#19 year age gap is crazy

[jeennieluv]

these are the four seconds that actually made me fall in love with changmin

[pearlessance]

Cupid's Chokehold — part one!

FEEL SO CLOSE

[next chapter]

summary: Tommy meets Joel's new girlfriend and takes a twisted liking to her live-in daughter.

pairing: step uncle!Tommy Miller x f!Reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI. step-cest, age gap (unspecified, but reader is 19/20, Tommy in his early-mid 30s), unprotected piv, oral sex (both f! and m! receiving), attempted seduction (from reader), pussy pronouns, praise, dirty talk, creampie, begging, dacryphilia, alcohol consumption, no outbreak AU, Tommy POV

note: genuinely this is the filthiest most diabolic thing I've ever written and I'm absolutely terrified to post it!!! if it's not your cup of tea pls keep scrolling, and if you do read it, let me know what you think!! also, I wrote the nightclub scene with the song Feel So Close by Calvin Harris in mind (iykyk), but feel free to imagine whatever you like!

wc: 12.1k

[series masterlist]

[main masterlist] [AO3]

You’ve always been close.

Since that first night you’d met in Joel’s kitchen, Tommy has always felt drawn to you. Like you were one and the same. Two peas in a fucking pod, despite how…indecent it sometimes felt.

It was late summer. Hot. Your mother and Joel had arranged a dinner. They’d wanted everyone to ‘get to know each other.’ Grilled burgers and made pasta salad and poured glasses of cheap champagne. The whole nine yards. 

Joel had warned Tommy about you ahead of time. Talked about his new girlfriend’s daughter, about how you were a bit…wild. Impulsive. Too pretty and too smart for your own good.

You’re a couple of years older than Sarah, freshly out of high school with a devil-may-care attitude. The two of you get along well—Sarah thinks the whispered comments you pour in her ear all night are just hilarious. The two of you spend most of the afternoon on the side of the pool chattering while Tommy…well, Tommy certainly feels a bit like a third wheel. 

He knows it’s not intentional. Joel isn’t like that, he’s just…excited. He loves your mom and is eager to start this new chapter of his life, to expand his family the way he’s always wanted to. And your mom is nice enough. Sweet and easy going, a good match for his brother. But she’s a mom. And Joel’s Joel. 

It’s Saturday night, and Tommy Miller is bored half to death sipping champagne and watching two teenage girls giggle over something on their cell phones. 

And it’s not like he can leave right away. At least, not until after his desert has settled. But he knows where Joel keeps the good liquor, and dismisses himself in search of it.

He’s pouring two shots of whiskey into a glass tumbler when he hears the back door open. Tommy expects it to be Joel, coming to offer a penny for his thoughts. He opens his mouth to soothe his brother's nerves, to reassure him that his other half does fit him as perfectly as it seems. To tell him that he’s crazy for letting another little girl live under his roof, to warn him it’ll be double the hormones and double the attitude, but if it makes him happy…

“Hey.”

It’s not Joel who speaks at all. It’s your voice, soft but sultry. Tommy smiles at you over his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.”

You saddle up to his side, so close your elbow brushes his as you lean on the counter, eyes focused on his hands as he pours. “This is the most boring party I’ve ever been to,” you say with a dispirited sigh.

It makes Tommy laugh. He sets the bottle down and lifts the tumbler to his mouth, grinning all the while. “Can’t say this little soirée is particularly, uh…exhilarating,” he says, sipping from his glass.

He can feel your attention on him, hotter even than the burn of the whiskey. Your eyes slide down the column of his throat, over his chest, stopping at his waist. You turn your head the smallest bit, not dissimilar to that of a curious little puppy. Crude and shameless in your examination. You look back up to find him staring at you, unable and unwilling to fight his knowing smirk. “Can I have some of that?”

“You old enough?” Tommy doesn’t even know why he asks, because he already knows the answer.

With a shrug of your shoulders and a sweet little smile, you say, “No. But it’s not like it would be my first time. No cherry to pop here.”

Filthy mouth for a girl your age. Funny, though. It’s kind of endearing. He was an awful lot younger than you are now when he started drinking. The first time he’d blacked out had been his sophomore year of high school—barely sixteen, woke up in the middle of a field two hours away from home. He’d had to use a pay phone to get ahold of Joel to come pick him up. 

And it’s better this way, isn’t it? To do it at home, surrounded by people who care about you. Who will keep you safe. It’s not like one drink’s going to put you on your ass, anyway.

He nods slowly. “Alright,” he says, opening the cupboard to find another tumbler. 

You stop him, delicate hand around his wrist. “Are you crazy? That’s evidence.”

Tommy furrows his brows. “What, the cup? I’ll wash it when you’re done. S’alright.”

“Waste of time.” You take the whiskey and twist off the cap, pushing the smooth glass bottle into his hands. “You know how to waterfall without drowning me?”

He likes you, Tommy thinks. Probably more than he should. He gets that familiar tug in his lower abdomen, the one that urges him to move closer, to speak slower. 

It’s a little fucked up, he knows. You’re so young, and odds are your mom will marry into the family, and then you’d be…well, you’d be his niece. Kind of. 

His heart races a little faster at the thought. 

“Well?”

“Yeah,” Tommy promises. “Yeah, I got you. Tilt your head back.”

You step further in front of him, spine pressed against the edge of the countertop. He can feel the heat of your skin against his, and it makes Tommy feel dizzy. You tilt your head back, just as he said, but it’s not quite enough. 

He reaches up, cradling your jaw in his hand, thumb pressed against the underside of your chin. He knows he could just tell you, could just use the words ‘a little more’ and you’d do as he asks. But the heated look in your eyes as he touches you so gently…it’s worth it. “Like this,” he tells you, pushing your chin back. “There you go. Now open your mouth.”

It sounds so vulgar in his ears. And Tommy doesn’t mean it that way, but you smile up at him and say, “You’re supposed to take me out on a date first, I think.”

“You think?” He scoffs. “You ever let another man in your mouth and he doesn’t wine an’ dine you first, you let me know so I can take care of him.” Tommy’s only sort of kidding. If you ever asked, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

“Alright,” you say. “No other man, then. Just you.”

He has to look away, unable to contain his amusement. “Christ, girl.” Tommy shakes his head, delighting in the sound of your giggling. He can feel the vibration of it in his hand, still pressed against the side of your neck. “Ridiculous.”

Joel’s voice cuts through the kitchen, calling Tommy’s name. 

He tries to take a step back, get some distance, but you hook your leg around his to keep him close, bare and exposed to him from the hem of your denim shorts down. Tommy grips your thigh tightly but doesn’t quite push you away. “Yeah, Joel?”

You tilt your head back, perfect this time, just like he showed you.

Tommy shakes his head again, surprised by your brazenness, but he just can’t seem to stop smiling. He lifts the glass bottle and pours the whiskey slowly, holding in his laughter all the while.

“Bring out another slice of that pie,” Joel says from the back door. “The key lime one. Sarah wants some more.”

“Yeah, sure. One slice of key lime,” Tommy calls back, watching with rapt attention as the amber liquid pools in your pretty mouth. And then, more to you than to Joel, he says, “You got it.”

He stops just before your mouth is too full and sets the bottle back on the counter as the back door closes. You tilt your head back down, grimacing as you swallow. You have to do it twice, and Tommy knows that shit burns.

He’d feel bad if it weren’t for the drop of liquid that spills from the corner of your pursed lips, leaving a trail of whiskey as it drips down your chin. It’s such a sight to behold that his mouth waters. It takes every last ounce of his common sense to keep from leaning forward and licking it up.

Instead, he runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, collecting every last drop, and proceeds to suck it clean. “No man left behind,” he says playfully, painfully aware of the slight lift of your hips and the almost unnoticeable arch of your back.

“Right, no. Of course,” you say, words just a little breathless. “It would be, like, alcohol abuse.”

Tommy chuckles as he finally steps away, surprised by the complete lack of guilt he feels. He pulls a plate from the cupboard and finds the remainder of the key lime pie in the fridge.

Your steps echo in the kitchen when you leave, the screen door creaking as you push it open. He catches the words as you speak them under your breath just before disappearing from view. “Certainly not boring anymore.”

Tommy returns to the backyard with Sarah’s key lime pie in one hand and his refilled glass tumbler in the other, a newfound spring in his step.

It doesn’t take long for family dinners to become a tradition. They’re moved to Sunday nights, though, which works a hell of a lot better for Tommy. He usually shows up hungover, sporting a headache and a bad mood.

You’re real good at pulling him out of it, though. Always making those dirty jokes, uncaring of who hears, often earning a scolding from your mother when your humor graces the dinner table. 

Eventually, it takes nothing but a shared glance before you slink off to the kitchen, one at a time, to steal more of Joel’s whiskey. Like a secret, shared language that only the two of you understand. As if the moment the thought crosses his mind, it crosses yours, too. Almost like you’re connected, somehow. 

Sometimes Sunday dinners will be paired with a movie. Often, it’s a film Joel rented for the weekend that he claims has ‘good reviews,’ but never has a satisfying ending.

Tommy doesn’t stay for the popcorn or the candy, though. He doesn’t even stay for the movie, in truth. 

He stays because you always sit beside him on the loveseat.

It always starts innocently enough. You pull the scratchy, old blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you both. And then you’re poking his thigh while murmuring comments in his ear.

You’ll say, “God, that guy has the worst fake crying face I’ve ever seen. Looks like he’s constipated.”

And Tommy will laugh, and Sarah will scowl and shush him, and your hand will linger on his knee. 

Halfway through, you’ll shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable. You’ll lean back against the armrest and lay your legs across his lap. And Tommy, impulsive man that he is, will slide his hands between your thighs and rub circles into your soft skin, careful not to move too fast, to be too obvious. 

Once you reach this point of the night, Tommy doesn’t pay attention to the movie at all. He focuses on you instead, on the way your breath catches in your throat when he squeezes hard, on the way your knees slowly drift further and further apart, on the flush that crawls up your cheeks each time he catches your eye.

It never feels quite so innocent when the movie ends and Tommy has to sit on the couch with that blanket over his lap just a little longer than everyone else.

In September, Joel tells him you and your mom are moving in permanently. No more weekend sleepovers. You’re taking the spare room across the hall from Sarah, the one Tommy knows like the back of his hand after crashing in it countless times.

He’s not sure why, but there’s something satisfying about knowing you’ll be there, sleeping in the bed he’s slept in hundreds of times.

Joel asks him to help move some of the furniture, and Tommy doesn’t hesitate to agree. They move the larger things, while you and Sarah excitedly unpack cardboard boxes and talk about sharing clothes and shoes.

Tommy remembers the times Sarah would beg Joel for a sibling when she was younger, and it warms his heart to see she’s finally gotten the sister she’s always wanted.

He sees you a whole lot more often after that. Tommy picks Joel and Sarah up every morning and drops Joel off after work every day.

Most of the time, you’re still sleeping when he shows up at seven. But the evidence of you is littered all over the house; your shoes by the front door, your jacket slung over the dining room chair, your denim shorts on the floor beside the laundry basket in the bathroom. 

And after work, he always comes inside to visit you. Just to see how you’re doing, to see if you’ve had a good day, often making some silly joke just so he gets to hear your sweet laughter. Sometimes he finds you watching one of those teen dramas in the living room, and he loves to poke fun at you for it. “These weird ass vampires again? What, now there’s werewolves, too? How original.”

“Shut up,” you’ll say, tossing a throw pillow at his head. 

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, darlin.’ I know how you love that freaky shit.” The embarrassment will show on your face, and Tommy will laugh but his shoulders will drop as all the stress from the day melts away.

Some nights, he’ll find you in the backyard by the pool with that tiny lime colored bikini on, lying on your belly, soaking up the sun. He’ll try to scare you, try to get close with soundless movements. 

But you always catch him. Can always sense he’s there. “Now, what if I suddenly decided I didn’t want tan lines and took off my top while you tried sneaking up on me? Tits out. Then what?”

Tommy stops just a few paces away from the spot in the grass where you’ve thrown out your beach towel. He towers over you, casting shadows across your spine. “Wouldn’t be nothin’ I haven’t seen before,” he says.

“You peeping on me, Tommy? Is that where you got your name?”

He snorts, but the idea isn’t half bad. “You fuckin’ wish.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.” The comment gives him pause, but he doesn’t have time to think too hard about it because you’re turning on your back and reaching for the string tied loosely around your neck.

You stare up at him, eyes all glittering and mischievous, hair splayed out in a perfect halo around your head. Tommy knows that he should stop you. Should laugh it off and walk away.

He doesn’t, though. His feet stay firmly planted, pressure building in his lower abdomen, cock pulsing behind the chrome zipper of his jeans.

You tug at the strings until the fabric falls slack. Still covering your chest, but only just barely. 

Tommy thinks green might be his new favorite color.

You hook your thumb around the thin string across your ribcage, the only resistance left between this moment and the next, a lone scrap of polyester that stands between Tommy being the fun uncle and the weird one.

He doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t say anything at all. But he admits to himself only that he does want it. That he wants you. To see you, to touch you, to feel you. It’s wrong and perverted and maybe even a little gross, but you’re just so fucking pretty. 

Slowly, those loose-fitting triangles drift lower and lower, almost there. His breath comes fast and labored. The seconds tick by, feeling much longer than they truly are. 

 And then—

“Dinner!” Your mom’s voice carries through the backyard, kind and airy. “Are you staying, Tommy? We’re having pasta tonight.”

Tommy clears his throat and looks over his shoulder at your mom, who stands on the back deck completely oblivious. “Uh, no,” he says. “Not tonight. Thanks, though.”

“Suit yourself,” she says before disappearing back into the kitchen.

You extend your hand to him, the other held tightly over the fabric of your top to keep it in place. “Help me up,” you say, and he does. 

He watches as you turn your back to him, straining to memorize every last second of this moment because he never, ever wants to forget it. The smoothness of your skin, the shallow slope at the small of your back, the delicious curve of your ass—if this is all he ever gets to see, Tommy wants it stuck in his brain like glue. Permanent.

You move the arm that’s held to your chest, and the green fabric finally drops, exposing you completely. With your back still to him, all Tommy can see is the subtle curves of the sides of your breasts, but it’s enough to make his heart race. You gather your hair at the nape of your neck and ask, “Can you tie it for me?”

Tommy knows you’re doing this on purpose. Trying to get a rise out of him, and it’s working. “Course,” he says, stepping forward, placing his rough, calloused hands on your delicate shoulders. He reaches down your body and gathers the nylon strands between his fingers, careful not to touch you more than what’s necessary.

He wants to, though. Christ, does he. His lungs stutter at the thought alone. It takes everything in him to resist lowering himself to his knees and giving you the tender, loving care you deserve. He’d worship you, Tommy decides. He’d demonstrate how a girl like you is supposed to be treated. Touched slowly, gently—until you beg him for more, until you whimper and cry and remember no words but his fucking name. 

Until his touch is so deeply embedded in your skin that you’d never be able to root him out. 

But he doesn’t give you so much as a clue to what he’s thinking. Instead, he exhales a shaky breath, fanning across the back of your neck, and ties the lime colored strands into a perfect bow. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and says, “Be good, now. Alright?”

You turn to face him, that familiar, provocative smirk on your sweet mouth. “Never,” you promise, and he knows you mean it.

Tommy doesn’t even notice he’s speeding the entire way back to his shitty apartment. What’s worse is that he doesn’t even make it inside. He sits behind the wheel of his truck, right in the open, empty parking lot, squeezing his aching cock in his hand, head filled with thoughts of you.

The next time he stays for dinner, your mom makes fajitas. You sit beside him on the steps of the back porch and pick red peppers off his plate.

You and Sarah belly-laugh about some YouTube video you watched together late last night, mimicking impressions of an animatronic voice. And it’s at this very moment that Tommy realizes he might be in real trouble.

Because he wants to fuck you. Thinks about it almost every goddamn night. Can’t even get off with the women he meets at the bars anymore without closing his eyes and recalling that lime bikini or the arch of your back or the way your thighs fit so perfectly in his big hands. It’s a carnal desire. Uncontrollable.

But this? Feeling a sense of elation provoked only by knowing you're here beside him, safe, happy, and fed? It’s something else. Something heavy. Something he can’t quite put a name to because he doesn’t have any experience with it, despite his age.

All Tommy Miller knows is that he smiles just at the sound of your name.

The thought crosses his mind that he should try to keep his distance, and he tells himself he will. He lies in bed thinking about it, conducting a plan in his head while staring at the ceiling at two in the morning. He can’t not see you. But maybe he doesn’t have to be so inviting. Maybe he doesn’t have to seek you out every afternoon, doesn’t have to check in and make sure you’ve had a good day. 

Maybe he sits on the opposite end of the table during Sunday dinner. Maybe when you give him that look and head to the kitchen in search of whiskey, Tommy keeps his ass on the couch.

But then the next morning rolls around, and he’s picking Sarah and Joel up with dark circles under his eyes and a cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. He sits on the front steps and glances over his shoulder when the door creaks open and is only a little surprised when you step outside with bare feet, wearing nothing but a thin tank top and a pair of sleep shorts.

Your hair’s messy, and there’s an imprint from your pillow on your cheek. Still half asleep, you let out the cutest whimper he’s ever heard and crawl right into his lap like it’s where you belong. 

Tommy spreads his knees apart to make room for you, stubbing his cigarette out on the concrete and tossing it in the grass. He brackets his arms around your waist and interlocks his fingers at your hip while you curl up against him, stealing his warmth. 

It feels so easy, so natural that he doesn’t fight it for a second. Doesn’t even realize he should. All those big plans he made six hours ago to right this wrong dissolve as easily as sugar in water. He kisses your forehead and holds you close and says, “Hey, sweetheart. You alright? Somethin’ wrong?”

You nuzzle your nose against the crook of his neck and murmur sleepily, “Missed you.”

Just two words, but that’s all it takes. He decides that the heavy feeling inside his chest is his to cope with. He won’t make you suffer for it. Can’t imagine ever pushing you away or sitting across from you instead of at your side.

There’s only one word for this, he knows. Only one explanation for why he continuously fights for your laughter, your comfort. Only one reason he’s memorized the pattern of your breathing and would know the touch of your hands with his eyes closed.

It’s not right. 

It’s not, and Tommy knows it, but he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. So, he cradles this feeling in his hands. Holds it gently. Sees it for what it is. 

And then he tucks it away. Locks it up tight and promises never to speak of it. 

Joel takes your mom to Galveston for the weekend on their anniversary. He asks Tommy to keep an eye on you and Sarah, to keep his phone on in case the two of you need anything.

He brings takeout over after work on Friday night, but leaves the two of you to your own devices after that. Tommy remembers being your age and doesn’t want to hover, doesn’t want anyone involved to consider him a fucking babysitter. So he gives you the space he wanted when he was young. Figures if you need him, you’ll call him, and he’ll come running.

The phone doesn’t ring until late Sunday afternoon. 

Joel and your mom are due home in the next few hours, and your voice is panicky on the other end of the line. “Hey. Can you—can you come over? We sort of broke something, and I tried to fix it but I think I only made it worse.”

Tommy’s in his truck before the call even ends. He asks a hundred questions, tries to get some sort of clarification on the way over. But you don’t give much in the way of answers, and his confusion only increases when he pulls into Joel’s driveway and sees you standing on the porch with a trash bag in hand. “Okay, before you come inside, you have to swear to secrecy,” you say.

Tommy’s brows furrow.  “Christ, kid. What the hell’d you do? There a fuckin’ dead body in there?”

You roll your eyes. “Just promise you won’t tell Joel or my mom.”

“Can’t promise nothin’ if I don’t know—”

“Just promise me, Tommy,” you say, frustration building. He’s never seen you this serious, he realizes.

Even if there was a dead body behind the front door, Tommy knows he’d do nothing but protect you from the fallout. And he hates how nervous you look, so the decision comes easily. “Hey.” He reaches out and takes your hand in his, running his thumb across your knuckles. “I promise, alright?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Cause Sarah’s in there freaking the fuck out cause I called you.”

Tommy follows you inside, mouth open with the intent to ask more questions. But they’re all answered rather quickly when he sees the state of Joel’s living room.

There are half-empty beer cans and red solo cups littered all over every viable surface. Pink and green and orange streamers hang from the ceiling fan and over the stair bannister. Confetti covers the floor and there’s a shattered glass bottle in the kitchen sink, but the most obvious stressor is the six-inch hole in the wall beside the fridge.

Sarah’s footsteps rush down the hall, finger pointed at Tommy. Her eyes are wide, and there’s genuine tension on her face. “Did you swear?”

Tommy raises both hands in surrender. “Cross my heart,” he says, and means it. “Let me take care of the wall first. I’ll get the broken glass after. Don’t wanna see either one of you near it. The last thing we need right now is a trip to the emergency room for stitches.”

Between the three of you, it doesn’t take long. Tommy finds a mesh patch, spackle, and a half-empty gallon of paint in Joel’s garage that matches the kitchen walls. He fills the cavity as quickly as he can, using the box fan from Joel’s bedroom window to speed up the drying process.

You make quick progress, and yet still, he feels his heart sink to his feet at the sound of tires in the driveway.

Both you and Sarah freeze in place, staring at each other with expressions that are somehow both horrified and amused. “We’re so fucked, dude,” you whisper.

But when it comes to hiding things like this, Tommy Miller might just consider himself an expert. “Not just yet,” he swears. “Throw it all out back. I’ll keep them outside for a minute, and then when I leave, I’ll take care of it, alright? Be quick.”

He tries not to laugh as you and Sarah launch into action, running around the room and filling your hands with what remains.

Tommy meets Joel at his truck and asks him how their vacation was, making comments and drawing the discussion out as your mom talks about the aquarium and the restaurants on the pier and how the hotel staff folded your towels into the shape of little swans. 

Joel asks how you and Sarah behaved, asks if there had been any trouble. Tommy shakes his head, leaning against the side of the truck. “Nah,” he lies easily. “They were perfect angels as usual.”

When he can no longer make viable conversation points, he very nosily helps them bring their luggage and souvenirs inside. He finds you and Sarah cuddled up on the couch, both reading books that Tommy knows you’ve never cracked open a day in your life.

You both look so out of place that it almost gives you away. He tries not to laugh, but it doesn’t quite work. Joel stares at him in confusion while you and Sarah glare at him from across the room, and so Tommy dismisses himself quickly. “Gonna head home,” he says. “Have to, uh…check on the neighbor's cat. Watching it for the weekend, too.”

He leaves through the front door, but sneaks around through the gate and quietly grabs the trash from the backyard just as he promised. It takes two trips to get it all, and he throws everything into the back of his truck on the off chance that Joel checks the bin before trash day.

Tommy’s tossing the last one when he sees you come sprinting off the front porch. He thinks maybe he’s forgotten something, or maybe Joel and your mom had seen right through the lie and all that acting was for nothing.

But then you’re throwing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist, face buried in his shoulder. 

Holding you is as easy as breathing. He keeps you upright, keeps you close, with his big hands spread wide over your back.

You say, “Thank you, Uncle Tommy,” and the air is punched from his fucking lungs. 

It’s the first time you've said it. The very first time, and he feels giddy and nervous, and his stomach gets all tied in knots like he’s some teenage boy. He squeezes you tighter, and his laughter slips out unrestrained this time. 

It’s filthy and dirty and disgusting, but he loves it. “I’ve always got you, darlin',” he says. “You know that.”

You lift your head to look at him, and your pretty mouth is suddenly so close to his that you share the same breath. “Yeah,” you giggle. “I know you do.”

