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wheresarizona · 4 months ago

Text

but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch.

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound.

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate)

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way.

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you.

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday."

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.”

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose.

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?”

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips.

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile.

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks.

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.”

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.”

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him.

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.”

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.”

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.”

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door.

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here.

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?”

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.”

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants.

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?”

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.”

“It’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?”

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?”

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.”

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen.

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?”

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.”

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?”

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?”

“Sounds great.”

“Okay.” He nods.

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest.

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try.

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go.

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink.

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV.

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s.

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail.

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?”

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.”

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask.

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm.

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.”

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie.

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat.

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?”

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked.

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.”

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.”

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?”

Yep, with your father.

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.”

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right?

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?”

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.”

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV.

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer.

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again.

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.”

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame.

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…”

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.”

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat.

“A good something or a bad something?”

“A good somethin’.”

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table.

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching.

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced.

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.”

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m nosy.”

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No other reason?”

“Can’t think of any.”

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?”

“Nope.”

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression.

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.”

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again.

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile.

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?”

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails.

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.”

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.”

“Joel?”

His face lifts to meet your gaze.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.”

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.”

“That is such a shame.”

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.”

“Why am I trouble?”

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.”

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses.

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps.

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.”

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits.

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?”

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.”

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head.

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?”

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.”

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.”

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.”

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly. You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.”

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly.

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else.

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.”

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with.

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had.

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?”

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?”

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.”

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core.

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear.

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast.

“Yes.”

“I can touch you?”

“Anywhere.”

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he purrs.

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching.

“Yes.”

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you.

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso.

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.”

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth.

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.”

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself.

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little.

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.”

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly.

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest.

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard.

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted.

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw.

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?”

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral.

His head lifts to look you in the eye.

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.”

It makes you laugh, and he smiles.

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply.

“It should always be ladies first—may I?”

What a gentleman.

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips.

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy.

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?”

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans.

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.”

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels.

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re fucked.

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are.

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside.

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.”

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him.

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.”

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked.

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his.

Why does that make you want him more?

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in.

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste.

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold.

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.”

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?”

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is.

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock.

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’”

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you.

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.”

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin.

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him.

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet.

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers.

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders.

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.”

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end.

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.”

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again.

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!”

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?”

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine.

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.”

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees.

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over.

He was right, though. It did fit.

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good.

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you.

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust.

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you.

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?”

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!”

“Am I fuckin’ you good?”

“Yes!”

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes.

“Look at me,” he orders.

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched.

He slows, his gaze on yours.

“You wanna be mine?” he asks.

“Yes.”

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers.

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it.

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?”

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release.

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.”

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end.

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it.

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move.

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all.

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both.

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy.

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair.

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says.

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.”

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies.

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.”

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.”

“It baffles me that you’re single.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.”

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes.

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.”

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.”

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether.

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?”

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs.

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall.

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel.

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake?

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms.

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?”

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.”

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit.

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips.

“I’m yours,” you answer.

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven.

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls.

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you.

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!”

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following.

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants.

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom.

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes.

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.”

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes.

“Go home, Tommy,” he says.

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.”

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.”

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.”

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.”

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!”

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup.

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump.

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.”

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy.

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.”

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That explains how annoying he is.”

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.”

“We have the house to ourselves?”

“We do—I walked him out myself.”

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk.

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth.

“Yes. No clue how.”

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you.

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes.

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.”

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants.

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.”

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni.

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother.

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.”

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?”

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.”

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor.

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.”

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.”

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?”

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling.

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.”

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.”

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles.

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.”

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.”

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?”

“Out.”

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!”

The door loudly closes as he leaves.

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak.

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.”

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?”

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.”

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.”

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.”

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation.

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.”

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...”

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?”

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.”

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?”

“Yes.” He nods.

“Alone?”

“I sleepwalk.”

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.”

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.”

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.”

Main Masterlist

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #wheresarizona writes #joel miller fanfiction

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sleepylittlestarwrites · 16 days ago

Text

♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ ￣U U￣ ⤷ 21 days ✰ pairing: xavier ⤷ fem!reader

✰ cw: mdni, graphic sexual content, based on xavier's 21 days card, fingering, marking (bites/hickeys), oral: ꒰f&m receiving꒱, possessive behavior, no protection, slight spoilers to xavier's shooting stars myth, loss of virginity (both xavier and mc), consensual somnophilia at the end (if you squint), so much squirting, cum... slurping? (so cringe I’m sorry, idk what to call it😩), dry humping/cumming in boxers, self-pleasure, multiple orgasms, overstim, angel/sweet girl/good girl used sparingly

• wc: 10.3k 🌸

• tags: @kodaswrld & @issysh3ll - as always; thank you for the dividers! :))

Xavier sits on the edge of the bed, lost in thought as he gazes at your sleeping form. The moonlight filtering through the window casts a soft glow on your peaceful face, making you look even more breathtaking than usual. He settles for simply drinking in the sight of you—the way your lips slightly part, the fan of your long lashes against your cheeks, the soft swell of your breasts beneath the sheets. Tomorrow, this mission ends, and who knows if or when he'll get to be this close to you again.

Over the past 21 days, Xavier has poured every ounce of his being into making this assignment memorable for you. Each day, he’s gone out of his way to pamper and spoil you, hoping that somehow, someway, you'll realize the depth of his feelings. Cooking your favorite meals, planning surprise outings, and even indulging in your love for anime marathons—he’s done it all.

And there were moments… fleeting yet precious, where Xavier dared to hope his feelings might be reciprocated. Like during one of the many days spent lounging around in front of the TV, when you fell asleep in his arms, your head resting comfortably on his chest… Or the soft giggle of your laugh echoing in the kitchen as he taught you to cook one of his ancestral recipes.

Each interaction feels like a precious treasure, a fleeting glimpse into a life he desperately craves but fears he can never fully have—your head tilting back in that laughter, free and carefree in a way he rarely sees. Your slender fingers brushing against his arm as you reach for popcorn, sending sparks of electricity racing across his skin. The tender expression on your face as you watch him train, pride and something much softer simmering in your eyes.

It’s the quiet moments that speak volumes, though. Like the time you caught him stargazing on the balcony, and instead of interrupting, you simply leaned against the railing beside him, following his gaze to the vast expanse above. “It's beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper. Almost as beautiful as the stars I see in your eyes.” Those words had lodged themselves in Xavier’s heart, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty eating away at him.

But as the moon makes its way to the tip of the sky, signaling the end of your time together, reality and doubt come crashing down on him full-force. Maybe you really do just see him as a friend, an ally, nothing more... And that knowledge brings a bittersweet pain to his heart, a sting sharper than any blade.

As the faint whisper of your voice floats through the air, Xavier's heart skips a beat, drawn towards you like a magnet. He can only watch in stunned silence as the sheet slips from your body, revealing your bare breasts covered only by a thin white tank top. His breath hitches in his throat, heart pounding wildly against his chest as his eyes catch the outline of your nipples, perking in the cool air around them. It's almost like seeing you vulnerable for the very first time, a sight reserved only for his dreams until now.

You start to stir slightly under his gaze, instinctively nuzzling closer to his warmth without waking up, and Xavier swears he feels time stop completely. Unable to resist, his eyes trail slowly down your neck, taking in every inch of exposed skin, the graceful curve of your collarbone, leading down, down to where the flimsy fabric pools between your breasts.

With a strangled groan, Xavier forces himself to tear his gaze away from your tempting form, feeling like he's ripping his own heart out in the process. A final, shuddering breath later and he’s slipping from the room, gently clicking the door shut behind him. He moves through the space on autopilot, his body acting on instinct as his mind reels. Upstairs, in the spare bedroom he's been using, he spots the workout equipment set up in the corner. Perfect.

He moves through the motions of his workout with a single-minded focus, sweat dripping down his lean form as he grips the pull-up bar. His muscles strain and flex with each movement, a testament to the rigorous training regimen he's maintained for centuries. The burn in his arms is a welcome distraction from the storm in his heart, but even as he pushes his body to its absolute limit, he can't shake the image of your sleeping form from his mind.

So, still shaken, Xavier drags himself into the bathroom adjacent to the guest room. He turns the faucet to the coldest setting possible, bracing himself as the icy water cascades over his heated skin, trying desperately to clear his mind of the intoxicating image of your nearly nude form tangled in the sheets downstairs.

But even as the frigid spray assaults his senses, he can’t shake the vivid memory... His imagination starts running wild, conjuring up scenarios of how the sheets might have slipped even lower while he'd been lost in his workout. Perhaps exposing the delicate curves of your hips, the cute little junction between your thighs...

He grips the tiled wall with trembling hands, knuckles turning white as he fights to regain control. Each droplet of ice-cold water seems to caress his body like ghostly fingers, mimicking sensations he aches to experience with you.

Desperate for distraction, Xavier starts reciting equations, ancient alien languages, anything to occupy his thoughts. But he can’t stop imagining your melodious laugh echoing off the tiles, your slender arms wrapping around him from behind...

With a strangled groan, he allows his resolve to crumble, letting the water grow hotter, his traitorous hand already roaming over his slick, chilled skin. He bites back a groan as his hand drifts, fingers splayed wide as if trying to map every contour of muscle, grazing the soft silvery curls that lead down to...

Xavier hisses through clenched teeth, grip tightening on the tiles as his fingers curl around his hardening length, and with a shaky exhale, he opens the floodgate of forbidden images—phantom touches, whispered words, shared breaths.

His eyes shut tight as if to block out the temptation, but he's already lost in fantasy, letting his mind wander to what it would feel like to have you pressed against him, your soft curves molding perfectly to the hard, wet planes of his body… He imagines trailing reverent kisses along the elegant column of your throat, tasting the salt of your skin, relishing the quickening pulse beneath his lips…

He murmurs your name then, the sound swallowed by the rush of water. In his mind's eye, you’re looking up at him with hooded eyes, your lips parted invitingly, silently begging for more. Slowly, sensually, he’s exploring every inch of your body, mapping out the constellations of freckles and beauty marks that he's only glimpsed before.

But suddenly, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, realization crashes over Xavier. He snaps out of his fantasizing, horror and shame flooding through him as he registers what he's done—what he was about to let himself do. Cursing vehemently under his breath, he wrenches open the glass door and steps out of the shower, nearly slipping on the wet tile in his haste. Even if only in his mind, every single time it feels like a violation, a betrayal of your trust.

Heart hammering, he yanks on fresh clothes with shaking hands. Everywhere he looks, he can practically see echoes of his sinful imaginings taunting him.

“I'm supposed to protect you, not...not defile you in my head like some kind of depraved monster.” Self-loathing laces his heated whisper as he stalks to the dresser, slamming his fist against it in frustration.

Feeling like a caged animal, Xavier needs to do something else, anything, really, to distract himself from the thoughts rampaging through his mind. So he heads towards the kitchen with determined steps, quietly pulling ingredients and pots from their rightful places. But his hands aren’t steady, thanks to the sudden surge of adrenaline, and the knife he uses to chop vegetables makes jerky movements at best before nearly slicing his finger off. With a muffled curse, he settles for just dropping everything into the frying pan. He doesn't know whether the anger with himself or sheer stupidity made him believe he could cook this time, but within minutes, the room is filled with the smell of burning food.

Just as the smoke detector begins to shrill its warning, a soft, sleep-addled voice pierces through the chaos. “Xavier? What's going on?”

His head snaps up to see you standing in the doorway, a thin, bunny print robe wrapped loosely around your frame. Gratitude surges through him at the sight—at least you're covered now. Still, he can't help but let his gaze linger on the pretty curve of your neck, the way your hair is tousled from sleep.

“I...ah…” He clears his throat awkwardly, realizing he must look like a man possessed. “I was just trying to...distract myself.” The words come out quiet, tinged with embarrassment.

Without thinking, he’s reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your cheek. Your skin is still flushed and warm from the pillow, so impossibly soft… He wants to touch more, to gather you into his arms and soak you in, but he restrains himself.

“We both know I'm not very good at it, though," he mutters dryly, gesturing to the smoking mess in the pan.

Taking in the scene before you with drowsy eyes and a quirked brow, a mixture of amusement and concern flickers across your features. You definitely walked in on Xavier amidst what seems like some intense self-reflection. Or perhaps a nervous breakdown? Either way, your heart can't help but soften at the adorably disheveled sight of him. The stressed set of his silver brows and the way he nervously avoids eye contact only confirms that something is indeed on his mind. Honestly, you don't think you've ever seen him so flustered before...

“Distract yourself from what?” you ask, taking a step closer, the ties of your robe swaying as softly as your voice. The floral scent of your perfume mingles with the smell of burnt food, creating a strange but oddly comforting aroma.

Reaching out, your tiny hand comes to rest on his forearm, and even through the fabric of his shirt, your touch feels electric, sending sparks racing along Xavier’s nerves. “Is everything okay, Xavier?” Your voice is tender, searching, full of genuine worry.

Xavier stiffens under your touch, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He's definitely in trouble now… His lips part to respond, but for a moment, no words come out. How exactly does one explain their straying thoughts, their wandering hands, without sounding like a pervert? Or worse, confirming the fact that he might just be one?

When he finally meets your gaze again, he's acutely aware of the fire in his blue eyes, the smoky haze having replaced his usual calm demeanor. He clears his throat again, a futile attempt to rid himself of the sudden dryness. “I, uh...I had some...um, troubling thoughts.”

Confusion clouds your eyes as you search his face, noting the flush coloring his pale cheeks and ears and the conflicted look in those piercing blue depths. Troubling thoughts? At this late hour? You furrow your brow, unconsciously leaning closer to him as if proximity alone could unravel the mysteries hidden within him.

It strikes you then, as inconvenient as it is untimely, the absurdity of the situation: 21 days later, you are still dancing aimlessly around each other, locked in an endless loop of 'what ifs', both refusing to breach that invisible barrier between you. It's almost laughable, really, in a bittersweet sort of way, how oblivious you both seem to be.

Desperate to ease the tension, to pull you both out of this uncomfortable silence, an idea sparks to life. “I know! Why don't we watch a movie?” You suggest brightly, internally cringing at how forced your enthusiasm sounds. But you forge ahead nonetheless. “We can make some popcorn, get all cozy on the couch… It might help take your mind off whatever’s bothering you.” Your gaze darts to the clock on the wall then, noting the late hour with a twinge of sadness. Only a few precious hours left together before you need to get ready to leave…

The corners of Xavier's lips twitch into a weak smile as he nods. “Yeah, that sounds really nice.”

Hurriedly, he moves to help you prepare tea and snacks, gathering the necessary items onto a tray while stealing occasional glances at your profile. Something as simple as making tea together feels oddly intimate now, knowing it's possibly the last time he'll be doing it with you like this.

Once everything is ready, Xavier follows you to the living room, placing the tray carefully on the coffee table before settling down next to you on the couch. As the opening credits roll, he finally allows himself to lean back against the cushions, breathing in the calming scent of the tea mixed with the soothing floral notes of your perfume.

Lost in the movie, your body betrays you, instinctively seeking his warmth and comfort. Gradually, imperceptibly, you allow yourself to drift closer to Xavier, until the mere inches between your bodies are insignificant.

Suddenly, a particularly terrifying jump scare blares from the speakers, causing you to jolt violently. In your panic, your hands fly up to clutch at the first solid thing nearby—in this case, the firm planes of Xavier's chest. Soft breasts press against his arm as you wedge yourself against his side, face burying itself into the crook of his neck with a startled gasp.

“Oh absolutely not!” you exclaim, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Your racing heart pounds erratically, but you can't tell anymore if it's solely due to the scary scene unfolding on screen since the musky scent of Xavier’s skin fills your nostrils, the rapid thrum of his pulse matching your own. For a moment, you simply revel in being this close to him, wishing you could stay enveloped in his protective embrace forever.

Then his quiet laughter fills the room, warm puffs of air tickling the top of your head as his hand slides over your back in a soothing rhythm. He watches as you huddle into him, heartbeat gradually returning to normal but fingers remaining firmly clasped onto his shirt.

With a gentle touch, he lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jawline as he gazes down into your wide, scared eyes. Your breath hitches as he starts tracing feather-light patterns along your jaw, setting your nerve endings ablaze with every delicate touch. Those striking blue eyes hold you captive, boring into your soul with an intensity that steals the very air from your lungs.

Almost unconsciously, your tongue darts out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and you watch transfixed as Xavier's gaze zeroes in on the movement. Time seems to stretch and warp around you, narrowing down to this singular, pivotal moment hanging suspended between you both.

“I-is… is everything alright?” Your voice emerges as a trembling whisper, scarcely audible over the pounding of your heart as it picks up in speed once again. But beneath the shy uncertainty in your tone, there's an undercurrent of longing, a desperate plea for him to take this chance, to finally shatter the invisible walls keeping you apart, because you're not so sure if you dare to do it yourself.

“Honestly? It’s everything but alright.”—that would be Xavier’s answer to your question, were he actually able to speak. His gaze shifts down to your mouth, the sight of your plush pink lips stealing the last reserves of his sanity. Despite the desperate need coursing through him, he feels surprisingly shy, almost uncertain. “I…” he pauses, swallowed by the weight of the confession hovering on the tip of his tongue. “I want to kiss you...” The words end up tumbling out in a hushed murmur, laced with hope and longing.

A single, very trembly nod is all you can muster up, a myriad of emotions playing across your delicate features—surprise, joy, nervousness, and above all, overwhelming desire. You hardly even dare to breathe, scared your sudden movement might shatter the moment completely.

As if moving through a dream, Xavier leans in with painstaking slowness, giving you every opportunity to pull away, to rethink. But you remain rooted to the spot, pulse fluttering wildly in your throat as anticipation coils tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach.

The first brush of his lips against yours is impossibly soft, almost tentative. A question seeking permission, the search for confirmation that this is truly happening. Slowly, savoringly, he deepens the pressure, one large hand coming up to cradle the nape of your neck as he angles your head to better fit his mouth to yours.

He kisses you like you're the most precious thing in the universe, reverent and ardent in equal measure. And the way his lips move against yours… you feel like you could combust on the spot from sheer ecstasy. When he finally pulls back, it's only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, sharing the same air in your mutual, blissed-out daze.

“I… I can't tell you how long I’ve wanted this.” The hushed confession spills from him like a secret hoarded too tightly for too long, an admission laden with unspoken meaning.

Cradling your face in his hands, he examines your features up close for what feels like the very first time—every freckle, every delicate curve, the soft parting of lips slightly reddened from his kisses. And then, like a whispered prayer, Xavier sees the single syllable fall from your lips in a breathless entreaty: “more.”

The whispered plea has his breath catching, heart pounding harder in his chest. Without breaking eye contact, he takes a deep breath and slowly pulls you onto his lap, cradling you like a precious treasure, one he's finally being allowed to rightfully claim.

He starts peppering your face with tender kisses, trailing from your forehead down to the tip of your nose before capturing your lips once more. With one hand buried in your hair and the other tracing lazy designs across the small of your back, he drinks you in like a man finally being fed a feast worthy of his insatiable appetite.

Soft moans escape his throat, mixing with your own needy whimpers as he tastes and trails his lips down the sensitive skin of your neck. Each flick of his tongue against your jugular vein, each graze of teeth against the lobe of your ear sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, making you arch into his embrace and tremble in his hold.

Suddenly, he’s picking you up, your body molding perfectly against the plush rug as he gently lays you down, the heat from the crackling fire casting a warm glow across your flushed skin. He hovers over you, drinking in the sight of your disheveled hair fanning out around your face, cheeks rosy from his kisses, those captivating eyes glazed with desire…

Slowly, reverently, he traces the outline of your parted lips with his thumb, marveling at how they quiver under his touch. "So beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and rough with barely restrained hunger.

Your hands fist in the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you tilt your head back in clear invitation. The feeling of his lips searing a trail down your throat is indescribable every single time, like a flame licking at every nerve ending, leaving a path of molten desire in its wake. “So good,” you whisper breathlessly against his ear, hands tightening their grip on his hair as he continues painting vibrant streaks of pleasure across your body with his mouth.

Large hands skim reverently up your sides, pushing the robe off your shoulders until it pools uselessly at your sides, revealing every inch of the tantalizing expanse of silky skin underneath. But it's the sight of that thin, straining tank top that makes his breath catch, pupils blown wide with sudden, all-consuming lust. Rosy peaks push insistently against the flimsy fabric again, betraying your body's arousal as you tremble beneath his heated gaze.

“May I?” The words are a low, strained rasp, quietly requesting further access to your body laid out so trustingly before him.

“Yes," you whimper breathlessly, lost to everything but the press of his skin against yours and the building ache between your thighs. "Please, don't stop..." His name tumbles from your lips then like a plea, a desperate cry to lose yourself in the madness consuming you both. And losing himself is exactly what Xavier does.

He takes his sweet time, drawing slow, wide circles around your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. He listens to your breathy whimpers, the little sounds you make as he toys with the hardened peaks beneath the fabric, goading you into a state of adorably flustered impatience.

He finds himself growing increasingly entranced by the heat in your gaze and the tremors running through your body. Watching you squirm in his lap is quickly becoming his new fascination, an intoxicating blend of ecstasy and agony that he just can't resist.

“Please…” The breathy plea tumbles from your lips unbidden, half-formed and threaded with desperation. Your hips twitch restlessly, chasing the phantom touch of his hands as they skim teasingly along your ribcage. The ache between your thighs starts pulsing with increasing urgency, dampening the thin fabric of your panties.

Impatiently, almost roughly, you yank your tank top over your head and toss it aside. Cool air pebbles your exposed flesh, rosy nipples standing at attention in the warm glow of the firelight. “Touch me," you demand, voice ragged with need. "I want to feel your hands on my bare skin, Xavier. Please..."

Xavier sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of you sprawled out, skin flushed prettily from the heat rolling off the fire, eyes darkened with unbridled desire, begging for his touch. For a split second, he simply stares, almost drunk on your beauty.

Then he's leaning in, a hand coming up to cradle one of those delicious swells, his thumb sliding teasingly over the taut peak again. “So incredibly perfect,” he murmurs reverently. An eager little moan parts your lips as he kneads the other breast just as delicately, drinking in every gasp and whimper that tumbles from your lips. “Like rose petals wrapped in silk…”

His mouth descends upon yours again, inhaling that adorable little noise, greedy for your taste, drunk on your pleasure. One hand strays lower, tracing the luscious curve of your hip, slipping under the elastic band of your panties, sliding back and forth over the smooth, bare skin of your ass.

“Oh f-fuck,” he groans against your lips, burying his face in the hollow of your throat, panting against your pulse. “You're so soft, so warm…”

Lowering his head, he drags the flat of his tongue along the underside of one breast before drawing the peak into the wetness of his mouth. He suckles gently, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue as his hand continues its sensual massage on the other side.

His eyes never stray from yours… molten blue darkening with barely restrained hunger as he drinks in your every reaction. His control frays visibly with each roll of your hips, each needy sound that falls from your lips. It's clear the leash on his restraint is going fast, slipping another notch as you arch your tit into his mouth with a breathless keen. Soon, Xavier won't be able to hold back the tidal wave of long-suppressed desire crashing over him. Gods, he's almost terrified he might lose control and hurt you...

