, I ain’t in love with all those other girls, am I?” His voice was gentle; the words escaping like they were the easiest words in the world.

Your tears pushed their way forward, trailing down your cheeks like curving rivers. Joel instantly moved closer, the familiar warmth of his body against your side made the tears run faster.

“Hey, my sweet girl, it’s okay, baby, it’s alright,” he cooed, pulling you into his embrace.

“It’s not, Joel… I don’t know what to do,” you sobbed into his shoulder.

“Tell me and we’ll figure it out together,” he pulled away to cup your head in his hands, thumbs wiping away your tears, “just tell me, baby.”

You watched his face, your eyes dancing over his features, drinking him in. Drawing a deep breath, you told Joel everything. You told him about your parents and your upbringing, their rules and their expectations. How they’d wanted you to be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, and someday the perfect wife. You told him why you’d moved to LA in the first place – to run from it all, from the guilt and shame they instilled in you for never being what they wanted. Joel held you in his arms as you emptied your feelings. He let you speak, humming at the right moments and squeezing you tighter when it was extra emotional for you.

“And now my uncle’s gonna tell them about you and the porn and–” you spoke fast, stumbling over your words, “they’ll disown me– I know it or worse they’ll come and get me… send me somewhere,” you sobbed.

“Heyheyhey,” Joel shifted his hold on you. You’d sunk into the couch as he’d let you talk, your feet slung over his lap as he held you close. Now he sat up, turning your body to face him, eyes locked with yours. “Listen, baby– they ain’t takin’ you anywhere, you hear me? You’re an adult– you’re your own person now!”

“I know I’m askin’ a lot of you– you’re afraid of losin’ your family– I understand! Believe me I do.” His head tipped against your forehead, nose brushing gently against yours. “My folks, they—... well they ain’t talkin’ to me anymore. Don’t matter how famous I am, I’m a sinner to them.”

“Joel, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about– it’s in the past and I got Tommy…” he trailed off, lifting his head, one large hand cupping your cheek. “Listen, my sweet girl, you’re the only girl I want. I want you to stay, but I want you to stay for your own sake. There ain’t nothin’ you owe your folks, okay? And I promise you I’ll always be there for you!”

For once you didn’t think.

Leaning closer you brushed your lips against Joel’s, and it made all the walls inside you break down. Humming in surprise he stalled before he relaxed against you, pulling you closer, his hand pressed into your cheek. There was no air, only Joel. His mustache tickled your upper lip and cupid’s bow in just the right way, and you realized just how much you’d missed him.

The kiss was languid like molasses, pulling you apart and putting you together again. Your hand found his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the back of his neck – tethering yourself to him. He broke away from your kiss, pressing soft tender kisses along your jaw, his hand brushing down the column of your neck.

“Come sit in my lap, sweet girl,” he whispered into your skin and a rush of electricity sped through your body. His hand fell to your waist while the other grabbed at the thick of your thigh – maneuvering you to straddle him.

“There you go, my good girl,” he praised, his hands rubbing it into your skin. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Joel leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to the spot where your jaw met your neck.

“Joel, I– ah!” you gasped as he brushed his tongue over that sensitive spot behind your ear. You felt his smile against your skin, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin before his lips brushed over your drumming pulse. He kissed his way along your jaw, nose bumping into yours as he hovered before your lips – daring you to kiss him again.

You took the bait, eyes flicking down to his lips before you pressed your own against him. You didn’t have much experience with love but being this close to Joel felt so right. Maybe this was what love was, you thought. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” you mumbled against his lips, your words swallowed by his kiss. A wide smile blossomed across Joel’s face at your words, and soon you were kissing teeth.

“Whatchu sayin’, sweet girl?” he grinned, raising one eyebrow at you as he leaned back.

You had to fight not to roll your eyes at him, at how he always found a way to playfully tease you. You weren’t joking though – you meant it, you really did.

“I’m in love with you too,” you told him sincerely, “I don’t know how to be in love, so you’ll have to be patient with me, but I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always want you, sweet girl, always,” he promised, sealing it with a chaste kiss.

“I uh, I think I need to quit being your assistant too,” you said, biting your lip. “I can’t– I don’t really want to see you with other women… you can tell me about work, but I don’t want to see it.”

Joel squeezed your waist gently before rubbing soft circles over the spot. “That’s okay– thank you for tellin’ me,” he nodded, “I’ll talk to Ronald ‘n see if he knows if there’s any assistant jobs for you over in Hollywood.”

You slowly shook your head, “Ronald is a piece of shit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joel chuckled, leaning his head against the back of the couch, “But he’s connected, and very convincin’.”

“He’d never do that for me,” you said.

“But he’ll do it for me– I’m his favorite client,” he grinned, leaning forward to cup your chin, before pulling his hand away.

“You just make him a lot of money,” you countered with a shrug, still sitting pretty in his lap.

“Do I now?” Joel asked, leaning closer with a cocky grin, “’n how do I do that, sweet girl?”

“Joel,” you sighed as his lips brushed over yours in another quick peck.

“Listen,” he started, “It’s been a long time since I’ve dated anyone ‘n I won’t lie, last time it got complicated ‘cause of my job. You know what the job entails, but I need you to talk to me– we need to be communicatin’, you need to tell me ‘f somethin’s wrong– just like you’re doing so well for me right now.”

“Ok, Joel,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your temple.

You stayed like that for seconds, minutes, hours, you didn’t know. But it felt nice to be so close, to just be in each other’s company, to enjoy being so in tune with another person without any ulterior motive. You didn’t know when, or who started it, but his lips were back over yours, moving in a perfect rhythm. Slow and drawn out, enjoying every second of being this close. When his tongue darted over your bottom lip, the kiss got messier, more passionate, like either of you couldn’t get enough of the other.

Under you, you felt Joel’s cock harden, the feel of what you did to him making your cunt ache for him. His capable hands had explored your clothed body, rubbing softly over the dips and curves before they’d landed on your ass. With a gentle rock, he’d moved you back and forth over him, catching your every moan with his mouth as your clit caught on his growing bulge.

It felt so good. Joel felt so good.

He moved you expertly over him, edging you closer to an edge you didn’t think you could reach this fast, your arousal soiling your panties with every grind. The kiss got sloppy, and you broke away, content little sighs escaping your mouth as you buried your face in Joel’s neck. He was everywhere. The scent of him, his warmth, his hard cock underneath you– it was all too much, and Joel knew it. Tightening his grip on your ass, he bucked his hips to meet your grinding, and you snapped. Mewling into his neck, you withered in his lap, legs shaking with your orgasm.

“Joel,” you managed to moan between the white hot ecstasy.

“There you go, baby– good girl, come for me, just like that,” he encouraged, rubbing his hand down your back in gentle strokes. His heavy hand rested over your back, pressing soft kisses to your temple as you came down, cooing at the aftershock.

With your mind somewhat back on earth you lifted your head from the home you’d made in his neck to place a soft kiss to his lips. Meanwhile your hands slipped between your bodies, clumsy fingers fiddling with the buttons on his jeans.

Joel broke your kiss, “Not here.” Confused, you pulled away, your eyebrows meeting in a furrow. “Let me fuck you properly… in my bed.”

Stumbling back into his hallway, your hands linked, he led you to his bedroom. His decorating was simple: a king-sized bed placed up against the back wall, paired with more of those large floor-to-ceiling windows gave him a view out into his backyard. An art piece hung above his bed, which looked suspiciously like a Warhol, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it with Joel’s hands on you.

He took his time undressing you– one painstaking item at a time, dotting kisses to each new piece of skin revealed. You were practically swimming in your arousal by the time he got to your panties. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he sank to his knees before you. Never breaking eye contact, Joel leaned in, his lips brushing over the soft spot below your belly button – it made goosebumps prickle across your skin, and a hitch of breath to get stuck in your throat.  His lips skated downwards, running along the elastic of your panties, teeth nipping at the bow in the center.

It was like time stood still. Outside the setting sun filled Joel’s bedroom with a golden hue, and bathed him a soft warmth. The way he looked at you sent bolts of electricity through your body, into every nerve ending. He was everywhere, and you wanted him everywhere, wanted him inside.

His fingertips grazed the side of your thighs, finding the thin sides of your panties. His eyes locked with yours and you nodded along with a breathless, “Yes,” before he pulled them down. A smile filled with cocky happiness spread across his features when he hit a bit of a snag, your arousal and previous orgasm making the fabric stick to your cunt.

After helping you step out of your panties, Joel sat back on his heels as he admired you. His tight jeans clung to his thighs and your eyes couldn’t help but trail over him; over his strong muscles, his impressive bulge, his signature belt buckle and his scarlet red shirt with the deep V, straining against his shoulders. Naked and bare for him, he took in your body, those warm whiskey eyes memorizing every inch of it. The rough skin of his hand made you keen under his touch where it skated up your leg, following your form and parting your legs for him. Hooking his hand under your thigh, Joel placed it over his shoulder giving him a perfect view of your wet cunt, while your fingers found his curls to keep yourself steady.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he whispered almost to himself, “it’s all messy f’me ain’t it?” He dragged his lips along your inner thigh, dark eyes locked with yours.

“Y-yes,” you managed to stutter out – your whole body alight under his touch.

“Yes, it is, baby,” he underlined his words with a finger swiping through your soaked folds, the sound filling the space between you. “You hear? Hear how messy?”

A heat traveled up your neck to your cheeks, making them burn under his playful teasing. “Joel,” you whined, your fingers tightening your grip on his curls. He continued his teasing, placing wet kisses to the inside of your other thigh. The coarse hair of his mustache brushing against the sensitive skin in just the right way. 

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, “you gonna let me take care of ya, sweet girl? Gonna let me show you I’m only yours?”

You were nodding even before he’d finished his sentence, “Yes,” you sighed. The ache between your legs burned so bright it almost hurt.

With your permission, Joel closed the teasing distance, and buried his face between your legs. He started with a kiss directly to your clit, before he dipped lower to taste you properly. Small and breathy sighs escaped your lips, your other hand not in his hair falling to his shoulder to keep you from keeling over.

The flat of his tongue lapped at the seam of your cunt, collecting your arousal on your tongue, as he hummed in contentment. It felt too good. He always made you feel so good. When the tip of his tongue teased your hole, you had to bite down on your bottom lip to fight back the moan about to escape you. Pressing your heel into his back, your body bucked by its own will, meeting the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“Joel,” you gasped when he found your clit again, a tense arousal building in your core. Spurred on by your noises, Joel sucked at your sensitive bud, laving his tongue over it in lazy strokes.

“Fuck,” you whispered, breath hitching in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut from the ecstasy. You were close now, your second orgasm approaching fast in Joel’s capable hands– or tongue.

“C’mon, baby,” he spoke between laps over your clit, urging you on, “come all over my tongue.”

A hand slid up to your ass, holding you flush to his face as you started to wither above him. His cheeks were warm from your soft thighs, his mustache slick with your arousal as he brought you closer and closer.

“There she goes, good girl,” he said with a ragged puff, encouraging you when the dam finally broke. His grip on your ass tightened, keeping you upright, as your whole body started to shake with your orgasm. Your grip on his hair was tight, tethering yourself to Joel, as you whimpered out breathy moans. Your hips bucked into his mouth, and the heel you dug into his back must’ve hurt, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

He pressed soft kisses to the fold where your thigh started as the aftershocks coursed through you, holding you steady while your chest heaved for breath as you tried to calm down.

“Joel,” you sighed contently, your hand brushing over his hair. He didn’t pull away like you thought he’d do, instead he placed another kiss to your sensitive clit. You jumped at the touch, a giggle catching in your throat.

“I’m not done witchu, sweet girl.” You could feel the smile against your skin, the way his lips smoothed the exposed surface, the sweetness of his smile practically dripping down your legs.

He helped you slide your leg off his shoulder, his big hands framing your waist as he rose from the floor with a restrained grunt. He looked a mess. Hair pulled in all directions, mustache glistening with your wetness and cheeks smeared with your arousal. Seeing what you’d done to him, you felt your cheeks heat up.

With his hands around your waist, he walked you backwards, until the back of your legs hit the end of the bed. He was crowding your space now, the familiar scent of him now mixed with you sent your brain into a mushy state. He pushed you forward gently, and you fell down on his bed, bouncing slightly.

Joel towered over you, still completely dressed. The thought of how bare you were for him, while he was still fully clothed, sent a tingle down your tummy to your core. He had the upper hand, and it felt good. It felt good to let him take control, to be able to shut your brain off for a while, to know he would take care of you.

Across his face, Joel wore his signature cocky grin as he stepped closer to the edge of the bed, the hardwood floor creaking slightly with ever step. You dipped your head to your shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes, and it made his smile wider. He stalked over you, his hand curling around your ankle before he playful yanked you towards him. A yelp fell from your lips, before a giggle broke lose.

“Oh, you ain’t gonna be gigglin’ like that when I’m done witchu,” he teased, lowering himself over your body.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?” you asked breathlessly as Joel dipped down to nip at the skin below your collarbone.

A deep chuckle rumbled across your skin between his kisses, “Gonna make you come, and come and come, sweet girl– wanna feel you squeezin’ around cock– make you forget your own name.”

“Shit, Joel,” you stuttered out as his lips closed around your nipple, “I-I haven’t–”

He cut you off, “That ain’t matter to me, sweet girl, I know you’ll be good f’me.”

And he was right; you wanted nothing more than to be good for him.

He kissed a trail down the valley of your breasts, across your tummy and the dip of your belly button until he reached your mound. Joel got comfortable on his knees, hooking his arms under your legs to manhandle you the way he wanted, spreading your thighs, and putting your wet cunt on display for him.

“Sweet fuckin’ pussy,” he pulled back and spat, and you felt the way his spit dripped down your clit, “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

With his thumb he smeared his spit through your folds, not that you needed it, you were plenty wet from your two previous orgasms. You jumped under him when he brushed your clit, puffed and sensitive as it was, and it made him chuckle.

“You’re so sensitive, aren’t you, sweet girl?” he coaxed, putting more pressure on your clit with his thumb.

Your moan got caught in your throat as you hurried to answer him, “Y-yes, Joel, so sensitive.” Heat and arousal flushed through your body, traveling through your bloodstream, and shading the world in a rose-tinted hue.

Another chuckle escaped Joel before he ducked down and brought his lips to your clit, while two of his fingers teased down your folds to edge at your opening. You felt your hole clench in anticipation, as a whimpering moan fell from your lips.

“This hole is just drippin’ for me ain’t it?” he teased, voice muffled by his lips around your clit.

You couldn’t think, so consumed by his touch and the way he made you feel. You managed to nod and breathe out a “Yes.” Joel hummed around your clit, the vibrations edging you on as his fingers prodded at your entrance.

Pushing forward he thrusted his fingers inside. It was a snug fit, but your arousal dripping over his knuckles made it easy. He immediately curled his fingers, expertly prodding at that sensitive spot inside that made you squirm underneath him and buck your hips involuntarily.  

“Shh,” Joel soothed you, fingers still pushing up, hitting something that made your leg shake involuntarily as he circled them against the delicate flesh.

Shit. Fuck.

You mewled, whiny breaths falling from your lips as you hurled quickly towards the edge, again. Joel didn’t let up, thrusting his fingers expertly into that perfectly sensitive spot. When your right leg couldn’t stop shaking, he slung his other arm over your stomach, keeping you in place for him.

“That’s it, sweet girl, that’s your g-spot, honey,” he cooed between lapping and sucking at your clit, “Are you gonna come again, baby? You can let go– ‘s okay.”

The added pressure of his arm sent your hurling towards your release. Your back arched off his bed at a particular perfect thrust; your breath coming out panting and breathless.

“Joel–” you heaved, “J-Joel, I-I’m—,” you couldn’t finish your thought. You clenched around his fingers, a pressure building like you’d never felt before – you felt like you were about to explode.

Joel sucked hard on your clit before he moved his lips off with a soft pop, “C’mon, honey,” he coaxed, stopping his thrusting fingers to massage at your g-spot, “Be a good girl f’me and come all over my fingers.”