It warms him from the inside out to hear it. He loves being this for you. A holder of secrets, a shoulder to lean on, a solver of problems. He loves that you make him feel needed—wanted in a way he’s never been before.

He loves being your Uncle Tommy. 

You press your forehead to his, and desire creeps up his spine, hot and thick and asphyxiating. His limbs feel heavy, and his breath gets caught in his lungs. It’s painful how badly he wants you. Like a peak he can’t quite reach, an itch he can’t quite scratch. You thread your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling gently, and his eyelids flutter closed. 

Nothing has ever felt as good as it feels to be touched by you, Tommy realizes. And he knows nothing will ever compare. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, sweetheart, I…”

There are no words to say. They get all jumbled in his head, and the only thing he can make out in the chaos is his yearning.

“I know,” you say. Because of course you do. You’ve always known him, have always understood him in a way no one else has. Have always been able to see the look on his face and read the thoughts in his head. “I know.”

Slowly, carefully, you untangle your legs from around his waist. You slide down his body and he knows you can feel it. Knows there’s no way in hell the throbbing of his cock could ever be mistaken as just his belt buckle. 

But you say nothing. Just smile up at him with those hungry eyes and press a sweet, soft kiss to his cheek.

He drives home in silence.

No music, no news station. Even the windows he leaves up. Tommy can’t think beyond the taste of your oxygen, can’t see past the absolute fucking shit show he’s gotten himself into. He sits in his truck outside his apartment for twenty minutes before he moves again, scratching the stubble along his jaw.

And then, as if he hadn’t almost kissed you in broad daylight, the world keeps turning.

He cleans out the bed of his truck, showers the smell of paint and cheap beer from his skin, and then he goes to work the next morning. He teases Joel about the swan-shaped towels, but there’s no salt to it. Truly, he’s happy for his brother. 

Joel’s been so selfless his whole life. Has given the first half of it up to raise Tommy and the second half to raise Sarah and never complained, not even once.

If anyone in the world deserves that gooey, cliche kind of love that’s just good and uncomplicated and easy, it’s Joel. They really are perfect for each other, he and your mother.

Tommy tries not to think about how his happiness for his brother is paired with a simmering jealousy underneath. Decides to take that green-eyed confession to his grave.

Friday afternoon, one of the electricians Joel hired a few months ago invites Tommy out to a nightclub. “The whole team’s going tomorrow,” he says. “Booze, girls, drugs if you’re into that kinda thing. One of those pop-up ones. It’s in that old warehouse on the other side of town.”

Sounds tempting, he’ll admit. Right up his alley. But Tommy knows himself, and knows that in a place like that he’s likely to go a little overboard. Spend too much money, have too many drinks, wake up the next morning with a girl in his bed he doesn’t remember talking to. And if he does that, he likely won’t make it to Sunday dinner at Joel’s. 

Which means no time with you. 

No stolen, longing glances across the room. No heat of your thigh pressed against his. No thieving fingers on his plate.

Tommy shakes his head. “Thanks, Mike. But, uh…I’m—I’m good.”

He thinks that’s the end of it. But then Joel asks, real gently, “You got a girl or somethin’ I don’t know about?”

“What? Nah, man. No. Definitely not.” Tommy knows his answer comes too quickly, too dismissive for it to be even remotely believable. But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re not his girl. You just…well, you’re his niece. Sort of.

Joel eyes him suspiciously. All he says is, “Never would’ve imagined you’d skip out on that.” But it’s enough to convince Tommy that his brother doesn’t believe him for even a second.

He lay awake that night, head filled with thoughts of you. Because Tommy knows Joel’s right. Before you’d waltzed into his life and altered its course, he would’ve been all over that. Would’ve jumped at the opportunity for an exclusive warehouse party, even knowing what would likely happen. He’d take the migraine and the dehydration and the overdrafted checking account at just the plausible idea of a good time.

And he’d declined so quickly. That’s the part that gets him. The thing that gives him perspective. He hadn’t even debated it for a single second because the things that once brought him joy pale in comparison to simply being at your side. 

Saturday morning, Tommy makes a phone call. Says he changed his mind and gets the address of the warehouse.

He spends his afternoon running errands, doing everything he knows he won’t have the energy for tomorrow. And then he showers and puts gel in his hair and picks out a nice outfit. Starched blue jeans that fit him nicely and an expensive leather belt and a white t-shirt. He puts on a simple gold chain and sprays his favorite cologne (trying not to think about the fact that it’s only his favorite because one afternoon you’d said he smelled so good he was ‘edible’). 

On the drive over, he has to hype himself up. Has to try and convince himself that this is a good thing. It’s what he needs. To get out there again, to find someone who makes him feel the way you do. Someone nice and age-appropriate and not loosely familial. Someone who doesn’t know Joel or your mother or Sarah or you in any fucking capactiy whatsoever. 

Tommy doesn’t think it’s likely that he’ll find that person here, of course. But there’s a possibility, right? To meet someone who could be the love of his life. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

There are more people than he expects. The warehouse looks almost dark on the outside. Quiet and empty. But once the bouncer checks his ID and lets him through the double doors, the inside is a different world entirely. 

There are three different bars. One on the left wall, one on the right, and one in the very center of the room in the shape of an oval. There’s a big stage with a live DJ and house music playing loud over the speakers. The dance floor is lively and drenched in neon lights and the air is thick with humidity and the smell of liquor.

Excitement trickles into his bloodstream. It’s been a long while since he’s been in a place like this, but Tommy thinks it might just cure him.

All it takes is a quick text before he finds Mike and the rest of the guys from the work site that decided to show up. There’s only a handful of them, but they all split the bill for a round of shots, and Tommy orders a whiskey and coke. 

They’re here for one reason, of course—and Tommy’s no different. They chat for a while, but eventually the guys all peel off from the group one by one after buying a girl a drink and then proceeding to disappear into the crowd of dancing bodies. 

Mike has a wife, but even he finds someone to dance with, and eventually Tommy sits at the bar alone. 

He pulls out his phone. Opens your thread of messages and smiles to himself as he scrolls through them. It’s filled with silly photos and dirty jokes and the occasional text from you that reads, ‘miss you today<3’ and his perpetual response, ‘I always miss you more. Be good, sweetheart.’ 

Tommy’s so deeply focused on his phone that he nearly jumps out of his skin when his drink is pulled right out of his hands.

He looks up with a scowl on his face, not anticipating a fight but preparing for one, and then—

“Can I have some of that?” You don’t wait for his answer before sipping from his glass, leaving lip gloss stains in the same place his mouth was moments ago.

“What in the fuck?” A crease forms between his brows as he takes in your familiar face, backlit by green and yellow lights. “They’re checking IDs at the door,” he says. “How did you even get in here?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, come on, Uncle Tommy. You’re telling me you never had a fake when you were my age?”

Tommy knows he probably should say something…responsible right now. Should probably warn you of the dangers in a place like this, especially for a girl like you. Should be taught about covetous men with wandering hands and powders dropped in drinks and cigarettes laced with God knows what.

But he did have a fake ID at your age and could be found at places a whole lot like this one. Two peas in a fucking pod, he thinks. 

So, instead, he asks, “Did you, uh…come here with someone? Friends or…I don’t know. A boyfriend, maybe?”

He steels himself in preparation for your answer. You’ve never mentioned a boyfriend before, but you’re at that age. Probably experimenting a little, sifting through the options to find which one suits you best.

But you’re standing at a bar, all alone, buying your own drink. Shitty fucking option, Tommy thinks.

“Why? You jealous or something?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and Tommy knows you’re just trying to get a rise out of him. But the sad part is that you’re not too far off, and that’s what has him turning to the bartender and ordering another.

“Got no reason to be jealous,” Tommy answers with a shrug. “Ain’t exactly like I’ve got a spot on the roster, darlin’.”

Your smile falls. Just barely, almost undetectable. But Tommy notices. Would notice it even if you were across the room. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Well, then you’re a fucking idiot, Tommy Miller.” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. The words are sharp, icy. You take a long drink from his stolen glass. “What stops you?”

His brows furrow. “Stops me…?”

“From doing what you want to me.” It gives him pause, laying it out so boldly like that. The truth he’s never spoken aloud falls so easily from your tongue. “We get so close,” you elaborate. “Just one moment, one choice away…but you never do it. You always hesitate, and then the moment’s gone. So what stops you?”

His morals, your age, your vibrance. You’re so good, so lively and carefree and happy. How does he explain that he doesn’t want to ruin this? Ruin you? How does he explain that taking that next step with you would tarnish both of you forever? Red to blue, green to yellow. It would never be the same. 

He’s supposed to protect you. Supposed to give you a shoulder to cry on and a soft landing in your time of need and spot you a twenty when you’re short on cash. Supposed to be a guiding hand as an uncle should. He’s not supposed to be…whatever this is.

Tommy’s relieved when the bartender hands him his drink. “You know what stops me,” he says as if it’s obvious, throwing back half the glass in one long drink. The whiskey burns.

“Would it be different if you didn’t know me?”

“Very,” he answers honestly, his mind filling so easily with those obscene possibilities. “But I do know you, so it doesn’t matter.”

That familiar, troublesome smirk finds its way to your glossy lips. You toss back what remains in your glass, set it on the bar, and say, “I’m going to walk away. Okay? And you’re going to have one of those cases of temporary amnesia.”

Tommy laughs and shakes his head. “You’re crazy,” he says.

But you don’t pay him any mind. “You’re going to forget everything you know about me. Every last detail. I’m just some girl at a club, and you’re just some guy at the bar.” You put your hands on his shoulders, shaking lightly, staring up at him with starry eyes. Tommy’s heart races behind his sternum, but he can’t stop grinning. “I’m not me, and you’re not you. And tomorrow, you’ll be cured. Everything will go back to normal, just like it was. Okay?”

“S’a real bad idea, darlin’,” he warns.

“So don’t make me do it alone.”

Tommy swallows hard. He’s never said no to you in all his life, and it’s just…it’s just one night, right? Maybe it’s what he needs. A slow release of pressure, a controlled indulgence to prevent an explosion.

You see the decision as he makes it. Know what he’s thinking without him speaking a single word. Tommy covers his mouth to stifle his rugged amusement as he watches you take five steps away from him, turn in a complete circle, and then make your way back to the bar.

In a dramatic show of film-esque seduction, you lean against the bar and say, “Well, aren’t you a tall glass of water?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Tommy mutters to himself, smiling so hard the apples of his cheeks hurt.

You playfully slap his bicep with the back of your hand. “Aren’t you going to ask if you can buy me a drink? Wine and dine me?”

He recalls your very first conversation, that one in Joel’s kitchen when you’d promised not to let any man inside your mouth without properly romancing you first. “Alright, then,” he resigns. “What’re you havin,’ sweetheart?”

“Whiskey,” you say, and he’s not the least bit surprised.

Tommy buys your drink and says, “You look…really beautiful.” You’re wearing a silvery satin dress, sinfully short, tight in all the right places. The straps are thin against your otherwise bare shoulders, and he reaches out and gently runs his knuckles down the curve of your collarbone. He thinks it might be the very first time he’s ever touched you here, and it’s not inherently a sexual caress, but it feels so… intimate. Heavy.

You glance down at yourself, at the strappy black heels on your feet. “Thank you,” you say. “But I think it’d look even better on your bedroom floor.”

“Fuck yeah it would,” he agrees, chuckling.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Tommy’s never abandoned a drink so fast in his life. He takes your hand in his and says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He leads you through the crowd while the DJ plays some bass-heavy pop song he’s heard on the radio a hundred times. He finds a reasonable space and raises your hand above your head, turning you so he can properly appreciate the sight of that dress.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says. “Do you know that?”

You roll your eyes like it’s a joke, but Tommy’s being dead serious. You say, “Shut up.” But he sees the way your cheeks heat, even beneath the flashing lights.

You sway your hips in time to the beat, body moving in sync with the music. There’s nothing shy or timid about it; that allure of yours comes so easily, glowing from the inside out.

Tommy’s never been a good dancer, and he knows it, but it doesn’t feel that way at all. You seem to find such amusement in his nonsensical movements, not a drop of apprehension trickles into his psyche. 

When you grab his hands and place them on your hips, he lets his instinct take over. Pulls you in close, chests pressed together, his thigh between your legs. You sing the lyrics as if every song is your favorite with a face-splitting grin and those sweet giggles falling from your lips. He pushes you away and spins you around, only to pull you right back. Right into his waiting embrace, right where you belong. Your breath comes fast, but you don’t slow down, and neither does he.

He’s not sure he’s ever felt like this in his entire life. This open, this full. A strange sort of nostalgia passes through him, a homesickness, missing the moment before it’s even passed, knowing he’ll eventually look back on this night as the best he’s ever had.

The air is hot and stiff, but he breathes in your oxygen, and it gives him life. You move together so seamlessly, and Tommy thinks about how he’d come here seeking the possible love of his life and wonders if it’s fate that you were here.

Fate that you had a fake ID, that you somehow knew about the same exclusive pop-up party he’d declined and then came to anyway. Fate that you’d be here alone, that you’d choose one bar out of three others, and that he just happened to be standing there at the very same time. In a warehouse filled with a thousand strangers, you’d somehow found him.

The songs flow and fade, bleeding from one to the next. You dance and dance, and Tommy watches you—enthralled, obsessed, in love.

He loses track of the time, thinks hours could have passed without his notice, and he wouldn’t have even cared. But when he sees a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, he asks, “Wanna step out for a minute?”

You nod once, and Tommy grabs your hand again and pulls you out of the crowd. He gives the bouncer a tight-lipped smile as you slip out of the wide doors. There’s a designated smoking area near the entrance, and that’s where Tommy leads you. 

The music can still be heard outside, muffled and low. He pulls the pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket, lights one, and inhales deeply. When he looks up, he finds you watching him, leaning back against the concrete wall of the warehouse, the blue light of the moon reflected in your eyes. 

You outstretch your hand and take the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a slow drag. “Do you bring girls you don’t know home often?”

Tommy can see right through you. Sees that unease beneath your smile, sees the way you feel the need to ask but don’t want the answer, and relates to it. It makes his stomach turn, though. Because he doesn’t ever want you to think of yourself that way, doesn’t want you to think for a single second that this is anything like that.

Because you’re not a girl he doesn’t know. Not just a means to an end. You’re you.

You’re everything.

“I don’t like this,” he admits quietly. “The pretending.”

You pass the cigarette back to him, and when he puts it to his mouth, he can taste the cherry flavor of your lip gloss on the orange filter. “Would you have as much fun, though? With all that added weight.”

Tommy doesn’t know. Has never had a fucking clue about anything in all his life, really. Never knew what he wanted to do or who he wanted to be.

The only thing that has ever been clear to him is you.

“If we stopped pretending,” you say. “What would you do?”

He hesitates.

And then decides not to let this moment pass him.

He places both hands on either side of your face and kisses you hard, hungry. Tasting you feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief. Your bottom lip slots between his so perfectly that he thinks you must have been made for him, that there could never be anyone else. When you let out the most delicious whimper he’s ever heard, Tommy slides his tongue into your mouth and moans.

It feels like time wasted, like this is what he’s been meant to do his whole life, and now he has to make up for the opportunity lost.

When he pulls away, it’s reluctant, still cradling your pretty face in his hands. Your eyes are wide, and your breath is labored. 

“That’s what I would do,” he says.

A minute passes, and you just stare at him, searching his eyes for something. Doubt, maybe. But you won’t find any, because Tommy Miller has never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

And then, finally—

“Uncle Tommy?”

No more pretending. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want you to take me home. Right now,” you say.

“Now?”

“Yes. Right the fuck now. Please.”

He smiles widely. “C’mon, baby.”

Tommy takes you to his truck and buckles you in. The ride back to his apartment feels like a blur. He’s barely had two drinks, but you make him feel drunk.

You can’t keep your hands off him. It only takes three seconds once he pulls onto the road before you’re unbuckling your seatbelt and sliding across the cab. You press wet, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck and run your hands over his strong thighs, giggling all the while.

He has to reel you in a little after almost running a red light. “Careful, now,” he says, taking your hand in his free one and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If I die before I get to eat your pussy I’ll come back and haunt the fuck out of you.”

You throw your head back and laugh, but Tommy means it.

It’s a relief when he pulls in the parking lot in one piece, but before he even cuts the ignition, you’re crawling into his lap.

His pretty, desperate girl. 

You kiss him deep, tongue sliding against his, hips tilting over the already hard cock in his jeans. He could cum just like this, Tommy knows, with you on top of him and your hands tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck. You smell sweet and seductive, and he can think of nothing beyond this singular moment.

“Let’s just do it right here,” you say, panting, hands sliding beneath his t-shirt. “I want you so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, please.”

There are no words to describe how much it satisfies him to hear it, to hear you beg for him. But you deserve better than this. Deserve so much more than a back seat fuck. He wants to give you everything, wants to give you all of him. “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he says. Because he does. “Wanna see you in my bed, though.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and Tommy uses it to his advantage, holding you close as he quickly gets out of the truck and locks it behind him. You’re a giggling mess, pressing kisses to his face as he makes his way inside and up the stairs to his apartment. “You’re so handsome,” you say. “Have I ever told you that?” 

“A hundred times,” he says, kicking the door closed behind him. “But one more won’t hurt.”

His apartment is a mess. There are dishes in the sink and clothes on the floor and an empty plate on the coffee table, but just seeing you here makes his heart swell in his chest. 

He begins to wonder if this is where you’re meant to be; taking up room in his space, kicking off your shoes at the front door.

Tommy’s cock pulses in the confines of his jeans.

“Kiss me again,” you say. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

He does. His mouth clashes against yours, tongue licking into your sweet mouth, savoring the taste of what remains of your shimmery lip gloss.

Tommy’s hands drift lower, squeezing at the round globes of your ass, pulling you impossibly closer. One of his hands dips between your thighs, feeling the soft lace you wear beneath that sinful dress. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, I need to taste you. Been dreamin’ about it.”

“You dream about me?”

He wraps his big arms around your waist and lifts you. “Every fuckin’ night,” he admits, turning towards his bedroom. 

Doesn’t make it very far, though. Because when you wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him, Tommy lets out a low sound from somewhere deep inside his chest before laying you back against the kitchen island. 

“Fuck it,” he murmurs to himself. Close enough, he thinks.

You look so fucking pretty like this. All sprawled out for him, flushed with your swollen lips parted and your pupils blown wide. He’d always known it would be a sight to behold, but this…it’s something else entirely. 

Cataclysmic. Divine sacriliege.

He leans over you and kisses your chest softly. “Tell me you want this,” he says. “That you want me.”

Your answer comes fast. “I want you, Uncle Tommy.” 

And he feels a deep-seated desire swirl low in his abdomen. Because it’s fucked up. He knows it is. Is completely, lucidly aware that this is all wrong. Filthy and twisted.

Yet he wants it anyway. Maybe not despite it, but because of it. Pleasure heightened with this sick perversion.

He slides his hands under your dress and hooks his fingers around the lace, pulling it down your legs. You’re so wet for him he can see it stick, webs of slick snapping as he groans at the sight. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Didn’t tell me it was like this.”

“I need you so bad it hurts,” you tell him. “Get so wet just thinking about it.” Your voice is low and desperate, almost a cry. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Uncle Tommy’s going to take care of you, okay? Gonna make that ache go away.”

He kisses you slowly. Starts at your ankle and slowly works his way up. He kisses and bites the insides of your thighs, savoring the moment not for you but for him, leaving indentations of his teeth in your flesh. A memory, he thinks. A promise that you’ll think of this tomorrow and the next day. That you’ll remember the way he made you feel.

Then he’s rolling your dress up your hips, delighting in the way you get all shy and squirmy as he takes you in, unashamed in his study. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he says. “Gonna make her feel real good, sweetheart. Don’t you worry.”

He surges forward, licking through your folds. memorizing the way your slit feels beneath his tongue because he never wants to forget this. Never wants to forget the way you gasp beneath him or the way your hands pull at his hair. “Oh my god.”

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, pretty girl.” he kisses your clit. Once, twice, before sucking it between his lips. He spreads your legs wide and presses his mouth to you, nose crinkling against your pubic bone. 

He could die here a happy man. You taste divine, better than anything his mind could have ever conjured up. He licks and sucks until you’re writhing, and when he presses two fingers gently into your opening, your back arches off the counter top. 

Tommy hooks two fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot, your perfect moans echoing through his kitchen. He wraps an arm around your thigh and pulls you roughly to the edge of the counter. His tongue is warm and wet as he uses it to circle your clit, groaning against you, sending vibrations through your body.

His name falls from your mouth between gasping breaths. You grind yourself against him, making a delicious mess of his face and pulling at the roots of his hair.

He can feel you clenching around his fingers, chasing that high, chasing release. Tommy decides to give you a little encouragement. “Go on, now,” he mutters against your spit-soaked clit. “Take it, baby. You deserve it. Been so fuckin’ good for so long. Deserve a reward.”

Your breath halts, just for a second. And then you let out a long, salacious moan and your legs tremble around his head. Tommy feels your walls pulse around his two fingers, squeezing them hard. “Fuck, fuck—”

“That’s it,” he praises, flicking his soft tongue gently over your clit, fingers working you through it, pressing in deep. “There you go, shhh. Just like that.”

He looks up at you, branding this image in his brain. The arch of your back, the strain in your throat as you desperately take in oxygen, the way the shimmery, silver sequins on your dress cast little rainbows across his apartment. He’ll never forget it for as long as he lives.

“You look so beautiful, darlin’,” he says. “So pretty when you cum for your Uncle Tommy.”

Only when your writhing stops and your breath evens out does he slow the rhythm of his fingers, caressing your insides slowly, gently, making sure he coaxes it all out of you and delighting in the little whimpers you make in response. And then he carefully slides them out of you, digits slick and glossy with your release. Your eyes are glued to his as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, not wasting a single drop. That smirk of yours forms as you say, breathless, “Kiss me.”

Tommy grips the back of your neck and pulls you forward, grinning as he gives you what you need. He kisses you eagerly, tongue finding yours, licking into your mouth.

“Can taste it,” you mutter, giggling against his lips. “I made a real mess of you.”

In more ways than one, Tommy thinks. “Tastes fuckin’ good, though,” he says. “Just gettin’ started, anyway.”

He lifts you off the counter, laughing as you squeal in surprise when he tosses you over his shoulder so easily. You fist your hands in the bottom of his wrinkled t-shirt, seeking stability. “I bet you have blue sheets,” you say.

Tommy snorts. “You’ve thought about the color of my sheets?” Such a simple thing, an irrelevant part of his life that has never mattered to him in any capacity.

“Duh,” you say as if it’s obvious, and Tommy’s suddenly overwhelmed with warmth. He likes that you think about it—his sheets, his bedroom, him. Likes knowing he’s not been alone in his mania. “Always knew I’d end up in them.”

He laughs darkly as he pushes open the door and shoulders you onto his bed, right in the center of his navy blue sheets.

You smile up at him, beaming with pride, and he shakes his head as you say, “Told ya.”

It doesn’t surprise him that you’d guessed correctly because you know him. Better than anyone else ever has. Because you and Tommy are one and the same, two sides to the same twisted coin. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he teases, crawling over you, knees braced on either side of your thighs. “S’enough outta you, know it all.”

You open your mouth, probably to make some filthy joke, but whatever it is never sees the light of day because Tommy hooks his fingers around the thin straps of your dress and pulls them down your shoulders. He tugs at the fabric until your breasts are bared to him, pretty and soft and perfect.