He pulls back slightly then, studying you for a brief moment before blurting out the first thing that pops into his head. "Are… are you sure about this?" he rasps, almost choking on the words.

“Because...because I'm barely hanging on by a thread here.” Confessing this to you leaves Xavier feeling almost naked, vulnerable in his own skin. It's both a frightening and exhilarating feeling. “I don't want to do anything you'll regret when we leave here,” he admits hoarsely, the fearful admission lining his words with raw sincerity.

Your hand cups his cheek tenderly, fingertips brushing lightly over the edge of his jawline. In this moment, you can feel the tension coiled tightly within him, see the vulnerability swimming in those mesmerizing blue depths. It takes your breath away, the depth of emotion, the sheer weight of his concern for your wellbeing.

“I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life, Xavier," you murmur, voice soft yet filled with conviction. Shifting closer, you nuzzle your nose against his, bringing your forehead to rest gently against his own. "I want this. I want you. And I could never, ever regret being with you. It just isn’t possible.”

To emphasize your point, you pepper feather-light kisses along his cheekbone, down the line of his throat. Each press of your lips is a whispered promise, an affirmation of your desire. “Let yourself go,” you breathe against his pulse point. "I can handle whatever you have to give me.”

Your free hand slides down his chest, fingertips tracing the rigid planes of his abdomen before coming to rest just above the waistband of his pants. You look up at him through lowered lashes, eyes smoldering with blatant lust. "Show me," you purr, voice dripping with honey and sin. "Show me how much you want me, Xavier."

His eyes bore into yours, a storm of emotions swirling in those cerulean depths—desire, adoration, disbelief, and a fierce intensity that steals your breath. For a long, suspended moment, he simply stares at you, as if committing every detail of your face to memory. The air between you feels so charged… practically electric with the weight of this pivotal moment.

Then something shifts, a subtle change in his demeanor. The gentleness remains, but it's now tempered with a steely resolve that sends shivers racing down your spine. Large hands come up to frame your face, thumbs stroking reverently along your cheekbones as he holds your gaze captive.

“Just remember: you asked for it.” In one fluid motion, he surges forward, claiming your lips in a searing kiss that steals the very air from your lungs. It's a kiss of possession, of raw need, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke against yours in a blatant imitation of much more intimate acts.

Then he breaks the kiss, only to descend upon your exposed breasts. His mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, suckling hungrily with a roughness that wasn't present earlier. He alternates between showering it with hot, wet kisses and scraping his teeth lightly over the hardened bud, earning delicious whimpers from your parted lips.

Meanwhile, his hand is hard at work on the other, squeezing, fondling, as if trying to etch the very feeling of you into his skin… His grip is almost punishingly firm, but it only serves to stoke the fire of need smoldering in your belly, urging you to beg and plead for more.

And just when you think you can't take it any longer, that he's going to leave that nipple just as bruised and needy as the last, he suddenly releases it with a soft pop, dragging his mouth up the center of your chest, over your collarbone, until he's level with your ear.

“I couldn't sleep earlier, you know,” he confesses quietly, large hands continuing their sensual exploration of your curves. “So I came to check on you, and…” he pauses, swallowing thickly. “The sight of you lying there in this thin little top, your nipples practically begging for my touch…”

One calloused palm cups your breast, thumb circling the stiff peak. "It took every ounce of my control not to crawl into bed with you then, to wake you up with my mouth all over these perfect tits..." The crude words from his typically sweet mouth, combined with the heat of his gaze boring into you, makes your stomach flutter uncontrollably

“I even had to jerk off in the bathroom because I couldn't control my thoughts.” His words send a shiver of delight down your spine, fueling the growing heat in your core. “Because I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you, right there in your bed, your cute little body wiggling and gasping beneath mine.”

Holy hell… the imagery that invades your mind as he speaks sets your blood aflame. You can't help but picture him, flushed and panting, gripping himself with a white-knuckled fist against the cool tiles of the bathroom. Stroke after stroke, reliving the fantasy of having you splayed out before him, aching and needy, as he sinks into you…

Tearing yourself away from the erotic mental image proves difficult, but you force your gaze to lock with his, drinking in the molten blue fire consuming those icy irises.

“I wish you had,” you rasp, reaching up to thread trembling fingers into silvery locks. Your other hand maps the defined expanse of his back, nails raking lightly before digging in. “Woken me up like that, that is. I would've let you do anything you wanted.” The words are barely a whisper but they're weighted like a solemn vow.

Something in Xavier seems to break with your admission—the dam holding back centuries of restrained emotion crashing and shattering in a mere instant. Gone is the brooding tension, the tightly leashed control that defines him. In its place blooms unrestrained delight, shining through his face with luminous joy. He looks at you with an expression that seems to say 'Is this real? Do you truly want me that much?' His almost boyish grin somehow manages to be disarmingly innocent yet still sexy as sin.

Slowly, reverently, he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles grazing your cheek. "Is that so?" he murmurs playfully, nose brushing against yours.

This pure happiness radiating from him, his usually stern features transformed by that boyish smile, makes you feel all warm and squishy inside. Impulsively, you tilt your chin up to capture his lips in a sweet, fleeting kiss. “Mmhmm,” you hum against his mouth, punctuating the affirmation with a light peck to the corner of his lips. Trailing your fingers through the soft strands of his hair again, you take time to marvel at how it feels like cool silk sliding over your fingertips, like moonlight turned tangible.

“Let me put it this way…” you murmur shyly, ducking your head to hide the fierce blush spreading across your cheeks. The idea of admitting the depth of your desire for him aloud fills you with giddy nerves and liquid heat swirling low in your belly. But the adoring look on Xavier's face, the sheer happiness you’re bringing him, emboldens you.

Slowly reaching out, you trace the elegant line of his jaw, marveling at the texture of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips. Your thumb skims across his lower lip and catches there. “I want you so badly sometimes that it physically hurts," you confess, voice lowering to an awed whisper thick with longing. “Like...like a constant ache, thrumming through every cell.” Your free hand fists in the front of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer.

“This proximity we've shared this past month, not being able to touch you the way I craved?" A little noise escapes you as he presses in, large hands coming up to bracket your ribs. With a shaky inhale, you risk one more statement heavy with meaning. “I was dreaming of you tonight, when you came into my room to check on me. I dream of you every night, Xavier… Asleep or awake.

This soft confession of yours causes a soundless explosion to ignite in Xavier's chest. There's so much pent-up emotion clawing for release… he barely knows where to start or how to even begin to articulate everything he wants, everything he's never even admitted out loud. But what he can do is react. Without either thought or grace, he moves. Leans in. Claims your lips in a powerful, bruising kiss.

There's a fierce desperation in the way he touches you now, an urgency that ignites like a forest fire threatening to consume all in its path, spreading from one acre to another, unable and unwilling to be tamed until there's nothing left but charred remains and ashes in its wake.

Even in the dancing glow of the fire, you can see the intensity smoldering in his icy blue gaze as it rakes over your body. Calloused fingertips skim down your sides, your hips, leaving tingles in their wake. Dipping into the waistband of your panties, Xavier hooks his thumbs under the delicate lace, slowly beginning to drag the scant fabric downward.

“The dreams…” he murmurs, the soft words laced with barely restrained lust. “They’ll be nothing compared to the real thing. And I'm going to make each and every one come true... Starting right now.”

With a final tug, he strips your panties away completely, baring you fully to his hungry gaze. Then his mouth is trailing scorching kisses down your throat, pausing to suck lightly at your racing pulse point. Lower and lower he goes, mapping the swell of your breasts with lips and tongue, dipping into your navel teasingly. Finally, thank the gods, he settles between your parted thighs.

For centuries, Xavier has trailed in the shadows of your life after life, an unseen protector, a quiet admirer, a devoted lover. Ever patient, ever steadfast, his focus on you has never once wavered.

And now here he is, reverently tracing his tongue along your dampened folds, worshiping your pussy as his fingers dig deep into your thighs to hold you down. He buries his face deeper, lapping at your sensitive flesh with firm strokes.

As Xavier's skilled tongue paints swirls around the sensitive bud, your fingers tangle desperately in his hair. Hips bucking into his touch, shameless moans spill freely from your lips as jolts of pure pleasure radiate through you.

Through hooded eyes, you watch him work, face flushed and eyes feverishly intense, completely enraptured by your reactions. Each shudder and keen is met with a low groan that vibrates deliciously against you.

Lost in a haze of sensory overload, Xavier grinds his cloth-covered erection desperately against the plush rug below. Each roll of his hips and swirl of his tongue around your throbbing bud brings him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, angel,” he rasps between long, languid laps. "Your taste...I could drown in it." Strong hands grip your thighs harder as his grinds against the floor grow almost frantic. The sight of this incredible man reduced to dry humping the ground, clearly wild with need for you, sends a dark thrill zinging down your spine.

But suddenly, he pulls back, panting harshly. Eyes glazed with lust meet yours, a telltale flush high on his cheekbones, spreading up to his ears. "I..." Xavier begins hoarsely, voice strained. “This is a first for me...”

In the midst of confusion over such a mind-blowing revelation, his hot mouth closes over your clit again and sucks HARD.

Panting, moaning, your senses spinning out of control as the pleasure becomes almost overwhelming, you blink at him in a daze of pure delight. With no hope of words if he keeps on, you reach for him and tug at his hair, trying to bring his eyes back to yours.

Gasping, you manage to force words past the desire clogging your throat, soft but laden with importance. "Me too," you admit to him, almost embarrassed to do so, somehow worried that this knowledge might scare him off.

But Xavier's eyes just widen in shock, a myriad of emotions playing across his lovely features as your confession sinks in. Disbelief wars with elation, awe with relief, as he processes this precious gift of information.

“Wait... you..." His voice emerges rough with feeling, barely even there at all. Slowly, reverently, he crawls back up your body, settling between your splayed thighs without putting his full weight on you. Large, calloused hands cup your face gently, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks.

“You’re saying that I would be...your first, too?" The question hangs in the charged air between you, practically trembling with scarcely contained emotion. Wonder colors Xavier’s tone, and he can’t help but feel that maybe this is the universe's way of making up for all the years of unrequited yearning and pain he’s suffered.

A hushed noise, desperate and needy, spills from Xavier as his mouth descends onto yours, swallowing down the breathy confirmation spilling from your lips. It's an intoxicating melody that drives him wild, a song he wants to hear over and over again.

Slowly, deliberately, his fingers continue their sinful torment, a tantalizing dance that's only purpose is to have you writhing and moaning beneath him as he catalogs each quiver, every cute little sound..

They trace maddeningly slow paths over your skin, turning your soft whimpers into full-fledged gasps of pleasure. The longer he does this, the louder you get, the more it fuels his confidence, his satisfaction.

Two long fingers steal through your slick folds and begin making lazy circles around your throbbing clit, the sensation sending shudders rippling through you.

His thumb slides down to your entrance, circling and teasing. Then suddenly it thrusts inside, followed by a second finger, penetrating you deeply in a slow and torturous rhythm, testing your readiness. “Oh god..." he groans against your lips, feeling you spasm around him.

“So fucking tight…" With his thumb still hooked inside you, he presses upwards to massage your g-spot while his fingers fill you up perfectly.

Your back arches off the plush carpet, head thrown back in ecstasy. Electric pleasure courses through every nerve ending, building to a crescendo with each perfect stroke.

"Yes, oh god yes!" you keen breathlessly, hips rolling wildly to meet his thrusts. The obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room as he works you skillfully towards your peak like he’s prepared for this moment his entire life. Every nerve ending is alight with blissful fire, muscles starting to quake and tighten.

Through half-lidded eyes glazed over with lust, you watch him work, drinking in the sight of this magnificent man coming undone for you. Sweat gleams on his brow, muscles straining as he holds himself back from simply fucking you into the ground.

On his own lust-fueled cloud, Xavier feels the tight, squeezing pull around his fingers, an unmistakable sign that you're giving in to the tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you.

“I can—I can feel it. Oh god, angel, you're—" The breath gets knocked out of him as pleasure sweeps over him, clouding his vision, fogging his thoughts as his cock pulsates, spilling hot seed between his thighs, filling up his boxers and soaking through his pajama pants.

The sight of him coming undone is just too much, your world shattering into a million tiny pieces. Throwing your head back with a silent scream, your pussy clamps down HARD on his pistoning fingers, fluttering wildly as wave after wave of mind-melting ecstasy consumes you. Clear fluid gushes out, soaking his hand and your inner thighs, trickling down to the rug beneath you.

The intensity of your climax, coupled with his talented fingers milking every last throbbing pulse of pleasure from you, leaves you drained and sobbing, the absolute sweetest sort of broken. Panting heavily, limbs jelly-like, you collapse back onto the carpet with a shuddering sigh.

His eyes catch yours again as you peek up at him sheepishly, mumbling an embarrassed apology, and immediately that trademark smile lights up his face. And the look in his eyes? Pure male pride and delight at the mess he's reduced you to, a satisfied grin curving his full lips as he shakes his head.

“Don't you dare apologize," Xavier murmurs firmly. "Never apologize for being perfect."

And then he does something that blows your mind even more, if that's even possible. Ever-so-slowly, he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, parting his lips, letting you see the tip of his tongue snake out, tasting what belongs to him. His moan echoes yours.

Then he’s leaning in, tongue lapping at your messy slit with unrestrained hunger. He groans at the taste, relishing the evidence of your pleasure like the finest wine. Strong hands grasp your hips, holding you steady as he eats you like a starving man, determined not to waste a single drop.

All thoughts of embarrassment scatter entirely as new tingles of arousal bloom under his relentless ministrations. The wet glide of his tongue drags along your sensitive folds, delving deep to lap at your clenching hole.

“Do it again," Xavier all but growls against your pussy, the vibrations stoking the growing flames. "Wanna taste it straight from the source this time."

He seals his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks HARD, two thick fingers plunging back into your sopping cunt.

Squealing in shock and ecstasy, your second climax crashes over you mere moments after the first. Back arching nearly painfully, you fist your hands in his hair, grinding yourself wildly against his hungry mouth.

Xavier is like a man possessed… greedy noises rumbling in his chest as he laps up your newest flood. The obscene slurping sounds fill the room, punctuated by your keening cries. He seems determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your shaking form.

Before you've even started to come down, he's already working you towards another peak. Fingers pump in and out rapidly, thumb curling just right to hit that magic spot inside you with every thrust. His tongue swirls and flicks mercilessly over your sensitive bundle of nerves, alternating between kittenish licks and powerful sucks.

"Too...much...oh god!" you babble incoherently, overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation. Drool leaks from the corner of your slack mouth as your brain short circuits from overstimulation. The pleasure is edged with a hint of pain, pushing you to your limits.

But he still just won’t stop… growing bolder, more demanding. Groaning into your pussy, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously. Barely registering his husky murmur of “need… to get you ready for me... Just a little more, I promise," cuts through the haze of blinding pleasure clouding your mind, and you can only whimper and moan helplessly. Your body is no longer your own, entirely at the mercy of Xavier's wicked mouth and fingers…

And gods, he plays you like perfectly, a willing instrument in his hands, coaxing out ecstasy with seemingly endless stamina. Sweat glistens on his brow, muscles flexing beautifully as he worships your quivering sex with single-minded focus.

“It’s just… you taste so good…" Xavier groans appreciatively, briefly releasing your swollen clit briefly. “Could feast on this pretty pussy for hours…” To punctuate his statement, he dives back in, lapping and suckling like a starving man.

His tongue delves deeper, spearing into your fluttering channel, fucking you open with filthy slurps. Then his fingers are slipping back in, pumping faster, harder, stretching you exquisitely as they curl over that magic bundle of nerves.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!" you keen wildly, much too far gone to care about volume or composure. The coil in your belly winds tighter, tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Xavier still can't quite believe what's happening, his fingers buried deep in your slick heat as his lips and tongue continue their torturous assault. His name echoes around the room as a chant in response to his efforts, music he plans to listen to every goddamn night if he has anything to say about it.

He's aware that you're close again, cries and whimpers ripped from your throat like a desperate plea for salvation. And so he begins his final crescendo, pulling out all the stops for your finale. His tongue performs lazy, teasing circles around your throbbing clit while his fingers piston in and out in tandem with his lips.

A particularly sharp nip catapults you over the edge into sheer ecstasy. Pleasure, pure and molten, sears through every nerve ending, your back bowing sharply off the floor as you come undone again with a ragged cry of his name.

With a triumphant groan of his own, Xavier follows suit, hips jerking erratically as he spills hot and heavy into his clothing.

As the waves of euphoria gradually ebb, leaving you limp and twitching in the aftermath, you sense rather than see him sit back on his haunches. His breathing is harsh and labored in the charged air between you. When you finally do manage to focus on his face, his expression makes your heart flutter—adoration mingled with possessive hunger, like a wolf eyeing its prey.

"I...we should probably..." he starts quietly, voice hoarse with exertion and residual need. "Maybe we should stop here tonight…” But even as he says it, there's clear reluctance underlying the words, his hands twitching with the urge to touch you further.

Blinking up at him dazedly, eyelids drooping from post-orgasmic bliss, you slowly shake your head in soft disagreement. The tenderness of his voice, that note of reluctance as he suggests stopping purely for your wellbeing, only makes you want him more.

Smirking softly, your body humming with contentment, you move to straddle his lap. Ruffling fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, your gaze softens as you take in his features. Cheeks flushed from pleasure and exertion, pupils dilated to near-black pools in a way that sets all your nerves alight… His lips are red and slightly parted, panting softly in the otherwise quiet room.

“I know you want more, Xavier…” you whisper playfully, half-teasing, but also completely sincere. "I can see it written all over your face.” One hand caresses down his jaw to his neck, urging him closer until you can claim his lips in a languid kiss.

Your fingertips trace delicate patterns along the strong column of his throat, savoring the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath the pads of your fingers. Breaking the kiss with a soft nip to his bottom lip, you pull back just enough to meet his smoldering gaze head-on, a mischievous glint dancing in your own.

“I know I want more,” you breathe out, the words sending shivers racing down your spine as you say them aloud. "I want to feel every thick inch of you inside me, filling me up until I'm stuffed full and aching from it…”

To emphasize your point, you roll your hips, grinding your slick folds along the prominent bulge tenting the front of his pajama pants. The fabric is already damp with his release, providing delicious friction against your sensitive flesh.

“And you're still so hard for me already," you purr approvingly, circling your hips in languid figure-eights. "Like your body knows exactly what it needs...what we need.”

Freeing his impressive length, you watch with hooded eyes as it springs forth, long and thick and so deliciously messy. A thrill of anticipation shoots through you at the sight, your inner walls clenching hungrily around nothing.

“I mean, we both knew that wasn't going to be enough, didn't we?" you murmur playfully, giving him a firm squeeze before sliding down his body and settling between his spread thighs.

“Not when we have all these pent-up desires finally coming to a head," you continue breathlessly, placing feather-light kisses along his length as you speak.

“And not when being with you is all I can even think about anymore…”

Peering up at him through lowered lashes, you maintain unwavering eye contact as you extend your tongue, circling it around the swollen head and flicking over the weeping slit teasingly. Your free hand splays out, mapping the chiseled planes of his abdomen, feeling the muscles jump and flex beneath your palm.

“And you taste so good, Xavier…” you murmur with a pout, “you won't make me stop, will you?"

“No, of course I won't make you stop…" Xavier rasps, large hands coming to rest on either side of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, not pushing or pulling, but resting there like a promise and a plea all at once.

“Not now, not ever," he promises, voice rough with barely restrained need. His cock twitches insistently against your cheek, begging for attention.

Emboldened by his desperate pleas, you part your lips and take him into the wet heat of your mouth inch by delicious inch. Your tongue swirls around his thick shaft as you sink lower, lips stretching obscenely around his considerable girth as you swallow him down. "Mmmph!" A muffled moan vibrates around his shaft as you begin to work him over with enthusiastic bobs and slurps.

“Fuck yeah… just like that sweet girl, take it all for me," Tears start streaming freely down your face as Xavier suddenly snaps over the feeling of your hot mouth on his cock and takes complete control, roughly fucking your throat with powerful thrusts of his hips. Drool escapes the seal of your stretched lips, dribbling messily down your chin to splatter on your bouncing breasts. The obscene sounds of his flesh slapping against yours fill the room, punctuated by your choked gasps and gurgles and Xavier’s own guttural groans of pleasure.

“Such a good girl, taking me so pretty on your knees like this,” he grunts, his fingers digging painfully into your scalp now as he uses you like his own personal doll, making you swallow his length over and over until you nearly choke on it.

Despite the intensity and roughness, there's a deep satisfaction burning within you at having such a powerful effect on him. His loss of control, the primal desperation in his touches and thrusts, it's like a drug—intoxicating and addictive.

With a final few forceful thrusts, Xavier reaches his breaking point. His body tenses, muscles locked as his balls draw up tight, fingers digging hard into your scalp as the first jet of his cum spurts into the back of your throat, hitting the reflex point that has you coughing and gagging. But he doesn't stop fucking your mouth, driving himself home again and again until he's milked himself dry.

Then, falling limp on the plush rug, completely spent and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, he pants loudly, his cock twitching against his stomach.

Raising himself up on an elbow, he gazes down at you with the softest expression. One hand reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear as he speaks, voice barely a murmur and laden with emotion. "I… I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks it like it's the most important question in the world, his anguish like a palpable thing in the air.

Drained and panting heavily, you take a moment to compose yourself before crawling languidly up the length of Xavier's trembling form. Straddling his hips, you grind your dripping core along his rapidly stiffening shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. “Never,” you breathe as you gaze into his eyes, pupils blown wide with renewed lust and emotion shining bright.

As you position yourself over Xavier, grasping his shaft and rubbing the broad head teasingly along your soaked slit, his hands come to rest on your hips, stilling your movements. "Wait, let me... " he says softly, blue eyes dark with affection and desire as he looks up at you.

In one smooth motion, he lifts you effortlessly, positioning you just above where he needs you most. Slowly, reverently, he begins to guide you downwards, the flared tip of his cock parting your dripping folds as he lowers you inch by excruciating inch. “That's it, just like that, angel. go slow... let me feel every bit of you taking me in," Xavier coaxes, voice low and heated as he watches your face intently, committing every fleeting expression of bliss to memory.

Halfway in, he bottoms out, his cock knocking right up against your cervix. For a few seconds, he simply stays still, his hands cradling your hips and his head falling back onto the floor with a soft sigh. Then he begins to move. Rocking your hips gently in sync with his so that each slow withdrawal drags a gasping moan from your lips, and each deep reentry has you throwing your head back with a sweet sob of pure rapture.

Lost in a haze of sensation, Xavier can’t even breathe as he revels in the exquisite feeling of your slick, velvety walls gripping him so tightly he can barely think past the pleasure.

Picking up the pace slightly, he rolls his hips, grinding against you as he pulls you down to meet each upward thrust. "So perfect," he groans brokenly, "taking me so well, like you were always meant to be filled by me." The dirty talk spills from his lips unbidden, his usual restraint shattered by the mind-melting pleasure of finally claiming you.