With his permission you came with a silent cry, eyes squeezed tight as your whole body arched off the bed, your head pressed tightly into the mattress as you let it wash over you. It was like your body clenched and released all at the same time. Small tears trickled down your temples, your body shaking from the force of your orgasm. You gushed over his fingers, and Joel pulled his fingers from your wasted hole at the exact right moment, right as a stream of liquid released.

You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a cloud of ecstasy you’d never felt before – the feeling so intense, it made your eyes roll back. Beside you, you felt the bed dip. Still shaking from your orgasm, you heaved for your breath, trying to come down. Joel’s arms snaked their way around you, pushing you against his body as he cooed and hushed you.

“You’re alright, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your temple, “squirting all over my hand like a good girl.”

“Joel, I–” You were still catching your breath, still reeling from the intensity.

“You’re ok, baby.” 

He held you close until you’d fully calmed down, and your heartbeat had steadied. You let yourself be held, to just be. Joel pressed absentminded kisses to your skin. One on your cheek, another to the pulse of your neck, a third to your collarbone. He was amazing. He was yours.

“Thank you, Joel,” you finally spoke, “I’ve– I’ve never done that before, it… it felt really good.”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek, “You’re welcome, baby– you looked so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that.” 

He pressed another kiss to your cheek before he pulled away. Standing to his feet he stretched his back with a groan. You watched how his muscles moved underneath his shirt. He must’ve felt you watching him as he sent you a cocky smile over his shoulder before he padded towards the door of his en suite.

You turned onto your stomach, your eyebrows pulling together in a furrow as you asked him, “Where are you going?”

“Just gonna getchu ya somethin’ to clean up with,” he explained, nodding his head towards his en suite.

“But…” you trailed off, eyes flicking sheepishly towards his bulge, his cock rock hard and straining against his jeans.

He caught your eye, his trademark cocky smirk spreading. Joel turned his body towards you, and let you ogle him as he crept towards you. “But, what?” he questioned, one teasing eyebrow raised.

“What about…” you bit your lip, heat flushing your cheeks. He’d made you squirt for fucks sake, and you still couldn’t ask him for his cock.

“What about what?” he teased, standing at the end of the bed, his hard cock now eye level with how you were sitting. He watched you from above, how you flicked your eyes from his face to his cock, trying to tell him what you wanted without saying the words.

“You want more, greedy girl?” he questioned, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him, “You want my cock, don’t you?”

You nodded in his hand, big moony eyes looking up at him. Joel shifted his weight, his hand traveling from your cheek to your chin, letting his thumb run over it in a smooth motion.

“Take my clothes off,” he ordered.

Sitting up on your knees, your hands started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. Above you, Joel watched you – warm eyes studying you. Unbuttoning the last button, you placed a nervous hand to his chest, right above his heart. Under your palm you felt it beat, fast paced, but steady. With a scrunch of your face, you looked to him.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, fitting his own hand over yours, “I’m crazy ‘bout you, sweet girl.” He dipped his head to fit a soft kiss to your lips.

He helped you with the rest of his clothes. His shirt hitting the floor first, then followed by his belt and his jeans, and lastly his socks. Clad only in his white briefs, you took him in. His handsome face, his neat mustache, his tanned skin and broad shoulders, but most importantly (at least in this moment), his aching cock.

“Take it out f’me,” he ordered.

Obeying his command, your fingers dug into the elastic. His rock hard cock strained desperately against the cotton, a wet spot had formed where the head was, turning the fabric translucent from precum. You pulled his briefs down his legs, his impressive cock springing free to bob in front of your face. Joel stepped out of his underwear, kicking them across the floor to the pile with his other clothes.

You moved up the bed as he crawled over you, parting your legs for him to fit between as you laid back against his fluffy pillows, the scent of him overwhelming. His cock rubbed against your cunt, the head catching on your clit as he adjusted himself over you.

“This whatchu wanted, sweet girl?” he asked, guiding the tip through your folds, and coating himself in your arousal.

“Y-yes, Joel, please,” you begged, “want you.”

Between your legs he jerked himself off, spreading your wetness all over his cock, a slick wet sound squelching from his fist. Joel’s eyes trailed over your body before he shook his head.

“Sit up,” he said.

Confused, you did as he said, sitting up on your knees before him. Joel shifted on the bed, leaning his back against the headrest, his impressive cock standing to attention in his lap.

“C’mon baby, come take what’s yours,” he said, reaching his hand out to you and helping you straddle his thighs.

Looking between your bodies, you couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated. Each time you’d had sex, Joel was always the one in control, but now… Your teeth caught on your bottom lip, insecurity an uninvited guest in the home you’d made in Joel’s bed.

Warm hands cupped your cheeks then, lifting your head to meet his. “You’re alright, my sweet girl,” he told you, fitting his lips against yours, “wanna feel you squeezin’ my cock.”

With Joel’s guiding hands, you lifted yourself over him as he guided the head towards your entrance, the head of his cock pushing through your folds. “Take it slow ‘f ya need it,” he told you, reassuring you. With a timid nod, you shifted your weight slightly, steading yourself on your knees before you slowly sunk down on him.

Your mouth dropped open at the stretch, never really getting used to the size of him – even with the thorough prep he’d done to you. You took your time, easing yourself down on him one inch at a time till he was buried to the hilt in your cunt. He was so deep inside you in this position, you felt him in your tummy, too deep for a cock to reach.

“Shit,” you cursed with a whimper, feeling Joel’s thighs press against your bare ass.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, knew you could do it– takin’ all that cock f’me,” he praised as you tried to adjust to the feeling of him reaching so deep inside you. His hand landed on the small of your back, pushing you closer to his chest and making you rock forward in his lap.

“Y-you’re so deep like this,” you stuttered, draping your arms around his shoulder to steady yourself as his cock hit a new angle inside you, and making you see stars.

“I know, sweet girl, I know– feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, and rocked you in his lap again. Your clit caught in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and it made a gush of arousal drip down his cock.

You nodded your head desperately. It felt good, it felt really good.

“Why don’t ya bounce on it f’me, honey– make yourself come.”

Again, you obeyed.

You started slow, inching upwards just a tad before grinding down on him again, working yourself up and down his length at your own pace. Below you, Joel watched you closely, a lazy smile spread across his face. His hand on your waist helped guide you, and soon you were bouncing on his cock like an eager little bunny.

“Fuck,” you cursed between moans.

The drag of his cock inside you felt like nothing you’d ever felt before. Love and ecstasy and pleasure – all mixed up into one infatuated feeling. Under you, Joel groaned unabashedly. The noises he made, deep and rugged as he started to meet your bouncing with his own thrusts, building a rising rhythm of pleasure.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” he groaned, “squeezin’ my cock so good.”

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, mind gone completely blank.

The feeling of him filling you just right with every thrust and hitting that special spot inside you, were almost too much to handle. Your thighs burned with the effort, and you didn’t know how much more you could take before he was hurling you over the edge for the fourth time.

“You gonna come again, sweet girl? Gonna be my good girl and give me ’nother? Give that big cock a nice squeeze?” he encouraged.

You were far too gone to say anything coherent and when his thumb found your clit, you knew you were in trouble. Your legs shook from pleasure and the strain of your bouncing, and you fell forward, your head finding a home in his neck as you gasped. Joel worked quickly and expertly, shifting your weight on his lap so he could thrust into you from below. Breathy whiny moans escaped you in quick succession, and then you were falling apart for him with a cry.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you through gritted teeth as you withered in his lap, squirming and gasping in his lap. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around his cock as you rode through your orgasm. Under you, Joel’s breath became shallower and his grunts more restrained, and even in your cloud of ecstasy you knew he was close.

“Fuck, ‘m comin’” he let out, quickly lifting you off his cock before he spilled hot cum onto your tummy and mound, his panting moan deep and guttural. It was hot and sticky and suffocating in a good way.

As the sun set over LA, you and Joel found refuge in each other under the pink and orange sky. Your panting breaths slowed to a still comforting silence as you held each other close, and you knew that there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

You had been unable to see it before, or simply just unwilling to let yourself see it, but the answer had been on the tip of your tongue all along. Joel had been the missing piece of your puzzle, the part you'd never even known you'd needed until he'd slotted himself securely into that space, completing your life in a way your family had never been able to. Being with Joel felt right, and if there was one thing you did know, was that no matter what your uncle said or did, or what your parents would think, you were done making sacrifices.  And so you laid in Joel's arms, your chest unraveling with the relief of the knowledge that for maybe the first time in your life, you were making a choice entirely for yourself, and that, given the chance, you would choose Joel, every day, for the rest of your life.

and that's the end <3 if this was a movie we'd slowly fade to a drone shot of LA while cher's cover of "lay baby lay" starts playing as the credits roll over the cityscape.

i hope this was okay, and that the ending was satisfying and that you liked it? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[myfictionaldreams]

I you are interested I wanted to offer a possible request.

It would be a smutty mafia!stucky one (you can pick which one of them or both if you want)

So I was thinking about the reader topping one of them, but not in a dominant way. Like she was good or something and wanted to reward her by letting her pick anything she wanted and she wanted to ride them while they were restrained.

So (whoever was picked) would be bound to the bed with a blindfold and the reader gets to use them for her pleasure with free rain and cause of the blindfold they feel and hear everything more intensely so they can hear how wet she is as she uses them for her reward.

So she's not dominating them just getting a free use card and can move however she wants unprompted, cum how many times she wants, overstimulate (whoever is used) until she is happy and can use toys on herself too but all they can do is lay on the bed restrained and wait for her to be satisfied before being let go.

This came to me so randomly so I thought it might be an option for you maybe if you liked it. Have a nice day!

Being on Top // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: I've thought about this request so much. Thank you so much for sending it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, anxiety, mention of gunshot wound, free use, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, rough sex, oral (f receiving), cum eating, cockwarming, overstimulation, restraints, blindfolds, vibrator, begging, praise kink, riding, dom/sub, rough cock play, masturbation

Words: 5.2k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Bucky watched intently. Fighting the urge to blink and wet the dryness itching at his eyes, he continued monitoring the situation before him. You were vacant. Eyes glassed over, and your body curled in on itself like you were attempting to make yourself as small as possible. It wasn’t this that concerned him; it was that you couldn’t look Steve in the eye despite trying to glimpse him out of the corner of your eye every couple of seconds.

Steve was watching with just as much concern as the bodyguards throughout the room, Sam and Natasha. Unbeknown to you, however, your gaze flicked towards Steve again but then swiftly landed on the spot on the carpet that had so thoroughly captured your attention.

Bucky had been trying to work the cogs in his brain for over an hour now, trying to figure out what was happening in your mind. The visible signs of distress he’d witnessed before when you were feeling fragile, whether it be due to being needy and submissive or because you were beginning to feel unwell with sickness. The first was most likely as you were displaying any visible signs of being ill; your heart rate was fine, and the same with your breathing; he knew he’d been counting and listening carefully. For once, he thanked his unique abilities.

The most likely answer was that you were experiencing some sort of mental health decline, but when you were needy or in the form of subspace, you would crawl into either his or Steve’s lap, not look frightened even to look the latter in the eye.

Risking a look away, Bucky caught Steve’s eye. The same level of concern was etched deep into his face; brows furrowed so deeply a line had formed between them. His teeth were clenched so hard that he looked like his jawbone would snap as he held his tongue, trying and failing to think of the right way to approach his girlfriend. The one person who shouldn’t be scared of him now looked as frightened of him as the enemies who cowered at his feet.

Bucky was running out of options as you began to chew on the corner of your recently done red-manicured nails, one of the many treats gifted to you by him and Steve for Valentine’s Day. It was never a good sign when you fell into old habits, and Bucky was on the verge of ripping out his hair and trying to decide what was best. Ask what is going on or approach you like a scared animal.

As his mouth opened, however, a flash of red distorted his view of you as Natasha stood directly in front of where you were curled up on the couch placed in Steve’s office for your comfort.

Natasha looked down at you, giving you a casual grin as she held out her hand with the matching manicure on her nails gleaming back at you, the red almost the same shade as her hair. Your eyes darted between her wiggling fingers and the welcoming smile as she nodded toward the door.

Taking her hand without a single word, you unfolded from your curled-up position and stood, mindlessly following her out of the door. Natasha pulled you into the elevator at the end of the corridor, riding down a couple of floors before arriving at the food hall with a private kitchen. One of the main perks of owning the entire building for the gang was that the sky was the limit concerning the facilities that could be added.

“Sit”, Natasha instructed, pointing to the table closest to the kitchen side as she began to boil some water, pulling out two mugs from the cabinets. “When I was a child, I used to suffer from nightmares, well, I still have nightmares. I’m just old enough now that I can drink something a bit stronger. But back then, when my hair used to be blue, I’d make myself a hot cocoa”. As she finished explaining, she placed a steaming hot drink before you, topping off the sweet beverage with a squirt of cream and marshmallows.

Sitting down opposite you, she took a moment to let you settle in, feeling thankful that you cupped the drink and allowed your hands to warm as you didn’t shut her out.

“Do you ever think about how fragile we all are?” you asked after staring into the mug in your hands.

Natasha frowned, opening her mouth to make a sarcastic comment of ‘not really’ but refrained as she saw the seriousness in your expression. “What’s brought this on?” You didn’t answer at first, but she noted how you uncomfortable shifted in your seat, shoulders hunching forward to mirror how you sat moments ago.

It took her a couple of minutes, but then it all dawned on Natasha as she sat forward in her seat, leaning on her elbows on the table. “Does this have to do with what happened with the boss three days ago?”

She knew she'd guessed right From how your eyes flinched and teeth began biting your lower lip. Steve had been shot whilst out for dinner with you and Bucky. It had been a well-calculated attack, and no one blamed themselves more than Natasha did for not spotting the attacker before it was too late. She was his bodyguard and had yet to fail at her job, and even though it was a superficial wound and, thanks to Steve’s accelerated healing, was already just a pink scar on his abdomen, Natasha still cursed herself.

Steve didn’t blame anyone other than the asshole who shot him and had spent many hours with him the previous night, getting his revenge and delving into all of his secrets. He’d been more concerned and out for revenge due to the distress it had caused you to see Steve shot. Hysterical was putting it lightly.

You’d screamed until your voice croaked, cried until your eyes were swollen, and become completely overwhelmed by the situation, needing to stay by Steve’s side entirely without sleeping until yesterday evening when you’d all but passed out. With Bucky staying by your side, Steve was able to sneak out and finally get his revenge against the shooter, and when he returned, you were swift to motherhen him even though he insisted that he was practically healed and back to normal.

“Talk to me, Sweet. I can’t help unless you tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours”, Natasha encouraged, leaning across the table and grasping your hand.

You sighed, squeezing her hand back as you tried to find the right words to explain your feelings. “I just realised how useless I am. I mean, Steve was shot, and I completely froze; I think all I was able to do was scream. I didn’t even put pressure on the wound or hold his hand. After everything I’ve seen whilst being a part of this gang, you’d think I’d be more aware of intense situations and how to handle myself, but everything just flashed before me and how close I was to losing one of the men I love. And Steve - god, I’m so embarrassed! I’m too scared to look at him properly for fear of seeing shame in his eyes at how I reacted. I mean, what kind of a girlfriend am I to the infamous Steve Rogers, the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in Brooklyn? I couldn’t handle something he’d been training me to be prepared for. He must have thought I was pathetic”.

“Do you really think I’d ever think that about you?” Steve asked from the doorway with Bucky over his shoulder, both looking defeated.

You were startled at his appearance, cursing his silent steps as you also felt somewhat vulnerable with him having heard your worries. “I, um, I didn’t want you to hear that”.

Steve sighed as he roughly rubbed his palm over his face and stepped further into the room. Natasha stood with a last squeeze of your hand before exiting and patting Bucky on the shoulder as she moved past him and out, leaving the three of you alone.

“Baby, you know I would never think any of those things of you. What happened was a horrible mistake, and I wish more than anything that you weren’t there to witness it. I always want to keep you protected, physically and mentally and trust me, if anything ever happened to you, I’d-” he closed his mouth, eyes clenching in a flinch like even just the thought of you being injured caused him physical pain.

Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, “The main point here is that you’re both ok. There’s no point dwelling on the past, and we all react differently when we see loved ones hurt, so I don’t want to hear anymore self-doubt coming out of your lips”, Bucky reprimanded whilst giving you a pointed look and pulling himself and Steve closer towards you.

You couldn’t help but squeal as he moved back your chair, turning it to face them as they each pulled their chairs close enough that their knees brushed yours. Steve cupped your hands, lifting them to his lips to kiss your fingers and palms. “Please don’t shut me out, and next time you have any anxiety over what's happened, you need to talk to me, Sweetheart”, Steve urged whilst maintaining eye contact that you didn’t break this time.

“I will; I’m sorry” Without missing a beat, you closed the distance and kissed him deeply as he wrapped his arms around your back, pulling your body into his lap so he could hold you close.

“God, you two are going to make me cry in a minute”, Bucky suddenly announced, leaning back in his chair and wiping away an imaginary tear from his eye. Steve rolled his eyes as he held you closer with one hand and reached out with the other for Bucky to take, which he did with a smirk, removing the now empty chair so that he could be knee to knee with Steve and place his metal hand on your lower back.

“As much as I love my life, I sometimes hate how dramatic it is”,  Steve mused a second later as he kissed the side of your head.

“Mmm, I agree - shit, this drink is good”, Bucky half shouted as he drank more of the cocoa in the mug as you turned towards him with an amused smile. He looked at you and paused mid-sip, “This is yours, isn’t it?” he realised out loud before swearing and slamming the mug back onto the table. “Shit, sorry, I thought it was Romanoff’s. I’ll buy you a special treat on our way home, which I think we need to discuss, by the way”.

Steve sat up straight in his chair, causing you to move slightly in his lap as he gave Bucky a questioning stare, “What’s wrong with home?”

“Nothing’s wrong with home; why do you always assume the worst?” Bucky questioned with his head tilted to the side, catching your eye and winking before continuing. “I was just thinking that maybe the two of you need some special time alone tonight”.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere either”, you say quickly, not wishing to be separated from either of them.

Bucky’s fingers reassuringly added pressure to your back as he gently shook his head, showing the misunderstanding. “I didn’t mean it like that, Doll. I just meant maybe you two could have some fun together, and luckily for you two, I have something in mind”.

Bucky’s plan for you and Steve resulted in the two of you hours later being naked in your bedroom with him watching in a chair.

“Remind me why I’m handcuffed again?” Steve asked with a sarcastic drawl from where he lay in the centre of the bed, his head carefully resting on the fluffed pillows and both wrists handcuffed above his head around the bed frame.

“Well, you tend to be all dominate and in charge when you’re having sex, and I think our sweet girl needs some reminding that you’re ok, you’re safe, and what better way for her to do that than her to be in control of how she touches your body?” Bucky explains nonchalantly as he rubs a hand over his growing bulge in his underwear, the rest of his clothes in a pile on the floor.

“Ok, that makes sense, but why the blindfold?” Steve asked, tilting his head toward where Bucky was sitting but couldn’t see with the thick black cloth tied around his head covering his eyesight.

“Ah well, that's just fun for me; I get to watch our beautiful girl at work; you get to feel it. I mean, I need to have some fun tonight”, Bucky responded cheekily as you smiled whilst trying to adjust your weight from where you sat naked, straddling Steve’s chest.

“I’m um, I’m not very good at being in charge” You tried to hide the quiver in your voice, but instantly, your cheeks began to warm with embarrassment.

Bucky leaned forward in his chair, capturing your attention fully as he gave you a reassuring smile, “Like I explained, Sweetheart. All I want you to think about is your pleasure. You can get yourself off, fuck Steve, use toys, whatever you’d like to feel good but don’t worry about Stevie, boy; he can handle whatever you’re going to give him”.

“I sure as fuck can” Steve grinned as he rolled his hips, causing you to gasp and lean forward, putting your hands out onto his shoulders to stop yourself from falling.

“Hey! None of that now, Rogers. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride,” Bucky grinned, showing his straight teeth as it was your turn to roll your eyes before focusing your attention on Steve.

One of the reasons you were never the one to be in charge, other than you were submissive down to the very bone, was that you were unsure what to do. To Steve and Bucky, it seemed to come so quickly for them, knowing where to touch, the next move to have you groaning in pleasure, but sitting there staring down at Steve, you were unsure where to touch him or how to start. Do you just slide a few inches back and sit on his already hard cock? Do you suck his cock for a bit or jerk him off? But what if he came and you overstimulated him?

“I can see you are overthinking over there. Remember what I said; think about your pleasure only”, Bucky reminded you quietly.

Nodding your head, you took a moment to stare down at Steve, and the events over the last few days dawned on you. Even though he’d survived significantly worse in his life, you couldn't help but contemplate just how close to losing everything you’d ever dreamed of and needed. Having him here, beneath you, living and breathing.

Before you could lose yourself to the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over, you decided to clear your mind of those negative thoughts by lowering your mouth to his. The two of you released a breath simultaneously as Steve eagerly pressed his face firmly against yours, his head lifting off the pillow slightly.

It wasn’t a desperately messy kiss, full of tongues and saliva. It was a kiss that had the moment standing still as your hand rested over his heart, feeling the beat beneath, having the reminder that he was still here with you.

Pulling back from the kiss so that you were hovering over his face, you whispered intimately, “I love you”.

“I love you too,” was his instant response in the same calm tone, like a whisper in the wind.

Swallowing the emotional lump in your throat, you briefly pecked his lips once before trailing kisses down his chin and exploring the column of his throat, smiling as you felt him swallow beneath your lips. With your hands, you trailed your fingertips down his arms, feeling goosebumps lining his skin as you moved to meet where your mouth met his skin.

Slowly as you could, you kissed your way down his chest, making sure to lick and nip his peaked nipples, enjoying the little gasps he released as you contemplated that you’d never noticed how sensitive his nipples actually were. Further down, you moved as your legs shifted between him, making sure that his legs were spread so that you could fit between him perfectly.

As your lips continued giving open-mouthed kisses over his abs, you aimed for the pink scar close to his hip bone. The kiss pressed to the recently claimed gunshot injury that had even lightened in the shade since this morning with his accelerated healing. Steve’s legs tensed as he tried to refrain from thrusting his hips into the air as your breasts pressed against his thick length that you were attempting to ignore whilst worshipping his body.

“This is a cute moment and all, but I wanna see you cum already, Doll”, Bucky groaned impatiently as you looked at him over your shoulder as he sat with his hands clenched in his lap, as he continued to refrain from touching himself even though he was evidently very much aroused.

You smile against Steve’s skin and take one last breath of his natural body scent that had mixed with the spicy aftershave he’d used earlier this morning. Taking your time, you shift back to your original position of sitting across his abs, carefully sitting above the fresh scar that was still sensitive.

“I think I want to put these chiselled abs to good work”, you say whilst stroking a finger down them, laughing to yourself as Steve tensed, defining them even more solidly. Relaxing the position of your thighs, you sighed as your wetness now rested against his abdomen.

It wasn’t as satisfying as humping against his thigh because of the flat shape of his toned body, but that didn’t stop you from riding him slowly, making sure to really drag your clit in small circles against his body.

Your moans were breathy and gentle as your pleasure bloomed in your core, especially as Steve struggled to keep his emotions and body in heck beneath.

Licking his lips, he admitted, “I really fucking wish I could see you right now”.

“Oh, don’t you worry, big boy, she looks beautiful, there’s no doubt about that”, Bucky responded as he finally moved his black boxers to midthigh, his hand wrapped around his shaft as he matched the pace you were driving.

Deciding you needed something that had more definition than his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you shifted back down the bed until your cunt was flushed with Steve’s shaft that was hard and resting against his pubic bone. There was already a patch of precum that had pooled, and without thinking, you scooped it up with your finger and sucked the juices, savouring the musky saltiness.

“Holy shit”, Bucky cursed as his eyelids lowered in arousal.

Steve was trembling with restraint now as you began to slide your warm cunt against his shaft, making sure not to go over the tip as you wanted to savour the feel of his length first before fucking yourself on him.

In this position, you were quickly coating his cock in your juices, helping to prepare him for when you did want to sit on his cock, which, in fairness, would probably be soon with how horny you were feeling.

Faster and with more pressure, you ground down on his shaft until the burning in your core exploded, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you shivered through the sensation, breathing deeply with soft moans.

Leaning your hands on his chest, you shifted your hips forward, catching the tip of his cock against your pussy and continuing with the slow movements, not wanting to rush the adrenaline and burn that came with his cock thoroughly stretching your walls.

“So fucking tight”, Steve cursed, pressing his head back further into the pillow as the veins in his arms bulged as he restrained himself from easily snapping out of the handcuffs.

You couldn’t think of coherent words to respond, so sighed in satisfaction, taking a moment to savour the sensation. Eventually, though, the hunger for more became ravenous as you began to lift yourself off of his cock and then slam back onto him.

It was different riding him like this; usually, if you were on top, he’d either have a hand around your throat or his hands gripping your hips tightly and directing your movements. With all the movements being down to just your body, it was almost like having a life-size sex toy that moaned and breathed.

Additionally, it meant that you could really draw out the orgasm that was already threatening to suffocate around his cock as you rode him with slamming hips. Eventually, it all came too much, and with one hand on his chest and the other gripping your breast to squeeze the flesh, you had your second orgasm and a shiver of pleasure.

“You’re so fucking big”, you moaned as you attempted to catch your breath but settled for a different motion instead of riding up and down. Keeping your hips flush with his so that his balls rested against your arse, you began to circle your hips clockwise and then anticlockwise.

Steve gasped as his chest heaved with the attempt of arching his back. “Wait, Steve, shut up for a second”, Bucky demanded, and the three of you stopped making moaning noises, but you continued with your grinding and hip circles, which was when you could hear it too. The obscene sounds of your gushing cunt, sloshing and slurping with the movements. It felt incredible to be so full of Steve, but hearing how much this move was making him lose his mind only motivated you through feeling breathless.

“Holy shit, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, but if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum”, Steve grunted, his mouth hanging open so that his grunts of pleasure were unfiltered. Bucky was just as vocal from where he sat, getting himself off.

“I want you to cum; please cum for me, Sir”, you begged as Steve moaned at the nickname used. As his dick hardened inside of you, your fingers quickly began to circle your drenched clit matching the movements of your hips as you joined him by cumming at the same time, squeezing his shaft with your walls and milking his cock internally.

It felt unbelievably satisfying to feel the liquid filling you entirely and having no other room but to leak out of the sides and onto his pubic area. Your thighs have tightened so tightly around Steve’s body you were sure if he didn’t have his healing ability, you’d have caused bruises from where your knees had dug into his side.

He never complained once, though, as he tried to catch his breath just as desperately as you were. Slumping forward, your face rested against his chest, directly over his heart so that you could listen to the wild racing of his heart. You were exhausted from riding his cock, and for a moment, you determined the fantastic shape he was in was probably down to being on top all the time.

Your thighs and abdomen muscles ached as you determined you needed a little break from the riding but not from the orgasm, and even though you were feeling a little overstimulated internally, you were somewhat determined to see how far you could go.

Reaching blindly on the bed, you found the vibrating wand and moved it between your bodies until it rested against your clit. With Steve’s cock still somehow still hard, you remained with him inside of you as you turned on the vibrator.

Steve groaned as the vibrations were felt through not just his pubic mound but also your cunt as both were stimulated by the powerful toy. It wasn’t even on the highest setting, but it was enough to take your breath away at first, soon, you settled down, content with simply lying there until an orgasm built.

For a moment, you contemplated releasing Steve from his handcuffs so that he could wrap his big arms around you, but you knew that once he was free from those handcuffs, it would be a free-for-all.

One orgasm spiralled into two, and you had to push the vibrator away as the ache deepened within your cunt. You were exhausted and on the verge of becoming entirely too overstimulated for the orgasms.

“I- I don’t think I can cum again”, you admit whilst gently rocking yourself against Steve’s cock.

“Could I make one request?” Steve asks whilst licking his lips, his voice just as deep as it is when he first wakes up.

“Hmm?” you say in response.

“Sit on my face. I know you’ve had enough, you don’t have to cum, and if it hurts, I’ll stop, but I wanna taste you so bad right now”, Steve pleaded.

“How could I say no to that request”, you muse. Carefully and with a great deal of mess, you slipped off of his throbbing cock, which twitched in the air as his and your juices continued to drip out of your cunt and down his shaft.

With the way you’d climbed off, you ended up kneeling over his face so that you were facing down his body, staring and admiring his cock until the other man in the room caught your attention as Bucky kneeled on the bed.

Just as you lowered your soaking cunt onto Steve’s hot mouth, Bucky reached forward and began to stroke Steve’s cock. The mafia boss beneath you nearly choked on his own cum as he drank down the juices flowing out of you but soon found a rhythm, and as his hips rolled to meet the strokes of Bucky's metal fist, his tongue and lips matched this.

Reaching forward, you pulled Bucky in for a desperate kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, dominating in every way. With the taste of your cunt in his mouth and Bucky’s fist, Steve was cumming again as Bucky carefully caught the thick white seed in his fist, licking up every drop that Steveall but screamed out with his orgasm.

This time, you watched as his cock softened, and carefully you crawled off his face with the help of Bucky’s steady and damp hands. With Bucky’s lips against yours, he stated, “I know you’re not done yet, get back on him”.

Pulling back, you looked down at Steve’s clammy body and the pink blush that had hued over his chest as you determined, “Won’t I hurt him if I sit on his overstimulated cock?”

Steve answered for Bucky, “Fuck no, you won’t hurt me. Get back on Princess”, he pleads desperately. Turning back to face Steve, you try and angle his soft cock at your entrance, but it wouldn’t go back in as Steve cursed at the handling.

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you?” you asked fearfully.

“Yes, I’m sure just- I don’t know. Buck, grip me hard in your fist or something,” he responded, sounding frustrated with his body for a second. You had to bite your lip as Bucky shrugged and gripped Steve’s flaccid cock in his hand, causing the blonde to gasp and arch his back, nearly knocking you over in the process. “Yeah, just like that.”

“You know Steve, some would call you a freak for getting off on pain like that”, Bucky joked half-heartedly as his fist began pumping up and down the hardening cock in his hand.

“Yeah, well, you’re one to talk”, Steve sassed back as he finally became hard enough that you could slide back down his cock. “Just a warning if I cum again, I’ll probably be shooting air out”.

Again, you had to bite your lip to hold back the laugh from Steve’s admission. Bucky led beside the two of you, reaching over to tilt Steve’s blindfolded face towards him. “I thought you could go all night? What’s the point in having all of these special abilities if you’re already shooting blanks after two orgasms”, Bucky contemplated.

“Yeah, well, you have her sit on your cock and see how long you last, asshole”, Steve bite back earning a chuckle from Bucky as you watched them both fondly, trying to get to find a good rhythm to move your body, opting for a slow in and out and circle of your hips.

The soaking noises of your wet cunt began to fill the atmosphere once more as Steve and Bucky started to make out, dimming the noise of their moans. Bucky eased back and whispered into Steve’s ear, “Do you hear how wet she is? Best you can feel it, how sopping wet our girl is. Aw, poor thing she’s getting tired”, Bucky smirks as you frown at him. You were exhausted, but you weren’t letting that stop your movements, by the way, Bucky was winking at you, you knew he was up to something.

Steve gritted his teeth, almost growling as he contemplated his next move, and you realised Bucky was antagonising him as the next second, Steve’s snapping out of the handcuffs. You’re suddenly on your back in the middle of the bed as he rolls the two of you over.

Steve’s face delves into the crook of your neck as your legs are instantly pushed back so that your knees nearly brush against your chest as he completely crowds around you. Clearly having driven him to his limit, Steve did not hold back; he began to fuck you with unfathomably hard and fast thrusts.

His cock was a blur as it pounded into your drenched cunt. All you could do was cling to him, nails scratching into the skin of his shoulders and then up to his jaw, pulling his face back so that you could push his blindfold up that was still covering his eyesight. He blinked down at you, groaning at the sight beneath him as he kissed you feverishly.