He cups them tenderly in his hands, thumbs grazing the hardened peaks of your nipples. He watches goosebumps rise across your chest, and it brings a sick smile to his face. “S’that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes heavy. “Touch me more. Wanna feel you.”

Tommy’s never heard a more tempting request in his life. He leans over and presses his mouth to your chest, hands roaming over your skin. He takes your nipple in his mouth and flicks his tongue over the sensitive flesh, sighing against you at the sound of your moan.

He pushes your dress down to your hips and lets you shimmy the rest of the way out of it, kicking the shiny fabric onto the floor. You lift your hips to meet his, and his cock is so hard and needy that the smallest bit of friction nearly knocks him on his ass. “Shit,” he hisses, trailing kisses across your chest, spreading his worship. He plans to take his time, wants to see just how close he can get you with just his mouth on your tits.

But then your voice breaks through your breathy whimpers. “Uncle Tommy,” you say. “Wait. Wait, I—”

He stops, pulling back, giving you room to breathe. The coldness of fear begins to trickle in as he anticipates your next words. Has he gone too far? Said too much, moved too fast?

“I want you in my mouth,” you say with those pretty eyes, and he convinces himself he’s dreaming. “Please.”

Because this can’t be real. There’s no way in hell he’s looking at you, naked in his bed, begging to suck his cock. His pretty, perfect girl. Tommy runs his hands down his face, and a sound of utter disbelief escapes him. But then he’s nodding, just as eager. “Yeah, baby,” he says. “Course you can.”

Your responding smile sends a shiver down his spine. Carefully, you move from beneath him, hands tugging at the buckle of his leather belt. He can do nothing but watch with reverence as you unbutton his jeans and pull at his zipper, tongue wetting your lips. 

The air gets stuck in his lungs as you reach into his boxers and pull him out with gentle fingers. It’s hypnotic, the way you touch him. You press a sweet, chaste kiss to his tip and with that one touch alone he’s already fighting for his fucking life.

But he lets you do what you want to him. Lets you move at your own pace. Tommy’s grateful you’re slow in your pursuit, though. Tasting him, tongue gliding down the underside of his shaft, savoring.

When you finally take him fully in your mouth, his head falls back and he sighs deeply. It’s almost too much to feel you and look at you, but Tommy doesn’t want to miss it. He strokes your hair as you hollow out your cheeks and greedily swallow him down. “Fuck,” he groans. “Look so good with my dick in your mouth. Yeah, there you go. Just like that.”

You suck harder, take him in deeper. His vision blurs, and pleasure builds and builds and builds, rushing to the surface of his skin. 

“Easy,” he warns. You look at him through your lashes, lips parted around his heavy cock. It’s the most pornographic image he’s ever fucking seen and it’s going to have him cumming down your throat. “Easy, easy, easy—” Tommy takes a handful of your hair and pulls you back, dick pulsing as he watches strands of your spit stick to him. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

Pure, sprightly giggles bubble from your glossy lips. So beautiful it hurts him. “Can I tell you what I want?”

“Always,” he promises, and means it.

You move across his bed, crawling back towards the headboard. Your voice is low, a seductive whisper as you tell him, “I want you to take off your clothes.”

He does. Starts by pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Then he takes off his boots and shoves his jeans and boxers down, discarding them beside your pretty little dress.

“I want you to come over here and kiss me,” you say. Tommy moves on instinct, crawling towards you. He’s nearly there when you speak again, mouth hovering over yours. “And then I want you inside me, Uncle Tommy.”

He shivers as you spread your legs slowly, putting on a sweet little show. All for him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you murmur. You slide your hands down your body, that troublesome look on your face, teasing. As you glide your fingers through your pussy, slick and glossy, you continue. “Wanna watch it go in. Wanna see it here,” you say, pressing hard against your lower abdomen.

Tommy’s always given you everything you’ve ever wanted. Has never had any problem satisfying all your needs. And that doesn’t change now, either.

He kisses you slowly. Meaningfully. There’s intent behind it. Love. Adoration. He hopes you can feel it. Hope you can sense it.

With his forehead against yours, he lines himself up at your entrance. He cradles your face with his hand. Says, “Tell me if it hurts.”

And then he’s pushing inside you, and his hands shake. You watch it, just as you wanted. Watch his cock split you open, watch your pretty pussy make room for him. And Tommy watches you, delighting in the way your eyes go wide and watery, in the way your lips part in a gasp.

He sinks into you all the way, hips pressed tight against yours. And when he pulls back out his cock is covered in your slick. “How’s it feel, baby?”

You nod frantically, chest heaving. “S’good,” you answer. “So fucking…God. You’re so big.”

Tommy tilts his hips, quickly finding a cadence that makes you cry out his name. You feel like heaven. Warm and wet, soaked. The sounds echo in his bedroom, obscene and filthy. He kisses your forehead, your nose, your temple. Every part of you he can reach. “This what you wanted? Hm?”

“Yes, yes, please—”

“Shh, s’alright, darlin’. Ain’t gotta beg me. Uncle Tommy’s got you.” Your silky walls grip his cock tighter as he says it, and he knows then and there that you’re the same in this, too. Knows that you like the perversion, the corruption, the filth. 

He thrusts harder, deeper. Your back arches, and your hand reaches for his. Tommy laces his fingers through yours and has never felt closer to anyone in his life. You say, “I needed you,” and he agrees.

“I know, baby. Me too. I’m here now. Gonna make you cum for me.” He uses his free hand and presses it to your lips. “Open your mouth.”

You do. His perfect girl. He presses his fingers past your lips, into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them, coating them in your spit. And then he snakes his arm between you and circles your clit, tortorously gentle. “Oh my fucking God,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

But Tommy won’t have it. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, baby,” he says. “C’mon. Wanna see the way you look cumming on Uncle Tommy’s cock, huh?” You do as he says, and a tear rolls down your cheek. “There you go. Just like that. Good job.”

“Tommy,” you whimper, pussy fluttering around him. He’s not going to last long, not like this. Not when you cry for him so beautifully. 

He circles your clit faster, fighting off the bliss that creeps up his spine. “Right here,” he says, kissing your tears away, salt clinging to his lips. “Stay right here with me, sweet girl. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well for me.”

Your fingernails dig into the back of his hand and he knows you’re there, can feel your pussy sucking him in deeper. “Cum with me,” you say, breath ragged. “Cum with me, please.”

“Fuck, fuck…baby, I don’t know if—”

“It’s okay, I promise,” you tell him, voice pleading. “I’m on birth control, I swear. Just…I want to feel it, Uncle Tommy. Want you to fill me up.”

This will damn him, he knows.

“Please, please, please. I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum, oh my God—”

He’d do anything for you.

“Always gonna give you what you want,” he says. “My favorite girl.”

Your eyes are starry as you crest that high, somehow even more exquisite than the first time. Sweet moans fill the room, and your thighs shake as your release rocks through you, spine bending off his blue sheets. You cry out his name, and that’s what sets him over the edge.

His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with thick, sticky ropes of cum. It’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, and he knows he’ll chase this high for the rest of his fucking life. “That’s it,” he whispers, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Such a filthy little thing, beggin’ for your Uncle Tommy to fill you up with his cum. You’re so perfect for me.”

He gives you ever last drop, thrusting in deep until his cock is so overstimulated it almost hurts. But he circles your clit with his spit-soaked fingers until you come down, walls spasming uncontrollably around him.

When he finally pulls out of you, he does it gently. And then he collapses on the bed beside you, panting to try and slow the racing of his heart. He turns his head to look at you and catches your eye, and he’s not quite sure why, but you both grin and just laugh.

There’s no dirty joke or any sort of amusement. Nothing’s funny, but Tommy supposes he’s just…well, he’s happy. Seeing you on the right side of his mattress, all naked and fucked out and satisfied, it just feels so right.

And he knows it’s not. Knows it’s so far removed from the idea of right that it’s absurd, but you’re stifling your laughter behind your hands and turning away from him to try and find some sort of composure, and Tommy thinks maybe he just doesn’t fucking care.

Doesn’t care about right or wrong, doesn’t care about what anyone would think or say. Because how could he when you’re at his side? How could anything else on God’s green earth ever matter to him as much as you?

It can’t happen again. He knows that.

But this is enough, Tommy thinks. This one night. A stolen moment in time that will forever belong only to the two of you, where nothing and no one matters beyond his apartment. The life here, the love between you, encased so perfectly in these four walls…it’s a gift. One he doesn’t deserve. Sweet as maple syrup and warm as the hot summer sun.

And yet it’s been given to him anyway, and Tommy Miller’s going to cherish it for the rest of his life.

When you finally turn back to him, you lie on your side with a face-splitting grin. “We’re so fucked,” you say.

Tommy laughs. “Oh, absolutely,” he agrees, pulling you close. He wraps his arms around your waist and treasures the weight of your head on his chest. “Totally, completely fucked.”

“Well, at least we’re together.”

He smiles. Presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah,” he whispers. “At least there’s that.”

Two peas in a fucking pod.

(ermmmm ik i said i wanted to write more single part fics this year but if literally just one person asks for a part two I'll cave)

[divider by @bernardsbendystraws]

[marvelobsessed134]

You Drive Me Wild

Pairings: DBF!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, Natasha has a dick, age gap (Natasha is 35 reader is 19), rough sex, oral (both receiving), praise, Natasha calls reader bunny

Natasha knew not to look at you this way. But you had to have been teasing her. Walking around in your “coquette” outfits (you had taught her all about the TikTok trend that you had unintentionally been following for years). You are in fact her best friend’s daughter. Albeit you’re 19, you were still off limits. But what if you wanted her too?

It was a summer barbecue your family had every year. Friends and relatives gather at your lake house to celebrate the beginning of summer with burgers, beer, and laughter. Natasha sat at one of the small picnic tables watching you from a distance as you running around by the lake, your skirt practically flailing up. Your white lace stockings making your legs look irresistible.

“Hey, Nat. How���d you feel about The Chiefs winning?” Your dad interrupts her staring. She continued to have a conversation with him while simultaneously glancing over at you.

“I’m gonna go put my swimsuit on! I’ll be right back!” You called out to your cousins before heading inside the house. The redhead immediately got up to follow you.

Once you got in your room you pulled open your bottom drawer to find your swimsuit. Suddenly, you heard your door open and close. You looked up to see Natasha standing over you staring down at you. “Nat?” You asked.

“That outfit is very distracting you know.” The redhead said dryly.

You noticed the bulge forming in her pants, and smirked, “Yeah? How distracting?”

“Enough to make any female attracted person in your vicinity eye-fuck you.”

“Like you’re doing right now?”

“Yeah, like I’m doing right now. Fuck, Y/n you drive me wild.”

It didn’t take long before you had Natasha’s cock in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth while looking up at her with Bambi eyes. Her hand tangled in your hair, “Such a good girl, that’s it.” Her voice was raspy making your pussy even more aroused than it already was.

Your hands gripped her beefy thighs as you choked on her shaft, tears springing in your eyes but you didn’t care. Finally, pulled you off of her and made you stand up so she could give you a passionate kiss. You made quick work of stripping down, with the exception of your stockings. It drove the older woman crazy, and she tossed you on your bed before kneeling between your thighs. Your wet cunt exposed to her now, her eyes darkening with intense lust.

You hissed as she lightly licked your clit, your hand flying to her hair as she began to eat you like a starving creature. “Oh fuck!” You cried out, your hips bucking in the air.

“You taste so good bunny.” She groaned, her tongue maneuvering itself in your wet hole, her hands gripping your thighs with such strength you though you’d think your legs were about to break off. She didn’t let up for air, determined to bring you to your finish, and when you finally did come, only then did she let herself have oxygen.

“Get on all fours.” She demanded. You did as she said as she positioned herself behind you. Her cock teasing your entrance collecting your lubricants before shoving into you without warning. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, holding onto the headboard as Natasha gripped onto your hips, thrusting into you without mercy. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your moans and cries of pleasure, and Natasha’s grunts and praises.

“Fuck, taking me so well. You like having this tiny pussy stretched around me?”

“Yes! Oh, god yes!”

“Such a good little girl, innocent but can take a hard fucking.” You cried out as she repeatedly hit your g spot, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. You felt yourself clenching around her, reaching your second orgasm.

“Cum around my dick, bunny. Let me have it.” The redhead groaned.

You cried out her name as you came, cumming around her dick effortlessly. Suddenly she pulled out of you and forced you to turn towards her, still on your hands and knees as she jerked off, before releasing her seed all over your innocent face.

“Oh fuck, so fucking good…” she moaned. You licked some of it off and tasted the salty goodness on your tongue. Natasha grabbed you by your and forced you to look up at her, “For now on, every time I come over you’re gonna end up just like this.”

[barbiiecams]

doubts

drew starkey x younger!reader (like 19/20 sorry not sorry 😭), reader calls drew “papa” *not in a weird way*, smut, in love w the age gap concept cus of @native2princess ! <3

you watched yet another video on the internet of drew down at disney world without you, but with his friend group that all had a few years on you.

he would send pictures of everything that was cute or that reminded him of you, and you really did appreciate it. but it still didn’t swallow the lingering feeling in your gut.

you weren’t even invited. it was obvious why since you couldn’t even buy a drink legally, let alone not even close with half of them, but for some reason it still hurt and had you questioning things even further about everything.

you swore that you guys were drifting apart.

not only did that make you sad, but it also left you scared and questioning everything.

the only thing that made you wonder why you two were drifting like you thought you were was because of the age gap.

was he getting tired of you? was the age gap starting to become a burden? were you just too immature?

and let’s not even get started on how drew acted around his female friends — that were once again a lot older.

all you could do was just cry. it was a dumb reason to cry about, but you don’t wanna lose drew yet you really think you are. he was your first and you hoped he’d be your last, but who knows where you two may end up?

seeing how he acted with his friends currently was already ruining you. now you found yourself down a rabbit hole of searching through old videos of him before you were even dating.

it was crazy, of course you were aware of that. but it did nothing but further increase your worries seeing how he would act around these girls. all older than you and all more outgoing.

so now here you were, stalking your own boyfriend while you sat in your bed, silent tears streaming down your face.

currently, drew was now in paris for the fashion show. he wanted you to come, but it would be too difficult for you. plus school had just ended and both of you knew that you were planning to spend more time with your family this summer.

regardless of that, this feeling was awful. you’ve had old puppy-love heart breaks during highschool with guys you dated just to say you were in a relationship, but this is real. a real committed relationship you’re in with a guy a little over 10 years older than you.

he’s so mature. so are you, but not entirely. you still had a lot more to experience and learn, and he was always so patient.

but maybe now that patience was wearing thin.

you sniffle one more time before closing out all your apps and throwing your phone on the nightstand next to you. wanting to sleep it off and praying you’d wake up feeling better, your insides just were not letting that happen. not to mention you couldn’t fall asleep without at least getting a goodnight text from him.

laying down was no use. as soon as you tried to lay your head down on the pillow and just relax, the overthinking just continued to grow. there was no escape from these thoughts and it was just eating you straight alive.

you huff while turning over, switching sides and seeing if that would help. spoiler: it didn’t.

all you could do now is groan while sitting up. a certain thought ran through your mind that you really didn’t want to go through with, but did you have a choice? you already felt as if the end of things are near, so why let him break your heart (even though you’d be expecting it) when you can just do it the hard part first?

with a sigh, you reached over to grab your phone and open drew’s contact. everything was making you sick. you just stared at the screen, skimming over the conversation you had earlier.

it was the usual. ‘hows your day’, ‘i miss you’, ‘this reminded me of us’, all the cute stuff.

but it just didn’t hit the same. that feeling of him leaving you because of your age wasn’t going anywhere, and it was making you feel insecure on extreme ends

your fingers started typing. there were no real thoughts, just your pure raw emotions. you hit backspace a couple of times, you sat there and thought about the next few words you were going to say, but eventually you got it all put together it pained you type, but it pained you even more contemplating on whether or not you should send it.

‘hey drew. i’ve been missing you a lot recently and i know it’s weird and you’re going to question why i sent this after you read it, but im sorry. i really do feel like you’re leaving me soon and it’s taking a toll on me badly. i don’t want this to end but i can tell that it is and i just know + feel like we’re drifting apart. i feel like it’s because of my age so i really do understand and respect that. we can talk more once you get back because i hate to do this over text but i can’t just bottle my feelings anymore. goodnight 🩷’

a few more seconds of contemplation, you hit send and stared at the screen. you didn’t know how he would respond so you should’ve been shutting off your phone and running away.

but you didn’t. you stared at the screen and waited until he read it.

thankfully, it didn’t take him any longer than three minutes to open your message, and soon after, the dots were bubbling.

drew himself was lost. confused wasn’t even the word for the long paragraph you just sent him. he even started triple texting you.

‘???’

‘what are you talking about baby?’

‘i’m so lost’

you sighed reading his texts. he didn’t get it, realistically you shouldn’t have expected him to. it was out of the blue, and little to your knowledge, he didn’t think for a second anything was wrong between you too.

when you didn’t answer him as soon as you read it, he went back to typing.

‘answer me’

‘i’m really confused and worried. it’d be nice if you stopped leaving me on read’

‘call me now’

you didn’t even have a chance to start typing because you had an incoming call with drew’s name on it. you didn’t wanna pick up, but you knew you had to because if the roles were reversed, oh you’d definitely be throwing a fit.

swallowing quickly, you hit the green answer button to drew’s facetime call but moved your face out of the camera.

he’s walking, most likely back to his hotel with furrowed eyebrows and an expression that you think showed… annoyance?

drew’s the first one to speak up, “y/n, what the hell are you talking about?” he says sounding very confused and very upset as well.

“i feel like we’re drifting apart apart i don’t know.” you replied. your voice isn’t even a third as stern as his. it’s not stern at all nor convincing.

“where is that coming from? what are you talking about it’s our ages?” he questions you again.

you really hoped a fan wouldn’t come up to him. not because it would interrupt the call, but because they would be walking up on him pissed off and getting a taste of his very apparent bad mood.

you sighed, “it’s just how i feel. maybe i’m not mature enough for this.”

his face scrunches with confusion even further. he then looks down to his screen to see the ceiling you were showing.

“why do you all of a sudden feel this way? you are mature. if you weren’t, this relationship wouldn’t be a thing in the first place.”

this was something else you wanted to avoid; him being mad at you. you hated making him upset and now that you were already upset, and he was just getting annoyed with you, it wasn’t helping and it made you feel worse.

“show me your face baby. you know i don’t like talking to walls.” he says once you don’t respond to his actual voice this time.

reluctantly, you put your face in the screen. sitting up and cuddling onto your bed sheets.

“y/n, nothing is wrong. we aren’t drifting apart at all so i don’t know why you feel otherwise. we’re okay and you know this, baby. stop overthinking.” he reassures you.

before you could finally respond with anything else, you heard a few girls calling his name from the other side of his phone. good luck to them!

“i’ll call you back. we’re not done talking.” he says, then swiftly hangs up.

you wanted to puke. you hated being in any type of conflict with people, let alone being in one with drew.

a headache was starting to form, and it forced you to lay back down and sleep. you kept your phone right next to you on your bed, just in case drew woke you up by ringing your phone again.

—

you weren’t sure when the previous night you fell asleep, but you didn’t wake up until 12 the next day. and that was due to your doorbell ringing multiple times at once.

you whined at the fact you had to leave your warm bed, but you slowly made your way down your apartment’s stairs, rubbing your eyes and forcing yourself to wake up.

opening the door ready to curse out whoever had the nerve to wake you up at this hour, it was drew standing at the door with flowers in one hand and his stuff in the other.

now this is what really woke you up.

“how are you here…?” you questioned.

he exhales, “soon as we hung up yesterday i checked out and booked a flight here. we really need to talk in person.

you step to the side to let him in, then he shuts the door behind him and hands you the flowers.

both of you take a seat at the table. “i need you to fully explain what you’re feeling. that paragraph honestly made no sense and as soon as i read the whole thing i knew i had to get down here.” he says.

you press your lips together before speaking. “i’m sorry.”

he makes a face of puzzlement and also motions for you to keep going.

“maybe im not mature enough for this, drew. i don’t know.”

“what makes you think that? what happened or what did i do that has you questioning everything?” he asks, reaching out for your hand.

you sniffle before continuing, “i just feel like im holding you back. you’re buying drinks, going to clubs and hanging out with your friends who are all around your age and im still in school. it’s not working-”

he cuts you off before you can finish that. “those aren’t reasons, baby. it is working. do you feel left out or something?”

“no it’s just,”

there’s a pause before he says something again, “just what? i don’t understand what’s got you so in your head.

“i don’t know how to explain it. i just think you’re drifting from me because of where we’re at in life and i hate it.” the words finally form, and you can feel a little bit of weight being lifted off your chest now that you’ve got it out.

his expression now shows a face of understanding, then he’s standing up and swiftly making his way over to you, lifting you up before securing your legs around him.

you let out a squeal at the action. when he was balanced, he made his way upstairs to your room with you in his arms.

stepping into your decorated room, he throws you down on the bed then hovers over you. “i’m gonna prove to you that you deserve this relationship.”

his lips make their way to your jaw, leaving little lovebites on them, then down to your neck and chest.

your hands fly to his buzzed head. you let out soft sighs at his lips being on your body, a feeling you loved the most.

his hands travel to your pajama shorts then dipped into the waistband of your panties. as hes taking them both off at the same time, he distracts you by now placing his lips on yours, slowly making out with you.

now your hands are taking action, working to get is shirt off to see his toned body once again. when it’s off, one hand is still on his head while the other goes down to his abs, feeling on him.

now he’s starting to get quick, fumbling with his belt and pants, ready to do you into the mattress.

sooner than later, both of your clothes are off and in random sports throughout the room.

his middle and ring finger are inside you, stretching your out as you moan and grind into his hand.

drew’s cock is laying there on your stomach, practically reaching your ribs. this was just another reminder of how deep he really goes when fucking you.

you could barely keep your eyes on him while his fingers worked you. “that feel good?”

you moan out a “yea.” you definitely couldn’t let him go. the way he could make you fall apart with just his fingers is crazy as it is.

“i bet, baby. already so wet. you know what you want huh?” he coos.

this makes you nod. “want your cock, please.” you reach your hand down to where it rested on you, but he moves your hand away.

“i know you do. but i need this pussy stretched and ready for me.” he responds

“i can take it! promise! just give it to me,” you whine.

drew gives in at your begging. he removes his fingers from inside you before sticking them in your mouth.

he grabs his cock before lining it up with your entrance. he slowly pushes in, making you whimper around his fingers. it hurt a little bit, but the pleasure overrode the pain.

“shhh,” he hushes you, putting his cock in all the way and forcing you to take all that he gave you.

you continued to let out sounds because of the pleasure he was giving you. drew was letting out groans of content himself.

“feels so good, baby. so fucking good.” he throws his head back.

his words did nothing but turn you on more. your eyes squeeze shut before you guide his hand out of your mouth and onto your throat, signaling what you want from him.

he smirks before moving his other hand to your throat, choking you slightly but enough that you can still breathe.

“yea you like when i go hard on you, right baby? this pussy just loves when i go rough on her, doesn’t she?” he teases.