Soft, breathless praises fall from your kiss-swollen lips. "Mhmm, so good," you gasp out, tilting your hips to take him impossibly deeper. "So big, so hard inside me... stretching me so perfectly."

Moaning shamelessly, you drape yourself over his chest, peppering fervent kisses across his neck and jaw. "Made for me," you echo, nipping at his earlobe before sucking it between your teeth.

Your back arches off the floor as Xavier suddenly flips your positions, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Yep, all for you," he agrees breathlessly. Gripping your thighs, he pushes your knees toward your shoulders, spreading you open completely and slipping back inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

"Oh f-fuck yes!" you cry out, the new angle allowing him to hit impossibly deeper, stoking the inferno building low in your belly.

Xavier sets a relentless pace now, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he pounds into you. Each thrust rocks your entire body, breasts bouncing with the force. Panting harshly, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, greedily swallowing your desperate mewls.

Breaking away, he peppers hot kisses along your jaw before nuzzling into your neck, inhaling your scent. “Say it," he whispers against your skin, hips never faltering in their merciless rhythm. “Tell me who you were made for… tell me… that you’re mine." Fingers wrap loosely around your throat as he gazes down at you, blue eyes blazing with need, silently begging for your affirmation.

Although each pounding thrust steals your breath away, you force your lips open and moan out the words that he so desperately needs to hear. "Yours, Xavier," you gasp out, "Only yours... Now and forever.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you arch up to meet him as he pistons into you. The slight pressure he applies on your throat sends an electrifying bolt of lust through your system, forcing a strangled moan from your lips.

"You're so hard... S-so deep inside me…" you whimper, your voice music to Xavier’s ears as it echoes around the room.

“Mine,” he whispers against your throat, punctuating the word with a sharp nip to your pulse point. His hips stutter, losing some of their rhythm as he nears the edge. "A-angel, I'm not... Gonna last..."

The words tumble from your lips in a breathless, urgent tumult. "Xavier, please..." your voice trembles on the edge of a sob. "Come inside me, please, please... I need it…”

At the sound of your needy, wanton pleas, something in Xavier snaps. With a hoarse shout of your name, he hilts himself fully inside you and stills, every muscle locked in place. Hot spurts of his release paint your inner walls as he pulses and throbs, pumping what feels like endless streams of his cum deep into your spasming cunt.

And with one final grunt, Xavier gives you the final shove you need, setting off a ripple effect that carries through your system, dragging you under with its force. You writhe beneath him, riding out the tide of ecstasy as he continues thrusting, almost brutally hard. "So good…" he grunts, eyes blissed out and unfocused as he takes your body in reckless abandon.

Just when you're sure you've rung every last drop of satisfaction from him, he’s flipping you onto your stomach, spreading your knees wide as he reinserts his half-hard cock, resuming right where he left off.

“I need more," he murmurs, hands grasping the firm globes of your ass, spreading them deliciously wide as he drags the velvet head along your slick, puffy folds before slamming home again.

“Oh… oh god, Xav-" your protest cuts off into a keening cry as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, his sudden aggression and dominance shocking and thrilling in equal measure. He seems insatiable… still so hard even after coming so many times, the wet squelch of his cock churning up his own release filling the air obscenely.

As another climax swiftly builds, you bury your face in the plush rug, whimpering and mewling shamelessly into the fibers. The dichotomy between his outward gentleness and the barely restrained beast within is borderline frightening in the best possible way.

A fresh surge of heat floods Xavier's chest as you arch against him, demanding he fucks you harder. His hips pull back until only the thick head of his cock remains nestled against your sopping cunt, before slamming home over and over again, the *thwump* of his pelvis smacking against the lush curves of your ass. The impact has ripples spreading outward, causing the muscles in your thighs and lower back to quiver as you come again.

But as the last of your tremors fade away, Xavier still refuses to let up for a single moment, instead driving into you harder, faster. One hand tangles in your hair, pulling back until your entire body is arched impossibly, offering yourself completely to his ravaging thrusts. The other snakes around to roughly palm your breast, thumb pinching and swirling the sensitive bud in an echo of the way his cock fucks into you.

"P-please," you whine brokenly, pushing your hips back even more to meet his increasingly erratic thrusts. Your brain feels fuzzy, overloaded with sensation as he wrenches your body into a bow, presenting yourself to him so wantonly. "I n-need... More..."

Drool leaks from the corner of your slack mouth as he uses you ruthlessly, his movements growing clumsier and more desperate by the second. Panting heavily, sweat-dampened strands of silver hair clinging to his forehead, Xavier keeps that same relentless pace as he pounds into you from behind with a reckless abandon that only hints at the barely restrained desire eating him alive from the inside.

His blunt nails dig crescent shapes into the soft plush of your ass as he spreads you wider, allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. Leaning over your arched back, he brings his lips close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over the shell as he breathes out, "Didn't think... I had this in me... but the way you look... sprawled out... taking everything I give you..."

He punctuates his words with a low groan, sharply biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck. "Mine..." The word slurs slightly, breath fanning your cheek in warm gusts. “Only mine... ruin you for anyone else... won't ever crave another's touch... just... just mine..." He promises in a heady mixture of boyish excitement, desperate adoration and dark satisfaction.

As dawn breaks, painting the sky in brilliant streaks of orange and pink, Xavier finally relents, pulling out of your thoroughly used hole with a wet pop. He scoops you up into his strong arms, carrying you bridal-style towards the car, pausing occasionally to pepper your face with tender kisses. Once home, the moment your apartment door closes behind you, he pins you face-down against the kitchen counter, kicking your legs apart impatiently.

“Can’t wait another second," he murmurs, grinding his stiffening length between your ass cheeks. "Need to... fill you up 'til it takes." Strong hands yank your pants down, baring your dripping folds to the cool air. Then he's pushing inside you again, stretching you open around his thick girth. "Missed this already... missed the feeling of you squeezing me..."

He continues his ruthless rhythm, kneading the tense muscles in your back with eager hands as his hips meet your pliant form with unrestrained aggression. One particularly forceful pump pushes you up onto the tips of your toes, eliciting a throaty cry from your parted lips. “So pretty like this... marked up... covered in my cum…”

All day and night, Xavier ravages your body with a seemingly insatiable hunger, bending and folding you in every imaginable way. On the bed, on the couch, even pressed up against the shower wall as steam fills the room, his hard cock never stops moving within you. Whenever you feel yourself starting to go limp with exhaustion, he seems to find a fresh surge of energy, determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure from your spent form.

As the second day bleeds into a third, with your body aching deliciously and your thighs painted with his copious releases, he finally succumbs to sheer physical depletion. Still nestled deep inside your fluttering walls, he collapses sideways, pulling you flush against his sweat-slicked chest. Mumbling incoherently into your hair, he manages to get out a drowsy "love you,” the words slurred and heavy with spent passion and emotion.

Curling protectively around your smaller form, he nuzzles into the nape of your neck, seeking your comforting scent and warmth. His breathing evens out, drifting into a deep, sated slumber, the steady thump of his heartbeat lulling you into peaceful rest within the shelter of his embrace.

#lads #love and deepspace #lads xavier #xavier x reader #xavier lads #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #lads smut #lads x reader #xavier smut #love and deepspace smut

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isaadore · 2 months ago

Text

AS SURE AS THE SKY IS BLUE LUKE HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing luke hughes x reader

SUMMARY luke has never been more certain about anything in his life. he wants to marry you, and he wants to do it now. never mind that he’s only 21 or that everyone around him keeps asking if he’s sure. he’s sure. he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. word count 0.8k

warnings fluff, mentions of marriage

note requested 🤍

LH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

LUKE HAD ALWAYS been impatient when it came to things he wanted. His NHL debut? He had been counting down the days since he was a kid. Living on his own? He was practically throwing his bags into his new apartment before his mom could make him a goodbye breakfast. But this was different. This wasn’t just something he wanted. It was something he knew.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he had said one night, voice muffled against your shoulder as he lay on top of you on the couch. It was the off-season, and he had spent nearly every day like this, clinging to you like you were his lifeline, soaking up every second before he had to go back to New Jersey.

You had laughed, fingers softly threading through his hair. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest so he could look at you properly. His eyes were unwavering. “I’m serious.”

Your heart had stuttered at the way he said it. Not like a question, not like a possibility. He had said it like a fact.

“Luke,” you had started. He was 21, and you were barely older. People your age didn’t just get married.

He shut you up with a kiss. “I know what you’re gonna say,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours. “And I don’t care. I love you. I want to marry you. Why should we wait?”

You hadn’t had an answer for that. You still didn’t.

The engagement wasn’t a huge, elaborate ordeal. No viral-worthy flash mobs or expensive candlelit dinners. Just the two of you, standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, his hands slightly clammy as he pulled out a ring and said, “Marry me?” like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And because it was Luke, and because you loved him, and because why should we wait? you had said yes.

Which led to now. Sitting in a booth at a restaurant, a dinner meant to celebrate the engagement turned into an intervention.

“You’re sure about this?” Jack asked, arms crossed over his chest. It was the third time he had asked.

“Yes.” Luke shot him a glare before looking around the table. His parents, his brothers, his teammates. All of them were looking at him like he had just announced he was dropping hockey to become a circus performer.

“It’s just…” Quinn paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “You’re young, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “So?”

“So most people don’t get married at 21,” Jack cut in, throwing his hands up.

“Well, I’m not most people,” Luke shot back.

Beside him, you squeezed his hand under the table. You had expected this. Luke had, too. His family was supportive, but they were also realists. And realists didn’t get engaged at 21.

Ellen sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not saying you shouldn’t marry her.” She gave you a warm, reassuring smile before turning back to her son. “We just want to make sure you’re thinking this through.”

“I have thought this through,” Luke said, exasperated. “For months.”

“Months,” Jack repeated like it was a ridiculous amount of time.

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Guys. Look at me.” He gestured to himself. “Do I look like someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

Jack opened his mouth. “Do not answer that,” Luke warned before he could say anything.

A chuckle passed around the table, but the concern was still there, lingering in the air.

“Luke,” Jim finally spoke, calm and measured, like he was trying to keep the peace. “Marriage isn’t something you rush into.”

Luke softened, taking a breath before responding. “I know that,” he said. “But I also know that I love her. And I don’t want to wait years just because people think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

He turned to you then, eyes searching yours, needing you to back him up.

You squeezed his hand again and smiled. “I know it seems fast. But we love each other, and we’re happy. That’s what matters, right?”

Ellen exhaled, smiling softly. “It is what matters.”

Jack still looked skeptical, but he leaned back in his seat, conceding. “Alright. Fine. But if you ever need an out, just say the word.”

Luke rolled his eyes but grinned. “Not happening.”

And just like that, the tension eased. His parents let it go, Jack stopped grilling him, and the dinner turned into what it was supposed to be: a celebration.

Later, as you walked hand in hand toward the car, Luke tugged you closer. “You still sure about this?” he teased, bumping his nose against yours.

You grinned. “As sure as the sky is blue.”

Luke beamed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

Neither could you.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ LH43 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #nhl x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #lule hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #nhl x you #nhl fic #nhl #hockey #✷ isaadore

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xinganhao · 3 months ago

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📺 now watching: "our beloved summer" (wonwoo x reader)

part of my svtflix milestone event. warnings: f!reader, angst. more content under the cut. enjoy watching!

jeon wonwoo's latest exhibit, ‘our beloved summer’.

ARTIST'S INTRODUCTION. They say, "The more you try to ignore the past, the more you become trapped in it." Inasmuch as I want to believe that might be untrue, there are days where I still feel like the boy from Changwon. This exhibit is my attempt to reckon with that. While the past can be good, can be bad, sometimes all we need is one beloved summer— and, if you're lucky, the residual joy of that time will last you a lifetime. This is that year from me. | © Jeon Wonwoo (2024)

WHERE DO WE GO WHEN WE YEARN? (2016) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do

ARTIST'S NOTE. Yearning— especially that of the high school puppy love variation— can be such a liberating feeling. It exists in the shadows, just enough to sustain you through the tedious days, the long hours. But to bring it to light, to see what that yearning looks like in the morning? How do we survive it? How do we see beyond it?

HERE, YOU MIGHT STILL LOVE ME (2023) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do

ARTIST'S NOTE. You never really know when the last time is going to be the last time. This is the bus stop where the world closed in on me. I can still tell you the plate number of the bus that eventually took you away. 21 경남 1713. I revisited this bus stop and felt like something had been frozen in time. Here, you once loved me. Here, you might still.

HATE TO SEE YOU GO/LOVE TO WATCH YOU LEAVE (2015) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do

ARTIST'S NOTE. You always were several steps ahead of me. You leave me with my hand outstretched, my fingers reaching,— never quite holding. Never keeping. It was that way when we first met. It's that way, even now.

HOMEBOUND (2020) Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do

ARTIST'S NOTE. There are no colors in this picture, but I'm sure you can imagine it. The brick red walls. The grey asphalt. The sky— an endless blue, cut with strips of white. When I pass this neighborhood, I think of afternoons; the sun beginning to sink, the scratch of school shoes on the street. We survived another day. We can only hope to walk into the next one.

THE LAST GOOD THING (2022) Seoul, Gyeonggi-do

ARTIST'S NOTE. A memento. The only thing I could bear to keep. It's been around enough that I sometimes forget it's even there, and maybe that's why it survived my 'purge'. Something so inherently human about us holding on to sweet nothings, even if the only purpose they have left to serve is to remind.

GOING IN CIRCLES (BACK IN OUR PLACES) (2024) Seoul, Gyeonggi-do

ARTIST'S NOTE. Often, we like to play around with the thought "What would you do if you could turn back time?" If you asked me that some years ago, I might have given a lot of answers about being better, 'changing' things. Now, though, there's only one thing I can think of doing if I were in control of the hands of the clock. I think I would just want to spend one more day, one more minute, with you.

ABOUT THE PHOTOGRAPHER. Born and raised in Changwon, South Gyeongsang, Jeon Wonwoo (전원우) draws inspiration from the rich art heritage of his hometown. He experiments with different mediums but is best known for his work with film and landscape photography. Wonwoo currently resides in Seoul. You can reach him at jeonwwoosnaps@gmail.com.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao | all photos courtesy of wonwoo (film_jww). :)

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smau #wonwoo imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt smau #seventeen smau #wonwoo angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #── ᵎᵎ ✦ milestone event: svtflix #[ maxed out the photo capabilities of a tumblr post in this one LOL ]#[ whew.... Angst! amirite . ]

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flwrstqr · 11 months ago

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FALLING IN LOVE ACCIDENTALLY (OR NOT) (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: babysitting wasn't your dream job that you always wanted. as you start babysitting a new girl, lee jihyeon, you meet her older brother, lee heeseung. You end up getting closer and closer to heeseung and ultimately fall in love amidst the chaos.

pairing: bad boy!heeseung x babysitter!reader

genre: s2l, babysitter au, romance, fluff, angst, medium fic

warning(s): parties, cursing, fighting, mentions death, small grammar errors, crying, some angst scenes, kissing, reader and heeseung has a year age gap

word count: 5k+

AN: guys im back with a medium fic!! lowkey this wasn't really the it vibe as the end i feel like was kind of rushed. so if i made any grammar errors im sorry TT, i finished this writing in like 2-3 days so it was kind of hard so. but liz + hye for helping me think of a climax. i kind of got this idea for a POV on tiktok so help

AGE 21, THE SUPPOSED GOLDEN YEARS OF LIFE, or so they say. But for you, it's far from golden. Being a babysitter at this age isn't exactly glamorous; it's probably one of the last jobs you'd expect to have.

"Yunah, I'm heading out to my new client's place, okay?" you call out before leaving the door.

"Okay, just be safe!" Yunah shouts back from her room down the hallway. You close the door behind you and hurry out as usual, pulling out your notepad to review your schedule for the day:

8:00 am: Wake up 8:30 am: Go grocery shopping with Moka for breakfast 9:30 am: Have breakfast 9:45 am: Prepare for the new kid 10:30 am: Leave the house 10:45 am: Arrive at the client's house 1:00 pm: Leave the client's house

You quietly close your notepad and mentally rehearse what to say as you settle onto the bus. Upon reaching your stop, you make your way to the house.

The house is painted in soft beige and cream, with a porch ceiling resembling a clear blue sky on a sunny day. A wind chime gently sways, welcoming visitors with its melodic tinkling. You ring the doorbell and wait.

A boy around your age answers, with dark red hair and deer-like features. His ear piercings catch your attention as he regards you with an intense stare.

"Hi, I'm here for Jihyeon. Lee Jihyeon," you say, your words stumbling slightly under his gaze. "I'm her babysitter. YN LN."

"Oh, Jihyeon's upstairs," he replies with a shrug, ushering you inside.

Inside, the entrance feels airy and bright, with a faint scent of coffee lingering in the kitchen. Making your way upstairs, you come to a door adorned with pink letters and heart and flower stickers, reading "LEE JIHYEON." You knock, and a small girl, around six years old, opens the door.

"Hi," she says, her eyes wide as she looks up at you. "Are you a princess here to take me to princess school?"

You chuckle softly. "You can think that if you want. I'm YN. Your new friend," you introduce yourself, crouching down to her eye level.

"Are you here to babysit me?" Jihyeon asks as she lets you enter her room.

"More than babysitting, I'll be your new friend," you reassure her with a smile.

"Really?" Jihyeon's eyes light up. "I've wanted a friend for a while, but I don't have any at school." She quickly covers her mouth, realizing what she's said, and closes the door abruptly.

"Jihyeon?" you raise an eyebrow at her sudden change in demeanor.

"Sorry, my brother doesn't know. If he found out, he might cause trouble at my school," Jihyeon explains, pouting as she joins you.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, Heeseung," Jihyeon beams, kicking her legs as she sits. "I love him a lot."

You smile at her innocence. "How old is your brother?"

"22!" Jihyeon exclaims. "He's like 16 years older than me, but he's a great brother."

"I see. How about we start playing now?" you suggest, earning an enthusiastic nod from Jihyeon as she jumps up to grab her toys.

"YN, COME ON! WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE TO YEJI’S PARTY!" Minju exclaims as she peeks into your room. Her mouth slightly drops as she sees your outfit. "Trying on the new dress you got?"

You nodded, turning to her. "Does it look okay? Not too over-the-top?"

Twirling to inspect yourself in the mirror, the knee-length black velvet dress hugged your figure, adorned with delicate black lace and a soft touch.

"You look stunning," Minju beamed, adding the final touch by placing a diamond necklace around your neck.

"Thanks, Minju," you said, pulling her into a hug.

"Anything for you, YN. Now come on, let's go to the party. Yunah is complaining about how long we're taking," Minju laughs, quickly letting go of the embrace before taking your hand and dragging you to the car.

As you get into the car, the six of you start driving to the party, blasting music and enjoying your life. When you arrive, the club is crazy loud. The noise from the DJ speakers vibrates throughout the room, friend groups dancing in circles, and couples making out in the back. Your shoulders tense as you scan the room. You walk over to the bar to get a quick drink before joining the party.

Feeling awkward and out of place, you shuffle around while holding your drink. You glance around and make eye contact with Moka, who is sitting with a group of people. She signals for you to join them, but you shake your head no and excuse yourself to the bathroom. As you wash your hands and return to the party, you come face to face with the one girl you wished you never saw again: Yoonhee, the girl who bullied you in high school for being "poor."

"Oh look, it's YN LN!" she gives a small fake smile. "Didn't expect to see you at Yeji's party tonight."

"What do you want, Yoonhee," you glare.

"Nothing, I'm just giving you a pleasant greeting. Nothing more," she laughs, triggering flashbacks from when you were 17.

"Then get out of my way, Yoonhee," you spat.

"Woah, no need to get so aggressive," she gives a proud smile. "I heard you were babysitting. How's it like to be poor?"

That was your last straw. You grab the nearest drink and throw it at Yoonhee's white dress. Her eyes widen as she sees the purple punch juice on her dress. Her eyes then narrow as she stares at you.

"Do you know how much this cost? This dress cost $5,270. Now you have to pay for that," she says angrily.

"Fuck off, Yoonhee. You're still the same. No wonder you have no friends," you yell before turning around and running out of the nearest exit.

You burst out into tears, knowing you were sober. You walk yourself to the nearest bus station, sobbing silently as you wipe your tears. Each step gets heavier as your heels start to burn and your bare knees and calves shiver from the cold.

“Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks. It's a voice that sounds so familiar. A voice that you swore you heard before. You look up to meet the same boy back at Jihyeon’s house. The boy with those deer-like features and dark red hair, with the same exact piercings.

"You’re the guy from Jihyeon's house," you try to piece his name together as only in your mind was the incident with Yoonhee and you.

"Heeseung, and you are?" he asks, noticing your teary eyes.

"YN," you reply, wiping your tears.

Heeseung then notices how you're shivering from the cold. He takes off his jacket and drapes his jacket over your shoulders

"Here, you can take this. Do you need a ride or anything? Do you have someone picking you up?" he asks.

"Yunah, Moka, and Minju are still there. They're my friends," you sniffle. "But I was walking myself to the bus station."

“Still there?” He raises his eyebrow.

“At the party,” you mumbled.

"If you want, I can take you home," Heeseung suggests.

"How do I know you're not a kidnapper," you tease with a pout.

Heeseung laughs softly. "Do you think I am?"

"Maybe," you reply.

"Trust me, I won't. Plus, what's the worst thing I can do?" Heeseung smiles.

"Weird stuff," you say.

"I won't. Where do you live?" he asks.

"Okay, that's a bit off," you reply teasingly.

"Hey..." Heeseung says in a half-joking, half-serious tone.

"Fine, I'll tell you the direction, you drive the car," you respond.

"Oh, who said it was a car?" Heeseung winks as he walks you over to his motorcycle.

Your eyes widen. "A motorcycle? Also, I need a helmet?"

"Wear mine," he grins, handing you his helmet before helping you hop onto the back. You hold him tightly as he starts his engine.

As you clutch onto his leather jacket, he speeds up, and you squeeze your eyes closed, afraid of falling. When you open them again, you admire the midnight sky, feeling the cold breeze hug you warmly. When you arrive back at the dorm, you wave goodnight to Heeseung before he turns around.

"Can I get your number?" he asks.

"Sure," you grin, inserting your number into Heeseung's phone. You wink and then turn around to walk back into your dorm.

THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN, and Jihyeon's sweet smile welcomes you in. She bounds up with excitement, leading you upstairs to her room.

"Where's your brother, Jihyeon?" you ask, your tone light. You steal a glance at your bag, where Heeseung's neatly folded and laundered jacket rests.

"He's out or something," Jihyeon shrugs, already eager to show off her new toy.

As time flies by, you and Jihyeon play together as usual. She cherishes your time together, and as you help prepare lunch, the two of you chat.

"Jihyeon, are your parents not home?" you inquire, placing the grilled cheese she requested onto a plate.

"They're not here," Jihyeon replies between bites of her sandwich, causing your eyes to widen slightly.

"I see," you murmur softly, tucking a strand of Jihyeon's hair behind her ear as she takes another big bite.