You were stuck between kissing, moaning and trying to gasp for breath as your orgasm plummeted through your cunt until you were close to sobbing with the overwhelming emotions. Steve’s powerful body fucked you deep into the bed until he was deeply crying out your name with the trembling effects of his third orgasm. From the feeling of it, he definitely wasn't shooting blanks as more of his seed oozed out of your well-used cunt.

He remained on top of you for a while, his body keeping yours warm as you breathed one another in, but eventually, he was moved onto his side by a gentle hand of Bucky’s.

“Come on, big boy, I need you to move over so I can clean you both up”, the brunette explained as he sat on the bed with a warm washcloth. Steve sighed in contentment but remained with his arms around your torso as he observed Bucky clean up his sensitive flaccid cock.

As Bucky moved between your legs, you tiredly gasped, “Wait, you didn’t get to cum, Bucky”.

Bucky grinned up at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek as he explained, “Oh, don’t worry, I did, twice. You should see the back of Steve; think I might have got some in his hair as he was fucking you into next week”.

Steve quietly cursed before chuckling as he reached a hand behind his head, “Well, the sheets are thoroughly ruined for tonight then”.

[chahnniesroom]

for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic.

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | crazy 4 u

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨

summary: valentine's day special! joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, soft dom! joel, free use kink, orgasm denial if you squint hard, unprotected piv, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, choking/breath play, pet names for reader, praise kink, romantic as fuck husband joel this chapter, some domestic fluff, alcohol consumption, maybe maybe maybe there is a breeding kink moment, reader has hair that can be pulled a/n: they're so in love it makes me SICK!!! thank you so much for reading and loving this couple along with me, and happy galentine's and valentine's day my loves! 💋💗💌

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

You quietly squeal to yourself as you start to tear open the newly delivered package on your way back inside from the mailbox. You look down at the assortment of pale pastel candies, all strung up on thin strands, waiting to be devoured. Your own curiosity and lack of self control nearly has you reaching in the box to break one off for yourself, but you hold back, reminding yourself just who you bought this for and why. 

Valentine’s Day is in two days, but you’d wanted to get a jump, giving Joel a more playful vibe today considering you know he’ll have gotten you something sexy and downright depraved to wear on the actual holiday. Your skin tingles at the thought, recalling all of the things he’d had you wear in the past. Your most memorable being crotchless panties under a skin tight dress at dinner one Valentine’s Day, so he could finger fuck you under the table at one of Austin’s finest restaurants. Keeping your face straight during that had been painstaking, but you’d loved every minute of the debauched public display. When you’d asked Joel why he hadn’t just had you go sans underwear that night, he’d smiled devilishly. ‘Adds to the forbidden factor, don’t y’think?,’ Joel had replied, ‘So premeditated I had to get my baby somethin’ to weep onto while I knew I’d be shoving my fingers so deep in her pretty pussy.’ Those naughty words from Joel still send a shudder up your spine to this day as they ring in your mind. He hadn’t even waited until you two were home that evening to use that same hole in the panties to fuck you dizzy, until you’d screamed in the back seat of his car for him. Even then, he hadn’t relented until you came too many times to even remember the count now, leaving his seats a soaking mess.

You sigh, bringing yourself back to the present, brushing the memories away for now to get yourself ready to make some new ones with your husband. Once you’ve changed, you take a quick moment to admire the scant pieces of lingerie, almost laughing at the absurdity, but wondering how in all these years you’d never thought to buy candy underwear for Joel to devour off of you. You preen yourself for a few more quick moments before heading downstairs, wanting to set yourself up to act casual for Joel when he arrives home. Sometimes you do this on purpose, knowing he gets off on interrupting what you’re doing just so he can take you, fuck you however he pleases. And even when you really are in the middle of something, you get off on it too - being of service to your husband, helping him feel good while knowing you’ll be well taken care of, too.

On the dot at 5:00, you hear Joel’s car pulling up and smile smugly to yourself, continuing to wipe the counters down. A prompt pop of your hips to push your ass out follows when you hear the front door open and close.

“Doll? Where are ya?” Joel calls out, voice slightly muffled as he bends down to put his shoes away.

“In here!” you call out, voice high and sugary sweet, imitating the lingerie plastered to your body right now.

“How’s my pr-” Joel starts, freezing the moment he enters the kitchen. He takes in the sight - you slightly bent over, only a tiny string between your bare ass cheeks, pink high heels, and straps of candy running over your shoulders and across your back. You whip your head over your shoulder, rotating your body just enough to give Joel a peek at the lines of candy also covering your tits. He laughs, head thrown back in playful amusement before stepping towards you, predatory and slow, his laugh fading into a contemplative smirk.

“What do we got here?” Joel says quietly, hands immediately pressed tightly to your hips, his body pushing you forward into the counter. You whimper when the edge of the counter starts to dig into your stomach, Joel’s massive form locking you into your spot. “A little snack f’me to enjoy after workin’ so hard all day?” Joel can barely contain himself, blood running hot as he contemplates how grateful he feels right now. 

“Mmhmm…” you whine out, already feeling any semblance of tension leaving your body at Joel’s gentle but calloused touch, this feeling of home. You giggle when Joel leans down to where the straps come around over your shoulders and takes a bite out of the candies, a little groan leaving him as his lips also catch on your skin, mixing the taste of you with the sweetness of the candy.

“Delicious, baby,” he hums in your ear, then goes on to kiss your earlobe. You melt, head falling back slightly with a docile smile plastered on your lips. “How’d a man get so lucky?” He takes another bite, kissing along your shoulder as he does so.

“Thought we’d get a jump on Valentine’s Day, darling,” you coo back, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Joel freezes, his eyes going wide and body rigid. “Fu-” he murmurs to himself, lips still practically attached to your shoulder. 

“What?”

He tears himself off of you with the most disgruntled groan you may have heard from him yet. “Baby, we gotta get movin’. You… fuckin’ little candy underwear, god damn it…” he starts muttering, grabbing you tightly and spinning you around. He grasps your hand in his and starts leading you upstairs. “You gotta change, honey, we’re…” he trails off, looking guilty and a bit flustered.

“Joel, what the hell is going on?” you ask, stopping and pulling back on his hand.

Joel sighs, calming himself for a moment before finally meeting your eyeline again. His gaze softens and he smiles. “Had a whole thing planned, darlin’. A surprise. C’mon and see for yourself.”

You trail after him, suddenly feeling ridiculous in your candy underwear given the change in mood. He takes you into the bedroom, opening his closet and yanking out your suitcase. Your brows furrow as you watch him pull it to the center of the bedroom, then going back for another suitcase of his own. Your mouth drops open slightly before curling into a smile, realizing that Joel had planned a trip for the two of you. He’d mentioned to keep your schedule free around Valentine’s Day, but you’d figured it was just typical plans - dinner, a picnic, or a fancy hotel room, nothing this big.

“Joel… baby…” you breathe out, clutching a hand to your chest. You feel suddenly filled with warmth, like sunshine has started filling you from the belly outwards, making your entire being feel light and tingly. Effervescence. That’s what being with Joel is like.

He gives you a lopsided smile. “We’re leavin’ tonight. Planned it all, flight is at eight so we can wake up there ‘n get a jump on everythin’. An’ then you had to wear that,” he huffs, gesturing to your entire body with a wild movement of his hand. “An’ scramble my brain right up.” His eyes linger along your entire midsection, sincerely considering throwing these plans away just to sate his hard cock, but he shakes his head and looks you in the eyes again.

“A jump on…. what’s everything?” you ask, placing an impatient hand on your hip.

Joel reaches into the built-in shelves in his closet, pulling out a soft, cashmere lounge set and walking it over to you. “Jus’ get dressed an’ I’ll explain as we go. God damn it, this was s’posed to be so much more romantic.” He sighs, a hand repeatedly running through his hair during your entire conversation, looking flustered.

“Aw, honey, it is, promise,” you assure him with a kind laugh, starting to peel off the candy underwear, bringing it over to your dresser to deposit it for another time. 

“Mm-mm,” Joel chants with a smirk, squatting down to unzip your suitcase and holding out his palm to you. “Those are comin’ with us.”

You’re over 31,000 feet in the air now, the sky dark outside the plane windows as you peer out. Joel had planned an entire long weekend to head to Aspen, where he’d booked you both skiing lessons and a cozy, romantic room at a lodge there. Your heart swelled as he explained it all on the ride to the airport, remembering how it was on your bucket list to learn to ski, but being from Texas there hadn’t been too many chances to learn locally.

You stretch your legs out, admiring the leg room in the first class tickets Joel had gotten you two, bringing the complimentary glass of champagne to your lips.

“Baby, this is too much,” you say with a slight frown, despite feeling overjoyed at everything about your current situation.

“Never. I’ve been plannin’ and savin’ for this for a while. Wanted to surprise you big time,” Joel says with a toothy, proud grin.

“Well, you did. Makes my candy underwear feel kind of… well, wimpy in comparison.”

Joel’s pointer finger flies to your lips, pressing down before your glass can reach your mouth again. “Not a chance, little doll. That’s all I need from you - skimpy little outfit to keep your husband happy.”

Your lips curl into a sly smirk and you part your lips, nipping the end of Joel’s fingers. He shoots a brow up, challenging you, but you back down. You and Joel don’t always have the most public decency, but you decide it’s not worth getting kicked off the plane just for an orgasm you could wait a few more hours for. You nearly roll your eyes at the thought though, your cunt aching from the unresolved moment you two had shared in the kitchen earlier. You can tell by his wide pupils and rosy cheeks that Joel must be feeling a lot of the same way and having the same conflictions.

“If we wait a few hours… it’ll be even better…” you lean over and whisper to him, voice betraying you as it escapes in a breathy, sultry tone.

“Plane never stopped us before…” Joel says, brows raised again. 

You tut, but then smile at the memory of your one sexual adventure on a plane with Joel, when you two were on your way to your honeymoon. A discreet handjob and fingering in first class under blankets hadn’t been the most romantic start to your married life together, but it suited the both of you. “Aaand…” you trail off, placing your palm on his chest. “We almost got caught like five times, big guy. Promised ourselves we wouldn’t do that again.” 

Joel grumbles quickly, and you know he understands, but you feel an anxious twinge in your stomach, like you’re breaking the rules. Your face falls a little and you turn towards him, more serious this time. “I know we have… an arrangement, and you know I love our arrangement.” Joel gets what he wants, whenever he wants - the words agreed upon by the both of you within your marriage, and you were all for it. “But just this time I think we shouldn’t break the law for it.” You raise your brows, stomach turning again as you wait for his reaction - Joel is always understanding and patient with you but as usual, you find yourself desperate to please him.

Joel bites the inside of his cheek, then he leans over to plant a peck on your cheek while he reaches down to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “No, baby, you’re right. Probably should be an exception ‘bout planes in there, huh?” He tilts his head playfully and you feel your tension dissipate immediately. “Always the rational one, ain’t you, honey.”

“Barely,” you tease, chuckling in relief. “I just don’t want to ruin the trip before it’s even started. Let’s just watch a movie or something?”

Several hours of keeping yourselves occupied and dozing off had you finally arriving in Aspen, where Joel gently nudged you awake as the plane landed. You rubbed your bleary eyes and made your way through the plane and airport half-awake, just letting Joel guide you with one of your hands gently grasping at his sleeve the entire time. You two get outside the airport with your suitcases, now bundled up in an adorable puffer jacket Joel had packed for you, along with a new pair of fuzzy earmuffs. You were starting to have a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot of new clothing in your suitcase.

Standing next to an impeccably shiny black car is a well dressed driver holding a tiny sign that makes you do a double take. 

Mr. & Mrs. Joel Miller.

You tug on Joel’s sleeve with eager excitement as he starts towards the man and your mouth hangs open. 

“Joel, you did not hire a fancy driver,” you scoff quietly in disbelief. Joel stops in his tracks, screeching the two of you to a halt before turning to face you. 

“If you’re already questioning me at the airplane seats ‘n the driver, it’s gonna be a long few days, honey,” he says sweetly, his voice crackling and gruff with tiredness from the long day. Your open mouth turns to a smile while you tut and shake your head. 

“You’re too much, Joel Miller…” you muse, following him to the car. The driver, Randy, takes your bags and stuffs them in the car, offering you an open car door to climb inside. Your stomach flips with butterflies, not having realized just how romantic of a weekend Joel had planned for you. You fight off a quick mist of tears as it pops up, trying not to get emotional at just how overwhelmingly thoughtful your husband could be sometimes. 

When Joel sits next to you, you clasp onto his hand tightly, giving him a watery smile that he returns with a sympathetic one of his own, reading that you’re feeling overwhelmed. Sure, since Joel had become more and more successful in his business you’d been treated beyond your wildest dreams, but sometimes it all hit you hard in one big moment like right now, filling you with gut clenching gratitude for your life. Life with Joel oftentimes feels like a dream, something you’ve stumbled into somehow that you aren’t sure you deserve. Joel would never let those thoughts slide, always reminding you how lucky he feels to have met you in that bar, that fate intervened so spectacularly in his life.

You lean your head on his shoulder for the duration of the ride to your accommodation, feeling sick with nostalgia and gratitude as you get lost in your thoughts. When the lodge comes into view, you pick your head up, mind suddenly empty as your jaw drops while you take it in.

It’s dark out, the sky black against the warm, glowing lights peeking through window panes throughout the lodge. A mountainous backdrop is still visible despite the dark night, and you can’t help but ogle at everything, imagining how stunning it will look in the daylight. The lodge is huge, ornate despite the fact that it’s meant to look simplistic and cozy with its wood siding. Joel marvels quickly at the construction out of habit, being in the business he’s in gives him a certain preclusion to commenting his two cents on every place you stay. You’re stunned silent as the back door is opened by Randy and you step out underneath a large overhang, greeted by yet another person who offers to take your bags. It’s all fuzzy, your brain tired and overwhelmed by what you’re taking in right now, the fact that just hours ago you’d been at home, content to just stay in with your husband tonight. You blink back to reality, about to speak when Joel gets to it first. 

“Please. Thank you kindly,” Joel drawls, quickly slipping them a bill from his wallet and then turning back to you, offering you his arm. You take it, practically ready to squeal loudly with excitement as you two enter the building. You admire the expansive lobby while Joel steps away to check in - high ceilings and wood beams, roaring fireplaces surrounded by cozy seating and tall, full but neatly arranged bookshelves. A winter dream if there ever was one. 

You’re gazing around,  tired, slow blinking eyes, too lost in it all to notice Joel come up next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans close, lips and rough beard brushing your ear with a soft kiss.

“Room’s ready,” he practically growls, and your gut clenches at his tone, your thighs pressing together. Suddenly, your body feels alight, nerves buzzing and goosebumps peppering your flesh. Sleep is a far away notion now, recalling the way you’d begun this evening, only to have it go unfinished for the both of you. You smile, soft and docile like your husband likes, your voice a dulcet song so close to his ears.

“Lead the way.”

Your ass stings red hot from another harsh slap laid against it. Joel’s hungry mouth devouring you, your hat and coat discarded on the floor right next to the door to your room. Hair tangled from the way Joel is hanging on to it for dear life as he pounds into you. Your only view is the cream colored walls, your face pressed up against the cool, smooth surface as Joel’s body pins you there. The door had no sooner shut than Joel had thrown you here, as much clothing ripped off as he could stand before his cock was inside of you. You’d cried out, whimpered at the sudden heavenly intrusion despite your pussy needing a moment to adjust. Joel had pushed through it, anyways, delivering the first spank of the night on your ass, pants and underwear hastily pulled down, halfway down your legs - enough room for Joel to slip his cock in was good enough for now, he’d thought hastily. The pain had melded into pleasure, your cunt squeezing his cock and starting to weep, easing Joel’s firm thrusts into you.

“F-fuck…” you whine against the wall, lips hanging open as his cock hits deep, your g-spot crying out already from all the stimulation he’s giving it. He’s not going easy on you, and you’d already known he wouldn’t the second he got you alone. All those hours, the silent teasing going on in both of your heads as you’d waited for this moment.