“mhm!” you squeak, loving the feeling of just taking all of him so deep and so rough.

he makes your legs cross completely around him before leaning down into your neck.

this was your favorite position. you being on your back, him groaning in your hear and putting hickeys on your neck, it was so much at once and you loved it real bad.

his lips are right next to your ear. “i’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

he lets out another sound before continuing, “you’re not leaving me either. neither of us are going anywhere.

your breath catches in your throat when he says this. maybe this was all you needed. some reassurance, and a good pounding to go with it.

he sits up before pulling out to turn you around. now that you’re flat on your stomach, he slides right back in with a hand on your lower back right before your butt and the other pushing your head down into the pillows.

you screamed out when he started thrusting all over again. it hurt so good, you just wanted to do this forever him.

you tried to move away slightly because he was just going ham on your poor hole. but all it took was you reaching one hand up, gripping the sheets and trying to pull away before he yanked your head back by your hair. he then brought your back up to his chest and held you by your throat.

“stop running, baby.” he growls into your ear.

“it’s so deep tho, papa.” your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth hangs open.

he kisses right below your ear, “you’re fine.”

that bubbly feeling started to form again. you were about to cum, and somehow drew could always tell too.

“know you’re gonna cum, mama. hold that shit.” he tells you as he pushes you back into the sheets.

right now that request just didn’t seem possible. “i can’t!”

he gives your right cheek a firm slap. “you can and you will. don’t make me say it again.”

you guys stay in this position for a while. him just hitting it from the back deep and all you needed to do was lay there and take it like a good girl.

his good girl.

suddenly, he flips you back over, then lays down himself setting you on top. now he’s got his feet planted on the bed, thrusting up into you.

at this angle, you guys can see the belly bulge happening from how deep his cock was. just proving how big he really is again.

“see that baby? that’s me. all up in those guts.” he says to you.

you throw your head back, but he cups the back of your head to bring you down into him, chest to chest.

“y’the only one who gets fucked like this. y’know that? only one who deserves it too,” his arms wrap around your waist now. “only fucking one.”

his lips are practically on your ear as he says this. you’re only able to nod, but he wants to hear your voice.

“tell me you understand that baby, say it.” his thrusts slow down, but there still deep, and he’s angling it to make sure he’s hitting that good spot.

“i…”

another slap hits on to your cheek. “say it, princess.”

“yes! i understand!” you finally moan out.

“yes who, baby?”

“yes papa!” your voice is weak now.

he smirks at your submission and continues to fuck you hard. more than just a few thrusts later, he’s letting out a lot more groans than what he already was.

“shit baby… y’gonna make me cum soon. you gonna let me put it in you, hm?”

“drew…”

his hips are starting to stutter. “know you’re ready to cum too. been holding it in like papa told you too, good girl. fuckk.”

his arms are really really squeezing around your waist, keeping you still so you can’t try and move from his brutal thrusts.

“cum with me baby girl. got a big load for you.” he moans.

“don’t knock me up.” as good as the moment felt right now, you were dead serious about that.

he chuckles, “i won’t baby. know you wanna feel that cum all in your stomach tho.”

you moan one last time before finally cumming around him. you couldn’t hold it back anymore, no matter how much he told you to wait for him.

but your own orgasm sent his off. he felt you come undone around him, and two seconds later you felt his hot sperm fill you up.

drew’s arms moved from around your waist to seriously gripping your hips down, not letting you waist a drop of what he had to give you.

moans and deep breaths were coming from the both of you. that was the most intense sex you guys had for a while, not to mention the first time he’s actually came inside you.

when he finally came down from his high, he slowly pulled out of you and just let you rest on his chest.

“thank you,” you quietly speak up.

he doesn’t respond, but he smiles and kisses your forehead.

minutes after just sitting in silence, he sits up against your headboard and takes your face into your hands.

“baby, when i say youre what i want i mean it. if you weren’t mature enough for me, i wouldn’t still be here.” he says. you don’t actually answer, you want him to keep going.

“i love you so much, sweetheart. nothing about that is going to change and nothing can make it change. i don’t know what you saw or if i did something, but im sorry. okay?”

you nod with a smile. “okay.”

he smiles back at you then pressed his lips against yours, giving you a nice firm kiss. which slowly turned into a makeout.

you guys pull away just to catch your breath, “we gotta get you packed up, sweetheart.”

“for what?” you ask.

“i’m taking you back to paris with me.”

[more-mara]

time travel shenanigans but make it choscar. f2 oscar and current oscar swap places so you've got 19/20 year old prema oscar with stars in his eyes meeting 27 year old charles leclerc (and being very normal about the now 7-8 year age gap)

vs 23/24 year old current oscar meeting 22/23 year old charles and feeling so so weird about it because what do you mean they're nearly the same age?? how is he possibly supposed to call this utter twink with terrible hair "daddy" i mean what

On one hand you have prema Oscar being transported into the future where he’s now a multi time f1 Grand Prix winner and currently leading the championship and he’s confused as hell as to how he even got there but what’s even more confusing is when CHARLES FUCKING LECLERC aka prema Oscar’s big fat crush is coming over and wrapping his arms around Oscar’s waist casually and whispering filthy things in his ear that has prema Oscar (currently in 2025 Oscar’s body) blushing like crazy. He’s just about ready to combust when he realises that there’s nearly a DECADE AGE GAP (sue him, he loves a good age gap) and Oscar has to physically stop himself from drooling at the thought. Because like, that’s daddy, and Charles has no qualms with referring to himself as such. Plus Oscar just can’t get over how fucking sexy this future, 27 year old version of Charles is.

On the other hand you have 24 year old Oscar in prema Oscar’s body coming across Charles who is basically the same age as him now and he’s like ?? Oscar kind of forgets himself a bit and goes to call Charles babe when he sees him before realising that Charles is absolutely NOT his boyfriend at this point.

But Oscar’s looking at that baby faced version of Charles and is so fucking conflicted because how in the hell is that the man that dicks him down constantly and has a boarder line crazy daddy kink?

[sl-ut]

the bottom

PART TWO | the hero

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

description: joel’s new in jackson and tries to take his younger brother’s advice to fit in; keep your head low and work hard. however, while settling into his routine, he does exactly the opposite.

warnings: takes place between season one and two, unspecified age gap (joel is canon age/reader is mentioned to be mid-20s in beginning but the exact amount of time that’s passed is left to the imagination), reader has hair long enough to be braided, reader is a dv survivor, crazy exes, swearing, drinking, slight grumpy x sunshine but reader has layers she’s not just happy all the time, 

words: 2.7K

date posted: 19/5/25

series masterlist

previous part | next part

“Someone’s been asking about you.”

Joel glanced over his shoulder as he approached the front steps of the house and found his younger brother sidling up next to him.

“What?”

Tommy spoke the woman’s name with a shiteating grin on his face, “She was asking Maria ‘bout you, got all nervous and everything.”

“Do you need something?” Joel glared at his brother, “Or are you just tryin’ to piss me off?”

“Just thought you would want to know, big brother,” Tommy laughed, “it’s been a while since you’ve had a girlfriend, wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to tell when a girl is sweet on you.” 

“No one’s sweet on me, Tommy,” Joel groaned, “besides, she barely knows me.”

“You’ve been patrolling together four times a week for almost three months now, Joel. And from what I hear, you’ve been makin’ quite the fuss with the ladies,” Tommy laughed. “Just do me a favour and just pick one, heh?”

Joel ignored him, finally climbing up the steps onto his own front porch. He let the door swing shut on its own, hoping that Tommy wouldn’t follow him but knowing full well that he was going to anyway. He hooked his coat onto the rack just next to the door before trudging towards the kitchen in search of some sort of pick-me-up; it would be either coffee or whiskey, whichever he could get his hands on the quickest. 

Tommy pulled out a chair at the dining table, plopping down with a quiet groan. Joel dropped a glass of amber liquid in front of his brother, downing his own mouthful of whiskey in one go before pouring himself another. 

“So?” Tommy asked, a little smirk reappearing on his face.

“So, what?”

“So…are you thinking of seeing where anything goes?”

“Jesus, Tommy, I’ve barely had enough time to settle in here,” Joel shook his head, “matter o’ fact, no. I don’t think I’m gonna be looking into anything.”

Tommy nodded, “Alright, I’ll tell Maria to call off the hunt.”

Joel narrowed his eyes, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really think I’m the only one to be thinkin’ this way? Really, it’s all her idea. She’s warmin’ up to you and she wants you to be happy.”

“Tommy,” Joel groaned, “trust me when I say that I am happy. I’m fed, I’m warm, I’m safe, hell, I’m a whole lot more social than I was twenty years ago. That’s all I need.”

“Alright, alright,” Tommy raised his hands in defence, “I’ll pass the message on. But if you change your mind…” 

“Maria’ll be the first to know,” Joel chuckled, “you have my word.”

“Great,” Tommy nodded, glancing at the small wooden clock on the wall opposite his seat, “speaking of, she’ll have my head if I’m not home for dinner. We’re grilling steak if you wanna join.”

Joel shrugged, “Promised Ellie we’d grab something from the dining hall and watch some movie she found on patrol.” 

“Then I will see you tomorrow morning for patrol,” Tommy stood up, knocking his fist against his brother’s shoulder as he headed towards the door, closing it firmly behind him. 

***

Joel had hardly known a moment of silence ever since Ellie came into his life. When they had met, she was a curious, spunky fourteen-year-old girl that barely understood the way things worked by modern standards, let alone the way things were twenty years earlier before the world had gone to shit. Now she was an equally as spunky but slightly less curious sixteen-year-old, now having faced her own fair share of trauma and hardships during their journey across the country that had lasted for over a year. He initially had worried that Ellie would have some difficulties fitting in with the other kids around Jackson, and while it was true that she had been rather abrasive to many, there were a select few that she’s easily bonded to. 

She chattered on about what she’d learned about in school that day, gossip she had heard through the grapevine, the foolish pranks and antics of her closest friend Dina, her interest in another girl named Cat…at some point Joel lost count of how many different topics she’d been able to fit into the ten minute walk across town to the dining hall, and he’d had an even more difficult time staying on track with the rapid fire of information. He mostly offered small grunts of acknowledgements and occasional chuckles whenever she truly caught him off guard. 

Then, he caught the familiar figure of his newest patrol partner across the way, quickly striding across the street to come up on Ellie’s opposite side.

“Hey Joel, Ellie,” she beamed at them, meeting their pace easily as she joined their trek, completely unaware of their destination but following along regardless, “how’d you get along with your homework?”

 “Fine, I guess…” Ellie shrugged, a sheepish blush dusting her cheeks as the woman raised her brow, “okay, I haven’t done it yet.”

The woman snorted, “How did I know that? There’s a test on Monday, kid, don’t wanna get held back a year, do you?”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Ellie argued, looking to Joel for confirmation, “would they?”

Joel shrugged, “Dunno, there’s probably some privileges you’d lose until you get caught up.”

The teen girl huffed, “You gotta be shitting me.”

“Sorry, El, that’s just how the cookie crumbles.”

The girl shook her head with a sigh as Joel lifted his gaze over her head, eyes tracing over the woman’s side profile. Her lips always seemed to naturally curve in a perpetual smile, even as she patrolled in the rain and snow. 

“You a teacher now, then?” He asked rather abruptly, “What, Maria’s just got you fillin’ in wherever?”

She shrugged, seeming much less bothered by it than Joel would have been, “More of a tutor, really. We’re trying to figure out what I’m best at, I don’t really mind filling in where they need me, though. But don’t worry, I wouldn’t miss our patrols for the world.”

The teen turned to the man with a raised brow, a wicked little grin appearing on her face as she held in a laugh at the woman’s kind words that so delicately hovered over the line of flirtatiousness. She elbowed Joel in the ribs to prompt his response as his own face burned with colour. 

“Alright,” he grunted, prompting a short laugh from both the teen and the woman.

“Don’t sound too excited, Joel,” she laughed, “anyway, I better get going. I’m headed to Tommy and Maria’s for dinner. See y’all later.”

They both offered her a quiet farewell as they continued on their way, the dining hall now in sight. Ellie let out a small chuckle as she took in the expression of discomfort on her guardian’s face, “I’ve never seen you have a crush before.”

“What?” his head snapped over to stare down at her.

“I mean, I know you and Tess had a little thing going on, but I’ve never seen you get all worked up like that before.”

“Ellie,” he barked, “you don’t know what you’re talking about, I don–”

“And she likes you too,” she batted her eyelashes at him mockingly as she mustered up her best impression, “don’t worry, Baby, I wouldn’t miss our patrols for the world.”

“That’s not what she said.”

“It’s basically what she said. The pet name was implied.”

Joel said nothing else, ignoring her glaring look as they entered the dining hall and found themselves taking their places at the end of the line, disregarding her teasing stare and unrelenting giggles. Ahead of them, there seemed to be some sort of disturbance–a few gasps, curses, and an echoing clatter as a dinner plate hit the floor. Joel craned his neck to get a better look, finding a younger woman stepping out of line in a hurry, protectively tugging her little girl to stand behind her as a larger figure forced his way into the front of the line. 

“We’re not doing this every damn day, Elias,” Seth growled at the man, glaring at his lanky figure as he swayed from side to side. “Back of the line or get lost.”

“Listen, you prick,” the man slurred, “I’m hungry, and I’ve been working all fuckin’ day. These people can wait.”

“You heard me,” Seth squared up to him, “and watch your language, there’s kids here.”

“No, you listen–”

The sight of the little girl, no older than six, trembling behind her mother’s legs was the final straw for Joel. He stepped out of line, Ellie hot on his heels as he stalked up to the front of the line, winding his fist into the shoulder of the man’s shirt to haul him backwards. The stench of booze slammed into Joel like a tonne of bricks, his lip curling in disgust. 

“Listen, Elias, is it?” Joel asked as he dragged the man toward the door, tossing him out into the town square and blocking the entrance, “here’s how things are gonna go. You’re gonna take a moment and collect yourself, you’re gonna come back in, wait in line, and eat your meal in peace. Or, you can come back in, act exactly how you just did, and I’ll throw you out again and you’ll have to crawl home. Your choice.”

The man sneered at him, pushing his greasy hair out of his face, “Who the fuck do you think you are putting your hands on me? You come into town as Tommy fuckin’ Miller’s brother and think you can do whatever the fuck you want?” 

“Yeah, something like that,” Joel rolled his eyes, “there’s no need to make this messy. Every one of these people have been doing their part all day, just like you.”

“Fuck you, you ugly piece of shit,” Elias eyed the older man up, clearly taking in the sheer size and force of Joel Miller, someone he would have no chance of beating in a fight even if he was sober. He spat at his feet, turning on his heel to retreat, “first shot I get, you’re a dead man, Miller.”

Joel rolled his eyes again, “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when you’re ready.”

***

“I heard you had an interesting night last night,” the woman mused as she and Joel rode side by side during patrol the following morning. Her face was less expressive than usual, eyes appearing glazed over as she moved her gaze down to watch as she ran her fingertips through the soft mane of her mount. 

Joel scoffed, “Wouldn’t say that. Just takin’ care of things. Anyone would’ve done it.”

She was silent for a beat, flickering her gaze over to the older man next to her, “Well it wasn’t just anyone who did it. Truth be told, people around here aren’t quite as willing to cause a stir as you are, Miller, and that guy gets away with a lot more than what he deserves. Maybe you’re exactly the kind of person we need around here.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” The checkpoint came into view as Joel took in her words, shrugging off the nagging excitement that he felt at her praise, “guess I’ve never been known to play well with others. People like that shouldn’t be able to walk around doing whatever the hell they want, thinkin’ they’re worth any more than anyone else.”

He missed the flicker in her eyes, the straightening of her spine, the nervousness in her face. Joel was an observant man, or so he’s been told; it’s second nature when you’ve spent two decades glancing over your shoulder and sleeping with one eye open, but for some reason, his guard is down when it comes to her and the slightest change could be missed when his gaze isn’t firmly set on her–which he did his best to make sure it usually wasn’t. Besides, normally she was eagerly awaiting for him to meet her eye with a wide grin on her face, voice sweet like honey and words dripping with allure and warmth that always threatened to soak through his resolve and bring him to his knees. She would be his biggest weakness, if he would let her, and it was only becoming continuously harder to deny it. 

“What are the odds there’s any jerky left in the stash?” she changed the subject, “barely had time for a bite before we left, I’m starved.”

Joel chuckled, nodding towards the boarded-up building, “In there? Very low, I’d say. But, I may or may not have packed a little for the road.”

She turned to him as a knowing smirk crawled across her features, “Joel Miller to my rescue once again.”

He raised a brow at her, “Again? When have I saved you before?”

“Well, if it hadn’t been you that I got paired with for patrols, it probably would have been Jesse. I love the kid but man can he talk, and that leaves no room for me to talk. I think we were brought together by fate, so I can talk and you can listen, plus you’re the only one who just listens and doesn’t seem bothered by it.”

“Who says I’m not bothered by it?”

She cocked her head in mock-hurt, “Oh please. I know you well enough by now to know that you would let me know if you were.”

He shrugged, expression softening as he finally turned his gaze to meet her own, “Yeah, you got me there.”

“Plus, Ellie’s been telling me about how I’m the only one in town you can tolerate.”

His head snapped to the side, eyes blown wide in surprise at her words, “She said what?”

“Oh don’t give me that, Joel,” a melodious laugh fell from her lips, “she didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Like you said, you’re no good at playing nice, so whatever this is must be the real deal, huh?”

Their horses came to a halt just before the entrance to the checkpoint, giving Joel the perfect excuse to ignore both her and the burning sensation in his cheeks. He quickly climbed out of his saddle, keeping his back to her to hide the flush of his face and neck as he tied the reins to a railing along the outer wall of the building. 

He’d never been good with emotions, or with women. Well, truthfully, the last time he’d really had much luck with women was when he was with Sarah’s mother. As a teen, he had been known by girls at school for being polite and devilishly handsome–a gentleman with a rebellious streak, but he was smitten with his first love. They were high school sweethearts, but they were only twenty when Sarah was born and things between them fell apart. After she left, Joel went on the occasional date orchestrated by his younger brother, but nothing lasted for more than one night; he was far too busy being a single father and trying to run a contracting business. Then, with Tess, it had been more of a relationship of convenience. He did care for her, but not in a way that would justify going beyond a physical connection without it getting messy. 

He wondered what Tess would think of him if she were here to see him now, blushing like a little boy over a woman half his age. He wondered what she would think of her, though she would most certainly laugh if she saw exactly what kind of woman was able to bring the mighty Joel Miller to his knees, all sunshine and rainbows. He likes to think that they would get along, though Tess would more than likely be exasperated by the woman’s seemingly endless positivity. 

“My hero, once again,” she chirped as he helped her down from her own saddle, tying her horse to the same post as his own, “now let me at that jerky before I take a bite outta you instead.”

Joel choked on his spit, “What?”

She let out a loud laugh, glancing over her shoulder as she headed inside of the checkpoint, “Don’t get your panties in a twist Joel, I’m only joking. A little apocalyptic humour, you know?”

Joel shook his head, letting out a sigh as he followed after her, “Yeah, yeah.”

She was going to be the death of him. 

tags: @orcasoul @doeeyestoji @ccmoonshine

comment to be tagged in future parts

[vigilskeep]

Oh man feeling some type of way about Ylsi and Alistair the two cast aside from noble birth. Possibly looking at her and seeing the rose blooming in darkness. Kind of rooting for him to step up here.

it was crazy funny to have his royalty reveal and have him be like “i never wanted to be king or any of this and i just wanted you to like me for who i am and that’s probably stupid” and she’s like “i understand” and he’s like “that’s nice of you to say” only to have ylsi grab him by the forearms (she can’t comfortably reach his shoulders) and look directly into his eyes and be like “no, i understand”. they have some ridiculously specific comparable life differences it’s true

one of the reasons i didn’t think she thought abt him like that is that he’s 19-20 and it shows, whereas i was putting her at like mid-20s and had to mature quick, and at those ages i think a fiveish year age gap feels like a lot. but maybe that’s fun for flavour and for the narrative of it only having clicked later in the game once theyve been through a lot together i don’t know

[28harryssunflower]

Too young, darling - a mini series: part 1/5

Too young, darling: Part 1

Harry Styles had always been the kind of guy who got along with everyone. But there was one person in his class who stood out to him, and that person was Jeremy. They’d met during freshman orientation, and despite their differences, they clicked immediately. Jeremy was easygoing, and Harry’s easy charm worked its magic. The two quickly became best friends, and Harry found himself spending more time with him than anyone else.

But the thing that made it all the more complicated was Jeremy’s older sister, Y/N. You were a college professor, older than Harry by seven years, and… Well, let’s just say it wasn’t just your teaching that made you unforgettable. It was your looks. You were stupidly hot. That wasn’t the only problem, though. No, the issue lay in the fact that Harry had just turned 19, and you? You were about to turn 26. That was a huge gap, especially with Harry being so young.

Despite this, Harry couldn’t help it. He had always thought you were incredibly beautiful, but there was something about your intelligence, the way you carried yourself, and the way you laughed at his jokes that made his heart beat a little faster.

The issue, however, wasn’t just the age gap - it was the fact that you had a boyfriend. His name was Mark, and he was everything Harry hated. He was rude, condescending, and, to make matters worse, he hated Harry. Specifically, he hated how Harry always found himself in your orbit, even when Mark wasn’t around.

On days when Mark wasn’t in the picture, Harry could find himself getting close to you in a way that left him walking on eggshells. He’d flirt with you - sometimes harmless, sometimes not - and you’d always respond with playful teasing, your eyes sparkling as you ruffled his hair or pinched his cheek.

“Oh, you’re such a kid, Harry,” you’d laugh, the teasing tone in your voice making him want to laugh along, even if it made his stomach twist.

You never seemed to mind his flirting, often making jokes about how young he was, but there was always a clear line. And no matter how much Harry wanted to cross that line, he knew better. It wasn’t like you had any interest in him, anyway.

The problem was Mark. Every time Harry found himself near you, Mark would appear out of nowhere, looming like a dark cloud. He’d make little comments about Harry being “too young” for you, calling him a “little boy” in front of everyone, and always making sure to remind Harry of the huge gap between him and you.

“You’re just a kid, Styles,” Mark would sneer, usually when you weren’t around to hear. “Go back to playing with your toys.”

It made Harry clench his fists, but he would just smile and shrug it off. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let Mark get to him, but the constant tension between the three of them was starting to drive Harry crazy.

It wasn’t until one late afternoon, after a particularly uncomfortable encounter with Mark, that Harry found himself alone with you. He’d stayed after class to help you with some tech issue in the lecture hall, and Mark had already left, as usual.

You walked up to him with a mischievous smile. “You okay, kid?” you asked, still using that teasing nickname. Harry couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration and attraction mix together.

“Yeah, just dealing with Mark’s usual… charming personality,” Harry muttered, glancing up at you. Your smile faltered for just a second, but then you gave him an understanding look.

“Don’t let him get to you,” you said softly, walking over to him and giving his hair a ruffle, as though you hadn’t noticed how much it bothered him. “Sometimes he’s a big idiot, Harry. You’re better than that.”

Your words were meant to reassure him, but as your fingers grazed his hair, Harry felt the heat rise in his chest. “It’s hard when he’s always around, you know? Especially when he’s constantly making digs at me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I know he acts like a prick. But you’re smart, you know that?” you said, your voice taking on a different, more serious tone. “Don’t let people like him mess with you. And if it gets too bad, just let me know. I can handle him.”

Harry looked into your eyes, and for a moment, the teasing, flirtatious energy between you both seemed to disappear. He could see the genuine concern there, and despite the age gap and the complicated nature of their friendship, he couldn’t help but wonder just how different things could be between the two of you.

But before he could say anything, your phone buzzed. You glanced down at it, your expression shifting back to casual.