"That's why Heeseung is always out. He's always looking for a babysitter for me because I'm only 6. So, I want you to be my permanent babysitter!" Jihyeon beams, savoring each taste of her grilled cheese.

"I'll always be here for you, Jihyeon," you smile back, admiring her cute expression. "How about after this, we play some fun games?"

"Yes, please!" Jihyeon's face lights up with a huge smile as she takes the last bite of her grilled cheese. You then tidy up with her and quickly take her hand as you step outside to play together.

"DOES THIS LIP TINT LOOK OKAY?" you inquire of Wonhee, who was browsing through the new makeup offerings at the mall. She looks up, observing the tester product on your hand.

"Hmm, maybe a slightly lighter shade," Wonhee suggests before joining you to explore more makeup options. You pick up another lip tint, testing it out before making your purchase and leaving the store.

"YN?" a voice calls out your name. You glance up to see Heeseung waving at you.

"Oh, Heeseung," you respond with a smile. "Didn’t expect to see you here at the mall."

"My friend works at the café on the first floor, so I thought I'd pay a visit," Heeseung explains. "Are you here alone?"

"No, I'm here with—" you begin, but your voice is interrupted by Wonhee rushing over to you.

"YN! I finally decided to buy the new eyeshadow palette!" Wonhee exclaims, then she notices Heeseung. "Oh, do you know him?"

"Heeseung, Jihyeon’s older brother," you introduce, as Heeseung gives a small wave. "He's a year older than me."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Heeseung says, shaking Wonhee's hand.

"I'm Wonhee, YN's best friend or roommate, well, one of her roommates," Wonhee smiles.

"Nice to meet you," Heeseung replies, before turning back to you. "Well, gotta go so have a good time with your friend, pretty girl." Your eyes widen slightly in surprise at his affectionate nickname as he walks off to the first floor, hands in his pockets.

"God, he's definitely into you, YN!" Wonhee giggles, noting your shocked expression.

"Shut up, Wonhee!" you exclaim.

"Just saying!" Wonhee laughs.

A COUPLE OF WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE YOU FIRST MET HEESEUNG, but it was that one night that really caught your attention. After a long day of babysitting, you decided to take a leisurely stroll around the park before heading back to your dorm.

The night was tranquil, nearly 9 pm, and the crisp air refreshed you as you walked. As you approached your usual alleyway, the sound of punches and kicks pierced the calm. Your heart raced with nervousness as you wondered what was happening. Was it a hallucination, or...?

Turning the corner, you were shocked to see Heeseung amidst a group of boys. Quickly, you ducked behind a wall, watching in disbelief. Why was he in a fight?

Straining to hear their conversation, you caught Heeseung shouting, "You owe me $1,000. I won the bet," just before another punch landed on his face. Your heart sank at the sight of his swollen lips and bruised eye.

"Who cares about the bet? You messed with us, you’re dead," a boy sneered, delivering another blow.

"Leave him alone!" you finally mustered the courage to intervene, emerging from your hiding spot.

The boy mocked, "Oh look, is it your girlfriend, Heeseung? If you’re a stray cat trying to get your boyfriend out of trouble, you're out of luck."

In a burst of anger, you threw your purse at the boy, sending him tumbling to the ground. Another boy's eyes widened in shock as he witnessed the scene.

"What did you say?" you demanded, your eyes narrowing.

As the tension escalated, you kicked the taunting boy hard in the legs, causing him to yelp in pain.

"Want to say that again?" you glared. "Fuck off and find something better to do with your time."

The boy slowly looking a bit scared quickly ran off through the alleyways as his friends tagged along with him.

“So…” you began tentatively, noticing Heeseung’s bleeding lip.

“Sorry for all of that,” Heeseung apologized sincerely.

“Let's talk later. For now, let's get you patched up,” you replied, swiftly leading him to the nearby convenience store to grab a first aid kit.

"HOW DID YOU EVEN END UP IN THAT FIGHT?" you inquire as the two of you settle in at the park. You pull out a tube of scar gel, uncapping it and listening intently as Heeseung explains.

"Well, I made a bet for $1,000 and won, so I got dragged into the whole brawl," Heeseung shrugs. "It's just the usual."

"Usual?" your eyebrow raises as you first cleanse the scar with an alcohol wipe.

"Ouch, that stings," Heeseung winces as you then pat it dry with a tissue. "Yeah, it's kind of normal for me... ouch."

"Then maybe you shouldn't do it; it's dangerous," you respond, leaning in closer to apply the medicine. Heeseung's heart thumps as he watches you approach. You can feel his breath against your skin, and his cheeks flush as your fingers touch his skin. Why does his stomach feel like it's doing somersaults?

You affix a small bandage as a finishing touch. "There."

"Thanks," Heeseung smiles. "So, where were you?"

"Babysitting for another kid today," you shrug, quickly disposing of the bandage wrapper and tidying up your first aid kit.

"I see," Heeseung replies, helping you clean up. "I can walk you home if you want?"

"I'll walk," you smile.

"I could walk with you part of the way," Heeseung suggests, falling into step beside you. You both gaze at the glimmering stars, admiring them from afar.

"You know," you start, "Jihyeon mentioned something about your parents."

Heeseung's gaze drops as he stares at the ground, his smile fading slightly. He looks at you. "She did?"

You nod, meeting Heeseung's eyes. "If you're comfortable sharing, what happened?"

"Well..." Heeseung pauses, contemplating for a moment before continuing. "My parents died in a car crash. They were returning from a movie, and they never really got to say goodbye to us. I guess my biggest regret was not saying goodbye before they left. I was just being stubborn and angry because they scolded me for getting a bad grade."

You listen attentively. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. It's all in the past now. It happened about five years ago, and I barely remember it," Heeseung shrugs.

"I hope things have gotten better since then," you smile.

"Thanks, YN," he gives you a grateful look.

"Anyway, thanks for walking me. Hopefully, we can talk again later," you wave goodbye before heading towards your apartment building.

"YN, COULE YOU PLEASE JOIN ME FOR A DRESS-UP TEA PARTY?" Jihyeon pleads with a cute pout, coaxing you into her playful scheme.

"Alright, fine…" you reluctantly agree, watching as Jihyeon's face lit up with a wide smile before she hurriedly led you to her room to fetch tiaras and dresses.

"This dress is from Mommy's room, so you can wear it," Jihyeon grin mischievously, confessing how she got it without her brother's knowledge. You examine the dress—a simple white garment with puffy sleeves adorned with intricate lace, reaching knee-length.

After changing in the bathroom, you admire your reflection in the mirror. Surprisingly, the dress fit perfectly, accentuating your features.

Emerging from the bathroom, you found Jihyeon holding two tiaras, dressed in her own fancy pink attire. She hands you a tiara, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she helps you place it on your head.

"Let's go! It's tea party time!" she exclaims, leading you to the dining table where she arranged fake tea cups. Pouring imaginary "tea" into your cup, you play along, enjoying the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes observed from the doorway. "A tea party without me?" a teasing voice remark, revealing Heeseung, in his usual leather jacket and jeans, his smile widening as he saw you. His gaze linger on you appreciatively, taking in the sight of the borrowed dress.

"Heeseung!" Jihyeon exclaims, rushing into his arms.

"How are you, Jihyeon?" Heeseung greets, lifting her up gently.

"Why are you home so early?" Jihyeon inquire.

"Just needed to grab something upstairs," Heeseung replies with a grin. "Could you fetch my phone and wallet, Jihyeon? I need to chat with YN."

"Sure!" Jihyeon agreeing, scampering off to fulfill his request.

"YN…" Heeseung's gaze softened as he admires your appearance in the dress. "You look beautiful."

"I hope it's not inappropriate or disrespectful cause Jihyeon let me borrow it…" you began, but Heeseung quickly reassuring you.

"No, it's fine. You should keep it. It suits you really well," he insisted

"Are you sure?" you ask hesitantly.

"Absolutely," Heeseung affirm, his smile unwavering. "By the way, are you free next Friday evening? Jihyeon will be with her aunt, and I thought maybe we could grab dinner together."

"Ah, is someone asking me out?" you tease, accepting his invitation with a smile.

Heeseung chuckles. "Guilty as charged. See you next Friday then. Feel free to continue your tea party," he added with a wink as you playfully rolled your eyes. Jihyeon returned with Heeseung's belongings, bidding him farewell as he left the house once more.

"WHY AM I SO NERVOUS…" you whisper to yourself in the bathroom before a ding dong at the door interrupts your thoughts. "I'LL GET IT!" you shout, hastily opening the door to find Heeseung standing there, clad in a white blouse with the first two buttons undone and black pants.

"I hope I’m not too early?" Heeseung grins.

"Perfect timing," you reply with a small smile. "I'LL BE BACK SOON!" you call out to your friends before exiting the house.

Outside, Heeseung's motorcycle awaits, and you sit on it, securing your helmet as he starts the engine. Arriving at the restaurant, he assists you off the bike, taking your hand and leading you inside. As you settle at a table, you quickly peruse the menu and place your order, leaving time for conversation.

"I noticed something unique about Jihyeon," you begin. "Unlike most kids who prioritize toys, she seems more…mature, especially in her care for you."

"Hm?" Heeseung looks intrigued.

"She's genuinely thoughtful and responsible, almost like she was raised exceptionally well," you add, earning a nod from Heeseung.

"You also strike me as a great brother," you compliment, noticing a faint blush on Heeseung's cheeks as he looks away, taking a sip of water to compose himself.

"Thanks," he responds, attempting to maintain his composure.

As the conversation flows, your food arrives, and after enjoying the meal, you take a leisurely stroll, chatting along the way.

"Yunah is more of a 'clumsy older sister' than an organized one," you remark.

"I could gather that from your stories," Heeseung chuckles, then pauses, "Your shoes... they're untied." He bends down to quickly tie your shoelaces, and inexplicably, your heart begins to race. Why the sudden flutter in your stomach?

"T-thanks," you stutter, "H-how about we head back home now? It's getting late, you know?"

"Yeah, sure," Heeseung nods, masking how he was blushing too.

YOU LIE IN YOUR BED, STARING AT THE CEILING, thinking of all the times you've spent with Heeseung. All the times you babysat Jihyeon and he would always stop by and wave at you. All the time he would do small things to make your heart thump loudly. All the rides you took on his motorcycle. The scent of his leather jacket when you first met him after the party. All of that was nearly 4-5 months ago. Now here you are, lying down and thinking about Heeseung all night, memories keeping you up until 4 am.

“Do you think I’m in love?” you ask Iroha.

“I think you are,” Iroha responds with a smile. “You always talk about Heeseung, and he treats you really well.”

You pause and ponder Iroha’s words, contemplating what it truly means to you. Were all those butterflies in your stomach a sign of love? What even is love?You gaze out the window, reflecting for the last time. Now you realize it, Iroha was right. You are truly deeply in love with the one and only Lee Heeseung

“YN, YOU’RE ZONING OUT AGAIN.” Jihyeon pouts as you gaze out the window for the fourth time.

“Sorry, Jihyeon. Where were we in the play?” you try to give a small smile that hopefully Jihyeon would forgive.

“We were where the prince confessed to the princess!” Jihyeon exclaims.

Confess. The word pops up in the brain as you try to gain your focus back, “Right.” You whisper before then zoning out again. God, why was Heeseung taking your whole mind?

You quickly snap back to reality, “Sorry—so basically the princess confesses to the prince of how much she loves him. How much she makes her get butterflies in her stomach. The way he gives her jacket and talks to her all the time..” You continue on as your mind is only about Heeseung. All the stuff you were saying perfectly described him.

“You know this kind of sounds like my brother,” Jihyeon says, as she plays with her dolls.

“Huh?” you look up from talking.

“Is it?” Jihyeon asks.

“Uhm..” you hesitate.

“It is.” Jihyeon replies, reading your expression, “it’s okay cause I have my mouth shut.” She grabs her fingers and pretends to zip her mouth close as you laugh at her cuteness. But she wasn’t wrong, everything you said was about Heeseung. Everything in your mind right now was Heeseung.

YOU AND YUNAH SETTLE INTO A cozy corner at the bustling café, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling in the air. Thoughts of Heeseung, the boy who occupies far too much space in your mind, tug at your attention.

"I’m going to the bathroom," you say, forcing a smile as you make your way to the bathroom. Inside the dimly lit space, you take a deep breath, trying to push aside your thoughts.

But as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the mirror, you can't help but overhear a conversation from the other side of the bathroom.

"Heeseung definitely likes me. Like in Lee Heeseung," a voice boasts confidently. "Remember that one day he kissed me once. He's my type too."

Your heart skips a beat as the words sink in, a wave of shock and betrayal washing over you. Why did you think he likes you? Why did you like him?

You press a hand to your mouth, trying to stop the sobs that threaten to escape. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to make sense of heartbreak.

With trembling hands, you splash cold water on your face, trying to compose yourself before facing Yunah again. You can't let her see you like this, can't bear to let her witness the shattered remnants of your heart.

Summoning every ounce of strength you have left, you force yourself to leave the bathroom. Yunah's concerned gaze meets yours, and you offer her a weak smile.

"I'm not feeling well," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think I should go home."

Yunah's brow furrows with worry, and she reaches out to touch your arm. But you pull away gently, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I'll be okay," you lie, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "I just need some rest."

With a heavy heart, you bid farewell to Yunah and make your escape from the café. Once outside, tears streaming down your cheeks. Sobbing your eyes, you make your way back home with a broken heart.

"YN, COME ON. HE’S SUCH A JERK" Wonhee consoles you as she wipes away your tears for what feels like the fifth time this week.

"He completely played me," you sob, feeling the weight of betrayal. "I thought there was something between us, but turns out he's just the brother of a kid I babysit. Why did I even like him?"

"YN…" Moka's voice is gentle as she squeezes your hand, "Please don't talk like that. What if there's a misunderstanding?"

"They mentioned 'Lee Heeseung,' it's obviously him," you sniffle, trying to compose yourself.

"Well, why waste your time on someone who doesn't deserve it?" Minju interjects.

"Minju's got a point," Wonhee agrees, "He's not worth your tears. He's just a player."

"But I can't help it, I think I love him," you admit, feeling torn.

"But Heeseung doesn't strike me as the type to play with someone's feelings like that. He's a good guy," Yunah suggests optimistically. "Maybe there's more to the story that you don't know."

"I don't even know anymore," you murmur, wiping your eyes. "All I know is I can't face anyone for the next week. I might even cancel all my plans. I just can't bear to see him right now."

HEESEUNG SAT AT HIS DESK, his mind consumed with worry. It had been a week since you abruptly canceled all your plans, and he hadn't heard from you since. His messages were delivered for nearly a week and according to Iroha, you hadn't left your house in days.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. Jihyeon stood in the doorway, her big brown eyes filled with concern.

"Heeseung, are you okay?" she asked softly, her small voice breaking through his anxious mind.

Heeseung forced a smile, trying to hide his emotion, "I'm fine, Jihyeon. Just a little tired."

Jihyeon frowned, unconvinced by his reassurance. "But you've been pacing around your room all day, and you haven't touched your food," she pointed out, her brow furrowing with worry.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He couldn't hide anything from Jihyeon; she always saw right through him.

"I'm just worried about someone," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jihyeon's eyes widened with curiosity. "Is it YN?" she asked, her voice filled with innocence.

Heeseung's heart skipped a beat at the mention of your name, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, it's YN. I haven't heard from her in days, and I'm starting to get really worried."

Jihyeon's expression softened, and she took a tentative step forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Heeseung. I'm sure she's okay. Maybe she just needs some time alone."

Heeseung wanted to believe her, but the nagging worry in the back of his mind refused to go away. "Hopefully."

Suddenly, Jihyeon's eyes lit up with excitement, as if she had just remembered something important. "Hey, Heeseung, do you like YN?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Heeseung's heart skipped a beat at the question, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I…uh…what makes you ask that?"

Jihyeon shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "YN may have told me that you give her butterflies and so many other things"

Heeseung's breath caught in his throat at the revelation, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. You liked him? The realization filled him with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in days.

"I need to go find YN."he said, his voice choking with emotion.

THE NIGHT HUNG HEAVY WITH SILENCE. Tears streamed down your cheeks; the clock ticked, marking the passing of time as you sat alone in your room.

The sudden creak of the window startled you, and you turned to see Heeseung framed against the moonlit sky. His presence sent a jolt of surprise through you.

"Heeseung?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words to say. "YN, I…," he started, but his voice faltered as he struggled to find the courage to speak.

"What are you doing here, Heeseung?" you asked, your voice betraying the hurt and confusion.

Heeseung took a step closer, his eyes filled with concern as he noticed the tears staining your cheeks. "YN, what happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice with genuine worry.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at his question,"Why do you care, Heeseung?" you snapped, your voice sharp"After everything that's happened, why do you even bother?"

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "What do you mean, YN? What happened?" he asked.

The anger inside you boiled over, and you couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. "You like another girl," you said, your voice trembling with hurt and anger. "You kissed her,"

Heeseung's face looked puzzled, his eyes with confusion"YN, it's not what you think," he started, but you cut him off.

"Don't even bother, Heeseung," you said, your voice filled with resignation. "I know the truth now. I know that everything you did to me was just to play."

Heeseung's heart shattered at your words, "YN, please, let me explain," he pleaded, his voice desperate. You shake your head no.

"YN, listen to me," he said, his voice barely audible over the sound of your quiet sobs. "Those are all false. I never kissed anyone. I don’t like anyone but…"

You turned to face him, the tears still streaming down your cheeks as you searched his eyes.

“But you. I like you, YN," Heeseung confessed, "More than I've ever liked anyone before."

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I like you YN.” Heeseung confessed, before you could process anything

For a moment, the world fell away around you as he pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. Lips in sync, his hands snaking around your waist.

But all too soon, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway outside your room, and Heeseung pulled away, his eyes wide with panic. "YN, open the door, I brought tea," Yunah's voice called out. He realized that he was about to be caught, and he turned to you. Without a word, he pressed his lips to yours one last time.

As you stood there, the echo of his words ringing in your ears. He liked you. Heeseung Lee liked you back.

THE WARM GLOW OF THE AFTERNOON SUN FILTERED through the curtains, casting a soft light over the cozy living room. You sat beside him on the comfortable couch, next to Heeseung’s side as you watched a movie together.

Jihyeon sat on the floor in front of the TV, completely engrossed in the movie. Every so often, she would glance back at the two of you, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she plotted her next adventure.

Heeseung wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Is the movie good, angel?" he murmured, his voice soft with affection.

You nodded, leaning into his embrace with a contented sigh. "Mhmm, perfect," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As the movie played on, you found yourself drifting off, the gentle rhythm of Heeseung's heartbeat and the noise of Jihyeon’s laughter.

When the movie finally came to an end, Jihyeon jumped up from her spot on the floor, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we play a game now?" she asked, bouncing up and down.

Heeseung chuckled at her enthusiasm, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Of course, Jihyeon," he said, shooting you a playful grin. "What do you want to play?"

Jihyeon's face lit up with delight as she rattled off a list of her favorite games, her energy infectious as she dragged the two of you into her world of make-believe. You and Heeseung played along with her antics, laughing and joking as you chased each other around the room, completely lost in the moment.

And as you watched Heeseung and Jihyeon, their laughter filling the air with joy, you knew that you would do anything to protect this precious moment, to hold onto it for as long as you possibly could.

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hellsitegenetics · 1 year ago

Note

Blast the Book of Genesis, Chapter 1 from the Bible so we can finally know what was the first creature God created.

[1:1] In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,

[1:2] the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.

[1:3] Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light.

[1:4] And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.

[1:5] God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

[1:6] And God said, "Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters."

[1:7] So God made the dome and separated the waters that were under the dome from the waters that were above the dome. And it was so.

[1:8] God called the dome Sky. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.

[1:9] And God said, "Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear." And it was so.

[1:10] God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good.

[1:11] Then God said, "Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it." And it was so.

[1:12] The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it. And God saw that it was good.

[1:13] And there was evening and there was morning, the third day.

[1:14] And God said, "Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years,

[1:15] and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth." And it was so.

[1:16] God made the two great lights - the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night - and the stars.

[1:17] God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth,

[1:18] to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good.

[1:19] And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.

[1:20] And God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky."

[1:21] So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm, and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good.

[1:22] God blessed them, saying, "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth."

[1:23] And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.

[1:24] And God said, "Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind." And it was so.

[1:25] God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good.

[1:26] Then God said, "Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth."

[1:27] So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

[1:28] God blessed them, and God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth."

[1:29] God said, "See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food.

[1:30] And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food." And it was so.

[1:31] God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

String identified:

[1:1] t gg G cat t a a t at,

[1:2] t at a a a a c t ac t , a G t t ac t at.

[1:3] T G a, "t t gt"; a t a gt.

[1:4] A G a tat t gt a g; a G aat t gt t a.

[1:5] G ca t gt a, a t a ca gt. A t a g a t a g, t t a.

[1:6] A G a, "t t a t t t at, a t t aat t at t at."

[1:7] G a t a aat t at tat t t at tat a t . A t a .

[1:8] G ca t . A t a g a t a g, t c a.

[1:9] A G a, "t t at t gat tgt t ac, a t t a aa." A t a .

[1:10] G ca t a at, a t at tat gat tgt ca a. A G a tat t a g.

[1:11] T G a, "t t at t t gtat: at g , a t t at tat a t t t t." A t a .

[1:12] T at gt t gtat: at g , a t ag t t t t. A G a tat t a g.

[1:13] A t a g a t a g, t t a.

[1:14] A G a, "t t gt t t t aat t a t gt; a t t g a a a a a a,

[1:15] a t t gt t t t g gt t at." A t a .

[1:16] G a t t gat gt - t gat gt t t a a t gt t t gt - a t ta.

[1:17] G t t t t t g gt t at,

[1:18] t t a a t gt, a t aat t gt t a. A G a tat t a g.

[1:19] A t a g a t a g, t t a.

[1:20] A G a, "t t at g t a g cat, a t a t at ac t t ."

[1:21] G cat t gat a t a g cat tat , , t c t at a, a g . A G a tat t a g.

[1:22] G t, ag, " t a t a t at t a, a t t t at."

[1:23] A t a g a t a g, t t a.

[1:24] A G a, "t t at g t g cat : catt a cg tg a aa t at ." A t a .

[1:25] G a t aa t at , a t catt , a tg tat c t g . A G a tat t a g.

[1:26] T G a, "t a a ag, accg t ; a t t a t t a, a t t a, a t catt, a a t aa t at, a cg tg tat c t at."

[1:27] G cat a ag, t ag G cat t; a a a cat t.

[1:28] G t, a G a t t, " t a t, a t at a t; a a t t a a t t a a g tg tat t at."

[1:29] G a, ", a g at g tat t ac a t at, a t t t t; a a t .

[1:30] A t at t at, a t t a, a t tg tat c t at, tg tat a t at , a g g at ." A t a .

[1:31] G a tg tat a a, a , t a g. A t a g a t a g, t t a.

Closest match: Naumovozyma dairenensis CBS 421 chromosome 11, complete genome Common name: Budding yeast

(I could not find an image of this organism, so here is an image of Naumovozyma castellii instead.)