“Takin’ my cock like such a good girl… my obedient little wife,” Joel grunts out next to your ear, his teeth scraping your earlobes, sliding to your pulse point. You shudder, your hips spasming down onto him as pleasure starts to rock your body. You’re close… so fucking close to that perfect paradise only Joel knows how to get you to. “I’d’ve fucked you right in that lobby, right in that car or that god damned plane. Want everyone to see what I do to my pretty wife, what I’ve got right here… fuckin’ mess only for me,” Joel murmurs, rambling on as he grunts over and over, giving you everything he’s got. His hands tilt your hips, holding tightly while he anchors you there. And he’s right, you are a mess. Dripping slick, coating your thighs, disheveled hair and makeup now from the pleasured tears rolling down your cheeks, wet, squelching sounds filling the hotel room that you haven’t even had a chance to see yet as your face is turned towards the corner near the doorway. It must be a sight, indeed.

“Y-yeah? Wanna s-show me off…?” you breathe out, voice trembling as much as your body is starting to. Your knees are jelly, shaking and barely able to hold you up when Joel delves deep, hitting that spongy part inside of you again, making your eyes roll back. Of course he does, you know he does - nothing brings Joel more joy than letting the world know exactly what he has.

“Fuckin’ know I do… all lookin’ at this tight little cunt takin’ my fat cock, my pretty pussy, all mine.” Joel’s body presses closer, and you’re trapped even more, the both of you damp with sweat and almost incoherent as you near your highs.

“B-baby… I’m -” you whine out, “Please…”

Joel has waited as long as he could, knowing what you need. He’d wanted you desperate for it, so close, your climax just within reach, before he took you over the edge. His hand on your hip curves forward, finding your clit, and you moan loudly at the contact on the sensitive nerves. Your body moves of its own accord, bouncing back into his thrusts wildly, barely noticing that Joel’s other hand has left your hip until it connects with your neck, hand wrapping around your throat. You gasp, the noise cut off into a small choke while Joel’s hand tightens and you croak out a moan.

“Oh my g-god… please…” you whimper again in a strained voice, hoping, no, begging for permission from him. He plays with you a little longer, feeling his cock harden beyond what he’d think possible, aching even inside of you for more, as he toys with you, making you wait. His hand squeezes your neck once more, a little harder, keeping the pressure on. You’re feral, your body screaming at you but you concentrate, holding back, your mind doing gymnastics to try to deny what your body wants so badly.

“Come.” Joel speaks the one word with finality, and you let go, your body shaking violently. His hand releases and you breathe in a full, round breath as you come, your pussy creaming so hard on his cock that you start to feel dizzy from it all. 

“God damn, good girl… comin’ so pretty right now,” he whispers to your ear, the noise tickling your mind in the best way. Joel holds you up as you moan and whimper, his name falling off your lips in the way it always does in moments like these - worshiping him. You flutter and squeeze his cock like heaven incarnate, and Joel finds he can’t hold himself back any longer, spilling into you on the tail end of your own climax with a loud grunt, pretty praises for you off his lips.

You both collapse against the wall, Joel leaning against you, and you both catch your breath, the need gone for the moment after hours of waiting. You sigh, smiling in satisfaction when Joel pulls off of you, gathering you quickly into his arms, kissing you all over your head. 

“That’s better, ain’t it?” he says teasingly, and you chuckle, nodding in his grasp. You both readjust yourselves, Joel helping you situate the clothing he’d haphazardly pulled aside in his frenzy earlier.

“Much,” you say with another sigh, leaning into him. “What time is our lesson tomorrow?”

“Not ‘till noon. Had a feeling we’d be… up late,” Joel replies wryly, and you laugh again.

“Such a planner,” you poke at him, raising your brows before tilting your head to kiss his cheek. You slip out of his hold and start to meander further into the room, jaw dropping for what feels like the hundredth time tonight while you take in the vaulted ceilings with those same warm wooden beams and white painted walls, a stone fireplace roaring in the center of the room across from the massive bed, adorned with rose petals. More roses sit atop the small breakfast table in a vase near the windows, and when you venture over there, the view you’re taking in is beyond stunning - the mountains in full view, moonlight shining over the entirety of the landscape and your eyes start to tear up. Champagne in an ice bucket, boxes of chocolate, fresh fruit, the entire works are all laid out - such a lavish, gorgeous display for the traditional romantic in you. You turn around finally, meeting Joel’s gaze, where he stands, a smitten look on his face as he watches you take it all in.

“Joel… What can I even say?” you gasp out, throwing your hands up before letting them hang back at your sides, defeated in the best way. “Thank you…” you say meekly, turning to peer out the window once more before walking towards him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Thanked me plenty back there. An’ every day when you just be my good little wife, that’s thanks enough, doll,” Joel replies soothingly, stroking the back of your head. You lean your head against his chest, content to just listen to his heart beat for a few seconds, take in the memories of this moment. You lean back, tilting your head to give him a warm, grateful smile.

“Take me to bed?”

The next morning is far from the slow, romantic morning Joel had desired for you, realizing the both of you had forgotten to set any alarms and slept in well past 10:00 after your late night. It was barely giving the two of you time to get ready - a rushed shower and breakfast before hurrying to your skiing lesson. He’d dreamed about this hotel that he’d booked for months, the thought of waking you up with his mouth pressed deep into your cunt on that California King as he’d planned would have to be a distant fantasy as you two got on with your day. 

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you the entire lesson, the way your face is lit up with pure joy in your ski gear as you fumbled to get the hang of things along with him. He’d gotten you ski pants, a jacket, gloves, and goggles - all the works that he knew was ridiculous for your first time on the mountain for that price tag. But he also knew you’d look just like this - adorable in your matching winter set, colorful goggles perched on top of your beanie and perfect lips curled into a never ending grin - and it made it all worth it. 

Joel finds his own smile recounting the day as he keeps a steady hand on your back, the open back, low cut slinky dress he’d packed for you to wear to dinner tonight leaving plenty of skin for his hands to roam over as you two walk back to your room, full and contented. A candlelit dinner in the lodge’s shockingly expensive restaurant and a few drinks had you both feeling good as new again after your long day of skiing and mostly falling. 

You two had laughed for hours as you’d fallen on your asses more times than anyone could count. Once you got the hang of it enough to get on the smaller slopes, you’d been unable to stop giggling the entire time, you and Joel catching up at the bottom just to ride the lift up again and again. You two flirted shamelessly the entire day like two teenagers, your heart swelling with so much love for your husband like it was your first date all over again. It was nice to have this uninterrupted time to just talk, get each other caught up on the other’s recent thoughts, feelings, and days that got lost amid the hustle of daily life. 

Joel’s lips connect with the back of your neck as soon as the door to your room at the lodge is shut. “Like t’see those candy underwear again,” he mumbles to your skin, and you giggle a little too loudly, stumbling forward a bit.

Your brows wiggle as you try to crane your neck to look back at him. “That so, Mr. Miller?”

“Christ, y’only call me that when you’ve been drinkin’,” Joel teases, snaking his arms around to your front, holding you against him, the bulge in his dress pants becoming more obvious by the second as it hardens, pressing into you. “Can’t decide if it’s cute or jus’ makes me feel old.”

“No I don’t, Mr. Miller. And it is cute,” you demand, trying to hide the tiniest bit of a slur in your voice. Joel wasn’t wrong, you had been known to use that particular nickname for him after a few drinks, but you tended to be a bit of a bratty, indignant drunk. 

“Thas right, ‘cause everythin’ you do is cute, m’little wife.” Joel says with a smile in his voice. His lips connect with your neck once again, trailing a few kisses down your spine. “An’ sexy…” he adds in a lower tone, one hand sliding to your hip, then your ass, squeezing hard before giving it a playful smack.

“Keep talkin’ if you want those candy panties to see the light of day again,” you reply, leaning back into him, your weight immediately welcomed by his warm, solid body. 

“Oh, sweet girl, always gettin’ so bold with that wine, aren’t ya?” Joel’s hold tightens, one hand splayed across your torso and the other gripping your ass hard enough to bruise. “You forgotten who’s in charge here? Hm, baby?”

“A-actually, it was champagne…” you strain out, starting to pant as Joel’s hold goes even tighter, his domination quickly getting your thighs sticky, and you lament the fact you don’t have any underwear on right now. All at Joel’s request, of course, that you forgo any underwear at dinner tonight. You just whimper out a quiet moan, knowing you’ve gotten Joel riled up enough to keep going on his own volition.

“Think I don’t call the shots suddenly, huh? My sweet, sweet wife, we both know,” he pauses, mouth moving right next to your ear. A small nibble, his breath warm and tickling you in the best way right on sensitive skin sends a shudder through you. “That if I say put those fuckin’ candy panties on right this god damn minute, you’re gonna do it, yeah?”

Joel’s teeth suddenly sink into your neck a little, a tiny bite followed by a suck, and you nod desperately, silently cursing yourself for giving in so quickly, not giving yourself a little more time to play with him, let that tiny bratty part of you out of her cage for one of her rare appearances.

“Ain’t that right?” Joel repeats, giving your hair a little tug.

“Y-yes, Joel, yes baby…” you breathe out, and he releases your hair, his hold loosening on your body before he gives a loving pat to your ass. 

“Good girl,” he coos, satisfied, sending another wave of heat to the apex of your thighs to hear his praise. A tiny moan slips out at the two words, still so effective after all these years. Joel chuckles, a tiny little huff off his lips as he spins you to face him. His hand cups your pussy through your dress, pushing the silky material between your legs before he tuts.

“Soakin’ yourself jus’ from gettin’ called a good girl…” he murmurs, lips getting dangerously close to yours. “Good. Girl.” he says with a smirk against your lips before kissing you. It’s long and deep, reminding you that behind the play and facade is an infinite amount of care for you - his wife, his forever.

He tears himself away, leaning his forehead against yours. “Now, go on and change f’me.” 

You nod against him, then step back when he releases you from his hold. Breathless, on shaky legs, you rummage through your suitcase to pull out the candy set, smiling when you hold up the pastel treats, strung up on what might be the world’s flimsiest string. One minute in Joel’s rough, domineering hands and these would be toast, you think, almost laughing to yourself. 

You see Joel go towards the fireplace, sinking himself down in one of the plush chairs there and crossing his ankle over his knee, settling back as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, watching you expectantly. You scurry off under his hot gaze, using the bathroom to change out of his eyesight before reemerging in his requested lingerie. You fight a giggle, wine still coursing through you while being reminded of the pure ridiculousness of this little stunt of yours. 

Joel eats with his eyes first and foremost, sweeping them up your body as he finishes getting comfortable, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. You stand in front of him, thankful for the warmth of the fireplace right next to the two of you in your skimpy ensemble, and take him in right back. Broad, muscled, just starting to show his age with more grays every time you blink, and you love it. Love every inch of Joel. 

“On the ground,” Joel says coolly, and you smirk, trying to hide it into a submissive, coy smile. Your knees go first, the plush rug under them a welcome relief, pure fluffy luxury in a weekend full of it. You start to lay prone, chest heaving with anticipation, mind spinning and reeling, wondering what torturous loving Joel has in store, how much he’ll milk it all out just for your tiny bit of bratiness earlier.

“Jus’ like that, thas’ right.” He leans forward and smiles, a little devilish and boyish in one, and you think you fall in love again as you watch him moving, looming over you now. He quickly palms the outside of his slacks, just the quickest relief before sliding his hand away, starting to circle you. 

“Where to start…” Joel trills, and your body heats up even more while his eyes dig into you. When he’s standing at your feet, he starts to come down, leaning his entire body over you. “Can you be a good little doll and lay still while I have my treat?”

Breathless, you nod. Your eyes roll back a little when you blink hard, trying to catch your breath. Joel’s lifted brow and stare prompt you without him even having to say it - use your words, darlin’.

“Yes,” you say more confidently, and Joel smiles sweetly down at you. 

“Good.”

He starts slow, lips moving languidly across your belly, up to where the candy rests on your tits, lapping at the sweetness there for a few licks. 

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles. He’s back on you the next second, sucking the candies right on top of your nipples. The friction of the hard candies combined with the tiny licks of his tongue coming through to the hardened buds has your back arching, hips searching for him. You squirm, panting now when he bites through the candy, grazing your nipple with his teeth. Joel’s hands come down, ever so gently guiding your hips back down to the plush rug underneath you. 

“What’d I say about bein’ still?” Joel teases, holding you there now before going back to bite again, crunching the candies before using his sugary tongue to tease your nipple with a few flicks as it pokes through the hole he’s just made. You start to moan, already a lost cause for your husband, the thought of trying to keep your body still already torturous. 

“I c-can’t help it… I’m sorry, sir,” you pant out when your hips lift again, his mouth working harder and harder on your nipples. He grunts disapprovingly and continues on until both of your nipples are free, surrounded by the rest of the candy bra. Joel seems like a man possessed, lost in it all while he devours the candies, sucking and licking each new patch of skin, a sticky, sweet mess all over your skin. 

You’re aching, body tense and in hot, hot need of him now as he teases you over and over. Your thighs clamp tight, trying to avoid bucking them up into where his hard, clothed cock hovers teasingly right above you. His hand grips tightly to your hip, the string of candy taut between his fingers. He’s eaten enough of the bra that it’s starting to droop, fall off of you completely, and Joel tears it aside, scattering the rest of the candies along the floor with a tinkling sound that pulls you out of the moment for a beat as you turn your head to watch the treats roll away.

“Good girl, bein’ so good f’me… such a sweet little thing…” Joel says, lifting his head off of your chest, giving you ferocious, unhinged eyes and candy tinted lips, puffy and overused.

“J-joel… please…” you whine out, the way he’s looking at you pulsing right to your already soaking cunt. His hand slips underneath the panties while he keeps his eyes on yours, watching them roll back completely as he fingers your clit. Your hips buck, finally, unable to stop it and you feel your lip quiver as a shaky moan releases from them. Joel leans forward, his lips finding yours and kissing you zealously, a glace mix of him and the sweets has your head spinning as you lap the taste off of his lips and tongue eagerly.

“So sweet…” you mumble into his mouth, going back for more and more, until you’re feeling just as sticky and sweaty as he is, the slow burn starting to gnaw at you, your core dripping while Joel rubs the softest circles over your bundle of nerves.

“You’re perfect, y’know,” Joel breathes out, lifting his lips off of yours just the tiniest bit. “My perfect girl…” You moan when his finger suddenly sinks inside of you, too caught up in the moment to even notice when he’d delicately slipped it from your clit to your clenching hole. You suck him in greedily, desperate for anything he’ll give you and whimper.

Joel contorts himself, sliding down your body, keeping his finger moving at a languid, steady pace as his mouth now meets the candy panties, nibbling along the top of it. You’re losing control, unable to take the teasing anymore, the slowness of everything, your rough and ready husband nowhere to be found right now. 

Your moans become breathier, urgent and panting out of you more quickly than you can handle, your mind going a little fuzzy and light as the feeling of Joel completely takes over you.

“There we go… jus’ float on away baby, let me take you there…” Joel coos from your hip where his lips graze against your skin as another few pieces of candy come off. You give him an affirmative noise, barely registered even by your own mind as your eyes slip closed, your body warm and tingling, so desperately close to the edge. Joel’s finger hooks upwards inside of you and you gasp loudly, your body wracked with spasms as you start to come onto his thick finger. Joel lets you freely writhe and shake now, not bothering to have you lay still while he fucks his finger against your g-spot relentlessly while you ride out the waves of pleasure. You’re whimpering, a complete mess, chest, face, cunt, all feeling sticky and completely used by the man you love.

Your head lolls along the rug a bit before you blindly reach your hand for Joel, grasping his shoulder with your eyes still lazing shut. “F-fuck me, please… please,” you whimper, lightly clawing at his dress shirt.

You hear one more crunch of the candies before Joel’s fingers hook on the sides of the delicate string and pull your panties off. You can feel him, his presence hovering above you as he sits back on his knees and you hear him unbuckling his belt, imagining in your mind the sight of his hard cock coming free, readying itself at your entrance. You can barely think about opening your leaden eyes right now, still on the heels of your climax as your chest heaves up and down. You can feel the warmth radiating off of Joel as he climbs on top of you, hands gripping your calves to lift your legs up enough for him to fit snugly between them.