“I’ve got to go. Mark’s probably wondering where I am,” you said, turning to leave, but then paused. “And remember, you’re still a kid, Harry. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep up with the big boys, huh?”

With that, you gave him another playful pinch on the cheek, and as always, Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

But deep down, he knew one thing for sure: even though he had no right to feel the way he did, Harry couldn’t stop wanting more. Even if it meant pushing past all the teasing, all the jokes, and maybe crossing a line he’d been too afraid to approach.

A few weeks later, Harry found himself at Jeremy’s house, hanging out in the living room, the usual banter between the two of them filling the air. It was just another lazy afternoon, until Harry noticed something strange. He hadn’t seen much of you lately. You hadn’t come downstairs much, not like usual.

After about an hour of hanging out, the door to the hallway opened, and there you were - just for a split second. You walked past the living room, your face pale, dark circles under your eyes, and your movements sluggish. You didn’t seem to notice Harry watching, too caught up in your own thoughts, and when you passed by, you quickly disappeared back down the hallway.

It wasn’t like you to act like this. Normally, you were confident, laughing, teasing Harry with that playful attitude that made him smile. But today? You looked… exhausted. Sick, even. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.

He waited a moment, trying to act casual, but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned to Jeremy, who was on the couch, flipping through his phone.

“What’s going on with Y/N?” Harry asked quietly. “She looks sick.”

Jeremy sighed deeply, not looking up from his phone. “They broke up.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal. Harry stared at him, waiting for more, but Jeremy just shrugged. “I don’t know exactly why. She won’t talk about it.”

“Wait… Mark?” Harry asked, his gut tightening.

Jeremy nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. It’s been rough for her, man. I’m not really sure what happened. She’s been… different lately.”

A few minutes later, Harry watched as you briefly came out of your room to hug your mum. You looked defeated, exhausted, and when you gave your mum a tight hug, it felt like the last of your energy was spent. Then, just as quickly, you disappeared back to your room, closing the door behind you.

Harry’s heart ached for you. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this, and though he knew it wasn’t his place to pry, he couldn’t ignore the pull to check in on you.

About half an hour later, Harry made his move. He got up, telling Jeremy he was going to the bathroom, but instead, he slipped quietly down the hallway toward your room. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over your door, unsure of what he was going to say or do.

But when he knocked softly, your voice called from inside. “Come in.”

It was a surprise, but Harry opened the door cautiously. You were lying on your bed, facing away from him, your shoulders slumped. The room was dim, curtains drawn, as if you were trying to block out the world.

He hesitated, then walked in, his feet quiet on the hardwood floor as he sat at the edge of your bed. “Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle you. “I just… wanted to check in. I’m here if you want to talk.”

You didn’t look at him. You just remained facing the other direction, your voice distant when you spoke. “You don’t get it, Harry. You’re too young. You wouldn’t understand.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, trying to find the right words. “I’ll try, though. I don’t care about my age. I’m here for you, Y/N. I can help if you let me.”

Finally, you turned around to face him, your eyes red and puffy, and that was when Harry realized just how much pain you were hiding. There was a flicker of hesitation in your gaze before you spoke, voice small.

“Mark broke up with me,” you said, each word feeling heavy. Harry’s heart dropped. “Because I’m pregnant. And he didn’t want the kid.”

The words hung in the air like a sharp punch to the gut, and Harry was momentarily speechless. He had no idea how to respond.

But before he could say anything, you looked away, the pain of your confession written all over your face. Without a second thought, Harry scooted closer and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You stiffened for a moment but then collapsed against him, your body shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. He could feel the tension in your body, the hurt, and he just held you, not knowing what else to do, but trying his best to comfort you.

He let you cry into his shoulder, and after a few moments, Harry shifted, carefully lying down beside you on the bed. He didn’t say anything, just letting you rest your head on his chest. His hand lightly stroked your back, trying to offer what little solace he could.

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered softly, his voice warm and steady. “You’re strong. You’ll get through this. I’m here for you, always.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as you tried to control your emotions, but the tears came anyway. You shook your head slightly, the pain in your voice clear. “You’re only 19, Harry. You shouldn’t have to be here for me. It should be the other way around.”

Harry just shook his head and gently cupped your face, making you look at him. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly. “You can let it out. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled again, but after a few moments, you let out a shaky breath, your body relaxing slightly against him. Harry just stayed there, holding you, letting you cry, letting you feel whatever you needed to feel. He wasn’t going to force anything, wasn’t going to rush you.

He just knew he’d stay there, quietly, to comfort you, to let you know that no matter what, you weren’t alone.

The days that followed were a blur of quiet visits from Harry. At first, you weren’t sure how to handle it. You’d never expected Harry of all people to be the one to check on you, to care enough to make sure you ate, drank, and took care of yourself. It felt almost wrong at first, as if you didn’t deserve it. But Harry wasn’t going to let that stop him. He showed up regularly, every afternoon or evening, slipping into your room with a casual knock, always with a bottle of water, a sandwich, or something to eat, just to make sure you didn’t forget to take care of yourself.

The first time he came with food, you’d been sitting in your bed, too tired to move, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly. Harry walked in with a tray of soup, a small smile on his face.

“Hey, I brought you something to eat,” he said, setting it on your nightstand and sitting down at the edge of your bed. “You haven’t eaten all day, and I’m not letting you starve.”

You felt your throat tighten at the kindness. You’d barely realized how little you’d been taking care of yourself. But Harry was there, checking in without fail, making sure you were alright.

“I’m not hungry,” you murmured, turning away, not wanting him to see how drained you felt.

“Well, you’re gonna eat anyway,” Harry replied, his tone light, but firm. “I’ll sit here until you finish it.”

You sighed, half wanting to argue, but something in the way he spoke made you relent. You didn’t want to be difficult. So, you sat up, taking the spoon in your hand. Harry stayed beside you, chatting aimlessly, talking about whatever came to mind - some random thing that happened in class, or something funny he’d seen on campus. The casual banter made you feel lighter, and before you knew it, you’d finished the soup.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry grinned, looking at you with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “You just needed a little convincing.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a small chuckle escaping your lips, though it felt foreign at first. The laughter seemed to surprise both of you, but Harry’s grin widened. He’d been patient, never pushing, just making sure you felt comfortable and safe around him.

The next few days followed a similar rhythm. He’d pop in to bring you something - water, fruit, or snacks - and he’d sit with you, talking about anything and everything. Gradually, your walls started coming down. You found yourself laughing more. It wasn’t forced or fake; it was real. Harry’s presence was like a weight being lifted, and with each conversation, you felt yourself breathing a little easier, your heart slowly untangling from the knot of grief and exhaustion that had taken hold.

One afternoon, about a week after everything had started, Harry arrived with a box of your favorite cookies. You were sitting up in bed, finally feeling like you had a little more energy, and as soon as you saw the box, you raised an eyebrow.

“Cookies?” you asked, unable to hide a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, I thought you might be in the mood for something sweet,” Harry shrugged, his eyes warm. “You’ve been doing well. I figured you deserved a treat.”

You sat up and took the box, looking inside at the assortment of cookies. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt genuinely thankful.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice a little stronger now. “You’ve been amazing through all of this, Harry.”

Harry just smiled, though you could see the way he looked at you. It wasn’t pity - it was care, genuine care. He sat down beside you on the bed, looking pleased that you were finally able to sit up and have a conversation without feeling so drained.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “You’ve been through a lot. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You took a deep breath, your shoulders relaxing as you leaned back against the pillows. “I don’t think I would’ve gotten through this without you. I mean it. You’ve been so patient, so kind when I didn’t deserve it. I was a mess, and yet you just kept showing up. I- I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t.”

Harry gave you a teasing grin, nudging you lightly. “Don’t get all mushy on me now. I’m just doing what friends do.”

But you could see it in his eyes. He wasn’t just being a good friend; he was genuinely worried, and for some reason, that made everything easier. You found yourself leaning into his support more and more, starting to feel like yourself again, little by little.

The laughs came easier now, the smiles more frequent. And though you still had days where the weight of everything hung heavily over you, Harry’s visits had become the bright spot in your life. He made you feel like you were allowed to laugh again, allowed to breathe again.

Over the next couple of weeks, you started going out with him to get fresh air, taking walks around the campus, laughing at the dumb jokes Harry would crack, and slowly but surely, you were finding a way to move forward.

You felt stronger. You felt lighter. And Harry, with his constant support, was the one person who made you believe that everything would be okay.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you told him one evening as you both sat on the steps outside your building, watching the sun dip below the horizon. “I don’t know if I’ve said it enough, but you’re a good person, Harry.”

He looked at you, that familiar, easy smile back on his face. “You don’t have to say anything. Just knowing you’re feeling better makes it all worth it.”

And in that moment, you realized that Harry’s kindness hadn’t just been a bandage to cover up the hurt - it had helped you heal.

The following days felt like they were shifting in slow motion. You’d begun feeling like yourself again, but there was a sense of confusion lingering in the back of your mind. Harry had been a constant source of support, and you found yourself more and more at ease with him. It wasn’t just the way he had been there when you were at your lowest, but the way he made you laugh, how comfortable he made you feel in your own skin again.

But one afternoon, as you sat on the couch, Jeremy walked into the living room with that look on his face - the one that always preceded some sort of teasing. He took a seat across from you, eyeing you carefully, and then his lips curved into that knowing smirk.

“So, how’s it going with Harry?” he asked, his tone a little too casual, a little too playful.

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Jeremy said, leaning back with a chuckle. “I’ve noticed you two hanging out a lot lately. Like, a lot.” He emphasized the last part, his grin widening as he poked at you with his words. “You in love with him or something?”

You snorted, shaking your head quickly. “No way, Jeremy. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, sure, sure. Just making sure. You know, it’s hard to miss the way you two are always together. You practically light up when he walks in.”

“Stop it, Jeremy. It’s not like that,” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm a little. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy Harry’s company - it was just that you weren’t sure you could deal with thinking about it that way. Harry was just there for you. That’s all. Nothing more.

But as the days passed, you found yourself wondering whether Jeremy’s teasing had some truth to it. You’d never really looked at Harry that way before, but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much you missed his presence when he wasn’t around. You’d laugh with him about the smallest things, and there was a certain warmth between the two of you that felt undeniable. It wasn’t just friendship - it was something more.

One evening, after another long day of casual conversation and jokes with Harry, you found yourself sitting on the porch steps, trying to clear your head. The sky was painted in soft orange hues as the sun set, and the cool air made you shiver slightly.

Jeremy, who had been sitting inside, came out to join you. He glanced at you for a moment before sitting beside you, his face more serious than usual.

“So,” he began, his voice quieter this time. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on with you and Harry?”

You looked at him, biting your lip nervously. You hadn’t exactly had this conversation before, not openly. You never really had the words for it. You’d been afraid of acknowledging it - afraid of how complicated everything had become.

“Jeremy, I… I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice a little shaky. “I mean, he’s been amazing. I’m so grateful for everything he’s done for me, but… I’m not sure if this is something I should even be considering. I’ve got enough on my plate with… everything, you know?”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to explain further. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions flood over you.

“I’m pregnant, Jeremy. And I just broke up with Mark. I’m not in a place where I should be thinking about… dating or anything like that,” you said, your voice lowering. “And then there’s the whole age thing. Harry’s 19. He’s a kid.”

Jeremy sat quietly for a moment, his face softening with understanding. “You think too much, you know that?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I know. I just… I don’t know how to make sense of it. I can’t stop thinking about him, though. The way he’s always there, how he makes me feel like I’m not completely falling apart. I just… I don’t want to drag him into my mess. I don’t want to hurt him.”

Jeremy nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Hey, Harry’s not stupid. He knows what he’s getting into. And if he’s sticking around this long, it means he’s not exactly running from the mess. He’s probably not thinking about your age. You should give him more credit.”

You bit your lip, the weight of your brother’s words sinking in. “But what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough right now? I’m not in the right place for anything serious, not when I’m dealing with all this.”

Jeremy gave you a small, almost knowing smile. “You’re never going to be in the ‘right place’ for anything, Y/N. Life doesn’t work like that. If you wait until everything is perfect, you’ll be waiting forever.”

You frowned, not sure how to respond. But Jeremy wasn’t finished.

“I’m not saying you should dive into anything right away, but… you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel. If Harry makes you feel better, if he makes you laugh, makes you feel like you can breathe again, then maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world to see where it goes.”

You let out a small breath, staring out at the sunset, contemplating his words. Could you do this? Could you take the risk of opening up, even when everything seemed uncertain? You had so many questions and fears about the future, and yet, the thought of being with Harry felt… right in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, your voice distant. “I think I just need some time. To figure it all out.”

Jeremy’s smile softened. “Take your time, but don’t let the ‘what ifs’ control everything. And if you do decide to talk to Harry about it, I’ll be here to make fun of you both the entire time.”

You chuckled weakly, feeling a little lighter, though still unsure of what you should do. But for the first time, you didn’t feel quite as overwhelmed by the uncertainty. Maybe you didn’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe, just maybe, you could take things one step at a time.

[fivelila]

The other side of everything

I think all of you have read the repeated sentences about what's wrong with Fivelila. So I thought I'd write my thoughts on it and maybe some of my headcanon.

1) Age gap

Problem: Ritu is 15 years older than Aidan. Five and Lila have an age difference in both directions, mentally he is much older and physically she is older.

My take: About the age of the actors, I'll say this much - the opposite is so common and many people don't find it strange. For example, did you know that Julia Roberts was 23 when her film Pretty Woman came out and that Richard Gere is 19 years older than her? And I haven't noticed anyone being disgusted by how that's possible. I could find some more extreme differences, but I don't think I want to.

Aidan is 21 and yes, he did TUA when he was younger, but a lot of people still think he's a kid. But no, he's not. Deal with it.

My headcanon: Lila is older than she looks. And that's thanks to the Handler and the work she does for the Commissions. Does any of us know how long has she lived somewhere outside of time? Sounds like another possible parallel to me.

2) Lila was cheating on Diego

Problem: Lila was unfaithful to her husband.

My take: Lila made it clear that she wanted a break with Diego and wanted to reconsider their marriage. Yes, the circumstances ended up being pretty wild, but it was more than obvious that she wasn't happy in the marriage. Among other things, it was over six and a half years for her before anything happened with Five. There are countries where such a long separation between spouses could also help to bring about an immediate divorce if necessary.

I also think that the only thing that connected them the most was their children and not that they were compatible as partners. A completely natural thing that happens really often in real life when someone builds a relationship on desire, which they mistake with love.

3) Five is homewrecker

Problem: Five is the reasons why his brother's family fell apart.

My take: It's not true. Five was not the reason that Lila and Diego had problems in their marriage. Yes, she was still his brother's wife and that's a bit morally grey, but their situation was complicated enough (as I wrote in the previous point) and it's completely understandable. By the way, don't people like this family precisely because their morals are often a bit grey? I guess that's probably only true sometimes, huh?

4) Five cheated on Dolores

Problem: Five was unfaithful to Dolores

My take: Sorry, but this is the biggest piece of shit ever. If someone prefers a relationship that Five made up in his mind just to keep himself from going crazy and heal his trauma, then our fandom isn't the one that's wrong. By the way, if Dolores was real and played by Rachel Delduca, she's definitely older too! I couldn't find the exact age, but it's pretty obvious that she's older than Aidan.

5) Five killed Lila's parents

Problem: Five was the killer of Lila's family and Handler could have kidnapped her. Her family may be alive, but it won't change the past.

My take: Yes, this is about the only thing that could never work in another story. Lila gets her family back, but it doesn't change what happened to her. Still, I think even she knows very well what it's like to work for the Commission and what it was like when an order came down. Handler bears most of the blame, even though she wasn't the one who killed them.

My headcanon: I don't think Lila had clean hands either, though we never really saw that much in the story. Still, even she could have been the murderer of some random parents of some random kids because that was her job. For example, she killed several people on the Commission to get access to past records in the barn, so it would be a bit hypocritical for her to blame others for actions that she herself had done before.

If you have any other thing I should discuss, please post it in the comments, I'll do another post about it.

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 23. homewrecker

chapter tags/warnings: naoya has sex with toji’s older ex-wife. misogynistic! naoya. age gap. exhibitionism. creampies. masturbation. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. plain manipulation. corruption. 

word count: 3.8k

notes: a longer chapter, but i had became so enraptured in the writing process hence the quick turnaround! given the thanksgiving weekend in the united states, i want to thank all my readers for being so invested my story! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya Zenin had no qualms in calling himself the Master of the Universe.

He had everything he wanted in this world.

Money? Check. Power? Check. Fame? Also check.

Mind you, Naoya had to work hard to get into this position too. He didn’t just sit around on the couch all day waiting for opportunities to come flying his way. He had to be proactive. He had some tough decisions to make. Like how he had to choose between spending the weekend on a golf course or a ski resort. Or if he should pull up to the next board meeting with a Patek Phillipe or a Rolex. Nothing in his sad and poor life came easy when he only grew up as a spare heir, always living in the shadow of his once almighty cousin.

Which was why nothing could fuel his ego more than watching Toji's ex-wife ride his dick like this was some fucking rodeo.

"Naoya, baby," Mari whined, flushed as she ground down hard on his cock, her pussy squeezing him to the point his sight became spotted with stars. "I'm so close."

“Yeah?" Naoya managed to croak. His voice was hoarse; he longer recognized himself. He could only feel how his cock was splitting his mistress open, and with one long groan, he sank his face into her fat tits that were like clouds against his skin, his heavy balls slapping against her ass cheeks with each thrust up. "Gonna make a mess over my cock?”

She nodded confidently. “Mhm…We’re going to leave the sheets covered with cum.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Sighing, the woman leaned forward with her palm holding the headboard’s edge for dear life while the other groped her own breast to keep her bosom from moving wildly.

“Don’t stop,” she mewled.

But shit, Naoya knew he was going crazy at this fantastically sexy sight. With this goddess before him, his mind and body wanted to go all in. No holds barred. He wanted nothing but to stuff this celestial being full of his cum, making sure her cunt would be aching when she woke up. 

The Zenin CEO moaned at his lewd ideas, the mattress beneath them rocking back and forth from their combined forceful movements. Damn, he knew he should've booked a hotel room at the Ritz Carlton rather than at some InterContinental, where he knew (from experience) that the beds were sturdier and wouldn't be such an annoying mid-sex turnoff. 

"I'm cumming!" Mari shouted in the midst of Naoya's haze, and his mind placed a screeching halt in his thoughts to focus solely on how her walls now squeezed around his cock, contracting around him in waves. 

“Shit.”

She might be twenty years older, but goddamn, did she still have that grip.

Naoya’s climax didn’t take long to follow. The way his mistress's hot body crumpled against him as she wailed out his name repeatedly was simply too much, his own breaths dissolving into a strangled moan as his orgasm consumed him. “Holy fuck.”

In one white flash, Naoya's vision went blank. Hot semen shot from his tip in intense bursts as Naoya plunged himself completely into one of the tightest cunts he'd ever fucked. (And yes, he had enough girlfriends and one-night stands to make this conclusion. Don’t be silly to assume he didn't have experience.)

He panted hard, trying to catch his breath as Mari rolled over into the spot next to him, leaving their sweaty forms tangled in bed. As his heart slowed down from its marathon, he puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. 

Wow. 

He hadn’t gotten his dick twisted like that in a while, and to award the star of tonight’s show, he faced his lover and pressed a kiss against her forehead. 

“Drained my balls completely empty,” he hummed in sheer amazement, pulling the sheets to cover their naked bodies. If they hadn’t gone for four whole rounds already, he would have hauled her into another episode of intense thrusting and moaning, perhaps slamming into her by those windows for the entire Tokyo area to see.

Giggling, the older woman slipped off the bed. She trailed toward the vanity mirror to re-apply her lipstick for what must be the millionth occasion. Not that Naoya was complaining because he had a thing for women with that cherry red on, and every time Mari went smacking her painted lips together, Naoya would find a way to get all that off.

All Naoya could picture in his head was how much he wanted to watch her suck him off again and see her print lipstick stains on his dick, from the base to the tip.

Well, fuck. 

He’s getting hard again.

To distract himself, he tossed over to the side, propping an elbow on a pillow and resting his chin on his palm. This gave him the perfect angle to watch his hot girlfriend while hiding the boner between his legs. A genius move.

Then, he thought aloud, “I don’t know what I would have done without those nudes that you’ve been sending me over these past several weeks.”

She purred, flattered. “Liked them?”

Naoya had to correct her.

“Loved them.” Recalling the slew of dirty photos that he had received over text made his eyes roll to the back of his head. “I would bring my phone to the bathroom just so I could beat off to your pictures in the shower. Even came on my screen once because I couldn’t hold myself back a moment longer.”

Mari grinned from ear to ear from the compliment, staring into the mirror to wipe away a misplaced smear. “So, you really missed me.”

Naoya nodded in acknowledgment, reaching for his unfinished glass of Rémy Martin that had been left on the bedside table. “Most certainly, I did.”

“Of course.” Through her reflection in the mirror, he saw her scarlet lips pucker into a pout. “We haven’t been together in weeks since you are always busy and all.” 

Despite her leveled tone, the bitter twinge caught Naoya off guard. 

Did Mari think he did not care for her anymore after everything that he had done just this night alone? It was not like he had intentionally avoided her in recent weeks. Naoya had made himself extremely clear in the past that he had a company to run, a marriage to tend to, and a father to please. 

Especially that last bit. 

Naobito Zenin had been on Naoya’s ass on what seemed like everything lately: ‘financial forecasts’ this and ‘earnings call’ that. The Chairman had been chasing him on whether he had been planning for his upcoming strategy discussion with the board, consulting with other C-suite members about new firm initiatives, and speaking with Daisuke (your father) about recent company operations. Immensely annoying. His very own father should at least have some sympathy, knowing that Naoya—unlike his older cousin—did not grow up with a business mindset drilled into his head. 

With the family patriarch also now aware of his son’s extramarital affair, Naoya must especially tiptoe around every interaction that involved his mistress.

After all, Naobito might have been turning a blind eye ever since discovering those scandalous paparazzi photos online, but he was no fool to ignore his son’s funny business, especially if this would jeopardize the Zenin Corporation’s success and the proud family’s reputation. In their most recent meeting, the older Zenin had reiterated that if there was any evidence that his son’s affair may imperil the company’s bottom line, there would be ‘severe consequences’—and in these matters with his own father, Naoya understood that no punishment was off the table. 

“So,” Mari pressed, noticing the blond’s silence, “when are we going to see each other again?” 

Meanwhile, the woman before him was absolutely oblivious to everything that had been going on ever since Naoya rushed back to Japan from Mexico. 

He would take the blame, too.

Naoya intentionally did not mention how his father discovered their scandal’s photos, to lessen Mari's worry. Turned out the decision bit him in the ass, given how the woman narrowed her gaze in suspicion.

With the glass of cognac now trapped between his teeth, he took a slow sip that burned down his throat like spiced liquid fire. The warm residue, a testimony to the drink’s potency, pulsed through his veins like a slow-burning hearth as he sat up slowly.

“As soon as I can.”

She surprised him with her fast response. “Why not this weekend? We were supposed to go to your lakehouse in Switzerland soon, remember?” she pointed out, and Naoya had to conclude that she could not possibly be serious given that the European country called for a ten-plus hour flight from Tokyo, even with his Gulfstream. 

“That, I cannot do,” he replied, his tone firm.

If he went missing again, his father would be livid. 

“Why not?” an unaware Mari asked while walking over to the bed again and seated her naked form along the edge. “Trying to make time for your wife again?”