#tumblr genetics #genetics #asks #requests #sent to me #christianity #yeast #long post #such a massive post for absolutely no payoff LMAO

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kurooh · 2 months ago

Text

★ 03. PARTY MONSTER

☆ denki takes you to your first ‘party’ at UA studios to meet his friends and your co-stars. the whole night’s a blur of new people, save for one who catches your eye from the start.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, everyone is over 21, drinking alcohol, introductions, lowkey a filler chapter but there’s better things coming in the future 💔 | 3.6K words

xoxo, juno. showtime is BACK! (i said this the last time i updated which was like 3 months ago…. 🗿) happy early valentine’s day, comment & rb if you enjoyed 🩷 !

SHOWTIME MLIST.

smooth and sleek, the sporty car glides into the parking slot under denki’s ministrations. easily, almost as if he’s trying to impress you, he shifts gears and hops out of the car to quickly race around to your side. a little smile plays on his lips as he helps you out, taking your hand in his own like it’s an unskippable step in a daily routine.

above you, the sky is swathed in darkness and scattered with hundreds of stars, drowned out by the pollutive city light. denki’s car beeps as he locks it, fixing you with a giddy look. “c’mon, it’ll be alright. they’ve totally been dying to meet you!”

“precisely,” you sigh, walking along beside him. “i just . . i didn’t know i was this popular outside of shiketsu.”

“you didn’t see the views or get any proposals to film?” when he grins, lips tugging up at the corners, nervousness bubbles up in his chest. it’s impossible not to be a little starstruck, walking around so casually with someone who’s definitely out of his league. all he wants is to play it cool, maintain his composure and not get too caught off guard like he is right now—looking into your eyes long enough for you to awkwardly clear your throat. he continues when it’s time to stop at the elevator, and his voice slightly cracks. “no way, babe.”

“yeah, i was being ripped off,” your voice is light as you clarify, momentarily recalling past bitterness while he presses his fingertips into the button. “i just had a shitty agent and little access to any of my accounts.”

oh, shit. denki was messing with you, and now he’s feeling heat quickly bloom in the apples of his cheeks like he’s just done something bad. so, he says what comes to mind first, expression immediately softening as he tries to control his surprise. it’s not that surprising, though, considering how common it is to be taken advantage of in the industry—it’s only ever happened to stars outside of UA, ones he’s met on set and occasionally talked to afterwards. but for something like this to happen to you—he’s disappointed.

“god, that sounds terrible,” unconsciously, his fidgety fingers press the button a few more times. “did you report ‘em? oh my god, please tell me you reported that slimeball.”

with a ding, the elevator comes down and opens shortly after.

you suck in a short breath, a little uncomfortable. “heh, something like that . . anyway, i forgot to ask! should i grab some beer or no?”

“well, i’m glad that’s all behind you now. and nope, there’s no need,” denki steps into the elevator, pressing a dull button. the number five comes to life, illuminated by fluorescent light and power as the doors shut behind you. “you won’t need any beer when you try hanta’s cocktails.”

“they’re that good?”

“you’ll get it when you meet him, but i’ve gotta tell you now. hanta’s amazing at mixing shit up! once, he got a frat guy to pole dance for a few at a strip club he used to work at.”

an uncontrollable laugh bursts out of you. “he what? did the guy end up getting the drinks?”

recalling the memory makes a smile spread across his face, and it grows wider once he hears your hushed giggles. “unfortunately, he did, even though he could barely work the pole.”

there’s a few more laughs before a comfortable silence stretches between the two of you, allowing him a moment of respite as he savors the brief journey up with you. it was hours ago, but he’s still thinking about when he fucked you on set and feels a flutter in his stomach whenever it pops into his mind. there’s something . . you’ve got a certain charisma he hasn’t quite encountered with other actresses, and denki’s sure his friends will feel the same.

he had been the first to become totally enraptured with you, since he’d submitted a faceless ad of yours to r/pornid. since then, it’s been history—finally finding your profile set into motion an imaginative attraction that eventually leaked into everyday, casual conversations with his friends. it had led them to also subscribe to you, each of them dreaming to meet you on or outside of the UA sets. see, you’d first gotten your start on camera with a partner, your face usually obscured by his body or out of the frame altogether. it wasn’t often, but you’d revealed your face a few times, only in subscription locked videos that weren’t ever up for more than a few days. eventually, the videos of you with other men dwindled before stopping completely, save for the rare repost of an old clip. word on the industry corners had been that you stopped accepting acts with partners, instead opting to make your own content.

a few years of mystique and intrigue had obviously built you quite the fanbase, many of them prominent actors and actresses at UA studios. now, as you get off the elevator, your pulse quickens in anticipation; even as you try to reassure yourself, psyche yourself up about how much easier future films will go after a simple introduction, your efforts are almost entirely fruitless.

beside you, denki’s equally nervous, just for different reasons.

honestly, he’s concerned about his friends, praying to any higher deity that they don’t embarrass him. they’ve all got their different personalities, and some are looser cannons than others . . oh god. casually, to hide the tremble of his hands, he cards his fingers through his blonde hair and catches your eyes.

“my friends can be a lot sometimes,” he admits earnestly, giving you a spiel that’s really meant to calm his own nerves, “but they’re cool, you’ll settle in quickly. i just hope they’re not too embarrassing, heh.”

you nod, swallowing the small lump in your throat when he starts to bang on the door. although it’s a brief wait, each second passes and leaves you feeling more hesitant then the last. the muffled sounds of music and laughter seep out from under the door, reminding you of just how new this experience will be. at shiketsu, you didn’t often go to parties or get togethers, something you’re grateful for since that scandal came to light. finally, the door swings open to reveal a tall figure and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

his hair is dark and a little spiky, hanging over his brows as though he’d decided it was good enough in the middle of combing it. warm and friendly, his eyes twinkle with something mischievous, like he’s used to having a good time and pulling others into it too. despite his relaxed demeanor, it’s clear that he’s interested to meet you, extending his tanned hand comfortably. a grin tugs at the corners of his lips, showing off his straight teeth as he starts to talk, gaze never straying too far. “hanta’s the name. it’s nice to finally meet you.”

the handshake is simple, and your firm grip only makes you all the more attractive. a minute hasn’t even passed since the door opened, and yet denki can tell you’ll fit well with his friends. although you’re nervous, you mask it like it’s nobody’s business as you step into the warm apartment. denki slips off his shoes, so you do the same without being asked.

“god, haven’t you opened a window?” denki’s nose crinkles when he shuts the door behind him, immediately taking in the mingling scents of both liquor and food.

“i can’t believe you’re complaining,” hanta huffs, heading toward the kitchen island, which is completely filled up with various pizza boxes, sushi trays, and liquor bottles. it’s not necessarily messy, just crowded with the evidence of too many people crammed into one space at once. “denks, you’re the first to make the place stink.”

“dude! all i’m saying is some air would be good!” he whines, cheeks becoming a blotchy pink as he shoves his friend. for denki’s sake and ego, you pretend to be enamored with a sealed tray of salmon futamaki.

“nice spread, huh?” hanta pointedly ignores his friend and offers you a paper plate, tossing open the fridge to pull out a sealed bottle of water. “go ahead ‘n take what you like! there’s soy sauce and condiments on the counter behind you, then the napkins are to your right.”

slowly, you make your plate, filling it up with a few different things to try while you make conversation with everyone. not far from the kitchen, there’s a lot of arguing in the other room. whoever it is obviously doesn’t concern themselves with their volume or their word choice, something that slightly puts you on edge.

denki tries to pull his friend to the side, but his whispering is loud enough for you to hear clearly. “i thought i told you to deal with him! like, seriously. first of all, we don’t need any more complaints from the—”

“long time no see, huh?”

a very familiar voice catches your attention and tears you away from the peeved whispers behind you. holding an empty plate and a cup of something, shoto’s leaning coolly against the edge of the island as he fixes you with a look of interest and a quirked brow. even though you’re not on the set and instead far from it, that familiar professional confidence rises in your chest. “can’t believe it’s been a whole day.”

subtle as ever, the hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he opens the lid of the sushi tray, using his chopsticks to effortlessly pluck more than a few pieces out. “guess you’re making waves already. settling into UA easily, i hope?”

“definitely, everything’s been smooth sailing since the first day,” after a bite of food, you chuckle. “is that your favorite kind of sushi roll, shoto?”

“sorry, i need to grab something behind you,” he murmurs, fingers lightly brushing against your side as he moves past you to grab a small bottle of hot sauce. “i like sushi, but i’ve had enough. this one’s for my friend, he demanded that i come over here and get him a second plate because he’s so busy.”

in spite of the fact that someone’s audible yelling turns into aggravated shouts of his name, shoto’s expression remains serene. it’s when he begins dousing the sushi in the hot sauce that your eyebrows raise, startled by the sheer amount of spice.

“he can handle it,” shoto supplies, settling the bottle down and waving you toward him. “why don’t you come with me to meet everyone?”

“i’ll mix up some drinks while you’re at it!” hanta calls, grabbing liquor bottles by their necks while denki throws open a cabinet to look for supplies to assist his friend.

not trailing too far behind shoto, you shuffle into the living room, where it’s a little warmer than the kitchen. the air’s thick with the smell of pizza and soy sauce, mixing with the low hum of the tv. everything’s laid back, both figuratively and literally; two people sit in front of the tv, ps4 controllers in hand while another lounges on the couch with his legs sprawled out. there’s something familiar about them, but it’s nothing you can place immediately—you’ve definitely seen their faces before, and it wouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if they’ve seen you too. when he speaks above the mingling voices and video game noises, shoto introduces you with a gentle hand atop your shoulder. “everyone, she’s here, and also the reason the kitchen’s quieter now.”

in an instant, the flashing lights of the game come to a stop as one of its players hits pause. the strong, defined muscles of his back ripple beneath his shirt, drawing your attention until he turns around with a wide grin on his face. those sharp white teeth gleam in the low light, and he’s enthusiastic as ever when he introduces himself. “it’s really great to meet you! kirishima here, i hope you’re enjoying the party so far!”

“tch, whatever. no need to make it weird,” seemingly uninterested, kirishima’s video game opponent looks back at you, curiosity briefly flickering in his eyes as he quietly accepts his plate from shoto. “hey.”

with dark, green hair hanging just over his eyebrows, the person on the couch seems a little more frazzled than the others when he jumps up. he stumbles slightly, tripping over his foot before regaining his balance and extending a scarred hand. “hi, i’m midoriya! nice to meet you!”

so many new, different personalities thrust upon you all at once. it certainly bodes for an interesting night, the kind that would be much smoother with a drink or two; just as you’re offering midoriya a smile and nod with your hand in his own, denki’s right on cue, bumbling down the hallway holding a heavy tray filled with drinks. dewy condensation beads on the sides of the glass, stray droplets of water mingling with the juice from the carefully sliced orange perched on the edge. “alright, people! who’s ready to loosen up a little, huh?”

“don’t you dare spill that,” hanta warns grimly. of course, it doesn’t bother denki in the slightest, his face still lit up by an excited grin. like some kind of featherlight ballerina, he hops from one spot on the carpet to another, handing out drinks as his energy fills the room and people in it. some of them, at least—the ash blond guy who’d been playing video games with kirishima aggressively wipes hot sauce from his chin.

“i’ve gotta get going soon.”

“c’mon, kacchan,” orange liquid sloshes over the rim of the glass when denki hands it to him, whining either to convince him to stay or to piss him off. “why do you have to go so soooon?”

“shut up,” he snaps immediately, scowling when some of the drink splashes onto his pants. “i have a goddamn schedule, and you already know that.”

“let’s not get too worked up,” midoriya’s lighter voice cuts through the bickering and ultimately makes things worse. “here’s a napkin for the—”

“shut it! i never asked you to get started too!”

you watch as the scene unfolds, nodding a thanks when denki hands you a drink. beside you, shoto tips his head down and whispers into your ear, “they’re always like this.”

“even when they’re working?” it sounds horrific to work with arguing co stars, especially if they’re not acting. “does he act like that on set?”

finally, you learn his name. “bakugo’s always been like that, on and off of it.”

denki claps his hands enthusiastically, ignoring bakugo’s grunt of fuck you doing that for? and successfully draws everyone’s attention. “now that we’re on the road to getting drunk, it’s time to make things interesting.”

“don’t you dare suggest seven minutes in heaven,” hanta pins his friend down with a glare and a disdainful shake of his head. “just don’t.”

“and let’s please forget about never have i ever.” midoriya takes a sip of his drink while bakugo grunts in assent, still dabbing at the orange stain on his pants.

“alright, fiiiine!” denki relents easily, holding up his hands in mock surrender before wickedly rubbing them together as a lightbulb turns on in his head. the small gold hoops in his ears catch the low, comfortable light, swaying subtly with every exaggerated motion. “i raise truth or dare instead.”

“aren’t we adults?” shoto sips his drink as though he didn’t say anything at all, while the others collectively nod in agreement.

“i swear, if you make me kiss someone—” bakugo’s ready to jump up and strangle his friend, infuriated by the mere thought of the imaginary scenario.

“there won’t be any kissing! c’mon, kaminari, tell him!” strong arms pull him back even though he thrashes against kirishima’s chest, nearly clawing out of his grip until hanta steps in to help too.

childish as ever, denki continues on with his unbothered smile stretching from ear to ear as his eyes glint with obvious mischief. “we’ll give everyone a turn before we move on. there may not be any kissing, kacchan, but it’ll be exciting nonetheless. hanta, it’s time to whip up some more drinks, man!”

☆ ☆

“whoa, don’t reach for that,” the words are laced with concern as he gently pulls the liquor bottle from your grasp and sets it down. quickly, his dutiful hands fetch a cup from the shelf and fill it with cool tap water. “here, drink this instead.”

“i’m f-fine,” it doesn’t even sound like you talking, not when you’re wobbling on your feet and grabbing onto his wrist to steady yourself. careful, as if he’s afraid to let you go for fear of you somehow losing your balance and falling, he helps you lean against the counter. “it’s, um, kinda hot in here.”

“that’s why i’m handing you the water,” kirishima presses, his own cheeks flushed a rosy pink from all the alcohol he’d drank during the game. “take one sip and i’ll stop bothering you about it, okay?”

the game.

right, that’s what led to the decline of your inhibitions. almost everyone in the circle was throwing back as many drinks as you were, some of them getting too wasted to do much more than sit or pass out. a giggle slips out from your mouth before you can realize it or care enough to stop what starts to happen next. lightly, your manicured nails rake over the skin of his wrists, feeling him up and making him laugh as he slowly pulls away.

“do you even know how drunk you are?”

“you’re as drunk as i am,” you whine, eyes drawn to the visible crest of his flexing muscles beneath his t shirt. that initial pull you’d felt a few hours ago when you met him is stronger now, and much clearer than before, something the alcohol likely has an effect on. he’d been magnetic from the start, flashing you a winning smile and comfortably talking with you throughout the time you’d played the game.

he hiccups, eyes widening at the beginning of an entire fit.

“see? just look at you.”

“hand me that cup of water.” once he gets ahold of the cup, he immediately guzzles it down as if he’s been dehydrated for days. “oh, god.”

a laugh tumbles out of you, the kind that he wouldn’t normally appreciate, but in this drunken, defenseless state, he doesn’t quite mind it. “if we kept drinking, maybe the hiccups would stop. didn’t think of that, huh?”

“i’m not blacking out in their apartment,” kirishima grins, pushing his fingers through his vermilion hair. the spikes fall, softening under his light touch. “plus, i don’t think you’d want to risk a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

more slippery than it’d be if you were sober, the floor seems to give out beneath you—or maybe it’s your legs? either way, time slows as you inevitably plummet toward the tiles, until a pair of strong arms catches you. they hoist you up onto your feet once again. when your eyes refocus to take in your surroundings, an intangible heat permeates the air. you’re close, close enough that you can make out a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and dark flecks of crimson in his irises. startled by the proximity, kirishima’s face steadily flushes a darker color, but the thought of pulling away does not cross his mind.

his gaze flickers to your lips, and the mid-laugh expression on his face starts to melt away. it’s a subtle sign, but his intentions are nothing less than clear—he doesn’t lean in until you give a slight nod, an invitation that he’s more than eager to accept. it’s a gentle brush of skin against skin, one that is infused with the essence of hesitation and innocence.

but then, the growing heat of the moment takes over and kickstarts the kiss into an unrestrained rush of alcohol and physicality, which deepens between clashes of teeth and heady gasps for breath. it’s too much and all at once, in the best kind of way—your brain shortcircuits as your body surrenders to the sensations of it all, and everything outside of this bubble you’ve created is muffled, irrelevant. the pleasant scent of cedar cologne twists and twirls in the air, filling your nose each time you inhale. polite hands grapple at the small of your back as kirishima pulls you flush against him, reveling in the softness of your body as his mind races to memorize the blurry details.

here, now? kissing in the kitchen doesn’t seem like the wisest idea or even the soberest. although you want to think about what you’re doing and why, kirishima’s teeth lightly graze your lower lip and turn each thought back into the air they came from.

a loud bang from the living room shatters the moment, ending the kiss as abruptly as it began. slowly, you back away, still tasting the alcohol on his tongue and feeling the remnants of his touch. dazed, you gather your bearings as you wipe away the glossy string of saliva that connects your lips to his. “that was . . interesting.”

“interesting’s one way to put it,” he clears his throat, voice a little rougher than usual. “guess we got carried away, huh?”

you laugh lightly, feeling the alcohol buzzing its way through your veins. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

a sheepish chuckle escapes kirishima as he rubs at the back of his neck, focusing on ignoring the sweltering heat pooling in his stomach. “well, for starters, i may not remember this at all tomorrow.”

“for now, let’s just leave it at this,” you suggest with a cheeky grin, making him laugh. “we’ll pick it up on set or outside of it.”

“sounds like a—”

“oh my god, you two!” hanta’s raised voice cuts through the air as he races into the kitchen with an unlit cigarette between his lips and a face that plainly says he has news to share. “we got todoroki to do a fucking handstand! c’mon, you have to come see!”

#★.SHOWTIME #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #mha imagines #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #kirishima x reader #denki x reader #my hero academia smut #smut #mha sero #boku no hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction

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golden-cherry · 1 year ago

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deal - cl16 (21/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The truth comes under purple skies.

Warnings: angst, but mostly tooth rotting fluff because you deserve it

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: a little late happy birthday to me! sorry for the wait. I love you.

Although you keep your eyes closed, you know that it is still dark outside.

The air in the room is cool against your face, while your tired body is kept comfortably warm under the heavy comforter. It is just as warm against the free, uncovered parts of your body as Charles' soft skin.

His arm is wrapped around your middle, his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours and his thumb strokes gentle circles over your hand. A tender, loving gesture that you're not sure whether it's meant to calm your nerves or his own.

You haven't changed your positions in bed since you fell asleep pressed tightly together a few hours ago. Charles's chest is still pressed against your back and if you were to focus on it, you could certainly feel his heart beating hard and steady. But you don't. Your thoughts revolve around breathing as normally as possible so that it still looks like you're asleep.

You don't want to be awake.

Being awake would involve thinking, and you definitely don't want to think about the last few days. You don't want to think about how Charles told you that you would jump into bed with Lando at the next opportunity. You don't want to think about Raphael coming to your front door last night and calling you a whore. And you don't want to be reminded that Charles jumped to your side and defended you without so much as batting an eye.

All you want right now is to lie here, in his strong arms, wrapped in his scent and warmth. Deep down, you know you can't be angry with him. Lando's words flit through your head again and again about how you both want to protect each other, and even though you've only known each other for a few days, you can tell Charles so well that it's exactly this part of him that makes him who he is.

But you still don't know why he treated you like that.

You breathe in deeply, take in his scent - a mixture of sandalwood, peppermint and a smell that you can only describe as Charles - and press your face into the soft pillow. Although you had been furious with him, you had missed his closeness over the last few days.

The thumb that has been tenderly drawing figures on your hand pauses.

"I'm sorry." Charles' voice is little more than a whisper against your shoulder blade. As his warm breath brushes over you, your muscles tighten. "No apology in this world can make up for what I did to you. I betrayed your trust, hurt you, and left you thinking I didn't care about you." When you don't answer him, he continues. "I am so incredibly sorry. And I won't ask for your forgiveness or kindness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. And I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."

Your heart beats so fast against your ribcage that you fear it will break your bones and jump out of your chest. His touch feels like your skin is burning. When you open your eyes, you see purple clouds in the morning sky through the window.

Carefully, you turn in his arms, whereupon his embrace loosens a little, but his arm remains on your hip. His eyes are closed, as if he doesn't dare to look into your face. His eyebrows are furrowed and there are a few wrinkles between them that you would love to smooth out with your fingers.

You decide to run your fingers over his bare shoulders. His muscles twitch under your fingertips. "Why did you do it?" Charles remains silent, so you tentatively place your hand against his cheek. You feel his stubble scratch your skin as he exhales deeply, as if he hasn't taken a decent breath in a long time.

He opens his eyes and there is an anxious gleam in the otherwise beautiful green. His gaze searches yours as he nuzzles his face against your hand. "I was jealous."

Jealous?

A small glimmer of hope flares up inside you. Maybe everything you've experienced together - the viewpoint, your movie night, the bookstore, the tiramisu - is based on something other than friendship. On something more. Maybe there was more to every conversation, every look and every smile than just the friendship you nailed down to protect your heart. Maybe you were just talking past each other the whole time. Maybe –

"I was jealous of how well you got on with Lando. I thought that if you got to know each other better and became more than just friends, then we wouldn't be friends anymore. I thought -" He pauses for a moment. "I couldn't bear it if I lost you because of your relationship."

You try to suppress the punch in the pit of your stomach and swallow the frog in your throat. "You hurt me and pushed me away because you didn't want to get hurt yourself?" Your heart breaks a little for him. You finally smooth out the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb. His arm wraps around you tighter and presses you together. His fingers stroke your back and goose bumps spread across your body.

That's exactly what Lando said. That Charles pushes the people he cares about away to protect himself. Something you can well understand, after all, you were planning to do the same to him. Only not so drastically.

But Lando also told you something else about the Monegasque. "But that's not all, is it?" An image flickers in your mind's eye of Raphael holding out his hand to introduce himself to Charles. "You didn't just want to protect yourself. Or am I wrong, Charles Leclerc?"

As you say his name, a shiver jerks through his body, as if he's suddenly cold, and his hand freezes against your spine. "You're not." His tone is cooler, more distant than it was a few moments ago, and the tension in the room is palpable despite the purple clouds and morning calm as you place your hand on his bare chest. His heart is beating fast and strong.

"I - I think we both rushed into this friendship far too quickly." You try to put as much warmth into your whisper as you can, even though deep down your heart has caught quite a tear. "We've known each other for five days. And so much has happened in that time that takes some friends years. Our trust in each other went from zero to one hundred." You run your finger over his collarbone, your gaze following him.

Panting, he sucks air into his lungs at your touch. "What do you suggest?"

You purse your lips. "Maybe - maybe we should get to know each other better first. Get to know each other properly so that this doesn't happen again. So that our living together is easier."