You grit your teeth a little, grunting out a gratified moan when you feel Joel start to push himself in, your cunt fluttering as it accepts as much of him as he’ll give. You’re greedy tonight, you can feel it, just needing everything Joel can give you, how far away from reality he could take you tonight.

He pumps in and out, almost uncharacteristic in his tentativeness, more of his thick length going in each time, and you finally peek your eyes open slowly, hands reaching to his shoulders and pushing underneath the collar of his dress shirt, finding his warm skin. He’s moving slower than he normally would, and you find his face looking down at you with adoration, just content to watch your face twitch and contort with each unhurried drag of his cock along your silky walls.

“Lookin’ like an angel,” Joel comments, seeing your face sheening and glowing from your climax, hair splayed around your head like a halo - pure angelic beauty, a work of art that Joel could never tire of gazing upon. You smile softly, one of your hands stroking his cheek lovingly, soft moans streaming out of you while he keeps up the same pace.

“Baby…” you moan, “I s-said to fuck me, please…”

“I am, little doll…” Joel teases back with a slow push of his dick into you, and you shake your head.

“You know what I meeeeaan,” you whine desperately, fingers itching to reach down and grasp his hips, pull him into you harder. Joel’s hips twitch a little faster, starting to roll into you with more force and you sigh, head thrown back a bit more.

“What, like this?”

Uh-huh. You start to go a little breathless, legs wrapping around Joel’s waist, securing your calves tightly against him.

“You want me to use you up again, hm? That it? My poor baby, she jus’ wants this tight little hole to be so fucked out she can’t walk, doesn’t she?” Joel says, patronizingly sweet with the drawl of each word.

You nod desperately. “Please, sir, t-that’s…” you stop to moan loudly when he bucks into you harder and harder. “That’s all I want…” you finally choke out, Joel’s cock hitting you so deep you nearly feel your breath stolen right from your lungs.

“What my pretty wife wants, she gets,” Joel practically sings to you, bringing his lips down to yours for a kiss, letting his mouth sloppily work its way to your neck, starting to bite and suck while he crashes into you harder with each thrust. You can only make tiny noises, clutching him as your hands snake around his neck, holding him close to you. Joel grunts loudly between sloppy licks and sucks on your throat, his hips moving more clumsily as your walls squeeze him to the point he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

“God damn it baby, this little pussy wants me in there so bad, she’s so greedy,” Joel punches out right next to your ear. You shudder, hips spasming and only tightening you around him further. Joel groans loudly.

“Please…” is all you can whisper, out of breath as he hits deep inside of you with each new movement. 

“Fuck, c-can’t… need to fill you up, darlin’, need you fuckin’ full of me…”

“Pleaaaase…” More urgently this time, lips dry from the way you’re sucking in oxygen in quick gasps, starting to feel your orgasm clawing at your belly, tingly and hot.

“Fuckin’ full of me… gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. Give you my f-fuckin’ baby right now… m-make you swell up,” Joel pants, his face buried in your shoulder, biting down. You gasp, completely lost to the moment, fingers digging into his skin as you pull him in tighter, legs and feet crushed against his back. There are no two bodies here, only togetherness and sweat and breath - two people so lost in the moment and pure pleasure that they’re outside of themselves, becoming one frenzied movement to climb higher and higher to that sweet peak of relief.

“F-fuck… yes, yes, baby, yes…” you moan out. “Fill me up… d-do it…” you whine. With a stunted grunt Joel’s hips stutter forward, burying himself deep. The power, the emotion of it all as he starts to paint your walls tips you over the edge, fluttering tightly around him as you milk every bit of his seed into you, spasming and moaning as you reach another high.

“Oh my god…” you breathe out as you come hard, Joel’s ragged breath right in your ear softly moaning for you. The both of you fully collapse, Joel rolling to the side, clutching an arm around your chest. The crackling sound of the fireplace start to come back into your consciousness, the stillness and warmth of the room hitting you all over again while you lay back, feeling the stickiness of the two of you steadily leaking out of you. You’re speechless now, barely able to catch your breath, let alone process what Joel had hummed into your ear in the heat of the moment.

A baby. Did he really want that with you? 

You two hadn’t discussed having children very often just yet, wanting to wait and enjoy being married, being just you two for a few years. But you felt your heart flutter a little, the thought of a little life inside of you, yours and Joel’s, a beautiful loved baby that you’d grow and nurture together. You can scarcely breathe at the thought, the love your heart swells with for this faraway notion, this unconceived child, already imprinting themselves onto your heart.

“Joel…” you murmur. His head turns towards you, and you watch light flickering around him from the shadows the fire is casting along his golden skin.

“I-” Joel stutters, seeing the look in your eyes. For once, he’s not sure he can quite read it. He knows he said something so much more tangible this time, beyond all the dirty talk the both of you love to get lost in. It was too much, surely, he’d scared you with it. “I’m sorry, honey, that was… jus’ caught in the moment, maybe…”

Your face falls a little, eyes dropping to peer past him with a sad look. “Were you?” you ask timidly, hands coming together on your belly and wringing nervously.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours, soft now, none of that feral fire that was there only minutes ago. He shakes his head slowly.

“N-no, no I wasn’t, doll,” he replies quietly. Your lips twitch a little, a small smile that you’re not able to hold back now.

“I, uh, I wasn’t either,” you tell him, and Joel’s eyes flash, lighting up a bit.

He turns completely on his side, and you do too, facing each other and scooting even closer. Joel drapes a hand over you, starting to rub lazy patterns onto your back. “So should we… uh, talk about this, then?” he asks, giving you a half, lopsided smile.

You give him a nod and a toothy grin, resting your forehead against his. “Get me those chocolates on the table over there and then we’re in business.” Joel moves without hesitation, winking at you as he pulls himself off the floor.

“Anythin’ f’you, darlin’."

You have no idea what hour it is, how long you’ve even been asleep when you feel Joel’s warm body pressing into yours, his chest now up against your back. The room is still nearly pitch black, making you take a moment to recall exactly where you are. You sigh, smiling softly at the memory of your trip thus far and you see a tiny sliver of light coming in around the blackout curtains in the room, clearly doing their job well by keeping you two asleep for god knows how long.

“Baby…” Joel whispers in your ear. You roll over slightly, your ass now rubbing into his crotch. Your eyes flutter slightly when you feel his cock, already half hard for you. Your insatiable husband, fucking you within an inch of your life for two nights in a row, and still coming back for more - a rare man of his age so voraciously consuming you over and over, never seeming to be satisfied.

“Hmm?” you murmur in reply. Joel wraps an arm across you, snuggling you closer, all warm heat against his broad, naked chest.

“Mornin’...” he mumbles back, lips pressed to your neck. “Sweet girl.”

“Morning, handsome,” you say, reaching an arm behind you to cup Joel’s cheek, running your fingers through his beard. He hums in pleasure, dipping his lips down to kiss your neck again. You shudder, digging yourself deeper under the plush comforter as you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Joel’s hands start to roam, sliding over the skimpy, half see through pink slip you’d discovered in your suitcase last night.

Joel is suddenly shifting in the bed, and you feel the sheets rustling next to you before he’s bumping your legs as he climbs over them, settling himself underneath the comforter right in between your thighs. His touch just grazes over your plush thighs, soft and gentle, how Joel tends to be first thing in the mornings before he descends into the rough, possessive man that you’re more used to.

“So soft, little doll…” Joel murmurs from between your legs, his breath hot on your inner thighs while he leans down to kiss the outside of your panties. You just mumble incoherent noises of affirmation, still half asleep. Joel makes quick work of your panties, a pair to match the slip, of course, and pulls them down your legs, discarding them in the mess of sheets.

Your hips buck, a louder moan escaping you when his mouth finds your warm center, already wet and wanting for him.

“She’s ready f’me, ain’t she… waitin’ on her mornin’ wakeup,” Joel teases before running his tongue up your slit another time, flicking it on your clit a few times. A gentle suck there has your whining ramping up, hips begging him for more more more already. You’re barely even lucid yet and Joel is on the precipice of pulling yet another earth shattering orgasm out of you.

“J-jesus… please…” you beg, already feeling the familiar warmth pooling tighter in your core, your knees wobbling as they curl up, giving you some leverage to lazily push your hips against Joel’s tongue as it moves along your pussy.

“C’mon baby, fall apart f’me, s’okay it’s so fast…” Joel pulls back to murmur to you, kissing along your inner thighs as he speaks.

Your hand snakes below the sheets, burying your fingers into his lush, gorgeous curls, letting them massage his scalp as he dives back into your cunt, licking in just the right way he knows makes you go crazy with need, that makes you come within minutes, sometimes even much less.

You moan loudly, hips spasming as your climax surprises you suddenly, the waves of pleasure hitting you while Joel lets you ride it out onto his face. Your eyes roll back and you whimper quietly as you come down, flopping onto the bed with a content little sigh, body going limp. Joel kisses his way up your stomach, chest, and finally your lips, where you taste that primal honey of yourself on his lips. You quickly fall back into a dozing, lazy state before Joel wakes you again with his lips on your neck.

“Gonna order us room service,” he whispers near your ear, and you nod, finally opening your eyes to see your husband’s rugged, handsome face hovering above yours. Sharp smirk, stress lines, wild bedhead and all - he’s perfect, and you can’t help but smile sleepily in return. 

“There she is,” he teases, giving your forehead a smooch. “One mention of breakfast and she’s all bright eyed ‘n bushy tailed, huh?” You stick your tongue out teasingly, waggling your head at him.

“How about we eat, then we can go explore the town, do a little shoppin’ f’you, see the sights ‘n all that, hm?” Joel asks, and you nod tiredly but excitedly. 

“Mmm, sounds good,” you agree, blinking slowly as you try to wake up, finally coming to enough to recall the conversation the two of you had last night. The dreams you’d shared, hopes you had for having a child, all the ways your lives would change but also stay quite the same. The way your love would stay the same, deepen even, with seeing the other become a parent. Weighing it all carefully but with hopeful hushed voices, wondering if this was the right time for that next step for the two of you. When you’d both tearfully agreed that you’d start really trying in a few months after some more planning and thought, your heart soared higher than the clouds, than anywhere you could even conceive in your mind, chest tight with anticipation for all of it.

This morning that same feeling persists as you look upon Joel - so steady, so assured - everything you’ve ever dreamed of right here in this one man.

“How about we get some practice in while we wait for the food…” you suggest with your raspy, sleep laden voice, raising your brows at him as you feel his cock brush against you again, clearly hard and wanting.

“Baby makin’ practice?” Joel teases, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all along the side of your face. “That kinda practice, hm? Not just an excuse to get me naked again?”

You laugh, turning your head to kiss him back, relishing in the familiar plumpness of his lips, the taste of your husband, all of it like a map you’ve traced your fingers over hundreds of times now, knowing every route, twist, and turn, filled with such a deep appreciation for the landscape laid out in front of you. You smile again as you two look at each other, feeling your cheeks starting to hurt from the way you’ve been grinning practically non-stop for the last two days because of your gruff but secretly so soft husband. Your hand moves upwards to cup his cheek, sincerity written all over you.

 “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel.”

Joel smiles back, the same unspoken thoughts and deeply rooted loving care for you penned all over his features, entrenched in every weathered line, nook, and cranny of him. 

“Happy Valentine’s, little doll.”

dividers by the amazing @/saradika-graphics &lt;3

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

[shibaraki]

❄︎ ─ END OF YEAR REC REPORT: THE READER INSERT EDITION

hi lovelies!! as the year is coming to an end I wanted to work with my followers to compile a rec list of fics that have stuck with us as one massive thank you to all of the writers in our corner of tumblr/AO3. below you will find x reader fics from multiple different fandoms, and everything is in alphabetical order. I am grateful to all of you for the amazing work you do, and to those who participated!

extra note: I read through and tried my best to make sure everything is appropriately tagged (reader type and blushes included) but do let me know if anything needs amending—or if you are on this list and wish to be taken off it. happy reading and happy new year! (and thank you to @namodawrites for helping with the banners ily)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ─ ❄︎

fics: 100 fandoms: 23 total word count: 💀

an observer of longing by shibaraki [ONESHOT] [18K] #: afab reader - childhood best friends to lovers - romantic and sexual tension - mutual pining - casual physical affection - love confession - eventual sexual content

Could Hajime really return your feelings? Tooru certainly thinks so. And Issei, and Takahiro. Seemingly everyone that has been within twenty feet of you.

I wanna be yours by gabseyoo [ONESHOT] [5.9K] #: fem reader - recreational drug use - stoner suna rintaro - friends to lovers - shotgunning - smut - face riding - unprotected sex - sex under the influence

Your usual smoking date with your best friend takes an unexpected turn after a certain song starts playing.

in orbit by neonghxst [MULTI-CHAP] [27K] #: fem reader - slow burn - fluff - angst - enemies to friends to lovers - childhood friends - breaking up/making up

You tend to have a habit of coming and going, life sending you away at odd intervals and guiding you back into his path without warning. Akin to two planets caught in each other’s orbits, you pushed and pulled in a never-ending cycle. But if there was one thing Atsumu was certain of, it was that you would always find your way back to him (and this time, he’s determined to make you stay).

lover be good to me by suguwu [MULTI-CHAP] [30K] #: fem reader - soulmate au - slow burn - hurt/comfort - partner death (not kita shinsuke)

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate. But it's your wedding day.

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease by fushisagi [ONESHOT] [12.6K] #: gender neutral reader - university au - fluff - friends to lovers - denial of feelings - mutual pining

The question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. Alternatively: Miya Atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

monster by satendou [SERIES: ONGOING] [13K] #: fem reader - unprotected sex - creampie - vaginal fingering - mentions of bullying - insecurities - described as blushing

You like horror movies, Tendou likes horror movies, what could go wrong?

storm chaser by amjustagirl [MULTI-CHAP] [163K] #: fem reader - post canon - domestic fluff - friends to lovers - romance - marriage - parenthood - angst

Living life with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

the burden of being by sashimiyas [ONESHOT] [22K] #: fem reader - angst - fluff - amnesia - pro volleyball player osamu - unhealthy coping mechanisms

There was an Osamu who loved you once. Who loved Onigiri Miya so much he spent most of his waking hours there, supported loyally by the members of Hyogo Ward. A fire changes that and he and his twin brother adopt their old high school motto: we don’t need the memories. Now they’re gone and memories are all you have. So as an homage to the man you love, you reopen his restaurant back up for him.

the inbetween by oh-katsuki [ONESHOT] [25K] #: fem reader - manga spoilers - childhood friends to lovers - slow burn - angst - sexual content

You and Tendou have been best friends since before you can remember. You share everything with each other and over the years have fallen into a friendship with clear boundaries but intimate values. When you start to notice Tendou growing more distant, you begin to worry that he’s keeping more secrets than you thought. 

there are reasons why a body stays in motion by gardenofnoah [ONESHOT] [4.7K] #: afab reader - strangers to lovers - fluff - eventual sexual content

You work too hard—kita knows it the second he meets you. He’s not expecting you to take him up on his offer. You don’t either, until you end up on his farm.

the blood of the witch is not ours by demxnscous [ONESHOT] [11K] #: afab reader - vampire miya osamu - strangers to friends to lovers - modern setting with a hidden supernatural world - blood and injury - eventual sexual content

The door opens. Osamu whines pitifully, a shallow breath that scarcely pulls at the lacerations along his body, blood of his own and of another creature matts his fur to his ribs, along his spine, and he lifts his head. “Oh, fuck.” From the threshold, your eyes widen, a stranger to the fox you find.

to: tokyo, love hyogo by akimind [ONESHOT] [15K] #: fem reader - described as blushing - reunions - angst - fluff - exes to lovers

Your mind wasn’t tricking you when it caught sight of this name from across the street you rarely frequent; it remains the same name even as you stand directly below now and reread that sign again. Onigiri Miya. …I’ll meet you in Hyogo. The same echo. The same memory.

roommate osamu kiss by shibaraki [DRABBLE] [0.6K] #: gender neutral reader - pre relationship - fluff - roommate miya osamu - sleepy kiss