Interesting that she assumed you had a role in this. Frankly, Naoya had not thought about you the entire night, seeing you last as a sobbing mess in the penthouse.

As your husband, he should feel a teensy bit bad about cursing you off, but he had never been the one to chew on an emotion that did not serve him, so he quickly let that guilt go. This whole thing was your fault, anyway. Purposely poking around in his business, and then letting him have his way with you despite how obviously little he could care. As far as he can tell, he left you huddled up in an adorable little ball on the floor, sulking and crying over how badly you fucked up. 

Pathetic. 

That should teach you a lesson.

Perhaps Naoya would like to see a little backbone in you, but if that meant you may grow even more testy when around him, then he would rather not.

With his tongue running over his lower lip, he placed his glass atop the oak table again. “About my schedule,” he began, “no, my wife doesn’t have to do with anything.”

“Good!” Mari huffed with finality, his answer giving her the green light to crawl across the mattress and push the covers off Naoya. She straddled him perfectly, allowing his latest load to trickle out slowly from her cunt and onto his thighs. “That’s what I thought, that you two were over had your marriage certificate not existed. Besides, what was that you had texted me?” she continued as if she wasn’t pressing her slicked pussy against his semi-hard cock. “That your wife had been cheating on you for who knows how long.” 

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Disgusting,” the older woman spat, rolling her eyes at your audacity. “So, she’s a spoiled brat and a two-timer. For someone from her noble background, your wife is one dumb and cheap whore.”

Quite an ironic statement given who was talking, but Naoya kept his mouth shut at the thought. Rather, his hands kneaded his mistress’s fat butt, which at least helped him keep his mind away from things he didn’t want to think about. 

“Yeah, she sure is a slut,” he agreed.

Naoya sent a convincing smile in between his words, and he could practically see Mari’s face light up from his validation. 

“See! Exactly!” she exclaimed. “That bitch never lived a hard day in her life and is already blessed with everything the world can possibly give her—wealth, respect, a good last name. Yet, she dares to act like she has nothing?!” Enraged, she threw her hands into the air from frustration. “Might as well just leave someone as entitled as her! Filing a divorce is simpler than you think, speaking from my own experience. Once the whole world understands that she’s a nobody unmatched by you, everyone would support your decision, right?” Wrong. His father surely would not. But to satiate his own curiosity, he let her continue. “Not to mention, baby, people would respect you more as a businessman without your current wife.” Wrong again. 

His hands might be tracing another woman’s curves, but Naoya understood that he needed you if he hoped to ascertain his ascendancy in the company. That was why his father, with his life’s many decades, easily recognized this necessary union and had pressed for this marital arrangement.

To the Zenin family, you were the perfect addition. 

Descending from a line of honorable financiers, you not only had the right connections to the upper echelon since birth but also were the daughter of the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer. Yet, most importantly, you were incredibly elegant, classy, and admired, exactly the person people would want to be associated with if they wanted to clear their public images and tarnished pasts…and exactly the impeccable character that Naoya needed by his side.

His marriage to you served him as not a bond forged upon mutual love, but rather a calculated decision to leverage your virtuosity as a cloak—or moreso, a distraction. With the public adoring you, Naoya could confidently hide his lack of competence and credentials behind your flawless paragon. Goddamnit. He fucking hated how he relied on you more than you depended on him (albeit you might not realize this), but until his father kicked the bucket, what could Naoya realistically do?  

Therefore, dissolving this shrewd alliance between him and you would be detrimental not only to two distinguished bloodlines but also to Naoya in particular.

He already skirted around being shown out the door once.

Given Naobito's recent stringency, there was no room for Naoya to make another mistake again.

But rather than dealing with an upset Mari if he chose to reveal these facts, Naoya instead patted her head with encouragement and brushed her brown locks. “That’s my smart girl,” he praised, tilting his head forward to express his agreement. 

Flustered at the commendation, she went on without much thought. “I’m so glad you agree with me, baby. That’s just…That is a thought that has been on my mind for a while, but,” and she paused briefly to formulate her next words carefully, “I mean, I only want the best for you. Naturally. So, maybe there are better people to spend your money on and life with.”

Now, Naoya would admit that he can be shortsighted at points, but he was not that stupid to realize that she was alluding to herself. 

“I appreciate you for thinking about me,” he still said, because he must stay on her good side if he hoped for a comprehensive answer to his following question, “By the way, do you know any new rumors going around about Toji?”

The said man’s ex-wife perked up visibly at the question. Even though she was busy plotting your downfall a moment ago, the mention of Toji inveigled her such that she would push all her other thoughts aside. 

Although Mari had presented divorce papers to her then-husband earlier this year, Naoya continued to allow—in fact, encouraged—Mari to still visit Toji on the occasion. He didn't give two hoots that his mistress was getting railed by his cousin if that meant that she came back with fresh dirt about him, allowing Naoya to indulge in his custom-tailored version of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

“I had an appointment with him yesterday." Using her fingers, Mari combed through her dark strands. “Crazy that you used to work with him and his stupid little entourage, right?"

“That is crazy.” Had he not been reminded, Naoya would have nearly forgotten that he used to work as a sex therapist too up until earlier this year. In that office was where he befriended the then-Mari Fushiguro, although he had known her years prior as an in-law. Naoya only terminated his position after his father finally decided to hand his only son (rather than his nephew) the CEO and heir apparent titles. “To think that now I oversee a large conglomerate,” he stated proudly, “so unlike everyone else, I have matured and am off to better things.”

"Funny for you to say that,” the woman resumed, now twirling her hair out of habit. “Do you remember your office in the middle of their hallway? Only recently did I realize someone scratched out your name from the door’s plaque. Don’t even know who did that.”

What pettiness.

What was this?

Middle school?

Were the other therapists that butt hurt when Naoya turned against them to propel himself toward his well-deserved future as the Zenin Corporation’s heir? “Choso probably did that. He is the type to hold grudges and act upon them.” 

Even if he has to kill, Naoya mentally added from what he recalled about his former co-worker but preferred to keep that morbid possibility to himself.

“That makes sense. I never liked Choso anyway. He will talk shit about you to your face,” Mari declared, which launched her into a soliloquy about her grievances regarding the other therapists that Naoya used to work with. “Meanwhile, Geto smiles too much. Creeps me out.” Agreed. “Sukuna is overly cocky.” True. “Then, Toji,” and this is the part that Naoya really wanted to hear about, “has been distancing himself from me these days.”

Why, this was not the news that Naoya hoped for. 

Rather than soaking in joy from hearing about Toji’s demise, Naoya instead felt his stomach drop from a sinking dread.

While he found some sick gratification in pleasing his cousin's past partner both emotionally and sexually, the more important reason he needed this MILF in his life was to monitor his estranged cousin’s moves from afar.

She was merely the perfect spy.

What better source of intel was there in this world besides Toji’s former spouse, who simply walked up to Naoya and offered her espionage services the day she learned that her then-husband was no longer set to inherit the Zenin thone? All that she asked in return was a little money and a little physical attention, which was easy for Naoya to throw at her.

After rightfully (and he must place emphasis on that last word) taking back what he was entitled to, Naoya was positive that Toji had a target placed on his back. Therefore, Naoya needed Mari's updates on Toji and Co. to protect himself, to protect his position, and to protect the status quo that he had worked so hard for.

If Toji stopped talking to Mari completely, how else would Naoya keep his threats under watch?

“Do you have ideas on why Toji is giving you the cold shoulder?”

Pressing her bare chest to Naoya’s toned ones, Mari stopped briefly in contemplation but ultimately shrugged. “Do you think he’s getting suspicious? That he realized I left him for his younger cousin Naoya?”

“No,” the said man denied vehemently. “That cannot possibly be.”

Naoya had been extremely careful in keeping his extramarital relationship as discreet as possible. For example, the moment he learned about those photos of him and his mistress en route to Mexico, he immediately called every publisher to have them take the pictures down, no matter the monetary cost.

He made sure to leave no crumbs along his trail and refused to believe in the contrary. “Any other reasons you can think of?”

With Naoya not reciprocating her libido, Mari started to appear visibly annoyed. “Maybe he’s moved on," she suggested, answers curt. "Maybe he'd found another person.”

If Naoya thought the first hypothesis was alarming enough, this second explanation definitely took the cake. 

At least, if Toji had truly gotten suspicious about Mari’s affiliation with the current Zenin successor, Naoya somewhat had some control over that situation. Divert the paparazzi. Create cover-up stories. Bribe more publishers. Find each and every way possible to take the spotlight off him and his secret affair.

On the other hand, there was not much Naoya could do if Toji no longer found interest in his ex-wife.

Huh.

Well, that wasn't quite good.

How could Naoya play his next move?

Or had Toji been playing him all along?

Strategize.

Naoya needed to strategize. C'mon, he was the fucking CEO of the fucking Zenin Corporation. He had done strategizing plenty of times before, so why was his mind suddenly going blank on what to do next?

“Who has Toji taken interest in?” Naoya found himself asking, desperate for information.

“Beats me.” Mari guided his hands to trace her curves, cupping her breasts with Naoya's palms to urge him to massage the rounded mounds. “Although, think about this: she cannot merely be anybody,” and she released her grip around his wrists to start counting with her fingers, “One, she has to be well-off. Therapy ain't cheap. Two, she is stuck in a bad relationship. And three, she is also stuck with bad sex.”

What a good approach to the situation, narrowing down the potential suspects and investigating from there!

Who knew some women had the smarts in them to devise such detailed commentary? That was what Naoya loved about mature and more experienced psyches in ladies like her. 

Now, her brilliant analysis reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t exactly place his finger on who. 

Whatever, because with this turnaround in the mystery, Naoya decided he would figure this out soon enough.

Triumph was right within his reach.

It was only a matter of time until his aging father Naobito, the one person who had the final say in all company and familial matters, solidified his Last Will and Testament to ensure his wonderful only son Naoya would be the successor to the multibillion family-run conglomerate, condemning Toji Fushiguro to be dwarfed by his little cousin forever. 

But first, he must treat his paramour to a much-deserved reward that would render her limping in the morning.

With all the moving parts falling into place, Naoya burst into a wicked cackle by her left tit, leaving Mari staring back at him with a confused frown.

"What's so funny?" she demanded to know. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Naoya assured between snickers, leading his mistress forward by gently pulling her waist toward him. He attached his mouth to the nipple, flicking the bud with his tongue as he added, “What you should worry about, though, is how you will walk when you wake up after how sore I’m going to make you.”

The cheesy comment made Mari laugh as she batted her long lashes. She saw where this was going, and her large chocolate-colored eyes sparkled with an excited twinkle as she met his hazel ones, her thin lips stretching into a Cheshire Cat grin from delight.

"Baby," she cooed, "the dirty things you say to me make me forget that you have a wife at home sometimes."

Something about her remark made Naoya chuckle even more heartily as his mind meandered back to his nearly forgotten spouse: his wife.

His…wife.

Wait.

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗘𝗡𝗗

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: The end to Act Two: House of Cards! The very reason behind this act’s name is to reference the precarious web of disguise and deception in this story, only for this structure to topple like a domino chain. Thank you to all my lovely readers for reading, and although I recognize my writing is imperfect, I would love to hear your thoughts before the third and final arc!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[lunasdreamytreats]

Best kept secrets

Baizhu x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW // !PSUDO STEPFATHER/STEPDAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP! don't like, don't read // modern au // legal age-gap (Baizhu's in his late 30's, reader's in their early 20's) // drinking wine // reader calls their mother 'mama' // petnames (darling, little girl / good girl) // daddy kink (u call him it a few times and he calls himself it too) // mentions of drugs and aphrodisiacs // begging // oral (m+f receiving) // fingering // dumbification // bad writing (was still finding my writing style as i began writing and its not fully proofread)

Word count: 3.5k... (jeez i went crazy)

A/N: HBD MY LOVE 🥰 I love Baizhu sm, been planning this bad boy forever. Please enjoy and make sure to read the warnings carefully and lmk if I missed something ❤️

'How did this happen again?' You ask yourself as you accept another kiss from the man you knew as your stepfather. It feels so wrong, until you remember how your own mother is a cheating gold digger herself. Virtually your whole life up until a year ago had been on the move. Your mother would marry rich men who owned whole companies or company branches and either bankrupt them and leave or cause a scandal so they go out of business and leave. Over 19 years you’ve had a total of 10 stepfathers and you've never been really close with any of them.

As far as you know, the most recent one is the only one out of your stepfathers that has more than one source of income. He owns the only pharmacy in town while also working as a doctor. It must be taking longer to burn through it than normal, you thought, since you're still there.

You feel as if you should be grateful that your mother hasn't ruined it yet, because you've grown fond of life in this family. Your little sister Qiqi absolutely adores you as her big sister. Although your not sure if your mother knows about this, but your stepdad, Baizhu, absolutely loves being able to spend his money on you. Whenever you get off work he'll wait outside for you in the car with your favourite music ready to play. He'd drive around town with you for half an hour before going to pick Qiqi up from school. If you saw anything you wanted while driving, he'd tell you to quickly jump out and buy it with his card.

“Sweetie I don't care how much it costs if you want it I'll gladly get it for you.” Is what he'd say if you tried to protest in any way, in the end, you’ve just accepted it as him wanting to spoil you. Baizhu was very different to any of your other stepfathers, for one, he's making an effort to bond with you..... Oh and he's young, well, young compared to the others. At only 35 when they got married, he was 2 years your mother’s junior and 17 years your senior.

The 4 of you lived a fairly drama-free life up until tonight, when Baizhu came back home after dropping sweet Qiqi off at her best friend Yaoyao's house for her very first sleepover. He came in and asked you to come downstairs and sit on the couch, saying he needed to ask you about something important. You promptly closed the game you were playing and put the controller back, coming down to see Baizhu in the kitchen with a bottle of white wine and 2 glasses.

“Oh? What's the special occasion, Dad?” You asked before sitting back down with him.

“It's about your mother, (Y/N).” You froze slightly, wanting to ask him if anything bad happened to her. However, before you could speak, he placed one of the full glasses of wine into your hand.

"Do you know if she cheated on any of your other stepfathers, like any one of them?"

“Well I don't know for certain, but I've got a feeling she cheated on all of them, including my father.” You lifted the glass of wine up to the light and swirled the liquid around before continuing.

“Right when she leaves them, I found that either their companies crumbled, or they declared bankruptcy. Some less than 6 months after their wedding. It's happened way too many times to be a total coincidence.” Looking over at him, you saw a small sigh leave his lips as his eyes met yours. The low light of the lamps on the wall adjacent to him made his golden irises glow. ‘Oh fuck that's really pretty.... h-hold on a god damn second, that's your stepdad your talking about, dumbass!’ You quickly shook the thought out of your head and took a sip of wine to distract yourself.

“Why'd ya ask?”

“I saw your mother with someone and they were talking about how long until they can run off together....” You always had a feeling she had an accomplice her little scheme, but a whole ass lover all these years? Baizhu leaned forward in order to put the wine glass back on the counter and shifted to face you.

“Thank you for telling me this, my darling.” Eh why the lovey dovey language? He seems to be awfully calm for someone who just found out what a horrible person his wife is.

“Dad.... now that you've caught mama, when do you want us out of here by?”

“Hm? Why would I kick you out, darling?” Again with the darling! Is this really how fathers express their affection towards their children?

“I-I just thought since she's cheating on you, you wouldn't want her or her child arou-!” He's laughing? How? You thought he'd be annoyed. And yet here he is, not only not giving a toss about the current situation, he's laughing at it.... Why?

“Do you think I'd leave my cute, sweet little girl all alone without someone that loves her like I do? No no no darling. Besides, this is the best time to show you something that I've been planning this last year.” What could that be? You wondered. Come to think of it, from his plans for Qiqi's birthday party to things he's overheard at work, he's never kept anything a secret from you. He stood up and retrieved a piece of paper from inside a safe in the wall that he hid behind his back so you couldn't see what was written on it. As he sat back down, you managed to catch a small glimpse of the contents of the paper, you saw your signature there and what you can only assume is Baizhu's, both written in black ink next to each other at the bottom of the page.

'Oh! He must be holding the adoption papers we signed after the wedding'. You had another quick glance at the paper again before he folded it up and set it down on the table.... What?? You must be hallucinating because your pretty sure the words 'certificate of marriage' were at the top of the page. Hang on, if that's a marriage certificate, then why did you clearly see your signature next to Baizhu's?

“Did you see it, my darling?” Baizhu's words brought you back into the moment at hand, oh, that and his hand resting on your waist. The small gesture causing a shiver to shoot up your spine. “You’re my real wife. And you have been all this time.”

“How?” The reality of this situation hitting you like a boulder made your voice go hoarse, coming out like a broken cry. How was he able to hide something so big for so long? “How did I not notice it?”

“I'll be honest, I only got close to your mother so I could be with you, my darling. I knew what your mother was when I saw her, now she's the only one in the dark about it.” Baizhu's voice broke through the stifling silence around us. This is so weird, you’ve always thought your stepdad was a nice man, in personality, heart and looks. And you’ve told your friends about how you'd like your future partner to be like him. So should you go along with it?

“B-But what about the wedding night? Didn't you and mama have sex?”

“Nope, she ran off after the ceremony, I spent the night in your room.”

“W-what!? How the fuck did I not feel you?”

“Not when you've taken the deep sleep elixir I put in your food. I’d put it in whenever I knew your mother was going out for the night.”

“Oh, so that's why I hardly remember those nights.”

“Fuck, you're so cute when you don't know what to make of a situation, darling. I wonder what your reaction is going to be when I do this?” With no warning, Baizhu pulled you closer, onto his lap, and kissed your neck. The bold action made you gasp in shock. While you were distracted, he took the opportunity to catch you off guard again and kiss your lips. The kiss was just as he was, gentle and full of passion, yet demanding. Letting you know that although he’s being gentle, he’s still the one in control. He’s holding you so soft and tenderly, it makes this kiss feel like a natural part of life. Like your forgetting you two had a completely different relationship before...

That's how it came to you and your stepd- no, your husband making out in the open space of the living room. :)

'This isn't wrong. He's my husband.' You told yourself as you kissed him back. The grip his hands have on the flesh of your hips was so soft, as if he couldn't bare the thought of hurting you. Which, in a way, was true. He couldn’t bare the thought of being the reason you were in pain. As the kiss deepened, he felt more comfortable in exploring your body. His hands gently glide up your body before setting on your chest. His hands circle your body to where the dress zipper and bra clasp were.

As his arms pulled you closer, his fingers grazed the bit of exposed skin, making you shiver at the contact. Pulling away from your lips, Baizhu looked at you with love filled eyes and ran his finger over the neckline of your dress before hooking a finger on it and tugging at the fabric.

“My darling, can I?” He asked, rather breathless from the deep kiss. You could only nod in response until you find your voice. That was another way that Baizhu shows he cares, he was patient when you couldn’t get your words out. It was a thing you had struggled with for most of your life. And although it was a small gesture, it was something that mama never bothered to get right.

“Y-Yes daddy~” You managed to whisper a response, your head already felt dizzy and the neck kisses didn't help. Hearing daddy leave your mouth must’ve awakened something primal in him. With a newfound spark of lust in his eyes and a tightened grasp on you, his teeth grazed the skin of your shoulders. You reached behind your back to start unzipping your dress, only for your wrists to be pulled away and held back in one of his hands, while the other pulled the zip down slowly.

“Shhh~ darling, let daddy take care of you now.” An uncomfortable thought came into your head; ‘what if mama came back without warning to see her daughter, clothes slipping off, on her ‘stepdad’s’ lap making out with him?’ But don’t worry, Baizhu has a plan to deal with her if she comes back early. There’s no chance he’d allow this perfect moment to slip through his fingers again. After he pulled the zipper went all the way down, Baizhu started to gently draw circles on your newly exposed skin. The heat building up between your legs was getting frustrating, so you started to rub your clit on Baizhu's thigh to relieve yourself. Until he noticed and gently held your hips in place.

“Darling, I thought you’d let me take over tonight.. you know what happens to bad little girls that don't obey their daddies, don't you, darling?” Baizhu whispered, gently kissing the shell of your ear before continuing, “They. get. punished.” Taping your shoulder blade with each word. Each tap of his finger sent electrifying waves of pleasure down your whole body. You can’t help but lean into his touch, drunk on how quickly you crumbled under his teasing. One thing was for certain, however, the pleasure you felt was unreplicable.

“M'sorry daddy.. don’t punish me, I-I’ll b’good, please..!” You plead, hoping he’d be merciful on you. Since nobody can blame you for being needy. After a few minutes of drawing circles on your back, your dress and bra went flying off you, yelping when the cool air collided with your breasts. Smirking, Baizhu gave your hips a squeeze as his lips left a trail of kisses from your jawline down your chest, before latching onto the hardening nipple. Swirling around it with his tongue, he copied the motion on the other with his fingers, tugging whenever he sucked. All night, Baizhu had been focusing on giving pleasure to your most sensitive spots, like he already had a mental map of where he should focus on.

While your attention was taken up by the stimulation to your breasts, Baizhu let his free hand snake down, across your tummy to settle between your legs. One touch of his slender fingers to your puffy folds sent you jolting forward into his neck with a moan. Thing is, that one touch was only light, nothing much to most people. But to you? Mind-numbing. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever been this sensitive to anything before.... it’s like your sensitivity to touch became enhanced. Could Baizhu have given you something to do this?

“You like that, don't you, darling? Good girl. Tell me, who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y-You daddy, s’you makin me feel good”

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” With every word, he swiped the pad of his thumb against the nub of your clit. Your hips subconsciously bucked into his hand with newfound lust. Like your body was chasing after his touch after he retracted his thumb. Baizhu's fingers ghosted over the outline of your clit, prodding at your hole. Easing the tip of his index finger inside while holding you steady. When your body relaxed, letting him know you were comfortable with him inside, Baizhu pushed you to the couch so you were laying on your back with him on top. The hand that’d been holding you steady now moved from your lower back to hold your cheek softly, catching any tears that fell over your eyes.

“Fuuck, you're clamping on me so tight.. I’ve barely even started with you, never thought a little foreplay would be all it takes to get you begging for me so soon, darling.” Don’t mind him though, he’s just being all mean and teasing you! He began slowly moving his finger in and out, slightly curving it to graze your soft inner walls. He added a second finger gently, stretching them apart in a scissor motion and continuing to touch places you couldn't dream of being able to touch on your own.

“Fuuck~ ur fingers~ s'deep!” It almost felt uncomfortable, keyword almost. The tender kisses Baizhu left along your body made any kind of discomfort you felt fade away. That is until a strange feeling came creeping into the pit of your stomach. A twisting and churning sensation like a knot threatening to make your insides explode.

“Ha~~! A-Ahh! D-Daddy, feels weird..!”

“Oh? A weird feeling, you say? That's your orgasm building up, darling.” His thumb quickly swiped against the sensitive nub of your clit, “Now be a good little girl and cum for me...” Your eyes peeped open at his words, only for stars to invade your vision as the knot came undone over his fingers and the couch. Your fucked out expression caused Baizhu to smirk in satisfaction, taking pride in being the only person to ever make you orgasm; other than yourself, of course.

“Good girl... ” Baizhu glanced down to where you both connected, taking note of how his wrist was now slightly wet... Did you squirt over him? Or was it sweat? This encounter certainly left you catching your breath.. Your body twitched sporadically as your walls finally began to relax around his fingers, and you sighed in satisfaction. Feeling you come down from your high, Baizhu gently pulled his fingers out, awestruck at your essence which was now dripping down his digits.