Charles tightens his grip around your middle, his legs tangle with yours. "Living together? Does that mean you're staying with me?"

You nod slightly, but grab your arm with your hand to pull away from him. Something flits across his face, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again as you place his hand between your faces on the pillows. "But maybe a little distance will do us good. So we don't mess this up."

His fingers interlace with yours. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."

"That makes two of us," you smile, missing his touch on your body. You miss the warmth pulsing through your veins under your skin. But it's the right thing to do. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You take a deep breath. "I - I'm unemployed, by the way." You look down at your hands. "I was fired from this magazine before we met. I'm looking for a new job so that I can continue to live in Monaco, because my savings won't last forever. That's why I'm so grateful to you for standing up for me with Joris. About the rent. I can't thank you enough for that."

"But you don't have to," he replies quietly. "Friends help each other. They're there for each other. I can understand why you didn't tell me. Nobody likes to talk about the fact that they've recently lost their job."

"Thank you," you whisper back. You feel a weight fall from your shoulders. You suddenly find it easier to breathe. But now it's something else that's plaguing your thoughts.

And no one but Charles can give you the answer. "Can you please explain to me what happened yesterday? With - with Raphael?"

The Monegasque briefly lets go of your hand so that he can play with your fingers. He doesn't look at you. "Do you remember the night we watched Cars together?"

You nod. How could you forget that night? The wine, the movie, the flirting that apparently wasn't flirting. Ouch.

"We talked about Formula One and how you used to watch it with your grandfather when Michael Schuhmacher drove for Ferrari." His gaze is literally glued to your fingers. "When we first met, I told you that my work had something to do with cars, and I wasn't lying."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. If he's a mechanic or engineer for one of the racing teams, that woiuld explain why he has to travel so much for work. "Is that where all the cool photos on your phone come from? Because you fly across the globe with Formula 1 to work on the cars?"

Your flatmate purses his lips. "I don't work on the cars. I - I drive them." He licks his lips once. "I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari."

"Don't fuck with me," you reply, wanting to pull your fingers out of his grasp. But he holds on to them and when he lifts his gaze and looks you in the eyes, you know he's telling the truth. And his confession makes you see the last few days from a different perspective.

The conversation between Charles and Joris, shortly after he suddenly appeared in the apartment, pops up in your mind. "When we met, that night - you were on the phone with Joris. You said something about headlines."

He nods slightly. "A few weeks ago, the season ended and Annika and I broke up. I stayed away from here as long as I could because I didn't want to be confronted with it. And when I got to my apartment for emergencies, there you were. With a valid tenancy agreement. I couldn't just throw you out the door. You could have gone public and then it would have made the headlines. Something like "Charles Leclerc throws poor woman out of rented apartment". It was a risk I couldn't take." He furrows his eyebrows again, but this time you hold back.

"You have a nutritionist."

Again he nods. "For the races, I have to follow a strict diet to make the car go faster. Unfortunately, pasta and thick sandwiches aren't part of it, so please don't tell him."

Fragments of the last few days appear one after the other in your mind's eye, which you try to sort out and work through. "The bistro you went to after the bookshop had already closed, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But when do you ever have a Formula One driver on your doorstep who needs two sandwiches?" He shrugs. "One photo and we've had our dinner."

You lick your tongue over your lips and you don't miss the way Charles' eyes twitch to your mouth. "We went everywhere in my car. Why?"

"You've seen my car." He's referring to the fancy Ferrari in the parking garage. "With its stripes, it's not exactly inconspicuous. Especially since everyone knows the car is mine." He runs his thumb over the side of your index finger. "As soon as the car rolls down the street, everyone knows it's me. And everyone takes photos of it. I couldn't risk you getting caught up in all this because of a stupid car. And especially not because you couldn't choose it until now. Your sweet tin can was the only way we could get around the city together without attracting attention."

You clench your jaw. "The meetings in Italy. What about it?"

"The headquarters are there, in Maranello. Before the winter break, the team wanted to get together again and discuss what went wrong this season and what we can improve."

"And you could just leave like that?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "Not really. But in my opinion, there wasn't much to talk about either. The season was a throwaway." He shrugs his shoulders. "I was actually a little relieved when Lando called and asked me to go home."

So you were right. The Brit did call Charles. "And what did he say?"

"Exactly what I needed to hear." He smiles slightly. "He threw a lot of swear words at me and made it clear that I'd be the stupidest idiot in the world if I screwed up this friendship."

You don't know what to do with this information. The fact that Lando called Charles and made a slug out of him doesn't bother you much, because the Monegasque needed the push. But there's also something about the fact that Charles didn't come up with the idea of straightening things out himself. That one of his friends had to step in for you first so that he would get off his butt and stand up for this friendship. That Lando -

"What about Lando? And Pierre? And Kika? Are they part of Formula One too?"

Charles purses his lips into a thin line. "Lando and Pierre are also drivers. Kika is a model."

Bile rises in your gullet as you release your hand from his and turn onto your back, closing your eyes. Everyone knew, they even work in the same field, and no one thought to let you in on it. The whole thing could have gone down the drain. People could have recognized you both, taken photos of you and spread the word.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I -" Charles exhales. "I was just scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"My job - my name - brings a lot with it. A lot of good things, like seeing the world, getting to know cultures and not having to worry about things like money. But there are also negative things, like a lot of pressure, fake friends, no privacy." He also turns onto his back. "I don't want you to choose something you don't want because of my name. I thought - I thought if we stayed in our little bubble, our little world, that - I don't know. It was just nice to have someone as a friend who wanted to be friends with me because I'm Charles. And not because I'm Charles Leclerc."

You have to smile. "Actually, I'm only friends with you so that I can live with you and save on rent."

"Haha."

You clasp your hands behind your head. "I can understand, I think. That you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. And that there are a lot of people who only use you because you're you. It sounds very lonely."

Charles snorts softly. "It can definitely be lonely."

"Then let me assure you that I don't want to be friends with you because of your money or your name."

"But?"

"Do you really need reasons?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt my ego," you can practically hear his grin.

"All right," you reply. "I want to be friends with you because you're kind and considerate of your friends' feelings. Because you trusted me with your favorite place, even though you didn't know me. Because you introduced me to your friends because you thought it was inevitable anyway if our friendship strengthened." You take a deep breath and exhale. "I want to be friends with you because you're funny and make me laugh. Because you have a big heart. Because -"

A feeling bubbles up inside you. You've felt it before - the day after your movie night, when you were reviewing the evening. In the not entirely innocent dream you had about Charles. And when you shared the bed after the bookshop.

It's warm, like a warm blanket, strong like a good hug and bright like Charles' eyes when the sun shines on his face. Charles is not just your roommate. Or your friend. Charles is so much more. Charles is your home.

Before you can complete the sentence, the Monegasque interrupts you. "That's good. That's good enough for me, thank you." He smiles. "It's nice to have you as a friend. Even if I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you."

"Mm-hmm."

"Maybe you should sleep on it one more night and then decide if you really want it. There's so much more that comes with a friendship with me." When you yawn, he has to laugh. "You see? Maybe you're not even able to think straight right now. And then I push you into a friendship that you don't even want."

"I'm sure," you reply tiredly and you notice how your eyes get heavier.

"But -"

Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his hand and interlace his fingers with yours. You try to ignore the fact that this makes your heart beat faster. "I'm sure of it. Believe me."

When you gently squeeze his fingers twice, he replies with the same gesture. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to find out," you smile and as you yawn again, Charles pulls you closer to him. Like a magnet, you slide across the bed towards him, unable to resist as your face finds its place against the crook of his neck.

He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around you. His hand rests on the bare skin of your hip, while his other hand pulls your leg over him so that you're half lying on top of him. You are enveloped by him, fully and completely, and as you place your hand on his bare chest, you feel his heartbeat under your fingertips.

You try to convince yourself that it's not beating for you, but as you snuggle even closer to him and your lips touch the soft skin on his neck, you feel it skip a beat. But maybe you're just imagining it.

"I'll be better from now on," he whispers and tentatively presses a kiss to your forehead. Goosebumps spread all over your body, but not because you're cold like he thinks, which is why his arm presses you even tighter against him. "I don't want there to be another moment when you doubt how important you are to me, mon amour."

"You can teach me a little French," you reply. "Then you can hide less from me if I speak your mother tongue too," you joke.

Charles feels your smile on his neck and he is glad that you can't see the blush on his face.

"Anything you want. I'll go to the other side of the world for you if I have to."

"But not until tomorrow, all right?" You gently caress his chest with your fingertips and Charles draws in a sharp breath. "Now it's time to sleep. And don't you dare steal my blanket in the night."

Charles would love to pull you on top of him, kiss you and promise you that you're safe with him and that he won't let anything happen to you. But he holds back, just lets his fingers dance over your skin.

He promises in the purple morning light. "Deal."

next part

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versaceb4by · 15 days ago

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golden brown t.n x reader

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summary: summer with theo in his hometown in Italy.

a/n: so umm.... first fic! super sigma! anyway sorry for any mistakes I make, English is not my first language. also I know the song is about heroin but who cares lol

warnings: fem! reader, reader wears more feminine clothes, not proofread.

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in a small town in northern italy. june 15th, 1983. 1:31 p.m.

you and theo were walking in his hometown, after eating lunch. it was a hot day, with a cloudless sky. you had abandoned your leather jacket with pansy back at the café. as it was a hot day, you'd decided to wear your notoriously short shorts and a red top with a Queen Anne neckline. as you yapped his ear off, he only nodded and grunted here and there.

but there was only one thing on his mind; how pretty you looked. the way your shorts accentuated your hips, the way your top made your eyes stand out. you were so effortlessly beautiful, even when you were talking about margherita pizza.

"and this place, it's so serene-" he was barely listening. his mind was filked with thoughts of pure adoration for you.

how did he get so lucky?

11:21 p.m.

pansy and astoria had insisted on going clubbing that night, so off they went to the nearest club. it turned out to be a big, booming club with neon lights and strong drinks. you giggled as theo spun you around. you were already a bit tipsy, as you'd taken shots with daphne. your face was a bit flushed.

"tesoro," he muttered in your ear, "I've got an idea."

"oh, pretty boy's thinking. that can't be good."

he ignored your jab and said, "how about going skinny dipping?"

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and so, somehow, you found yourself in your underwear, swimming in startlingly blue water. although, you weren't complaining. it was relieving your hot, flushed skin. nearby, blaise and pansy were arguing about which ABBA song was best. you suddenly felt arms around your waist.

"hello, amore," he whispered in your ear.

"teddy!" you rolled your eyes, "you frightened me."

"sorry," he said, although there was no real remorse in his voice.

he hoisted you up, and to your shock, started carrying you further towards the ocean. once you'd reached there, you looked at him, expecting an explanation. but before you could even open your mouth, he had pulled you into the water. in there, you stared at him in bemusement, and then..... he kissed you.

right there. under the sea. it felt.... nice?

he pulled both your heads out of the water, then smirked. "I have wanted to do that for so long, bambola. it's been on my bucket list."

you blinked. then kissed him again. this time, not under the water.

12:35 a.m.

all of you were walking back to the hotel. you were holding on to theo's arm, as you were quite drowsy.

"I want to stay here forever," you mumbled quietly to theo.

"oh, tesoro," he cooed. but he knew what he had to do.

once you two would get married, once he put a ring on your finger, he'd immediately move you two to this town. he'd raise his children here. teach them the traditions.

and you all would be happy.

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a/n: this was super fluffy honestly. hope you enjoyed!

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versaceb4by's work. please do not copy, repost, or translate without my permission.

#Spotify #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott fanfiction #theo nott fic #theo nott fluff #theodore nott x you

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kwanisms · 1 year ago

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More Than Just Friends — b.chris

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➮ werewolf!Chris × f!Reader wc: 7.4k summary: Chris is a werewolf. His best friend is well aware of this. But what she doesn’t know is that during his heat, he often pictures pinning her down and breeding her. When she comes back home the day before his cycle is due to start, Chris finds it hard to not give into his urges when he smells she’s ovulating. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural and lycanthropic themes, f2l (gasp and they were roommates); non idol au, werewolf au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, Chris struggles with his horny thoughts and controlling his urges but can you blame the poor guy? Being in heat probably sucks when you aren’t getting laid 💀, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip , @wh0r3mir4 Join the taglist! »» Closes tomorrow (30th) at 23:00 CST Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: this was written partially for myself but also for my bestie, Sky. So you're welcome, bestie ily. We're nearing the end of this series so I'll take this time to announce that once I wrap up with Kinktober, the Tales from Camp Holiday Special will start back up with Jun and Vernon's part. If you’d like to sign up for the taglist, you can do so here. If you haven't read the first two installments, you can find those here. And if you have no idea what I'm talking about and read for SVT, you can read the OG Tales from Camp here! Thank you so much for reading and if you liked it, please consider supporting me on kofi (link on my pinned post) and reblogging or commenting! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (he’s a werewolf and he’s been dreaming about breeding his best friend. You don’t do that tho. You use protection), oral (both receiving), brat taming (f receiving), breeding, heat cycles, daddy kink, dom!Chris, sub!Reader, use of pet names (baby, babygirl, princess, etc), Chris is a very whipped man and loves Y/N very much. If I've missed anything, please let me know!

dialogue prompt: ❛ We’re not just friends and you fucking know it ❜

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Chris is normally a very patient man. He never rushes things, always preferring to take his time in everything he does. He’s always been able to keep his cool, even when things get… a little hairy. As a werewolf, he’s gotten pretty good at controlling his urges as well.

Chris can recall the exact moment everything changed. He can trace his werewolf lineage back to the Joseon period. He is descended from werewolves. There was no camping trip or fateful night where he was stalked and bitten or mauled by some wolf-man beast.

He was born with his condition, the bloodline being passed down from father to son. The women in the family carried the gene but it was only dominant in males. Only males experienced the Change. Chris was around 11 or 12 when it first happened. He was sitting with some friends, playing video games in the basement when it happened.

He remembered the fever, the sweating, his vision blurring, and then everything went black. When he came to, it was the next morning and he was lying in bed, a cool towel on his forehead and the sun creeping into the room via his window. His mother, who had come to check on him and found him awake, called his father in and the both of them sat down and explained to Chris what was going on.

He was a werewolf. Of course, Chris didn’t understand but as the days turned into weeks, he started to notice the Change even more. His first full moon was approaching and he needed to prepare himself. He started to crave raw meat which his mother was able to provide in the form of rare steak. Chris had never eaten his steaks rare before that point.

Most of the changes were subtle and manageable. The big one was unavoidable. Chris’ first transformation was excruciating but he somehow managed to make it through to the morning and his father told him he had a month to recuperate before it happened again. Chris had hoped that was the end of the surprises but as he got closer to his second full moon, the heat started.

His father had mentioned it but the effects still caught him off guard. He was still only in the beginning stages of puberty so Chris still had a lot to learn about his own anatomy as well as his wolf side. His father assured him everything he was feeling was normal. Every male in the family had gone through this at some point in their lives.

As Chris got older, he was able to manage the changes but the one he still couldn’t seem to overcome other than his transformations was the heat. The intense arousal that seemed to take over all other senses. From sunup to sundown the entire week before his transformations. The urge to fuck anything with a pulse that smelled even remotely attractive.

It was agonizing.

It was worse when he started dating. Once a month, he had to close himself off from his girlfriend for a week. Most of his relationships ended because his partner couldn’t understand and how was he supposed to explain it? How could he explain that he was a werewolf? They’d laugh at him and call him crazy. No one other than his family would understand.

Or so he thought.

Chris was in college when he met you his sophomore year in his economics class. You’d come to class only a moment before the bell rang and despite plenty of seats to choose from, you picked the one next to him. Chris had tried to focus on the lecture but your perfume was enticing. He was close to his heat that day and having such a warm body that smelled as alluring as you did was a horrible combination for him.

He had missed a week of classes after that, emailing his professor who was all too aware of Chris’ nature and understood. Chris’ heat was more intense than any he’d experienced before and he couldn’t keep images of you, the sweet girl who sat next to him once, out of his mind. He hated himself for fantasizing about you, when he didn’t even know your name.

When he returned to class, you were there, in the same spot you’d been before. Chris took his seat in a different spot in an effort to avoid having to look at you for the week’s worth of shame he felt. After the lecture, Chris had hurried out of class to make way to the fitness center for his break between classes until he felt a gentle hand on his arm.

Turning around, he was met with the sight of your smiling face and enchanting scent. ‘Fuck.’

You explained how you noticed he was gone and took notes for him just in case he was sick and then proceeded to hand over a folder full of detailed notes from lectures for the entire week he missed. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Here was a girl who didn’t know his name and she managed to take not only her own notes and complete her own assignments but she took time out of each day to copy her own notes to give to him.

Who did that? Chris was a flabbergasted mess, blushing profusely as he tried to decline your more than generous offer but you didn’t take no for an answer. It was the start of something Chris would come to cherish more than anything else. An unlikely friendship.

Sophomore year at university ended and summer break came. Chris went home to visit his family but kept in touch with you. He wasn’t sure if things would remain the same come junior year but he was pleasantly surprised to walk into his first class of the semester to find you already seated towards the back and pulling out your laptop.

That year was full of study dates at the student cafe, attending football games and cheering for the other team since your university’s team sucked. The holidays brought with it snow and Chris decided to invite you to spend Christmas with his family after he learned yours was going overseas until after the New Year. The drive to Chris’ family home proved difficult as it was only a few days before his heat.

That was the year the truth came out. Chris finally told you everything. He was ashamed but you surprised him even more by accepting him and reminding him that there are some things he can’t control. Chris knew right then that you were going to be a constant in his life. He leaned more on you after that, feeling grateful for the little things you did for him.

Your bond and friendship was made stronger for it.

After graduating, Chris landed a job in the city and was excited when you said you’d be joining him. You both went apartment hunting, agreeing that sharing an apartment was more cost effective than getting two separate places. You both found the perfect one close to both your jobs and quickly settled into a routine. The real challenge came when Chris’ first heat rolled around.

He had a much harder time controlling his urges when you were constantly around and so for the first year, you would spend a week in a hotel but soon that proved to be more than your budget would allow. You were lucky to meet someone at work, a female coworker who understood more than anyone else since her own brother was also a werewolf and she had the room to let you stay for a week.

This had been your routine for the last three years.

“You got everything?” Chris called as you carried your bags out of your room and into the living room where he was sitting on the couch, playing a racing game, his headset resting around his neck. “Yeah,” you replied breathlessly. Chris paused the game and tilted his head back to look at you standing behind him. “You sure?” he asked.

It wasn’t unlike you to forget things and Chris knew this. There were more than a handful of times you’d left for work only to return a few minutes later because you forgot something. It was an endearing trait you had and Chris liked to tease you about it.

“Yes, dad,” you jokingly said, tousling his dark curls. The nickname was meant to be mocking and joking but it always made something stir in his stomach when you said it. Chris would never admit it, even if you were his best friend, but the thought of you calling him daddy lingered in his mind, even long after his heat had passed.

Likewise, you’d never admit it to him but you often thought about adding the extra syllable to the name, if only to see his reaction. Chris wasn’t aware of it but you knew all about his… inclination towards the title. He’d let it slip one night while you were drinking at home, celebrating a promotion with a couple bottles of wine.

[flashback]

“It’s not that bad!” you said in protest as Chris laughed harder, cheeks red from both the action and from the alcohol. “Honestly?” he asked, his laughter subsiding for only a moment. You nodded, your own cheeks warm. “Then it’s not really a degradation kink, is it?” Chris asked.

“It is! But it also feeds into my praise kink,” you said, your filter long gone as you raised your half empty bottle of wine to your lips. It was your second one and both you and Chris had agreed to forego the glasses, opting to drink straight from the bottles.

Chris’ laughter started up again. “Praise kink? Like ‘ oh wow, good job sucking dick?’” he asked through laughs. You narrowed your eyes. “No,” you retorted. “It’s more like ‘you’re doing so well,’ or ‘you take me so well,’” you explained. Chris cocked his head. “So if I were to call you a ‘good little slut’ that would do it for you?”

His question was meant to be curious but you couldn’t control the way your walls clenched around nothing. ‘Shit,’ you thought to yourself as you felt your core heat up, knowing it wasn’t entirely the alcohol’s fault.

There was no denying that your best friend was hot. He’d been hitting the gym since before you met and had probably one of the best bodies you’d ever seen. He was insanely attractive with his strong biceps, muscular thighs and well formed ass. The term cake didn’t even begin to cover it with Chris.

Not to mention those dark curls and dimples that had you weak the moment you met him all those years ago in college. You’d been smitten with him long before even learning his name. And as time went on, you just fell deeper and deeper in love with your best friend.

You couldn’t help it. He was everything you wanted in a man. He ticked every box on your list. He was attractive, funny, smart, kind, and he made you feel safe and secure. He gave the best hugs and he was the clingiest person you’d ever met but you wouldn’t change a single thing about him. Not even the werewolf side of him and the heat that kicked you out once a week.

“Yeah,” you said finally, grabbing the bottle of wine from him and taking a swig. Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s not that bad,” he replied. “I like being called daddy so, who’s the real weirdo here?”

You froze mid sip, swallowing the wine thickly before your eyes settled on Chris who glanced back at you. “Daddy? Really?” you asked softly. He nodded as he reached for the bottle which you handed to him without a second thought. “Yeah. Weird, right?” he asked before taking a sip.

You leaned in, one hand resting on the back of the couch as you looked up into his face.

“Oh not at all,” you started as he brought the bottle down, resting it on his thigh. “Daddy.”

Chris’ eyes snapped up to meet yours, darkening slightly when he noticed the smirk on your face. The two of you stared at one another before he shook his head. “Don’t play with me,” he said, his voice thick.

“You’re playing with fire.”

[present day]

The topic changed quickly after that and the next morning you woke with a headache and the knowledge that your best friend had a daddy kink. He of course didn’t remember a thing. Not the sultry stare off or how you almost made the mistake of kissing him that night.

“When are you leaving?” Chris asked, pulling you from your thoughts of the past. He’d taken your hand from his hair and was inspecting your palm, gently running the tips of his fingers over your skin. Something that normally calmed you down but with the memory fresh in your mind, it was having another effect on you entirely.

“Kara should be here soon,” you replied, gently pulling your hand from his grip and picking up your bags to move them towards the door. Chris said nothing, instead looking at the tv.

He’d never admit it but he had half a mind to ask you not to go. To instead ask you to stay but he knew if you stayed, he’d be unable to control his urges.

For the last year, he’d been having very intense fantasies about pinning you against the nearest surface and fucking you. Even worse, he had vivid fantasies of breeding you. About fucking you raw, knotting your warm cunt, and filling it with his hot cum.

The thought of his cock buried deep inside your walls as he emptied his balls and then his cock swelling so none of it could escape occupied his mind most of the time when his heat approached. The wolf in him wanted nothing more than to breed you, turn you into his little cum dumpster and pump you full of his cum, hoping it would take and get you pregnant.