Osamu likes to think that unlike Atsumu, he has some semblance of control over his impulses. it’s a fine art. When you softly touch his waist as you squeeze past, or dig your feet under his thigh on the couch, or lean into his side as you share the small bathroom, he can will his body still and maintain the equilibrium you’ve crafted together. But this morning he is frayed at the seams.

venus by saetyrn [ONESHOT] [15K] #: cisfem reader - mutual pining - alcohol consumption - friends to lovers - eventual sexual content - reader is inexperienced

After returning to Japan from studying abroad in California, Hajime’s found that his desire for you has only grown stronger in his year away. He hopes you feel the same, and see him as he sees you. What he doesn’t expect is for it all to go tits up when you ask him--your trusted friend--for help with losing your virginity.

wet haired kuroo by mrs-kurooo [DRABBLE] [0.8K] #: gender neutral reader - pre relationship - romantic tension

His hair lies flat, unlike the usual unruly, gravity-defying mess of black that sits on his head. It’s still a little damp, slowly drying in the warmth of your apartment, a lone droplet of water dripping from the ends and landing on his towel. It hangs in his eyes a little, more so than usual and the urge to run your fingers through it overwhelms you - it just looks so soft.

a duke's son and a baron's daughter by katsukikitten [ONESHOT] [14K] #: fem reader - victorian era au - arranged marriage - pining - slow burn - suggestive content - lord bakugo katsuki - lord todoroki shouto

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food.  Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not. 

a light that never comes by mighty-mighty-man [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [430K] #: fem reader - enemies to friends to lovers - reader is an ex villain - worldbuilding - polotics - drama - eventual romance

After your life is saved by a quirkless middle-schooler, you find yourself roped back into the world of Heroism you've spent years trying to escape. Your mentor convinces you to take a job at U.A. that will bring you perilously close to your former best friend, Toshinori Yagi, who you have been avoiding since you mysteriously dropped out of high school in your third year. Being a Hero never gets any easier. And high school never ends.

all the times i told you by gardenofnoah [SERIES] [8K+] #: afab reader - estbalished relationship - fluff - intimacy - hurt/comfort - eventual sexual content

A sweet little multi-parter about being so in love it makes you sick, featuring Katsuki.

a withered rose by potionpeddlerpatchy [ONESHOT] [18K] #: fem reader - mythical au - reader is a nymph - god of sleep shinsou hitoshi - sexual content - dubious consent - somnophilia - manipulation

In the center of all the strange but wonderful opulence sat a giant glass orb propped so beautifully atop of a pillar, woven so intricately like vines, of tourmaline. You couldn’t help but approach it, the alluring purple aura seemed to call out to you, reaching your delicate hand before you, nothing else crossed your mind that your desire to touch the orb's smooth surface. “You’re a bold little one, aren’t you?” Hitoshi spoke, chuckling deeply as he took in your startled form. 

a world away by invie [MULTI-CHAP] [26K] #: fem reader - slow burn - timeskips - pro hero bakugo katsuki - parallel universes - dimension travel - feelings realisation - first meetings - fluff - angst - love confessions

He met you at 16 and hasn't known peace since then.

casual by ghostbeam [ONESHOT] [4K] #: fem reader - no quirk au - friends with benefits - friends to lovers - sexual content - todoroki family feels

“My mom wants to meet you.” It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.

cruise universe by bfbkg [SERIES] #: fem reader - cruise au - pro hero bakugo - developing relationship - strangers to lovers - fluff - alcohol consumption - eventual sexual content

Your cruise holiday with your friends has got some pretty views, your favourite being the grumpy pretty blonde.

deceiving the duke by andypantsx3 [MULTI-CHAP] [30K] #: fem reader - regency au - class differences - romance - identity porn - eventual sexual content

When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

fill my little world by shibaraki [ONESHOT] [20K] #: afab reader - no quirk au - single dad aizawa shouta - nanny reader - falling in love - eventual sexual content

You are employed by Aizawa Shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter Eri while he’s at work. As time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.

heart of the ocean by secondhand_trash [TWOSHOT] [13K] #: fem reader - pirate au - inspired by princess bride - romance - pirate todoroki touya - angst with a happy ending - sexual content

You had met many sailors in your life growing up by the sea, but there was only one like him.

higher than the mountain, deeper than the sea by itoshisoup [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [50K+] #: fem reader - psychological drama - childhood friends to lovers - stockholm syndrome - hurt/comfort - noncon elements

Touya watches you stare feebly out the window, your fingers curled around those useless flowers he bought, and he finally understands why his pathetic excuse of a father could never find the words to apologize to his mother.

I'll make this feel like home by missmeinyourbones [ONESHOT] [6K] #: afab reader - angst - canon compliant - hurt/comfort - dabi centric - todoroki family reveal - sexual content

Touya was eight years old when his youngest brother was born—the same age realized that his house no longer felt like home. 

incendiary by andypantsx3 [MULTI-CHAP] [30K] #: fem reader - enemies to lovers - quirkless discrimination - reader is a college student - romance- eventual sexual content

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

in the dark of morning, you promise me the sun by kirketeer [MULTI-CHAP] [78K] #: fem reader - major character death - slow burn - grief and mourning - angst with a happy ending - eventual sexual content

When Denki, your long-term boyfriend, is stabbed by a villain on his way home from work, left to bleed out on the sidewalk only a mile from your apartment, you find yourself adrift. Strangely enough, it's Bakugou that helps with what comes after.

kingdom of ashes by shibaraki [TWOSHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - historical royalty au - prince todoroki touya - arranged marriage - sexual content - fluff - angst - hopeful ending

When you are suddenly uprooted from your life to enter an arranged marriage with Prince Touya you are unprepared for how greatly he defies your expectations, nor for how quickly you fall for him.

lights will guide you home by a11eya [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [22K] #: gender neutral reader - soulmate au - trope inversion/subversion - slow burn - getting together - falling in love - eventual sexual content

Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates. At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways. You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children. (In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

one for the rules by alkhale [ONESHOT] [9K] #: fem reader - actor au - soulmates and identifying marks - romance - actor kita shinsuke - implied sexual content - reader described with long hair

“(Y/n)-san,” Kita whispers, low, just for you. Your eyes flicker nervously up to meet his, heart beating so wildly in your chest you feel like you’ll explode. Any minute now. There’ll be nothing left for him but little bits of nonsense. “I know I have no right to stop you… but please, if you’d be willing to wait, just a bit…” Kita pulls both your hands together now, away from both your shared marks. He holds them in both of his and he gazes at you the entire time, a man truly from another era, from a lost era of things so hopeless romantic and earnest you feel like there’s nothing you can do in the very face of it. Kita brings your hands up and he presses a kiss to your knuckles, peering up at you, eyes like honey, voice soft and warm and everywhere around you. “Would you give me the chance to show you my worth?” Kita asks. Ah, that’s it. Your heart really can’t take anymore.

passing peonies by dira333 [MULTI-CHAP] [34K] #: fem reader - recovery - mental health issues - returning to society - healing todoroki family - reader described to have a ponytail - angst

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies. Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

something just like this by ofmermaidstories [MULTI-CHAP] [200K] #: fem reader - strangers to lovers - pro hero deku - manga artist reader - eventual sexual content

It probably says a lot about you that your first thought on meeting Deku, international Symbol of Peace, isn't something like "Oh, wow," or, "Oh he's so nice," but is, instead, the un-Plus Ultra thought of, "I definitely would’ve bullied him, in high school." At least until those muscles came in.

the cardinal rule by coopigeoncoo [ONESHOT] [9K] #: gender neutral reader - romantic comedy - bird puns - blood and injury

A story where Hawks learns that while humans might be awed by his flying skills, the bird population is decidedly less impressed.

the widening sky by ofmermaidstories [MULTI-CHAP] [37K] #: fem reader - merpeople au - merman bakugo katsuki - canon typical violence - grief and mourning - eventual sexual content - bittersweet ending

You don’t believe your Grandmother’s stories about mermaids — until you meet one.

triptych by narumi-gens [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [20K] #: fem reader - yandere chisaki kai - psychological abuse - angst - codependency - imprisonment - canon typical violence - sexual content

Your life is nothing more than a triptych, a work of art in three parts with each panel depicting a distinct period — a beginning, a middle, an end. And in the triptych that is your life, the central figure has always been Chisaki Kai.

when to cradle, when to pry by therealvalkyrie [ONESHOT] [1.3K] #: fem reader - established relationship - depresson and panic attacks - reader has low self esteem - hurt/comfort

As he re-learns the joys of loving you, Katsuki also learns how to help you back on your own feet when you need it. OR An "in the aftermath" look at the relationship in 'you feel love in the sodium'

11:49pm by shotorus [DRABBLE] [0.4K] #: gender neutral reader - fluff and intimacy

Gojo is larger than life, but you make him feel small.

all that is solid by grilledtandoorismoke [SERIES] [38K] #: fem reader - arranged marriage - curse user reader - described as blushing - hurt/comfort - domestic fluff - angst - canon typical violence

Coming from a family of curse users and the first person in three hundred years to have your clan's inherited technique, political machinations force you to attend Jujutsu Tech while having to agree to an arranged marriage to Gojo Satoru.

am I (25F) the asshole for fucking my boyfriend's older brother (28M) by rinhaler [ONESHOT] [10K] #: fem reader - sexual content - dom/sub dynamics - older brother ryomen sukuna - sex under the influence - cheating - daddy kink

I know it sounds bad but we got high and he's hot!!

blood and pearls by vennilavee [SERIES: ONGOING] [10K] #: fem reader - trueform sukuna - developing relationship - canon typical violence - cannibalism - eventual sexual content

A lonely water nymph washes up to the shores of an enchanted lake with dreams of the sun and the stars. Little do you know, that this enchanted lake belongs to the king of curses himself, Ryomen Sukuna.

candied hearts by mrs-kurooo [ONESHOT] [10k] #: fem reader - no curse au - hurt/comfort - fluff - third party infidelity - sexual content - body worship - size difference - pull out method

Gojo is a nuisance. What more is there to say.

cor unum by vampyrsm [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [130K] #: fem reader - trueform sukuna - slow burn - period typical sexism - body horror - cannibalism - blood and violence - eventual sexual content

A tale of how the Shogun's daughter ends up in the maw of one of the most fierce curse users to ever exist.

godmaker by firein-thesky [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [50K] #: fem reader - arranged marriage - angst - unhealthy relationships - parental abuse - canon typical violence - hurt/comfort - slow burn - eventual sexual content

And the form leans down, closer, as their voice drops to a murmur, all honey and thorns, the promise of something far greater than you. A storm to come. The future that you will bear upon the slant of your shoulders. And when they speak, you know they’ve cursed you; “I will teach you how to make a God.”

hey lonely stranger (won't you meet my eye?) by stellamancer [ONESHOT] [6.4K] #: fem reader - speed dating - unresolved romantic tension - jealous gojo satoru - allusions to canon typical violence

You attend a match-making event and who else should be there but the last person you want to see: Satoru Gojo.

how to be a dog by prettyboykatsuki [TWOSHOT] [37K] #: fem reader - yandere gojo satoru - manipulation and coercion - stalking - graphic depictions of violence - rape/non-con - forced intimacy - sexual content

"Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love." - ANDREW KANE, HOW TO BE A DOG. With six eyes to see, it becomes clear. You are being watched.

intrinsic warmth by thatdesklamp [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [150K] #: fem reader - slow burn - childhood friends - mutual pining - angst - canon typical violence

You meet Satoru on 7th September, 1996. Some time later, you realise you love him.

let your hand become a blade so i may take it by seravphs [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [10K] #: princess reader - knight gojo satoru - royal au - forbidden love - period typical misogyny - childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

limerence by shibaraki [ONESHOT] [4K] #: gender neutral reader - friends to lovers - pining - masturbation - sexual tension

The little intimacies you shared together were a fix of Gojo's.

lucky by izvmimi [ONESHOT] [3.5K] #: fem reader - crack - plot heavy with a little porn - todo aoi's otaku behaviour

You meet someone desperate to win a competition.

men are so quick to blame the gods by awearywritersworld [SERIES] [16K+] #: fem reader - enemies to lovers - developing relationship - angst - fluff - canon typical violence - not canon compliant - jealousy

Your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night.

playing pretend by itadorey [ONESHOT] [5.4K] #: gender neutral reader - fake dating - friends to lovers - slice of life and humour

Gojo lies to Shoko in order to win a bet and you're dragged along for the ride.

🔒 polluted by heich0e [ONESHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - university au - sexual content - recreational drug use - sex under the influence - gangbang - double penetration - dubcon

"Weed doesn't make her annoying," Sukuna drawls, tossing the basketball up again, only this time away from him—you watch as it curves gracefully in the air, swishing through the little net Geto and Gojo have affixed to the back of their dorm room door. "She's always annoying." [...] Sukuna's smirk turns into something even sharper, a smile unfurling slow and wicked across his face. "Weed doesn't make her annoying--it makes her into a whore."

seat taker by coconutdays [ONESHOT] [10K] #: fem reader - university au - biker geto suguru - sexual tension - fluff - strangers to lovers - eventual sexual content

You have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

still melting? by arminsumi [ONESHOT] [1.4K] #: fem reader - best friend geto suguru - romantic and sexual tension - flirting

Practicing putting eyeliner on your best friend, while sat in his lap. He can't help but take this chance to flirt with you. Of course, a certain someone interrupts your moment right at the end

sunset by princess-okkotsu [ONESHOT] [5.6K] #: princess reader - knight zen'in maki - reader implied shorter than maki - royal au - period typical attitudes - sexual content

You’re a princess, though the last of several siblings, set to never wear the crown of your kingdom. The last to marry, you're suddenly betrothed after your father waged your hand in marriage in some game of bow and arrow. Though you and your knight, Maki, have been content with bottling up your affections for one another, this sudden betrothal has you both wishing for something you know you can't have.

they were just friends by wanderwithme [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [65K] #: fem reader - fireman fushiguro toji - slow burn - roommates - character death - eventual romance - described as blushing

It’s 4:24 p.m. and the love of your life is cheating on you.

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor by gardenofnoah [ONESHOT] [6.5K] #: princess reader - strangers to unfortunate lovers - hunter nanami kento - the fall of a dynasty - major character death - reincarnation - bittersweet ending

The world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. To love is an animal thing.

wormwood by linkcities [ONESHOT] [25K] #: fem reader - angst with a happy ending - canon compliant - childhood friends to lovers - mutual pining - codependency - new beginnings

Absence festers in the presence of little yellow wormwood flowers, and you come to learn about how it goes hand in hand with lingering bitterness when you meet Gojo Satoru. or, As the young God’s only friend, you are punctured with the burden of his companionship, regardless if you deem yourself unworthy of it.