“Daddy... love you” You reached your hands out and Baizhu took them in his own, helping your sit up and kissing your knuckles softly.

“Love you too, darling. Cuddles?” He asked, holding his arms out so you could come to him if you wanted. You practically jumped up and slid into his lap, burying your flushed face into his shoulder. ‘Oh, you’re the type to get all cute and cuddly after sexual encounters...’ Baizhu thought, but that’s fine, he’d give all the cuddles you could ever need if you asked. You feel him gently smile on the top of your head alongside wrapping his arms around your middle.

Of course, with all that Baizhu’s done for you tonight, you couldn’t just ignore how hard this encounter made him. His dick throbbed against the cloth holding it back, simply begging for him to do something to relieve it.

“Daddy, lemme help, wanna help it..” You attempted to slip off his lap to kneel between his legs, fully prepared to help him. But he tightens his hold on your body, preventing you from moving much.

“No darling, y’can help me from here.” Baizhu reassured, moving the fabric that concealed his cock out the way. It bounced back against his abdomen, splashing a little precum over his stomach. Your eyes widened, you’ve seen dicks before, (in sex-ed class), but nothing like this. His dick was much bigger than anything you ’ve seen, and certainly bigger than you think you can take. Noticing your unease, Baizhu gently took your wrist and brought your hand to touch it.

“Lemme do it with you, darling... help me feel good too, yeah?” With one arm still holding you tightly, Baizhu’s other hand joined yours, guiding you in jerking him off. Even under two people’s grips, his dick still twitched and pulsed against your hand. Biting your lip, you lean your head down to press small kisses and kitten licks to his swollen, red tip. You looked up at him, still with his tip nestled snuggly in your mouth, eyes trying to convey what you want; for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight.

At first, poor Baizhu didn’t know what to say; he didn’t want to lose his composure and ram into you so hard that it became more uncomfortable than pleasurable, but the look in your eyes conveyed that you were actually begging him to lose it. He let out a long, shaky breath before moving the hand that had been on his cock to hold your hair out of your face. He didn’t even realise he was holding his breath...

“Tap my thigh twice if it gets too much for you, ok darling?” You nodded and began easing more of him into your mouth. He almost couldn’t think straight with just his tip in your mouth, but seeing you slightly struggle to fit him in drove his size kink mad. Baizhu’s fingers raked through your soft hair before setting at the top of your neck, taking control back from you and moving your head along his shaft.

Muffled whimpers and gags mixed with Baizhu’s groans made it easy to lose oneself in ecstasy, so you never noticed the small commotion happening on the other side of the door; never noticed the amused smile on your lover’s face upon realising the trap he and the millelith set achieved it’s intended outcome. Not that you were meant to know about any of this anyway...

“Sh-! Shit, on your knees, darling” You nodded and slid his cock out of your mouth to get into position, obediently for your husband. Baizhu rose from the sofa, guiding his dick back into your mouth as soon as you settled down. This time, he allowed himself the chance to thrust his hips into your mouth, meeting the pace you originally set. His thrusts started slow and deep, becoming more desperate as the pleasure built up.

“god.. m’gonna cum darling” Baizhu’s hold on your hair tightened, pulling at the strands that were wrapped around his slender fingers. He had to lean against the nearest cabinet since his thighs were twitching so much, his legs might’ve given out on him. You have to say, Baizhu’s groans of raw pleasure were a melody you’d never get tired of hearing. Baizhu abruptly pulled out from your mouth, gently taking your hand off from his thigh to place it on his heavy, aching cock.

“Finish it off, darling.. y’did so well, wanna cum on your pretty face..” You nodded and dragged your hand across his dick, feeling the way the large bulging vein running along the underside of his shaft throbbed with need. You leaned a little further up, enough to press your lips against the sensitive skin just underneath his tip. Baizhu’s grip on your hair tightened as his free hand grasped his cock, giving it a few languid pumps.

“Keep still, sweet girl,” He could barely get the words out before the tight coil inside his slender body snapped. Creamy white cum painted your face in spurts and globs, a testament to the adoration that Baizhu had harboured for you for so long.

[my-acotar-thoughts]

ACOWAR Rant pt. 2

Okay, this might be lackluster compared to my last rant but…

Feyre, why are to criticizing Lady of Autumn for marrying at age 20. Look in the fucking mirror. You are literally 20 years old right now!

I swear, this girl drives me nuts. Yes by far standards 20 years old is young but no one batted an eye at Feyre’s marriage. No one is treating her like some poor child. Where does she get off acting like she’s above it all? It just drives me crazy that she’s so unself-aware that she doesn’t see the irony of her judgement when she’s married to Rhysand, a 536 yr old high lord at 20 years old.

Helion may call LoA young at the time but he is also old. He didn’t ask for her hand when she hesitated before marrying Beron but he sure seduced her.

I am no Beron defender by any means but if Helion did love the Lady of Autumn, why didn’t he take her as his own from the beginning? Why wait until it became an affair?

I wish SJM would give us a bonus chapter or novella on this who situation

Helion said the affair only lasted decades, not centuries, so Lucien is definitely older than 400 years old. My guess is anywhere between 450-480 honestly. I don’t think Lucien can be too young because there was still enough doubt that Lucien could be Beron’s son so LoA must have still produced a few heirs for Beron during her affair I think or they were at least still trying. Otherwise, Beron would know immediately Lucien couldn’t have been his and killed him. Lucien was also pale enough to still pass as Beron’s even if he was a few shades darker than his brothers. Lucien gets his red hair and russet eyes from his mother anyway.

I understand that LoA chose to stay with Beron, especially for her children and Helion wasn’t High Lord yet to offer her more, but something about their affair annoys me. Even if she was willing to leave Beron, could Helion have even offered her more? Was he just her continuous whirlwind romance that could never give her stability so she felt she needed to stay with Beron?

Helion called her young, even in her 40s, so why was his love not a hypocrisy? He was old but somehow her being with him wasn’t wrong when she was young, just that she was with Beron.

I dunno, maybe this annoys me partially because SJM flip-flops on what’s appropriate when it comes to age gap relationships in her work. Either someone under a century is too young and is seen as basically a teenager or everyone is a consenting adult once they’re 18-19 like humans are and everyone is fair game. And why is the person judging everyone the biggest hypocrite when she’s the same age as all these women were and married. Feyre has no leg to stand on criticizing the lives of other women when she jumped from an engagement to one man to marrying Rhysand in a span of a few months then pregnant and paraded barely in a year later.

I know I’m rambling a bit but I needed to shout into my void lmao

[chiharuhashibira]

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student

So, in this version, Giyu's still your PE professor at your university and the old Guidance Counsellor at your old school when you're still in high school.

So a little history too but also different 🤭 Y/N is around 19-21-ish? and Giyu is around 28-30.

Note: W/N=wrong name

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑷𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑬𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Age Gap/Suggestive/Spanking/Curse Words/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit

Minors DNI.

(Image is not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

🌸𝑮𝒊𝒚𝒖 𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒐𝒌𝒂🌸

You were faced with an intense volleyball competition against the other second-year college students. Shinobu Kocho is really fast, and you can't help but groan whenever she manages to spike the ball. The girl is your friend, but the fact that she is more skilled at sports than you is irritating. Which eventually gets her noticed by your crush...

Giyu Tomioka.

But he's not just a simple crush. You've been smitten with him since you were still a student at the school where he was the guidance counsellor. Yep! You liked him ever since you first laid eyes on him, and since then, you have been doing everything to get his attention.

Detention is just one of the long lists of things that you endured back in high school just to meet him face-to-face. There is a lot more that eventually marked you as one of the delinquent kids with Inosuke Hashibira.

Yep, a bad record just to see Giyu.

And when you went to college, it was also the time that Giyu resigned from his old position at the school. The man is not close to you because you have always irritated him, but he was not as harsh with you as he is with Inosuke. As if fate were on your side, Giyu Tomioka became your PE professor in college.

While reminiscing, you felt a sudden pain on your face, and there, your sight suddenly went dark.

--

"Where am I?"

That's the first thing that you muttered when you opened your eyes. You looked around and met the most enigmatic blue eyes that you had ever seen. Your heart started beating fast as you watched how fixated Tomioka's eyes were. He tilted his head to the side, and without an obvious expression, he asked, "Are you okay now?"

You loved the feeling that even just his stare could give you. And the fact that you're alone in this room with him makes you so happy. You were about to speak when suddenly the door busted open, and there, Inosuke ran towards your side.

"Oi Shiru-sensei! What happened to my W/N-chan?"

"Your voice, Hashibira-kun. She just woke up."

"But what happened? Are you okay, W/N-chan?"

You wanted to strangle the fuck out of your best friend for ruining the moment where you had finally locked eyes with Giyu. That's once in a lifetime, for crying out loud, and Inosuke knows that you've liked the PE professor for so long, and yes, surprisingly, Inosuke's good at hiding secrets.

"Inosuke... I'm okay... But what happened, Tomioka-san?"

"Kocho accidentally hit your face with the ball. You weren't doing well earlier. It's your fault."

Ouch. Harsh. But yes, Giyu has always been too harsh with his words, so it is a surprise to see that he is the one who is looking after you at the clinic now. You frowned and looked up at Inosuke, who was pouting at Giyu. He looks mad.

"Miyoka-sensei! W/N-chan is great at sports! It's just that you favour Morobu-chan so much!"

You turned red when Inosuke said those words to Giyu, who seemed unaffected by them. If Inosuke did that to other professors, he would be expelled by now, but then, it's Giyu that we're talking about. And yes, the man's desensitised to both of your craziness, to the point that he just shoves them off.

Tomioka stood from his seat and looked at you with emptiness in his eyes, as usual. "See you at next week's class. And you, Hashibira-kun! Button up your goddamn shirt!"

Giyu finally left the clinic, leaving you with your best friend, who was still glaring at the door. You threw your pillow at Inosuke, and that astounded the hell out of him. Inosuke looked back at you and pouted while rubbing his face, as if he were hurt, even if the pillow was soft as heck.

"What was that for, W/N-chan?"

"Idiot as always... You entered the room at the wrong time. He was staring at me, and our eyes locked with each other. But you ruined it, boar-head."

"Oh..." Inosuke picked his nose while watching you sulk on the bed. Then his eyes suddenly shone, and you knew too well that when he does that, he has a crazy idea.

"I have an idea!"

"Pray do tell, my henchman."

"Pfft!" He rolled his eyes at you but still sat beside you. "What if I hit your face hard with a ball so you'll collapse again? Maybe Moyoka-sensei would help you—"

"What if I hit your face with that chair right now, Inosuke? You're insane as always."

"But I am serious!"

And that day ended up with Inosuke pitching you his mundane ideas just for you to get Tomioka's attention again. Yes, you listened, but in the back of your head, you can't stop thinking about Giyu's stare.

--

You realised that being bad doesn't benefit you, especially with a by-the-book professor like Giyu. You felt like if you became better at sports than before, Tomioka would notice you like he notices his star student, Shinobu. You can't help but feel envious whenever she casually converses with Tomioka and he responds with a nod of his head.

Oh well, it's kind of your fault for choosing the path as a delinquent kid back then. Of course, Tomioka won't ever be fond of you because of that impression.

Another PE day has ended with you just watching how Shinobu gave Giyu a high five when their team won over yours again. You sighed and frowned at the sight, but then finally managed to breathe properly when Shinobu left the gym.

You decided to stay because perhaps helping Giyu clean up might make a good impression. You stood up from the bench where you're sitting, and that surprised Tomioka, as he never sees you staying in this shithole, which was also your school gym.

He sauntered towards you, wiping the sweat from his face. Gosh, at that moment, you felt like all the muscles in your body had tensed up. He looked so handsome with his hair tied. You composed yourself and walked towards him, fixing your shirt as you felt conscious.

"Why are you still here, menace?"

"Bad sensei. I'm not like who I was back in high school." You muttered, stopping in your tracks, which made him raise an eyebrow and cross his arms. His eyes were fixed on you again, and you loved it.

"Then why are you here?"

"Sensei... I just want to say sorry for being a pain in the ass back in high school."

Giyu didn't reply that quickly and just tapped his fingers on his arm. He tilted his head once again. "Okay. Be a great girl, then. And for the hundredth time. Follow the rules."

You nodded. Giyu turned his back on you, picking up the volleyball. "You need help, Sen—"

He suddenly tossed it to you, and as if on reflex, you spiked the ball back to him, which made a small smile appear on his lips. That astounded you and eventually made you smile as well. Yes, you have seen him smile before, but now what makes you happy is that it's because of you.

"Good pass, Y/L/N-san. Want to try again?" He asked with a calm tone, different from his emotionless one. You immediately nodded, and then he served the ball so perfectly that it almost stunned you. But no, you composed yourself and jumped to hit the ball back at him.

And that sequence of serving and hitting lasted for a few more seconds. Giyu's movements flows like the water but of course, you started adapting to it. Yet, you started feeling tired, until... score! With a last spike, you managed to win! You jumped and squealed in joy as you managed to score against your professor.

Tomioka smiled and finally went in front of you. He patted your head, and that made your world stop. You know that there's no romance in his gesture, but still, you can't help but be flustered.

"Few more practices, and you'll be better than Kocho."

"Would you help me, sensei?" You asked boldly, making Giyu surprised. He took his hand away from your hand, and you felt like cold air suddenly embraced you in the absence of his touch.

You waited for an answer, but all you got was a shrug, and that made you annoyed. But you wanted to be a good girl in front of Tomioka's eyes, so you just decided to speak again. "I promise I'll help you clean up after class."

"Great deal then." He said this, tossing the ball back to you. "You can start today. Just put it back in the storage room."

--

So weeks passed with Tomioka training you after class. But of course, both of you make sure that every student has already left before doing so. You felt happy that Giyu managed to go out of his way to help you become better.

It's as if he had enrolled you in a special class that was just perfectly curated for you, as you weren't just learning; you were also spending time with him, which would always make your heart swell. And yes, everything's decent as you know how Tomioka lives by the rules.

But you never expected that things would change today.

While taking a break from your after-class training, you felt a cold thing press on your cheek. Surprised, you looked up and saw Giyu pressing a pop can on your cheek, which immediately made you blush. You took it from his hands, and when your skin brushed against his, shivers ran up your spine.

He sat beside you, stretching his back and wiping his sweat with his towel. You realised that you had forgotten yours, so you stayed sweaty as you rested. Giyu seemed to notice this, so he raised an eyebrow at you and said, "You're so sweaty. Why don't you change and go home early today? Where's your towel?"

"I left it. Sorry."

He handed you his towel and sighed. "Beggars can't be choosers. Use this. Don't worry, I don't smell bad."

You smiled at what he said, but internally, you were screaming. You took his towel and wiped your neck with it, and yes, Giyu definitely smells like apple and ocean. It's like what you imagined. You turned to look at him and noticed that his eyes were still fixated on you. He gulped and looked away immediately after you caught his stare.

What was that?

Giyu cleared his throat and stood up. "Uhh, do you want me to open the pop can for you?" He offered so, you nodded and gave him the can. With a few movements of his hands, he gave it back to you, opening it with ease.

You wondered why Giyu suddenly became soft. You noticed this change on the third week of practicing with him. He stopped making harsh comments on your movements; he even clapped once when you scored against Shinobu. Sometimes, you'll find him looking at you at break times. And just like now, he would quickly avert his gaze from you whenever you caught him.

"Tomioka-san, thank you." You said that before drinking the pop. Your eyes lingered on Giyu, who seemed to try his best to look away. There's a weird tension that he creates right now that wasn't present in your old practices.

"Welcome." he said in a low tone of voice.

But before you could speak, Tomioka suddenly spoke up. "Why do you always cling to me, Y/L/N-san?"

"What do you mean?" His sudden question left you perplexed.

"I've been your guidance counsellor for two years. And now, I've been your professor for almost two years too. You think I won't notice how you tried to get my attention for those four years? Think again. So, now tell me why you would do so?"

You shivered, but it wasn't because of fear. The mere thought of him noticing those things you did for him since then made you flustered. A part of you wished that Tomioka was thinking of you before he went to sleep, wondering why, because at least with that, you managed to get the attention that you have longed for so long.

You shifted in your seat and gripped his towel. "Sensei, it's not like—"

"So you're saying that you're just weird, then? People avoid me, Y/L/N-san. But you kept bugging me despite my cold shoulder."

"It's just... I feel comfortable with you."

"But why?" You won't know, but Tomioka was perplexed at himself too. The sudden eagerness to know about the reason behind others actions towards him was new to him. You sighed deeply and stood up from your seat, closing your eyes before doing the most insane thing that you'll do in your life.

But before you could almost speak, a sudden jolt of pain hit your calf, which made you almost scream. "Oh fuck..." You said this, biting your hand as tears welled up in your eyes. Fucking cramps...

For a moment, he thought that you were just being dramatic to avoid the question, but when he saw you literally almost crying with the pain, Tomioka suddenly jogged near you and crouched down. He tried to stretch your leg, which made you swear at him out loud.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop Tom—ouch! No!"

Giyu sighed but still stretched your leg, slowly massaging the back of it with his other hand.

"Idiot. If we don't stretch it, the cramps will be worse."

And it's true—it felt better this time. You looked at Giyu, who was crouched down, massaging you. You wiped your tears with his towel and enjoyed the sensation of his hands against your skin. Yes, it's non-romantic. You reminded yourself for the nth time, but that didn't stop your breathing from changing as your heart started beating fast.

The pain went away, but his hands are still massaging you. You didn't stop him, though. You want this moment to last for a few seconds because you know that it won't happen again.

Giyu suddenly looked up at you, his eyes still empty as always. But for some reason, it seems darker than usual. "Why do you feel comfortable with me? I'm not a good person."

You wondered why he said those words, but you remained silent. What he's doing now is different from what he's saying. If he's a bad person, why would he spend time training you after his class? If he's not really the way you see him, why would he try his best to correct your mistakes and make sure that you're okay?

Giyu felt his muscles relax, and so he stood up and stretched his back. "Fine. If you don't want to answer, then okay. It's not my business anyway." He tried his best to sound professional, but a hint of annoyance still escaped his voice.

"Thank you, Tomioka-sensei." You thanked him for helping you, but without telling him, you also wanted to badly thank him for dropping the subject, as you knew you'd end up confessing if he kept on asking.

"Mmm..."

Giyu started walking away, which also meant that your training was over. But then he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you again. "And for your and your boyfriend's information, I wasn't favouring Shinobu. She's just good at sports. And so you are right now. So perhaps I'll be less harsh on you at class."

"Boyfriend?"

"Hashibira-kun's your boyfriend, right?"He was astounded by your reaction. Yes. Tomioka had always thought that Inosuke was your boyfriend, as you were always with him. He has no idea that the guy's just like your brother, and he actually has a girlfriend of his own.

You can't help but laugh at what he said, which bothered him, so he sauntered back to you with a clear, confused expression plastered on his face.

"Why? Do I sound funny?"

"No! It's quite hilarious that you believed Inosuke to be my boyfriend! He's taken already; what the heck?"

You noticed the littlest changes in Tomioka's expression, like how the tension on his shoulders faded and how his breathing pattern changed.

Giyu stared at you as if he were solving a puzzle. But still, he stopped himself from asking too much. "Whatever. Go home early." He said and finally went out, with a small smile on his lips.

--

You slept like a baby that night as you reflected on how adorable Giyu had been that day.

But on the other hand, Tomioka was sitting on his bed, wondering what just happened. He was questioning himself all day after he left you.

Yes, he was thinking of you, and he can't fathom why these thoughts started to plague him. And it worsened today as he felt a bit relieved to know that Inosuke's not your boyfriend. He hated to admit it, but he was quite happy to know that.

"I'm failing as a professor. Why would it drive me crazy if she's with Inosuke? I never wanted to be with her. I never even imagined myself wanting that for my student. But damn, why am I thinking about all these things?"

Giyu rubbed his face with his palms intensely and plopped back on his bed. He cannot fathom why, but sometimes he just wants to hoard you for himself. Yes, it's clear to him that it's against the principles he is living for, but he just can't stop it.

It started the day he carried you to the clinic bed. And of course, he won't tell you that he was the one who carried you. He would also hide the fact that he had scolded Shinobu that same day, after he left you and Inosuke.

That moment was the first time he really looked at you and seen how beautiful you are. That's also the first time that he realised that it seemed like you were doing everything just to get his attention. Before by being delinquent, and now by trying your best to be his star student.

He somehow appreciated it.

Earlier, when you had cramps and he massaged you, he would never admit it, but the sounds you make create a whirlpool of insane thoughts inside his head. Giyu shook his head and heaved a sigh.

Now he can't stop thinking about what would happen if you weren't his student. Would he still feel this way? Yes. He will.

I never really wanted this to happen, but I think I'm falling. What should I do?

--

A few days had passed, and yes, Giyu still decided to train you after his classes. You'll never notice how hard he tries to compose himself whenever he sees you. But today, he can't keep it any longer.

There's no PE class today, so you headed straight out of the university. While walking home, a car suddenly stopped. You turned to look at who it was, and it was Tomioka. He was gesturing for you to come in, and of course, you did without thinking ten times. Tomioka drove once again, wishing that no one had seen you come inside his car.

You sat beside him, adjusting your skirt. "Tomioka-san, thanks for the ride!"

"Mmm, of course."

"What made you drive me—"

"Don't think about it too much."

You nodded and just stared at him, watching how focused he was. The silence started to thicken, and to your astonishment, it was Tomioka who broke it this time.

"Have you ever done something that was against your virtues?"

"Wow, that's a deep question, sensei. But I'm not quite sure what you mean. As you can see, I was once one of the delinquent kids with Inosuke, Gyutaro, and Ume before college. So I guess, yes?"

"I know you've been annoying before. But I mean now."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Nevermind—"

"Elaborate please."

"Uh... I can't put it into words."

"How can I answer if I don't know the context?"

"Okay, um, something like this."

"Like what?"

"Me asking you to ride in my car."

You crossed your arms and bit your lip. Now you're interested. "I don't interpret this in a bad way, sensei. And I think it leans more towards you being a gentleman."

"Oh, aren't you scared that I might take you somewhere?"

His question astounded you. What is he saying? You gulped and placed the bag on your thighs, looking at him with the same expression. But inside, you realised yes. He doesn't know where you live in the first place. "Nope. You're not a bad person. You're my sensei so I trust you." That seemingly irritated Tomioka.

"You don't get the point, but you also do."

"Then tell me!" You said, raising a voice at your own professor as you hated riddles. But then his next words took your breath away. "I like you, Y/N."

You feel like you've lost the ability to talk. Your eyes brightened as you saw Giyu's face flush at the sound of those words. You could have never foreseen him making such a confession to you.

Perhaps he suddenly realised the weight of the thing that he just did. He suddenly stopped the car and hit the steering wheel in frustration. "Fuck! I shouldn't have told you that." He looked up at you with eyes that almost told you how much he feared what you would do.

"I mean, I-I... Fuck, I look like a fucking creep. I don't fucking deserve to be your sensei. I'm sorry, but can we just forget about this?"

"I've been waiting for you to fall for me." Those words suddenly made every bit of fear in Tomioka collapse. He was afraid to lose everything just because of his recklessness, but then, when he heard you say that, everything just brightened.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in love with you Tomioka-sensei. So I don't want you to tell me to forget about this because you'll definitely hurt me."

"Y/N." Tomioka called you by your first name and suddenly had the courage to hold your hand.

"Are you serious, Y/N?"