Chris knew it was his animalistic instincts, wanting to mate and continue the bloodline. He’d been able to control these urges for the most part. He still masturbated to the thought of breeding you, hiding his shame for a few days. He knew it was wrong to fantasize about you like that but he also knew he couldn’t control what the wolf thought but he could control what he did physically.

“Now you’re sure you have everything?” he asked. You nodded, looking down at your bags. “I’m sure,” you replied. A buzzing interrupted you and you gave your roommate a sheepish smile, moving to answer the intercom. “Come on up,” you said, pressing the button when Kara identified herself.

Chris got up and walked over to the door. It only took a couple minutes for Kara to reach the door, knocking when she did. You opened it and smiled at her, having just finished putting your shoes on. “Hey,” you greeted your coworker who smiled back.

“All ready?” Kara asked. Chris watched as you nodded and started to lift your bags. Kara taking a couple of them. “I’ll see you in about a week,” you said, turning to Chris who stepped down into the entry, hands in his pockets.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, just reheat them. Do not cook,” you instructed and Chris rolled his eyes. “You act like I can’t cook,” he mused and you raised your brows. “Have you eaten anything you’ve ever made?” you asked, jokingly. Chris nudged you playfully.

“Make sure to drink water and please do not destroy anything,” you said, holding your hands together in a silent prayer. Chris rolled his eyes, pulling his hands from his pockets and pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered.

Chris inhaled slowly. He loved the scent of your perfume. It was a scent he’d grown very fond of. His arms tightened around you. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to stay but you both knew if you did, he might not be able to control himself.

“See you in a week,” you said softly, giving him a small squeeze. Chris reluctantly let go of you, forcing a smile when you pulled back to look at him. “Take care of her,” he said to Kara who sent him a sympathetic smile. “Of course,” she answered. “You take care of yourself too,” she added.

You grabbed the last bag, slinging it over your shoulder and looked back at Chris one last time, giving him an apologetic smile. He waved as you crossed the threshold into the hall and just like that you were gone for a week.

Another week of an empty apartment. Another week of hell without you.

Chris returned to his game, his heart not really in it as he half-assed his way through the campaign before logging off and shutting the tv down. He went to his room to try and get some work done but found that he couldn’t focus.

He was getting restless and he knew one of two things that could help.

He changed into some of his workout gear, grabbing his headphones, phone, and water bottle, and exited the apartment to head to the building’s gym. He usually could push through an hour workout and it usually managed to take the edge off.

He followed his usual routine, stretching, some light cardio followed by weights and then a walk to cool down. As he was on his walk, the door to the gym opened and another tenant came in. Chris had seen her before. She lived on the fourteenth floor. She had recently changed her hair from blonde to a medium brown with highlights. She had her hair pulled up into a ponytail and was dressed in a black sports bra and black leggings.

She looked up to where Chris was, smiling shyly at him as she made her way over to one of the bicycle machines. Chris returned the smile and looked down at the machine controls. He had about ten minutes left on his walk and then he could hit the showers and head back to his apartment and it would be dinner time.

He tried not to notice the scent of the other tenant’s perfume or the way he could smell sweat starting to permeate the air. He closed his eyes, keeping his hands on the rails as he walked, willing time to move faster. ‘Eight minutes,’ he told himself, peeking at the timer.

He looked up and made eye contact with the woman who had gotten off the bicycle to fill her bottle. She was looking directly at him and Chris couldn’t control the way his body reacted. Heat radiated throughout his body, settling in the pit of his stomach, his dick twitching in his pants.

‘Come on,’ he scolded himself. ‘She’s looking at you. It’s not like she’s flirting. Calm the fuck down.’

Chris looked back up, finding she was still staring at him. ‘Shit.’ He glanced at the timer and saw he had five minutes left. ‘Fuck this. I’m done anyway,’ he told himself as he pushed the stop button. He couldn’t risk popping a boner in the gym simply because a woman looked at him.

He’d shower back at the apartment.

He sprayed a paper towel and quickly wiped down the machine before grabbing his things and heading for the door. He pushed open the door and exited quickly, heading to the elevator and pressing the call button. He waited, shifting from one foot to the other.

He could hear footsteps, and silently prayed for the elevator to arrive sooner. He let out a breath he forgot he was holding as the doors dinged and opened. He stepped into the small room, waving his card over the reader and pressing the button for his floor.

As the doors started to close, a hand shot out to stop them and Chris internally cursed as the woman stepped onto the elevator. He forced a smile, moving into the corner as she waved her card, pressing the button for the fourteenth floor.

The door slowly slid shut, closing them both in and Chris stared at the counter above the doors, ignoring the woman completely. Her floor would come before his. He just had to be patient.

“Hey,” a soft voice said and Chris knew she was speaking to him. He turned his head to find her looking at him. “Hi,” he replied. “I’ve seen you around a few times,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. Chris nodded. “I’ve lived here for a few years,” he admitted.

‘Come on, come on,’ he thought impatiently as the counter continued to rise. “I’m new to the area,” she said suddenly. “Are you from around here?” she asked. Chris nodded wordlessly, keeping his gaze on the numbers over the elevator doors.

“Maybe you could show me around some time,” she offered, moving closer. ‘Fuck,’ he cursed mentally. She was close enough that he could smell the arousal wafting off her. ‘No, no, no,’ he told himself. The moment her hand touched his arm, Chris jumped just as the doors opened on the thirteenth floor.

‘Fuck this’ he thought and pushed past as someone else stepped onto the elevator and he walked down the hall, heading for the stairwell. He’d rather walk than be trapped in a steel box with a horny woman this close to his heat.

Once he finally reached his floor, he made sure the floor was deserted as he headed for the door, letting himself in. He could breathe easily as he kicked his shoes off and headed past the kitchen, dropping his water bottle on the counter as he headed for his room.

He stripped and got into the shower, turning the water on, letting the stream heat up and wash his body. Once he was done showering, he got out, dressed and sat down at his computer, putting his headset on and turning on some music and getting a headstart on some work.

When his stomach growled, he cursed, pulling his headphones off and got up, exiting his room and making his way into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the glass containers from the fridge and pulled it out to inspect it. ‘Lasagna,’ he noted with a smile as he took the lid off and scooped the contents out onto a plate to heat it up.

Once the food was hot, he carefully pulled the plate out and took a seat at the kitchen counter, grabbing a fork as he did and started to eat. He was eternally grateful for you, making food for him when you left for a week. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, he could. He just preferred it when you did.

As he chewed, he wondered what you were up to with Kara. Were you eating dinner as well?

“I can’t believe he still thinks you’re a lesbian,” Kara said, giggling as you took a sip of your wine. “I’ve told him numerous times I’m not,” you replied. “I don’t understand why he still thinks that.”

Kara shook her head. “Who knows,” she replied, glancing down at her empty glass. “Oh, time for a refill!”

She got up, waiting for you to down the rest of your wine and took your empty glass to the kitchen to refill them both. The two of you had ordered pizza, neither one of you wanted to cook, especially after you had cooked an entire week's worth of meals for Chris.

“What do you think Chris is up to?” Kara asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Oh, he’s probably playing video games,” you replied as Kara poured your favorite wine into your glass and placed the bottle back in the fridge. She walked back over with both glasses, handing yours over as she took a seat.

“So,” she started, taking a sip of her wine. “Let me see this presentation,” she added and you set your glass down, rushing over to your laptop bag and pulling it out, moving back to sit on the couch, setting your laptop on the coffee table.

Kara continued sipping on her wine as you opened your laptop and logged on. You signed into and pulled up the presentation powerpoint you’d been working on all week for Monday’s meeting. It wasn’t anything fancy but you were pretty proud of it.

Kara looked over it, complimenting your skills and work, making small comments on certain parts. “I really like this,” she said, pointing at one of the slides. “You really made a good point here.” You felt pride swell in your chest until your laptop dinged, a small notification indicating your battery was low.

“I swear, the battery on this thing dies so fast,” you groaned as you got up and headed over to your bag to grab the charger. You unzipped the pocket only to find your charger wasn’t there. “What the…” you trailed off, starting to check all the pockets of your laptop bag but no charger in sight.

“What’s wrong?” Kara asked. “I can’t find my charger,” you replied. “Did you bring it?” Kara asked, getting up from her seat and walking over. “I thought I did,” you replied, feeling annoyed and angry with yourself for forgetting when Chris had asked you multiple times if you had everything.

“You can use mine,” Kara said but you shook your head. “You have a Macbook,” you reminded her. “This is an HP.” Kara swore under her breath. “I gotta go back home,” you said softly. Kara looked up at you. “Are you sure?” she asked. You nodded.

“I need that charger,” you answered. “Especially if I’m gonna be here for a week.” Kara nodded and got up. “I’ll drive you,” she said and you shook your head. “You’ve had like a whole bottle,” you reminded her. “I’ve only had a glass. I’ll drive. You stay here. I’m just gonna run back and get it and then I’ll be back.” Kara nodded as she grabbed her keys and handed them to you.

“Be careful,” she said as you grabbed your purse, making sure you had your phone. You headed to the door, slipping your shoes and coat on. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you called and exited her apartment, making your way to the elevator and pushing the button.

You fished your phone out of your purse, opened Chris’ message thread and sent him a text.

You: i did what i said i wouldn’t. I forgot my laptop charger 💀

You: i’m on my way back to get it.

You: i’ll be quick. Just in and out

Placing your phone back in your purse, you stepped onto the elevator, pushing the button for the garage and waited as the doors shut and the lift descended, heading for the basement. You found Kara’s car, unlocking it and getting in.

The drive to your apartment didn’t take long and you pulled into the designated parking space in your garage, parking and shutting off the engine. You got out, leaving your purse in the car and locking it. ‘In and out, Y/N,’ you reminded yourself as you headed for the elevator.

The ride up to your floor was quiet, the sun had set and most people were already out enjoying the Friday nightlife. The elevator dinged, doors opening as it arrived on your floor and you stepped off the lift, heading for your apartment door.

You unlocked it, letting yourself in. You expected to see Chris but didn’t see him perched on the couch playing games. ‘Maybe he’s in his room,’ you told yourself as you walked through the apartment and to your room.

Turning on the light, you saw the culprit lying innocently on your desk and you glared at it, walking over to grab it and headed towards the door. As you exited your room, you heard Chris call out.

You turned the knob and looked into his room. “I thought I heard you, he said with a chuckle. “I sent you a text,” you answered, peering into his room. He was sitting at his computer, headphones hanging around his neck as he finished whatever he was working on.

“Forget something?” he asked, sounding amused at your forgetfulness. You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied. “I forgot my laptop charger,” you answered. Chris turned to look at you. “It’s always something,” he joked and you smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” you said, chuckling. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.” Chris smiled as he removed his headphones from around his neck, looking over at you. “It’s fine,” he said softly, moving to get up. You pushed the door open further as he approached you. “Do you need anything before I leave?” you asked.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but a sudden strong smell hit him. It was like someone had opened a bottle of vanilla extract and placed it under his nose. He knew that smell all too well. It made every nerve in his body burn. It made his pupils enlarge, his throat burn, and an intense heat form in the pit of his stomach. Lust and desire burned, the line blurring into the primal need to mate.

You hadn’t been careful enough. Neither of you had but then again this had never happened before. How didn't this come up? How hadn’t this happened before? Three years living together and this had never, ever happened? Either you were very lucky or you were always away when it happened.

Chris’ fingers curled into his palm, knuckles turning white as his nails dug into his skin in an attempt to ground himself but what normally worked had never been tested in this situation before.

Chris was about to start his heat and you… you were ovulating.

You watched as your best friend froze. “Chris?” you asked softly. You were surprised when he looked at you, his eyes darkening. “You need to leave,” he said, his voice low and dangerously so. “Chris? What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a step forward.

“Don’t!” your best friend growled. You froze, eyes widening. He’d never spoken to you like that before. “Chris you’re starting to worry me, what’s wr—” before you could finish your question, your best friend had closed the distance and grabbed you, pinning you against the wall next to the door.

“Chris!” you gasped, hands moving to his shoulders, gripping his shirt. “What’s gotten into you?”

His heat was close but it wasn’t supposed to start yet. He’d always been good about controlling his urges so what was different this time?

“I’m sorry,” Chris said softly, his head drooping as he struggled against his own urges. “This has never happened before.” You tried to push him away but he was much stronger than you were. “Why are you acting like this? You’ve always had a hold of yourself,” you continued. “You’re ovulating,” Chris interrupted. Your eyes widened.

“H-how did you know?”

Chris chuckled dryly. “I can smell it,” he answered. One of his hands moved up to your cheek as he raised his head. “I can smell it and it’s driving me crazy,” he continued. You felt one of his knees wedge between your thighs, pressing against your core. “It’s making me want to do things to you.”

You felt a shiver run up your spine. ‘Do things? What kind of things?’

“L-like what?” you whispered, swallowing thickly.

Chris leaned in, nuzzling against your cheek as his lips ghosted over your skin, stopping near your ear. “Would you be mad if I said exactly what I wanted to do to you?” he asked softly. You shook your head. Though you wouldn’t say it, you welcomed it, wondering just what was going on in his head.

“Tell me,” you replied.

You felt Chris nuzzle into your neck, sniffing eagerly. “I want to rip those cute lace panties of yours and stuff that sweet little pussy with my cock.” As if punctuating his words, Chris leaned in, pressing his thigh more firmly against your core.

You let out an involuntary whimper, causing him to groan in your ear. “I want to…” he trailed off. “No, I need to pin you down on the bed,” he said, making you gasp as he pressed his thigh even harder against you.

“Pin you down and fuck you until I fill you with so much cum. I need to breed you.,” he continued, lips ghosting over your skin. “Breed you like you’re the one in heat.” You let out another gasp, feeling one of his hands move to grab your ass, sneaking under your skirt.

“And of course you had to wear a skirt, didn’t you?” he growled. “I bet you knew it would drive me crazy. That I’d be able to smell everything.” You moaned into his ear as his hand continued to knead your ass, nails digging into your flesh

“I’ll bet you planned this, didn’t you? I bet your laptop charger isn’t even here,” he scoffed as if it wasn’t lying on the floor in the hallway where you’d dropped it. “Chris,” you whined, moaning as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. “Oh shit,” he groaned.

“Say my name like that again,” he dared you. “Say that again, baby. Moan my name and I’ll take you right now.”

A thick silence fell over the two of you as Chris pulled back, eyes searching your face, neither one speaking nor making a move until you finally cleared your throat and spoke. “Chris, we can’t,” you started, looking between his eyes. “W-we’re friends,” you added, letting out a yelp as Chris quickly backed up to create enough space to turn you around to face the wall before pinning you against it, pressing his erection into your back.

“You feel that?” he asked, grinding against you. “You feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me since that first day in economics?” he asked. “I’ve wanted you ever since you sat next to me. Wanted to fuck you raw and pump you full.”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it,” he growled in your ear. Moaning, you pushed back against him, earning another deep growl.

“Don’t play with me,” he snapped. “I’m not playing…” you trailed off. “Daddy.” The name caused a chain reaction. Chris wrapped an arm around your waist from behind, lifting you easily and carrying you over to his bed where he deposited you face down.

You tried to turn over but he was quick to stop you, pushing your skirt up to expose your lace covered core. He quickly grabbed the material and tugged, ripping it easily. “Chris!” you gasped but the next second you were crying out as he landed a slap to your ass.

“Don’t speak until I tell you to,” he growled. You felt his fingers glide up and down your slit, gathering your arousal before pushing into your cunt. You let out a groan as he started to slowly pump his fingers before removing them. “Chest to the bed,” Chris instructed. “But keep your ass up.”

You did as he said, lowering your shoulders until your chest rested against the mattress. In that time, Chris removed his hat, tossing it aside as he knelt on the mattress behind you, hands grabbing your hips. He leaned closer, taking a deep inhale. “Fuck, I’m gonna ruin this pussy,” he growled. His tongue ran along your slit, from your clit up and back down, toying with the bundle of nerves, his nose bumping against your entrance.

Your fingers dug into the sheets as you moaned, pushing back against his face. Chris pulled back delivering a sharp smack to your thigh. “Hold still,” he barked. “Do that again and I’ll fuck your hole and not let you cum.”

You whined, wiggling your hips in a silent plea for more. Chris pushed you onto your side before flipping you onto your back, grabbing your hips and pulling your core to his face, burying it in your pussy, tongue ravishing your clit. Your thighs tried closing but Chris wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding them open as he licked at and sucked on your clit, drawing you closer to your climax.

“Shit, Chris!” you gasped, your hand moving to comb through his curls.

“M’gonna cum.”

Chris didn’t relent, flicking his tongue against your clit until you came undone under him, crying out as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to shy away from his mouth but he held you still, never stopping as he drew you to another orgasm.

As you came down from the second, he finally let go of your thighs, pulling back to wipe his chin and taking ahold of the collar of his shirt and yanking it off over his head, tossing it aside. “I want you to ride my tongue but it’ll have to wait,” he said in a husky voice as his hands moved to undo his jeans, unbuckling but not removing his belt before unbuttoning and pulling down the zipper of his pants.

“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling you up when you took it. “Open your mouth,” he added as he pushed his jeans down around his thighs. You did as he asked, keeping your gaze on his face as he pulled his erection free from the confines of his underwear.

“Keep your mouth open for me,” he added, taking his cock in his hand, giving himself a couple strokes before guiding the tip past your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. His free hand moved to your hair, taking a fistful and guiding your head. “Get to work, baby girl,” he murmured.

“Show daddy how you use your mouth.”

Your scalp stung, eyes watered and your throat hurt by the time Chris finally pulled your mouth off him. He’d forced his cock down your throat more than once and even fucked your throat a few times, making you gag. What little makeup you had on was ruined, tear stained cheeks and swollen lips but to Chris you were stunning.

“Lay back for me,” he ordered, discarding his pants and underwear, watching as you pulled your top off and threw it aside, scooting into the middle of his bed. Chris crawled over you, taking your lips in a searing kiss as his hands pushed your knees apart to accommodate him.

Your hands moved to his hair as he guided the head of his cock to your dripping entrance, pulling back just enough to make eye contact. “I want to watch your face as I enter you,” he growled. “Watch your eyes roll back into your head as I fill you with my cock.”

You moaned loudly as he pushed into you, stretching your cunt with his girth, inch by inch until he was buried inside your walls, groaning about the warmth and how tight you felt. It was taking all his strength to not start slamming into you immediately.

“I’m gonna give you a few minutes to adjust and then I’m gonna hold you down against this mattress and fuck you until you cum,” he gave you a shallow thrust, enjoying the gasp that escaped you. “And then I’m going to flip you over, ass up and fuck you until I cum and fill this pussy. You understand me?”

You nodded silently but that wasn’t good enough for him. Chris grabbed your face. “When I ask you a question, you answer me with your words. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly. “Yes, what?” he asked, tilting his head. “Yes, daddy,” you whispered. Chris let go and smirked down at you. “Good girl.”

No sooner than the words left his lips, his hands were on your hips, holding them in place as he started to pull out and snap his hips against yours, driving his cock into your cunt repeatedly. Your thighs tightened around his waist, prompting him to growl and halt his movements.

You were about to ask what the problem was when he took your ankles and placed your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed you to feel more, moaning louder when he pounded into you harder. “Oh holy shit,” you gasped, feeling the head of his cock hit the soft gummy spot that had you seeing stars.

“Right there?” he asked, angling his hips and hitting the same spot, making you cry out.

He repeatedly hit the same spot over and over, moving his hand to rub circles against your clit with his thumb. “That’s it princess,” he huffed. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” You let out a mewl, walls fluttering as you came. One of your hands moved to grab Chris’ wrist, trying to ground yourself as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled over you.

With each pass over your clit with his thumb, Chris watched your body seize up and chuckled before pulling his cock from your abused hole.

He quickly turned you over, pulling your hips up and taking himself in his hand, stroking a couple times before pushing back into you. This position allowed for all of his cock to fit inside you, making you moan into the sheets, fingers curling into the fabric.

Chris took your hips in his hands, pulling out and snapping forward, his hips hitting your ass with each thrust. He set a relentless and merciless pace, grunting with effort as he slammed into you. The sheets muffled your cries and screams of pleasure as he allowed his animalistic urges to take over.

‘Breed. Breed. Breed,’ the beast in his mind said. Chris let out a low groan, almost like a growl as he pounded into you. Leaning over your back, he slammed his hips into you, burying his cock deep inside your walls before he started to roll his hips, earning a deep moan from you.

“Once I’m done with you,” he panted. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’ll stay here and I’m going to fuck you raw every night. Pump you full of cum and breed you. Fill you with so much cum it’ll have to take. Fuck you until I get you pregnant and then you’ll be mine.”

You moaned, walls clenching around his cock. You felt his hand in your hair, fingers curling into a fist before he pulled back, lifting your face from the sheets and allowing your moans to fill the room. “You want that, baby? You want daddy to turn you into his little breeding bitch?”

“Oh fuck, daddy yes!” you whimpered. “Please fill me!” Chris growled, letting go of your hair and moving his hand to your shoulder, pinning your chest down. You turned your head to the side, each thrust drawing a whimper from you.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you baby girl, cum inside you until it spills out and then I’ll just push it all back in,” he grunted. “Don’t want to waste a single drop.” Your hand moved to grab the wrist of his hand that was pressed against the mattress near your head.

“That’s right,” he groaned. “You’re mine. All mine and no one else’s.” You lifted your head, managing to turn and make eye contact with him. “I’ve always been yours, daddy,” you breathed. Chris growled, pressing his chest against your back and sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

You moaned, walls clenching around his cock as he rammed into you over and over. He lifted his head, lips close to your ear. “Mine,” he growled. “Mine, mine, mine!”

You pushed back to meet his thrusts and screamed as he slammed into you one last time, groaning into your ear as he came, releasing thick strands of hot cum into your cunt. You moaned as more and more cum spilled into your pussy. You had never known a man to have that much cum but then again, Chris wasn’t an ordinary man.

At the same time he was emptying his load into you, his cock started to swell inside, lodging itself in your walls. “Chris,” you whimpered. “What’s—” You heard him shush you, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “It’s normal. It’s my body’s way of ensuring it takes.”

“Ensuring what takes?”

Chris chuckled, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Ensuring my cum gets you pregnant,” he answered. You let out an uneasy chuckle. “And if it doesn’t take?” you replied. Chris hummed and pressed several more kisses against your shoulder before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep trying then.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2023

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dr9com9ge-ix · 4 months ago

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More cleaned up Sprunki designs! And specific info tied to these- under the cut

Sky

15 He/him

- Quiet, A bit aloof. Pretty curious however. Does not emote much.

- Jevin’s adopted son, found in a cradle in a seemingly abandoned home.

- Has asked for literally one thing and one thing only for his birthday, Teddy bears. Jevin has made some of them whenever he couldn’t find one.

- Quite independent, knows how to cook on a paraffin stove.

- Has never owned a phone due to him and Jevin never being in places with them before.

- Watches movies on Gray’s laptop- Likes dramas the most, finds them funny most of the time.

Jevin

57 He/him

- looks ominous but is actually pretty shy and polite, keeps to himself mostly. Also forgets to emote.

- Used to have some form of terrible insomnia and nightmares until he found his religion worshipping the “Darkness”. Thanks this deity daily for curing his lifelong issue. Sleeps quite soundly now.