风月 | wind, moon by itoshisoup [ONESHOT] [7.5K] #: gender neutral reader - established relationship - fluff - romance

In which you drag Dan Heng halfway across the universe for a candied fruit skewer, and he gets a taste of the life that was once denied to him.

christmas countdown by suguwu [ONESHOT] [16K] #: gender neutral reader - hallmark au - holiday fluff - age gap - romance

Your company is taking on a new project and desperately wants the backing and expertise of retired CEO Jing Yuan. Dispatched out into the countryside to bring him on board, you find it won't be as easy as you think. Jing Yuan strikes a bargain with you: spend the upcoming days with him, until Christmas Eve, and he'll tell you exactly what it will take for him to come back if you don't figure it out yourself. Let the Christmas countdown begin.

nexus by ddarker-dreams [MULTI-CHAP] [51K] #: fem reader - yandere blade - codependency - eventual sexual content - dark comedy - space politics

You belong to a specialized group — the Arbiters — who are capable of influencing others' perceptions. Your clients hail from all corners of the universe to see their wildest fantasies come true. By establishing a link with them, they can experience a dreamscape of their choosing, more convincing than the latest developments in augmented reality. You have received many unique requests throughout the years. After the Stellaron Hunter's swordsman saves you from an early demise, you offer him the chance to experience any phantasia of his choosing. It is then that you're posed with a trying challenge: "Show me what it's like to die."

scrap metal by lorelune [TWOSHOT] [5K] #: gender neutral reader - captive reader - injury - use of a muzzle - non consensual touching - yandere blade - force feeding

Per Elio's newest script, the Stellaron Hunters take in a stray.

love like no other by nanamimizz [ONESHOT] [2.6K] #: fem reader - sexual content - established relationship - open communication

Al Haitham is man solemnly thought he would never find love, so when he has that and more the night turns...physical.

you didn't teach me how to forget you by haitaniapologist [TWOSHOT] [15K] #: ragnvindr fem reader - described as blushing - fluff - lovesick childe - possessiveness

You never thought you would find the boy who haunted your childhood in a trip to Liyue.

arranged marriages and well-kept secrets by dearayato [ONESHOT] [1.7K] #: gender neutral reader - established relationship - talk of marriage - proposals

Ayato props himself on his elbows, a smug smile adorning his face, “Don’t worry love, the only person I see in my future is you.”

for you are the world by lorelune [MULTI-CHAP] [29K] #: fem reader - childhood friends to lovers - post trauma - fluff - hurt/comfort - chronic injuries - sexual content - protective diluc

You return to Mondstadt after many years away, sick, with an feeling that's all-too familiar and unwelcome.

bury me by deskaisers [ONESHOT] [8.8K] #: fem reader - described as blushing - stepcest - step brother oliver aiku - virginity - corruption kink - unprotected sex

Your father's new relationship was rather unexpected, but there was no way in hell you could have predicted everything else that came with it.

everything's better when you're honest by prettyboykatsuki [ONESHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - friends to lovers - professional athlete isagi yoichi - reader is sexually experienced - sexual content

you notice early on that isagi is always holding back something. the deeper into your relationship you go, the more you wish he'd let loose.

to my first love by by-moonflower [TWOSHOT][17.3K] #: fem reader - high school au to married au - non-linear narrative - exploring girlhood - fluff - angst - romance - suggestive - described as blushing

When you agreed to date itoshi sae in mid-October of 1993, you never imagined he'd be your first love—whose presence would continue to linger in your life, hauntingly, even if a year, two, or ten came to pass.

finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you) by tired-biscuit [ONESHOT] [26K] #: fem reader - university au - modern supernatural elements - friends to lovers - werewolf kiba - mutual pining - eventual sexual content

You run into Kiba at the grocery store, around two weeks after returning home from college.

🔒 tacenda by namodawrites [MULTI-CHAP] [100K] #: gender neutral reader - mutual pining - slow burn - childhood friends to lovers - canon typical violence - rivalry

Somewhere along the way trying to prove Neji wrong about fate and destiny, you fall in love.

den of wolves by kuramakakashi [MULTICHAP] [37K] #: senju reader - descriptions of gore - uchiha centric - canon typical violence - worldbuilding

Peace in our time – it was the dream your cousin had championed since childhood, and it was the foundation for all of his efforts to bring the constant warring between clans to a permanent end.  And it was why he sent you into the den of wolves with only one order: Save Izuna Uchiha.  

🔒 birds of a feather by namodawrites [ONESHOT] [18K] #: gender neutral reader - touchstarved - possessive behaviour - comfort/angst - canon typical violence

Knives rediscovers his humanity while recovering. You fight hard not to lose yours.

bittersweet by heich0e [ONESHOT [6K] #: afab reader - domestic fluff - sharing a bed - gentle sex - sweet soggy vash

Something shuffles in the dark. Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know. But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

and I know it’s hard enough to love me (but I woke up in a safe house) by seoafin [ONESHOT] [4K] #: fem reader - sharing a bed - tending to wounds - fluff - blood and injury

“My husband and I would like a room. We’re on our honeymoon”. “In this shithole of a town?” The innkeeper asks with a raised eyebrow, looking from you to Vash, who only lets out a sheepish chuckle as he scratches the back of his head. Despite his sluggish breaths, his slow blinking gaze, and the red slowly staining his shirt.

solar lunacy by bamsara [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [225K] #: gender neutral reader - slow burn - fluff and angst - developing relationships - blood and injury - posessive behaviour

You weren’t a technician, you weren’t a security guard, you weren’t a daycare assistant. You’re just an employee. Staff. The ‘jack-of-all-trades’ employee with mediocre at best skills and specialty in none, tasked with doing miscellaneous jobs that robots couldn’t do and human staff couldn’t care to. The job is unpredictable, but it pays good and it’s relatively easy. Except for the part where all the animatronics are more sentient than you thought, and you’re roped into a mystery surrounding the Daycare Attendants, who are bit too curious about you for your liking. You don’t think this was in your employee contact.

cryptid sightings by naffeclipse [MULTICHAP] [250K] #: gender neutral reader - cryptid au - reader is a cryptid hunter - horror - blood and violence - sleep terrors - non-sexual intimacy - posessive behaviour

Perhaps this would scare a person, being all alone in the woods in the dark, but not you. You’re too intertwined with the paranormal and inexplicable. It’s in your blood. That doesn’t mean your heart won’t pound with terror when you face something with fangs and hungry eyes for flesh, but you don’t run away, and that’s what matters most. You will face the monsters.

celestial sundown by pillowspace [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [80K] #: gender neutral reader - god au - historical fantasy - slow burn - blood and injury - developing relationships - dimension travel

You are a peasant living in the middle of the woods, Sun is the god of day you brought back home with you, and Moon is the god of night tucked away in the Celestial Realm.

method acting by seeingivy [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [168K] #: fem reader - celebrity au - actor eren jaeger - enemies to friends to lovers - slow burn - miscommunication - eventual fluff - social media elements

Method acting is a very powerful skill. Using your own personal, physical, and emotional self and pouring it into the character on the screen makes for a powerful performance. Except when it's you and Eren - you're not sure where the acting starts, and real life begins.

public relations by crybaby-ink [ONESHOT] [12K] #: afab reader - office romance - boss/employee relationship - power dynamics - drama - politics - sexual content

Even though Zeke has had a little crush on you for a while now, he’s mostly okay with things in the office staying exactly the way they are. Mostly.

vestal virgin by bokutosdove [ONESHOT] [6K] #: fem reader - modern au - sexual content - loss of virginity - jean kirstein has a corruption kink - protected sex - implied dom/sub dynamic

A virgin consecrated and vowed to chastity; a chaste woman.

wild card by wellitcouldbeworse3 [MULTI-CHAP] [215K] #: fem reader - hunger games au - tribute levi ackerman - blood and violence - slow burn - psychological torture - character death - reader is proficient at archery - described as blushing

When you're selected to be the tribute representing District 12 in the 121st annual Hunger Games, you're pretty sure you're screwed. But, somehow, there's two things working in your favor. One: you're not half bad with a bow and arrow. Two: the male tribute from District 2 seems to have his eye on you...

❄︎ DEMON SLAYER

something blue by extrav1rgin [ONESHOT] [11K] #: fem reader - described as blushing - arranged marriage - angst with a happy ending - hurt/comfort - not canon compliant

Turning away you trace your way back through the route Giyuu had taken you down before. As you walk nearly silently you keep your ears out for the sound of another human. You find a note stuck to the door when you make your way toward it. If it was there before you must’ve missed it. ‘Gone on a mission, will be back.’ And you suppose that’s that.

❄︎ HELL'S PARADISE

safe for one more night with you by nagumoan [ONESHOT] [3.3K] #: fem reader - established relationship - domestic fluff - humour - sexual content

You get to share one last night with your husband Shion before his work will steal him from the warmth of your embrace with the first rays of the sun in the morning.

❄︎ BUNGO STRAY DOGS

pharos by auraxins [ONESHOT] [14K] #: afab reader - mer au - eldritch mer chuuya - strangers to lovers - island survival - blood and injury - eventual sexual content - unprotected sex

“Who are you?” you call. “What business have you here?” “You don't know?” barks the man, incredulousness in his tone. “You summoned me here.” “I fixed the lighthouse,” you correct. “I did not summon anything.”

❄︎ TOKYO REVENGERS

from his mind to hers by embossross [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [102K] #: fem reader - dark content - patient x doctor relationship - sexual content - stalking - cheating

Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

❄︎ ONE PIECE

breathe me in by standfucker [ONESHOT] [7.4K] #: fem reader - inappropriate use of devil fruit powers - described as blushing - rough unprotected sex - creampie and breeding

As a woman in the Marines, the path to Read Admiral has been rough, but Smoker's been there for you since the beginning.

❄︎ BALDUR'S GATE

through the gates of horn and oak by sensoo [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [116K] #: fem reader - graphic depictions of violence - sexual content - fluff - F/M/M threesomes - spoilers marked by chapter

Each of them needs something different, but under the surface it's really the same thing. The burden of leadership is isolating and it is so difficult to carry on alone. Zevlor is trying to navigate through the shattered pieces of his life. Halsin is haunted by regrets and the tasks left unfinished. And you can't stop meddling in everyone else's affairs, even as you swear up and down that you're just trying to survive. Living is more than survival, but both are getting increasingly more difficult.

the five senses by nanamimizz [SERIES] [9K] #: fem cleric reader - non-sexual intimacy - angst - hurt/comfort - developing relationship - exploring trauma

A five part mini-series with everyone's favorite high elf vampire focusing on non-sexual intimacy and the budding relationship you foster with the guarded rouge.

❄︎ TWISTED WONDERLAND

uniform by giratinazero [ONESHOT] [2.4K] #: fem reader - non-sexual intimacy - undressing

With one gloved hand he reached up, threading his delicate fingers through a loop in the heart-shaped collar to drag you down to his height. Riddle slowly, purposely ran his eyes up and down the length of your body— you could feel the frustration that simmered just under the surface, like a teapot left on the heat and about to burst with steam.

❄︎ MORTAL KOMBAT

inescapable by dynamites [ONESHOT] [7K] #: gender neutral reader - light angst - crossing timelines - pining

From half across the somber battlefield, someone keeps glancing your way.

❄︎ BLEACH

cherry coloured funk by grinmjows [ONESHOT] [8.7K] #: fem reader - described to have dark hair and pale skin - explicit incest - sexual content

You usually find the moonlit nights strangely empty, for when you call your brother's name through them, he never answers.

desperate measures by ghost-party [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [27K] #: fem reader - modern au - transactional relationship - sugar daddy - age difference - dom/sub dynamic - sexual content - violence

After you’ve been laid off from your job, your friend Rangiku recommends a very specific kind of dating app — one where rich, lonely men seek younger partners to spoil. Reluctantly, you decide to give it a try. You tell yourself it’s a one-time thing, and that you have no plans on becoming dependent on anyone, let alone falling for them. But Sosuke Aizen makes you rethink everything…

❄︎ IDOLISH 7

in the eyes of the tide by namodawrites [ONESHOT] [15K] #: gender neutral reader - merman au - secret identity - angst - hurt/comfort

Oogami Banri is a calm, unassuming man. His first and second impressions of you had been undignified to say the least: encountering you passed out on a bench outside of a little shop, sheltered beneath its slanted tiled awning; assisting you to escape a cave during high tide, too afraid of the strange shapes you’d seen in the water to make the short journey alone.

❄︎ GOD OF WAR

and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face by vampireloverz [ONESHOT] [8.8K] #: fem reader - pre-canon - size difference - sexual content - unprotected sex - canon-typical violence - described with body hair - reader is lifted by character

You hum to yourself, curious about what business he has in the woods, maybe it has something to do with whatever mysterious thing he has wrapped in foreign fabric. Through the days, you find yourself thinking of him. This warrior, this man, so elusive he feels almost like a ghost. You find yourself earnestly looking forward to the next time you come across each other.

❄︎ DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS

kinktober: monsterfucking by mintmatcha [TWOSHOT][5K] #: cisfem reader - original character romance - racism in a fantasy setting - sexual content - monsterfucking

After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragonborne...

❄︎ THE HUNGER GAMES

the death of an actor by uzurimisery [MULTI-CHAP: ONGOING] [36K] #: fem reader - fake dating - misogyny - reader is dr. gaul's daughter - sexual content - unhealthy dynamics

Y/N Gaul the Capitol's unregulated daughter of Dr. Gaul. Argumentative, independent, and hindrance to Coriolanus Snow's life plans.He can't stand you, you’re impossible for him to read. When your mother concocts a hairbrained plan to better set up her protege you’re caught in the crossfire and forced to play the part of Snow’s lover. Now if only the lines of what's an act and what was real wouldn’t get so blurry.

❄︎ DC UNIVERSE

callipygian by onesmartcookie78, pennydragons [MULTI-CHAP: ONGONG] [70K] #: original female character - described as blushing - canon typical violence - enemies to friends to lovers - secret identity - batfamily drama

"She knows that ass. In fact, she'd spent the whole day staring at pictures of it. So she is absolutely, 100% certain that ass belongs to Dick Grayson. Now, if Dick Grayson wants to run across the rooftops dressed in spandex, that's his prerogative. The problem is, he's not just Dick Grayson. No. Dick Grayson is Nightwing. And she has questions." She hadn't been trying to figure out who he was. In fact, she was trying to uncover the identity of the Red Hood. But now that she knows, she can't go back.

let me just add there are an infinite amount of other amazing fics that will not have made this rec list purely due to the time constraints, submission limit and lack of reach, etc. your fic is valuable and loved whether it made the cut or not—please do remember that!!!!!!

[gloomwitchwrites]

congrats on 1k!

would you be able to do something with ghost and pda? like when he’s with the team being all intimidating but completely changing when he’s with you?

Oh, anon! I would be happy to! Do I believe that at work Simon is an intimidating and slightly scary individual? Absolutely I do. Do I also believe that outside of work Simon is literally the opposite? Yes. Yes, I absolutely do. This is written with a gn!reader in mind!

Content & Warnings: fluff, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 535

A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent in requests for the 1k follower event. This is just a reminder that the event is closed and I am not taking any more requests. Thank you!

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

Simon who is always a stoic and intimidating individual while on the job. He is relatively calm, cool, and collected. He is excellent under pressure. He is confident in his skills. And like his callsign, Simon is exactly that—a ghost.

Simon who can slit throats, break necks, and unload his weapon without a second thought. He doesn’t blink when it’s not one of his own. Some find that scary. Others admire him. Simon accepts the praise quietly and keeps going.

Simon who starts to shift when it’s finally time to come home. The team notices but doesn’t say anything. Simon always appears a bit anxious. His foot constantly taps like he’s impatient and can’t get out of there fast enough. They don’t blame him. They all have someone they want to return to.

Simon who knows that he can’t drive too fast or speed his way home because he knows you’ll be upset with him. And he always arrives late in the night when you don’t expect him. Simon is quiet. He undresses quietly. Sets all of his stuff down. Curls up next to you in the bed. Immediately falls asleep.

Simon who is soft and tender with you when you finally awaken to him. He wants to rebuild that connection, repair what might have been lost, and that starts with the physical. Once that’s done, Simon only wants to rekindle the romance.

Simon who never wears his mask on dates. Never. Ghost is for work. The mask is for work. There are only two people in this relationship. You and Simon.

Simon who never stops touching you. If he’s not holding your hand, he’s resting his chin on the top of your head, or he has an arm slung over your shoulder. If he’s feeling a little possessive, it might be a hand on the back of the neck, or a firm palm on the ass.

Simon who doesn’t care if anyone sees him kiss you. If people stare, he’ll put on a show even if you protest and try to slip out of his arms.

Simon who absently finds himself touching you even in the most generic of places. Grocery store, pharmacy, or standing in line. His body is always physically near. He can’t help it.

Simon who speaks softly and gently to you. His gruff voice is for the bedroom or when you’re irritating him.

Simon who looms behind you (sometimes menacingly) just because he likes to show everyone around the two of you that you belong to him and no one else. People get the message rather quickly.

Simon who loves to pull you in by the waist and kiss you in corners when there isn’t anyone watching. He won’t put on a show. He just wants a little moment with you.

Simon who is always reaching for you when the two of you are out at a restaurant. Sometimes it’s a hand on the thigh. Sometimes it’s reaching across the table because he wants to hold your hand.

Simon who always tries to kiss your knuckles whenever you try to hand him something.

Simon who hates shutting out your love for a bit when he returns to his work.

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