You didn't speak but just leaned in to kiss your PE professor, which certainly caught him off-guard. But then he pulled out his eyes, now drunk with passion, and caressed your face. "What should we do?" He asked as if he were a lost child, even if he was older than you.

"Hide this? No one needs to know Tomioka-sensei."

"Wouldn't you tell this to your friends? What if you're just pranking me?"

"I would never do that." You said this while holding his hand and letting him feel your rhythmic heart through your clothing. When Tomioka put his hand on your chest, he flushed a little bit, but he was relieved to feel the same rhythm coming from both of your hearts.

--

Nothing had changed between you and Giyu at school. Of course, nothing should change, or else everything will be obvious. But when the classes are over, he will try his best to show you how sweet he is. And when we say sweet and classes are over, it's outside school, as he will die first before making a move on you while also being at his job.

Ironic, isn't it?

Now, you were with him as both of you decided to spend the weekend at his house near a river. Giyu was shy when he first asked you out, but eventually, here you are, cuddling up with your PE professor, a.k.a., boyfriend.

Except for kisses, Giyu has not yet made a move on you. A part of him still can't believe that he's having a secret relationship with his student, despite how obedient he is to the rules.

You were cuddling with him, making the most of every second. As you know, on Monday, he'll be your professor, and you'll just be his student again, at least in class. You felt a sensation when you felt Giyu's hand slide down onto your waist. But the man thought that you were uncomfortable, so he pulled his hand away.

"Sorry."

"Why? I want your touch."

Touch? He was surprised by what you said. You repeated it as you sat over his lap, facing him. "Touch me, Giyu." The sudden emotion that had taken over you shocked even you. But then, with that, Giyu suddenly smashed his lips against yours, kissing you hungrily. His hands went inside your shirt, and each touch made you whimper in pleasure.

Giyu pulled out and told you to turn your back on him, so you did. A part of him is shy about what he is doing, but he can't just stop himself, so he'll just prefer you looking away instead. His hands suddenly caressed your thighs, lifting your skirt in the process. You felt him getting hard beneath you, which definitely made your dam break.

He rested his chin on the crook of your neck and whispered in your ear with a low, sexy voice. "Do you want more?"

"Mmm yes, Giyu." You said, moaning as his hands slowly stroked your clothed cunt.

"So wet for me, Y/N. You want this?"

"Yes Giyu~ Ahhh~"

"You want to do risky things, right? You've been a very naughty girl. I'm gonna teach you something better than PE." He suddenly lifted you and bent you over by the table. His left hand caressed your breast while he used his right hand to take off your underwear and his pants.

Tomioka spanked you, which definitely made you moan loudly. He chuckled and went near your ear again, grinding his hot, hard cock on your ass.

Hands grasping the table, you moved your hips, wanting him to be inside of you. "Giyu... I-I've never let anyone touch me this... ah~ way since I fell in love with... you." Giyu chuckled and kissed you behind your ear. "Good girl. Let me reward you then."

You felt him line his cock on your entrance, and finally, with mixed pleasure and pain, he managed to enter you, making you scream in passion. "Ahh~ You're so tight. Is this your first time?" He whispered again, and you nodded with tears welling up in your eyes.

"Don't worry, baby, it'll be better. I'll be gentle."

For someone who seemed cold at the university, Giyu was definitely sweet and caring behind closed doors. He slowly thrust himself into you, both of you moaning in pleasure. As he stated, after a few more slides into and out of your tight cunt, it felt great.

Giyu wrapped his arms around your waist, and slowly his thrusts became faster. You grabbed both sides of the table as he gave you a vigorous fuck. Your head was spinning in satisfaction with his motions.

He's your PE professor, and no wonder how graceful the bucking of his hips felt. The slapping of your skin, mixed with your lewd sounds, made you so wet that it dripped down on your leg as Giyu hit your g-spot repeatedly. "Yes! Yes there!"

But then the man suddenly stopped and turned you to face him. You saw how dark his eyes were with lust, and you loved it. He laid you down on the table and ravaged your lips with his hungry kisses as he ripped your shirt, revealing your wonderful tits to him. He kissed them down as he once again aligned his hard cock on your pussy.

He didn't go slow this time. With his nails digging into your waist, Giyu went in and out of you as if there was no tomorrow. You never expected that the decent, by-the-book professor would be this wild in bed, and that turned you on so much that you just wanted to cum.

And yes, as Giyu's lustful eyes watched you and your breast jiggled with each of his movements, you suddenly felt tingles all over your body, especially on the pit of your stomach. "Uh...haah~ Giyu! I'm going cum!"

That made Giyu smirk, and with his right thumb, he rubbed your clit as he fucked you harder, making you almost pass out from the overstimulation. You loved it. You felt like you were in heaven as you reached your first orgasm. Your eyes rolled, and you moaned so hard as you squirted against his cock. But yes, Giyu didn't stop fucking you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful!" He muttered between his moans.

Suddenly he felt like he was about to cum too, and so he smashed his lips against yours, and his movements went faster and harder than you could imagine. You were literally moaning in his mouth as your first orgasm came. Then, now, you can already feel your second orgasm after just a minute of having your first one.

"Fuck baby, I can't take it anymore!" Giyu said, and finally, with a final thrust, both of you came, his warmth filling your already dripping cunt to the brim.

Giyu planted sloppy kisses on your lips, which you returned, causing him to hum with contentment. Without pulling out, he carried you to the bedroom and laid you on the bed.

There, he finally pulled out but still wrapped his arms around you. "You'll never know how I tried my best to stop myself from making love to you at the uni."

"Me too, Tomioka-sensei."

"Hey, I told you not to call me that when it's just us." He pouted, but then you kissed his nose. "Giyu, my Giyu." Tomioka caressed your cheek and kissed you once again. "Did you plan all of this to happen?" he asked innocently, making you chuckle.

"What I planned was just to get your attention. But I've got something better, I guess." You said that, kissing his cheek. Giyu stared into your eyes and smiled. "You know, I never wanted to feel this way towards you before, but you convinced me to still do it anyway."

"And how did I do that?"

"By trying your best this time and not being the idiot you were before in high school."

You wanted to tease him more, but you just rested your head on his chest. "I just always wanted to get your attention. I love you, Giyu."

"I love you too." He muttered in a sleepy tone as he embraced you tight. Both of you are wishing this weekend wouldn't ever end.

--

𝑨𝒂𝒂𝒌𝒌! 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕~

I enjoyed writing this that it took me THREE EFFIN DAYS XD But yeah, that was hot! 🥵 Giyu breaking his by-the-book attitude is so cute XD Risqueee babyyy hahaha!

Anyways, OF COURSE! The most awaited Sanemi chapter will be next and I can't wait for it as well hahaha!

Reblogs, Comments, and Requests are highly appreciated! Love you!

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[olderthannetfic]

So I've been back at school since last summer and it's really given me a new understanding of many of the things people rant about on here so i'd just like to share.

For context, i essentially got held back by 2 years due to circumstances so i'm 19 now and the people in my class are around 17 on average. It isn't much of a gap at all but with me being pretty out of touch with mainstream internet culture and everything (plus just having been through things that have forced me to grow up a bit quicker anyway) it feels like a lot sometimes.

Anyway, here's some things i noticed:

While none of them are all that into fandom, on the occasion we do talk about ships (or real life relationships) i often have to bite my tongue. It's the usual "shipping x and y is icky because [insert whatever petty anti argument]", but also they'll talk shit about people their age being in a relationship with someone like two years younger than them. Meanwhile I'm sitting there daydreaming about my boyfriend who's 7 years older than me. And yeah sure the younger you are the bigger the difference that one or two years make, but come on, a 15 year old and a 17 year old dating is like... the most normal thing ever.

What really tends to get under my skin is how they're (sometimes blatantly) ableist in ways they don't even realise while claiming allyship. A lot stems from just ignorance, for instance we read "The Perks of being a Wallflower" at some point and as we were discussing the characters, the vast majority absolutely hated on Charlie. Being autistic with a lot of mental health issues, i related to his awkwardness and his struggles a lot myself. I just sat there silently as they pointed out what i saw as autistic traits and said things like "he's just so weird" and "nobody acts like that" or even "i hate him, he's a psycho and should be institutionalised".

In the same vein, the one classmate i feel is actually quite similar to me (and suspect is neurodivergent, though it doesn't seem like they know it) has called autism a "debilitating illness" and doesn't seem to have any problem with their friend group using "autistic" as a semi-insult. This classmate otherwise has a fairly good understanding of everything, i've ranted with them about the autsim speaks rhetoric and things like that. (I will say, i'm sure they'd stop if i told them I'm autistic but so far i couldn't be bothered to)

Oh yeah and there was that one time one of my classmates deadass argued that my teacher was being racist for saying they had an accent. They do have an accent. Everybody has an accent in their second language unless they learned it super young. Which was the topic we were talking about.

For the most part, i like my classmates. A lot of them are great people. But jesus fucking christ then they keep pulling shit like this. I'm sure at least some of them will grow out of it sooner or later, it's just crazy to me because they're only 2-ish years younger than me yet there just seems to be this huge gap between us sometimes. I'm not saying i'm the definition of maturity. On the contrary, I'm definitely still a kid, just one that's allowed more autonomy now. They just make me feel like a parent listening to their kids going "wtf are you talking about" sometimes.

--

[madebyrolo]

Pretty Girl

Rafe Cameron x reader

she/her

summary: y/n being best friend friends with Sarah has her always over at her house. Over the years she's grown a crush on her older brother Rafe. Best friends brother, will it ever happen?

soft! Rafe Cameron

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ღ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Y/n sitting on her stomach, legs crossed behind and her head in her hands. Her and Sarah were talking about her boyfriend Topper, the same old convo how she wants to break up. Shes heard it all before, her past exs wanting more, not wanting more, boring, too crazy, getting the ick, losing feelings or just wanting too.

Topper was nice, and her favorite. Be always came with gifts and a small bouquet of flowers for her stepmom or y/n depending on who she was with at the time. He was studious, honor roll student who rarely got Bs, trust fund, boring kook. Never wanting anything out of line or dangerous. He 100% dates to marry.

“Topper he just isn't what I want. He's sweet and kind but I need some fun, someone who isn't scared of breaking rules-” Sarah said before someone came in.

“Sarah have you seen the remote”’ he asked.

Rafe Cameron, Sarahs brother.

He was your typical college frat boy, getting into trouble, a ladies man, partys every weekend. Boy he was hot, he was 19.

The older boy who always teased y/n when he had the chance, yet payed little attention. He threw her in the pool by sweeping her off her feet (metaphoricallyand physically), always throwing small objects at her. Calling her pet names like sweetie, chick, and his favorite, monkey. He only did these things because he loved to see her flustered. Here eye shape becoming big them small, the red creeping on her cheeks, and the way she put her fingers on her mouth as a nervous tick. Though y/n didn't mind it, it was attention from him and she didn't care how it was. That's how a crush basically is.

He sooner looked over his sister on her chair to the bed seeing his favorite teenager.

“Awe monkeys here” he said with a smile a little too genuine.

“Nice to see you too Rafey” y/n greeted him back.

“Have you guys seen the remote, I wanna watch the game” he asked again

“Uh no we haven't been on it. Ask weezy” y/n answered

“Cool cool thanks” he said shutting the door behind him.

“But we did watch it like not even an hour ago?” Sarah questioned

“Yea but he called me monkey” They shared giggles

“Ok back to topper” asarah said counting the convoy

As y/n somewhat listened she couldn't help but think about Rafe. Even tho there's a age gap she kept wondering what would ever happened if she got a chance.

🝮 🝮

If I could be a pretty girl I'll wear a skirt for you.

Everytime she wore a skirt she would always compliment her. Saying “you clean up nice” and maybe taking a peak.

And I could be a pretty girl, shut up when you want me too.

He always would “complain” how she would chew loud, laugh to loud, always singing or humming a tune and hell she even lives too loud. He always teased her yet he loved everything she did.

And I could be a pretty girl I'll never make you blue.

Rafe would always complain about his “hoes”. How they were too clingy, annoying, cared too much or always assuming he was cheating because that's his reputation. They were mostly gold diggers and often too naive to understand that Rafe just wanted to fuck. That's what people thought, but Rafe just wanted someone to understand him.

And I could be a pretty girl I'll lose myself in you.

God, she would be completely his. Deleting everyone off her phone so it'll just be him. She would love him like he's never been loved before, showing him how soft and warm it could be.

Memories swarmed her head of them together.

Her and Rafe having a dance party when she was 13 and he was 16, she was waiting for Sarah to come back from piano lessons and she was running late. Rafe didn't want to leave her alone so he put music on and danced with her until Sarah arrived. They jumped and giggled around, Rafe spinning her occasionally, and giving her piggyback rides. He even taught her how to ball room danced.

Another one with all of them baking cookies from scratch. Sarah set up the ingredients all organized in their steps, she assigned them their jobs trying to perfect her cookie recipe. y/n was in charge of mixing and Rafe forming them into the shapes. As y/n began adding the ingredients as Sarah called them, Rafe grabbed the flour for her, and “accidently” dumping it all over her.

“rafe ....” y/n called out trying not to lose her shit

“Have fun ladies !” she said speed walking out the kitchen.

“RAFE CAMERON!” she yelled out chasing the boy out the kitchen door

“That's my name don't wear it out!” he yelled out from the hallway

And one not too recent, topper was over for a pool day with them. Topper and Sarah spending time together and y/n just swimming around the pool alone before Rafe joined her. She was doing laps right as Rafe cannoned ball right in her way almost hitting her.

“Rafe Cameron you almost hit me!” she said splashing him.

“Yeah yeah I wasn't even close, I made sure not to. Can't risk hurting my monkey. They're endangered!” he said soon shaking her hair and getting the water out directly at her.

She closed her eyes as the water drops hit her. If she wasnt already in the water she would've been mad but what can she do.

Soon Topper and Sarah came out from the house joining them

“Guys let's play a game of chicken!” Sarah exclaimed

“I call y/n” Rafe said pulling the girl close to him. She turned to him face to face their nose so close to touching

“Didn't expect to see you on Toppers shoulder now” she snarked at him

“Ok first of all he would be on Top.” he explained

“Oh I bet” she giggled Sarah doing the same

“what? EW NO Y/N” Rafe yelled out just wanted to vomit

“Come on let's just play” Topper said as he followed Sarah in the pool

Rafe went underwater letting y/n hop on his shoulders. As he felt her on he emerged gripping his hands on her thighs, making sure his hands weren't to high up to make her uncomfortable.

“My hands at a safe distance?” he asked while looking up the the girl.

“Yes Rafe thanks” she said blushing. Rafe this close to her and his hands on her made her heart beats like crazy.

And last but not least her favorite mememories of him.

Y/n came over to Sarah house crying over her now ex boyfriend. She expected Sarah to be there but she wasn't, and she was in the hallways in tears in search for her best friend. Rafe heard the front door open so he went to check who it was, as we went down stairs he saw y/n. Her eyes sad filled to the brim with tears, her eye makeup smudged, her hyperventilating all alone in the living room. He immediately went to her aide, sitting down besid her.

“Hey hey hey, shhh I'm hear. It's Rafe calm down you're okay. Youre safe I'm here.” he said above a whisper, pulling her into his shoulder letting her calm down.

After a few minutes of crying it out, she pulled apart.

“Oh god I'm sorry Rafe..” she said looking at the big tear and mascara stain on his shirt

“It's fine I have more shirts but I don't have another you.” he said moving hair out of her face.

“So you wanna talk about what happened?” he asked

“Jackson cheated on me” she said as a tear rolled down her face

“He what?” He said standing up getting defensive

“Yes I found out this morning.”

“That little dick. He kept begging topper to set him up with you. Always asking about you, like your favorite candy, books like if he wanted to be your boyfriend he should know right? He was obsessed with you, always staring and gawking at you” he said disgusted

“Honeymoon phase is real.” she joked

“And he had the nerve to cheat? He was practically on his knees for you? He even bought you a ring the other day too, for your 2 year anniversary. 2 years and he still didn't know what color jewelry you liked.” he said with a breathy laugh rubbing his hand on his jaw.

“he got me a ring...” y/n said looking up at him with curiosity in her eyes

“Oh y/n no, no! I can get you a damn ring if you want, here take this one.” he said handing you his ring that was way too big for any of your fingers.

“That one was the 2nd pair to this one. See look now we both are matching” he said with a smile

“Thank you Rafe” she said as he sat down beside her letting her lay her head on shoulder.

“He doesn't know that I know yet…” she said twildling the ring between her fingers.

“I have an idea” Rafe said getting up and dragging her with him.

Rafe and Y/n were standing in front of Jacksons house. It was midnight Kelce had spray paint and Trooper has concrete mix and eggs, and Sarah was keeping watch. The plan was to obvious, graffiti his car and then dumb the concrete mix around the lawn, they were gonna get heavy rainfall tonight. Rafe grabbed the red can and went straight to his bmw. He shook the can taking the lid off and tracing the words dick, cheater, extra small, and douche. Kelce went to disconnect and steal their hose so they couldn't wash anything off the next morning, and y/n and Topper started making a mess. She threw the eggs on the house, avoiding the windows and doors to avoid waking them up, and his car too. Rafe decided just to dump the mix in his gas tank.

After 15 minutes they were done, the car was destroyed, house was egged and kelce managed to sneak some contraband into his car in hopes to get him into more trouble. As they headed back to Rages truck, they shut the door and immediately started yelling and getting excited

“Dude that was so sick. Why haven't we done this?” kelce asked

“This is just easing him into the revenge, he should be lucky. This is just the start my friends” Rafe said as he began driving away.

The whole week Rafe has tormented the boy, and y/n has been ignoring every call and message. She thanked them by making them a pasta dinner with dessert and drinks. Once she finished cleaning up she found Rafe

“Thank you Rafey, I'm glad your crazy other wise I would've been sulking in my room right now” she said giving him a side hug

“No biggie, you mess with the people I love kill what you love” he joked

“Aw you love me” she teased

“How can I not? Monkey are the most interesting animals, we came from them” he ruffled her hair.

🝮 🝮

As she snapped back into the convo she realized that chance or no chance she would still have Rafe supporting her no matter what. She was fine with that, boyfriend, brother, friend, family whatever. She was grateful for the bond she had with him, it was unbreakable. She loved him and he loved her. Maybe in the way she had hope but that didn't matter much now, after he was just a silly crush.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ღ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

not proof read/edited

Hope you guys likes this short fluff

🧡

[smiley1angry]

Warnings: English is not my first language so excuse my grammar mistakes

Trigger warning: mention of pregnancy, mention of death, little angst , a little age gap

Contains : this is a modern au where Sukuna is a sorcerer in Jujutsu High

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡

The moonlight peaked out of the curtains in the big shared bedroom. The tv was on silent only the screen was on, a romantic movie of course, that’s why it was on mute, he hated the sloppy and lovely dovely scenes and monologues. His big muscled body was laid on the soft mattress shirtless ,only having a thin blanket on his waist. The man hummed in curiosity, he stared at his wife who was currently laying aganist his side while she held a laptop on her lap.

“Oh! I remember this one!” she pointed at the screen where an old high school picture popped up, it was her on the picture and other three classmates of hers “ After taking this picture I met you and your… brother “ she mumbled the last part slowly turning around her head back to see the male’s reaction to the mention of his brother but her husband just gave her a nod go continue.

“You just returned from your mission with Jin. I have only heard of you by that time but never really seen you before in person “ the h/c woman began to speak while a light smile appeared on her face “ You weren’t that annoying back then…” the pink haired man remarked making Y/N groan “ I am definitely not annoying! I’m just moody!” she corrected Sukuna and rolled her eyes at the man. “ Same thing”

Back then everything was a bit different especially between them, Y/N was just a student while Sukuna was already a sorcerer by the time. She was young and lively, a bunch of joy, everyone adored her especially her classmates. The other students, Utahime and Mei Mei had warned her about the Itadori twins especially about the older one. Tattoos covered his body and face, piercings in his ear while his face expression wasn’t the friendliest. When that famous picture was taken the twis had just returned from a mission.

Y/N was sitting on a bench with Shoko, both of them having a cigarette between their lips as the boys was already introducing themselves to Jin and Sukuna. The young brother was extremely happy and excited to finally meet the soon to be sorcerers yet Sukuna wasn’t very touched by the moment, he just groaned and rolled his eyes at everything they said especially when Gojo started talking.

Y/N noticed Sukuna’s behavior and it made her curious why he gotta act out of the line when the others was just being friendly “ Hey Shoko… why is that tattooed guy acting so bitchy?” she asked Shoko while puffed out the smoke “ No idea but i would been doing the same if Satoru start yapping…” Shoko replied with a chuckle and both of them continued staring at the group until Sukuna had noticed the eyes on him, he got extremely pissed so he walked over the girl table “ Something got in your eyes princess? Your eyes almost fell out” the man said with a smirk on his lip and stood in front of Y/N crossed arm. “ Actually… yes , a bitch got in my eyes and standing in front of me” she smiled sweetly while and irk mark had popped up on Sukuna’s forehead. And just like that, they always stick together, Y/N loved to annoy him and Sukuna loved making Y/N laugh. At the second meeting they started dating and at the end of the year Sukuna had proposed to Y/N, at the time she was 19 while he 23, yet they could never regret anything.

“ Like I said… you were annoying back then as well” he said with an eye roll as Y/N finished her speech of the past. Sukuna let out a sigh and started stroking her soft hair as a light smile appeared on his lips “ You are just saying this because you were already crazy in love with me!” she laughed and skipped to the other picture, she stopped laughing, she was quite and felt Sukuna’s heartbeat going faster. It was a picture of Sukuna and the 2 years old Yuji laying on the couch , as a fluffy blanket was on the top of both of them.

It was a day after Jin’s funeral, Y/N could see Yuji’s puffy cheek from hours of crying on the picture, Sukuna was in the same state as his nephew, but he stayed strong in front of Yuji, he needed to stay strong. “ I think we should stop…” Y/N suggested and put her laptop on the side so she could turn towards Sukuna slowly stroking his cheek. The man got man by the picture, since Jin’s death he still blame’s himself of everything what happened “ It’s fine… it’s just… pisses me off” Sukuna mutured leaning into her touch “ It wasn’t your fault, Sukuna. You had no choice “ she whispered softly getting on the top of him, sitting in his lap while she slowly stroked his knuckles “ I could’ve save him… that’s was pisses me off the must… yet I choose to save myself instead, I knew Jin wasn’t even close to my level yet… Big brothers always protects their young siblings… but I faild” Sukuna confessed squeezing his fists together and closed his eyes while greeting his teeth “ and now that brat is all alone” he whispered and slowly got up laying Y/N down on the shared bed.

“ Yuji grew up with you just amazing, he loves you and cares for you deeply, Jin was never mad at you and I believe your brother is really proud of you, look at you, Yuji is already 16, a strong kid just like you, a replica of you is on the way, and you have me, since high school “ Y/N chuckled softly and watched as Sukuna during her speech rolled her shirt up and started stroking her 7 months old pregnant belly, at each strokes he got little kicks in answer. The man stayed quiet and focused on her pregnant belly seeing as his son got excited by his affection.

“ You always know how to calm me down aren’t you?” He whispered and laid his head on her chest so she could have a better view of her round belly “ That’s because I know you for such a long time, and you are my everything “ she whispered and kissed his head softly. She slowly closed her eyes and relaxed until his touch. Back then he was a maniac, a crazy lunatic who started unnecessary fights with everyone, but right now he just wants to be enough for his wife and unborn child.