- Showed up to town suddenly one day with his son in a caravan as they had been travelling for quite some time- Finally deciding to stay in this town when they arrived.

- Adopted Sky when he couldn’t find his biological parents or anyone where he found him.

- Has no idea how to use computers or phones as he’s lived in places with lower tech (pre-industrial).

Grey

21 He/they

- A shy anxious doormat, makes a low “mmmmmmm” sound when uncomfortable.

- Came from the same city as Wenda (Did not know her until they both came to town.)

- Has interests in filmmaking and studying cinematography, having alot of avant garde movies he likes on his laptop.

- Thinks he’s not good at video games but just picks like really difficult ones.

- Works at the local movie theater, is unfortunately co-workers with Wenda. Is too scared to tell her to leave him alone.

- Befriended Sky when he couldn’t decide what movie to see, gave the kid a list of recommendations in a usb. Then realized Sky didn’t own any devices to watch them so lets him use their laptop.

- Their tail is prehensile and he often wraps it around himself to self-hug.

Wenda

22 She/her

- Loud and kind of rude, Thinks she’s being funny when she makes rude comments. This has often lead to the other sprunkis avoiding her.

- Is kind of judgemental and has little to no filter.

- Very nosy, will stick her head into everyone’s business.

- Quite strong despite her tall wiry frame, has startled Grey with how much she can lift.

- Jealous of how well other people get along with each other as she does truly want friends but does not understand that she needs to work on herself.

- Bothers Grey the most much to his despair because she thinks he’s a friendless loser and can stick to him.

- Has an unsettling smile and a bad habit of gritting and grinding her teeth.

Pinki

30 She/her

- Bubbly and loves to talk! Will talk for hours if permitted. Can be a bit easily distracted at times though.

- Dives into tons of hobbies, definitely will give lots of tips and tricks about them.

- Worked as an architect in her old city and also does here too. Also does volunteer work on the weekend.

- Has a ton of different outfits for different occasions and has likely made some for others.

- Is dating Oren and has been on his streams. Is surprisingly good at FPS games though prefers messing with character creators.

- Into musicals and sings/hums while she does things.

#artists on tumblr #digital art #Sprunki #sprunki sky #sprunki jevin #sprunki gray #sprunki wenda #sprunki pinki #Sunshine Suburbia AU #sprunki incredibox #sprunki fanart

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onyourj-uls · 10 days ago

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♡ 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

pairing: fem!reader x anton

content: fluff, soft romance, light intimacy.

wc: 2.2~k

note: i had never taken HOURS to write something, I had to hurry because later I won't have time, ill probably edit it later, idk and i wanted it to write something soft because I'm sensitive, my boy is already 21!!! he brings out my soft, cheesy and romantic side...you don't know how much I adore anton, as always, if there is any mistake, lmk:)

happy b-day, toni!! <3

the sunrise paints the sky with soft shades of pink and gold as you open your eyes, your heart beating with excitement. today is anton's day, the birthday of the love of your life, and nothing matters more to you than making sure it's the best one yet.

you get up carefully, trying not to wake him. he's deeply asleep, his steady breathing and slightly tousled hair falling over his forehead. his relaxed expression makes you smile; he looks so peaceful, so beautiful. you lean in gently to press a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of the room.

in the kitchen, you get to work preparing his favorite breakfast: fluffy pancakes with honey and heart-shaped strawberries, steaming coffee just the way he likes it, and fresh juice. everything is arranged with care on a tray, accompanied by a small note that says, "happy birthday, my love ♡"

when you return to the room, anton has already stirred under the sheets, still drowsy. his half-lidded eyes watch you with confusion before he notices the pastel green and blue balloons decorating the room and the tray in your hands.

"good morning, birthday boy." you whisper with a smile.

anton blinks a couple of times before breaking into a wide smile, the one that melts you every time.

"did you do all this for me?"

"of course. today is your day, and i want it to be perfect from the moment you wake up."

he slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes before pulling you into his arms.

"you're amazing, you know that?" he murmurs against your skin before pressing a kiss to your neck.

"only for you." you giggle, feeling how tightly he holds you.

you share breakfast in bed, with anton stealing bites from your plate despite having his own. you can't help but laugh at his pure happiness, savoring every bite while his hand never lets go of yours.

when you're done, you kiss his nose and pull him out of bed.

"come on, there are still more surprises."

anton raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"more? just how much have you planned?"

"just trust me."

you both get in the car, and you drive to his first surprise of the day: a hidden lake nestled between mountains, a paradise of crystal-clear waters where you can enjoy each other without interruptions.

when you finally arrive, anton is speechless.

"how did you know i've always wanted to come here?"

"because i know you."

he turns to you, eyes full of love, before leaning in to kiss you, slow and deep.

"i don't know what i did to deserve you, but i'll never stop being grateful for it"

you change into swimsuits and dive into the water together, laughing as anton playfully chases you, splashing every time you try to escape. he catches you in his arms and starts spinning you around in the water, his laughter mixing with yours.

"you're not getting away that easily!" he teases, holding you tight.

after hours of swimming, you both come out of the water, wrapping yourselves in towels as you sit by the shore, the sun warming your skin. anton rests his head on your shoulder, his thumb tracing soft circles on your hand.

"this has been the best birthday of my life."

"and it's not over yet. " you say with a smile before going to the car and pulling out his gift along with a small, carefully wrapped package.

his eyes shine with excitement as he takes it, but what captures his attention most is the letter that comes with it. his hands tremble slightly as he opens it.

letter for toni 🦕🩵:

"my love,

from the moment you entered my life, everything changed. you are the light that brightens my days, the calm in my storms, the embrace that always feels like home. with you, every moment becomes meaningful, every laugh shines brighter, and every breath is filled with love. you have no idea how much i cherish every little thing about you—from the way you look at me with tenderness to those moments when you try to hide your emotions, but i know deep down you melt just like i do.

today is a special day, a day the universe marked to bring the most wonderful person i've ever met into the world. there aren't enough words to express how grateful i am that you exist, that our lives crossed paths, and that i get to be here, celebrating the one i love most in this world.

i love the way you take my hand without even thinking, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. i adore how you look at me like i’m the only person in the universe, how you silently move closer just to wrap me in your arms. it makes me happy to know that you trust me, that you find comfort in my presence, because believe me, i will always be here for you. to love you, to support you, to remind you every single day how incredible you are.

today, i don’t just celebrate your life—I celebrate everything you are and everything you mean to me. i celebrate your laughter, the one that has the power to brighten my days. i celebrate your big heart, which has taught me what love is in its purest form. i celebrate each and every one of your dreams because i want to see you achieve them all and be by your side while you do.

you are my favorite person in the world. my greatest love. my home.

no matter how many years pass, i will always celebrate this day with the same love, the same excitement, and the same certainty that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. because if life gave me the chance to choose you a thousand times, i would choose you in every single one without hesitation.

happy birthday, my love.

with all my heart and infinite love,

your love.”

when he looks up, his eyes are filled with tears.

he doesn’t say anything—he tries to, but the emotions overwhelm him, so he just pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck.

"this is the best gift anyone has ever given me... " he murmurs, refusing to let go.

"but you still have to open the other one," you say, stroking his back.

"the letter is the best gift because you made it. thank you, love."

"love isn’t something you have to thank me for, toni."

he stays like that for several minutes, clinging to you, his face hidden in your neck as he leaves a soft kiss there.

later, as the sun sets, you take him to the final destination of the day: an elegant rooftop adorned with warm lights and a breathtaking view. anton can't stop looking at you in awe.

"i can't believe you planned even more... and especially this..."

"it's your birthday, you deserve the best."

anton takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as you dine under the stars. just when you think the moment couldn't get any more perfect, you see him pull a small box from his pocket.

your heart pounds as he opens it, revealing a beautiful promise ring.

"the best gift i could ever receive in this world is you." he says softly, his gaze full of love and determination. "and i want to make sure you stay with me for a very, very long time."

your eyes well up with tears as he gently slides the ring onto your finger.

"does this mean you’re mine forever?" you whisper.

anton smiles before kissing you, slow and deep.

"always."

you stay embraced, savoring the view and each other's company.

after that elegant dinner on the rooftop, where every glance and every touch of hands was charged with emotion, you both return home with hearts pounding. anton still holds your hand tightly, as if he never wants to let go, and as you walk to the door, his expression is a mix of tenderness and infinite love.

as the door closes, the atmosphere subtly shifts. there’s a warmth that surrounds you, a sweet silence filled with emotions that both of you can feel in the air. anton looks at you, those shining eyes saying a thousand things without the need for words. and then, without thinking too much, he cups your face in both hands and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

"thank you… for all of this. for making my birthday the best one ever. i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i swear i’ll thank the universe every single day for having you in my life."

his voice breaks slightly with emotion, and when he pulls you into his arms, you feel the warmth of his body wrapping around yours, his steady breath against your neck. he stays like that, holding you, as if trying to make this moment last forever.

when you finally pull apart, his hands remain on your waist, his fingers tracing soft patterns against your skin. his eyes drop to your lips, and in that instant, desire and love intertwine in his gaze. he’s the one who leans in first, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, filled with meaning. every touch is a silent promise, a declaration of everything he feels for you.

the kisses grow deeper, more intense, as his hands explore you with tenderness, memorizing every inch of your skin. he guides you gently toward the couch, or maybe toward the bedroom, never breaking that look of pure adoration. "let me celebrate you too," he whispers between kisses, because even though it’s his birthday, to him, the real gift is you.

the night stretches on with slow caresses, breathless whispers, and confessions tangled in kisses. this moment belongs only to the two of you, the perfect ending to a day filled with love, where every gesture, every glance, and every sigh speaks louder than words.

and when exhaustion finally takes over, he holds you against his chest, his fingers running through your hair in soft, soothing motions. "there’s no better way to end this day than like this, with you in my arms," he murmurs, pressing one last kiss to your forehead.

and just like that, between whispers, caresses, and silent promises, the night becomes an unforgettable memory in the story of you two.

#riize #riize imagines #riize is 7 #riize x reader #idol x reader #idol!reader #lee anton #anton imagines #anton x reader #anton soft hours #anton #juwuls🎀#anton x y/n #anton x you #riize soft thoughts #riize soft hours #riize fluff #lee chanyoung

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selarina · 1 year ago

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tw angst

I think if Satoru was capable of falling in love during his school days, he’d get married way too early than he should. He’d be 21, getting down on his knees in your block of a college apartment, asking you to spend eternity with him.

It’s a big ask, and your hands tremble, but you say yes. Of course, you do — he’s Gojo Satoru, he’d blink his lashes, his pretty blue eyes peering into your own and ask you to rob a bank and you’d be inclined to agree.

So you get married. It’s nothing too grand, as much as he insisted. You celebrate with a bunch of your friends with dinner at his apartment, which eventually ends with the two of you kissing at the corner of a dingy neon glazed club.

And it’s all sunshines and shots until university ends and then, you get a job you like and he’s taken over his family business as he always expected. You’re both coming home from work to get cooped under a fuzzy blanket. You have a glass in hand as you sip on some chilled wine, and he watches the blue of the sky from your new apartment. And you’re both so happy and in love.

And years pass and things seem the same.

Maybe too much the same and things get tiring, and maybe a bit too predictable.

Lying under the same blanket always ends with you passing out too early. Your head lolling against his sagging shoulder as the blue from your window seems a little too dull, a little less star filled for Satoru's liking.

And soon after, you feel your muscles growing tired too early into the day. You’re still young but you’re so tired, so you find solace in reaching for your bed than his arms.

And frankly, Satoru's tired too. He thinks it would take a special type of person — his wife — to suck the spark from his eyes.

He feels like he’s been trying this for far too long. With the company, with your heart, with your stupid cat — it’s all too much so he’s resigned from work for a bit and he’s designated most of his time to the couch.

He lives in the living room now, more or less — the thought of your bedroom makes him frown. It feels like time has stopped moving in there, with the picture frames — dustless and in tact, and your books sitting right alongside his eyes drops and shades.

He hates the rest of this house too. He does. It’s far too small for him, it always has been. He loved it at first, but then he longed for longer walks from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom, but that’s just the way you preferred things. That's just how you are. You make him small so he can stand beside you. Maybe that’s a rude thing to say, or even think, but that’s just how he feels sometimes.

Divorce. His father has been suggesting it since the day he took over the company but lately, he's been thinking about it too. He’s thought about it a lot actually, but you're all he's known. It would end him, he thinks. But he’s sure of it... he’s sure he doesn’t love you anymore.

But then there are days. God, there are days. They’re not even special days, just ordinary days where you’re smeared with sweat after work. You barge into the living room, as you often do, loosening your tie as you open up the big window, letting the sharp cold air hit against his skin. You reach for the vinyl player, the one only you use, putting on a random record — usually some form of soft jazz. Then you merely resign to a chair by the window, munching on some Digestives. And he thinks, he’d be a fool to leave this house with you in it.

#loveless marriage with gojo!!!!!! what do we think #i am buzzing with thoughts #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader angst #jjk x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst

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queenshelby · 7 months ago

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Daughter Dearest (Part Seven)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

When you arrived at the station, the police officers gave you an opportunity to explain yourself and, even though they couldn't do much about your situation, they offered to let you go.

"Who can we call to pick you up?" they asked after advising you to call your solicitor the day after to explain what you had already explained to them. They were going to have to file a violation report and, if your solicitor did not appeal, a magistrate would most likely order for your house arrest to be extended.

"I-I'll call my stepfather," you stammered, your voice shaky with the realization that yet again, your actions had consequences which affected not only yourself but Cillian too.

"No, we will call him. What's his name and number?"

one of the officers asked you as you sat nervously in the waiting area, your heart racing with anxiety.

"Cillian Murphy," you replied while fidgeting with your phone to read out his number.

"Cillian Murphy?" one of the officers asked, chuckling loudly. "Seriously?" the other officer chimed in, also looking surprised. "The Cillian Murphy? The actor?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and annoyance at their reaction. You weren't used to this kind of attention and you certainly didn't want it now, when you were in the middle of a mess.

One of the officers quickly made the call, explaining the situation to Cillian in a calm, official tone. After a few moments, he told you that your stepfather would be there shortly to pick you up.

You nodded, grateful for their help, even though you were still shaking with apprehension about what was to come.

Cillian arrived a short while later, his face etched with worry as he rushed up to you.

"Y/N, what happened?" he asked urgently, taking in the scene inside the station without any kind of judgment from his part.

"It's a long story," you replied, exhaustion written all over your face. "I'll explain it all when we get home."

"Alright," he responded quietly before asking the officers whether he needed to do or sign anything and they shook their heads and informed him that he was free to take you home.

After a brief nod, Cillian guided you outside where the cool evening air enveloped you. The sky was a deep shade of blue with flecks of orange and pink from the still-visible sunset. It was a picture-perfect scene that would have been a joy to take a photograph of, but given the night's events, not even the beauty of creation could tame the whirlwind of emotions surging inside you.

"You are so lucky that your mother isn't home," Cillian murmured, opening the car door for you.

You nodded silently, climbing in and closing your eyes as exhaustion overwhelmed you.

As he settled in behind the wheel and started the car, the silence between you was deafening. The weight of what had happened hung heavy in the air, and neither of you knew where to begin.

Cillian was the first to break the silence. "Y/N, what happened back there?" he said gently.

You took a deep breath, recalling what had transpired earlier that evening at the hostel.

You told Cillian everything, starting from your call with Nadine, to finding out about Lucy's involvement, and ending with your decision to confront her despite knowing the consequences of leaving your designated area.

Cillian listened intently, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter with every word you said. By the time you finished, his expression was a mixture of shock and anger. "That explains a lot," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. "And we need to get in touch with your solicitor tomorrow to get this sorted out," he added, switching gears as he drove you home.

Your heart sank at the thought of what this all meant - the possibility of an extended house arrest or even a harsher sentence. But you found comfort in the fact that you had Cillian by your side, supportive and understanding, even when your mother would have been furious.

"Can we not tell mum about this?" you asked hesitantly, not wanting to deal with the added stress of her disappointment.

Cillian glanced over at you, his eyes softening as he took in your nervous expression. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he replied gently.

You nodded, relieved but still worried.

"Thanks again, for picking me up and for not being angry," you said, turning to face Cillian who pulled into the driveway and, after he parked the car, he smiled at you reassuringly. "I wont lie, I am a bit angry, but not at you, but rather at your friend. She clearly wronged you," he said, his voice filled with compassion.

You sighed deeply. "I know, I am so angry too. I can't believe she would do something like this," you said, still troubled by the turn of events. "I feel so betrayed."

Cillian looked over at you, his heart ached at the pain and sadness etched on your face. "Hey, it's alright," he said softly, reaching out to comfort you. "Let's go inside, have a glass of wine, and talk about it," he offered , trying to lighten the mood.

You silently nodded and got out of the car, heading towards the front door. The cold evening air did nothing to quell the turmoil burning inside of you.

"Come on, let's sit," Cillian said, his voice unusually gentle as he helped you out of your jacket.

You then let yourself be led to the couch, still in disbelief over the night's events.

Cillian poured a generous glass of red wine for each of you and then sat down next to you. You took a large gulp, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

"I am such a fucking idiot," you then muttered, sitting back on the couch and running a hand through your hair.

Cillian placed a hand gently on your knee, holding it there as he looked intently into your eyes.

"Y/N, it's okay. You didn't really do anything wrong. You just acted hotheadedly and we all do that sometimes," he said, his voice gentle as you started to sob , trembling with the release of all the anger and frustration pent up in you.

"I know, but I just can't have my house arrest extended. I am starting my photography course in New York soon and...fuck...this is all just too much," you blurted out, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes.

Cillian didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at you with a deep understanding, a look that pierced right through you, seeing you for who you truly are - vulnerable, scared, and utterly alone.

Without a word, he caressed your face and wiped away your tears with his thumbs.

"Hey, look at me," he then said, making you meet his intense gaze. "It's going to be okay. We will make sure of it."

You looked at him, your eyes glistening with tears. "How?"

'Well, we will get your lawyer to get the charges dropped so that you can still go to New York and if he can't do that, I will smuggle you out of the country," Cillian said, only half-joking.

His words caught your attention and a smile appeared in your trembling lips. "You will smuggle me out of the country?" you chuckled through teary eyes.

Cillian laughed at the absurdity of it but then leaned in towards your face, his eyes locked with yours. " Yes, I will smuggle you through the airport and on to the plane," he whispered jokingly, still caressing your face.

"Now you are being an idiot," you replied with a soft laugh, feeling a flutter in your stomach at his closeness.

He leaned in a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Am I?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You swallowed hard, feeling a heat building up in your center as you looked at him. "Yes," you giggled quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "A beautiful and kind and somewhat sexy idiot," you gasped at your own admission, causing Cillian to exhale a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in closer, invading your space while still caressing your cheeks as, suddenly, he crashed his lips against yours, driving you back into the sofa.

Your hands reached for the back of his head, clutching his hair tight and pulling him closer.

Cillian groaned, deepening the kiss as his tongue traced the creases of your lips before delving inside. His other hand went up to you, cupping your cheek before it slipped behind your head, cradling it as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth.

A moan escaped you, sending a hot wave of desire coursing through you as he dominated your mouth.

You met his every move with fervent passion, the taste of coppery wine on his tongue as it danced with yours.

Your hands roamed his back, gripping at his shirt, frustratingly unable to reach the skin beneath as you both gave in to your desires like two wild animals.

The raw chemistry between you two spurred out of control. Your mind was fuzzy, and all your senses were heightened, focusing entirely on Cillian's touch.

He slid his hand down your side, resting it heavily on your hip before grabbing a chunk of fabric, pulling at it feverishly. Impatiently, you broke the kiss, your breath hitching as he scattered desperate kisses along the curve of your neck, growling at the contact.

"What are we doing Cillian?" you eventually moaned as he trailed fiery kisses from your collarbone to your heaving chest.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, his breath possibly howling around your neck, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes, lustrous and sharp with hunger.

You looked back at him, met his gaze, and without a word, you tossed your head.

"Good," he said, and his mouth covered yours once again, sucking your lips aggressively, slipping his tongue into the openings, wrapping his arms around you, and twining his fingers in the hair at the back of your head.

His touch was fierce and all-consuming, and you couldn't help but melt beneath it. Your mind reeled and swarmed with a potent mix of naughty curiosity and lust.

Almost breathlessly, you agreed, "I want you, Cillian. I want you so fucking much!"

His eyes burned as he pinned you to the couch beneath him. "Then take your clothes off," he demanded harshly.

You didn't protest one bit; instead, you sat up and obeyed, tearing off your t-shirt over your head.

Cillian's hungry gaze followed your every move as you did so, his pulse quickening at the sight of your bare breasts.

Without hesitation, you quickly shrugged out of your jeans, but leaving on your panties, your heart hammering against your rib cage in anticipation. Cillian swallowed heavily as he watched you, his own desire burning hot and wild.

You lay back down on the couch, your limbs splayed and trembling, as Cillian finally shed his own clothes, revealing his toned but lean physique.

"Oh my god, you have so many freckles," you whispered, feeling your mouth go dry. He was unlike any guy you had ever met and, even despite him being more than twice your age, you found him incredibly irresistible.

His greying chest-hair and the tiny wrinkles around his eyes did nothing to detract from his sex-appeal, instead making you only hungrier for him.

Cillian crawled over to you, placing his hands on either side of your head, his eyes burning holes into you. His body hovered above yours, casting a thick shadow over you. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in between your legs as he smirked down at you, that handsome face twisting with raw desire.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he murmured, brushing a few loose strands of hair off your forehead . You could feel the heat of his breath on your cheeks, and your lips parted involuntarily at the sound of his voice.

He leaned in, his warm lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss while you caressed one another.

Much to your surprise, your hands exploration of his body came more natural than you could ever imagine as if you had been doing this forever.

He moved slower with you, savoring every moment of the game, playing lightly with your sensitive lips and pressing into you as you opened up to him.

His hands roamed down your sides, tracing the curves of your hips and the perfect swell of your breasts. His fingertips moved over your nipples, then plucked and teased them until reaching your navel, moving back up to you with his thumb caressing that spot. Your underwear barely covered anything as he slipped his fingers beneath it, moving up to your mound.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his palm rubbed at your clitoris, and his fingers slipped inside your entrance.

"Oh my god," you groaned as sensations took over. Your body writhed in pleasure as he began to pump into you with ease, your wetness covering his hand. He wasn't desperate, but precise, stimulating you in a way no one else had done before.

"Fuck, just feel how wet you make me," you muttered against his lips, your breath hot and heavy.

"Oh I can feel it, trust me," Cillian groaned. "You are soaking," he mumbled against your lips, his fingers slipping in and out of you in a slow, steady fashion, his thumb still applying consistent pressure to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the feel of him, the way his expertise were driving you so close to the edge. And just as you felt the first wave of ecstasy shudder through your body, he pulled his hand away leaving you gasping for breath and craving for more.

"Cillian, don't stop," you pleaded.

He gave you a mischievous smile as he moved down your body, trailing hot kisses along the way. His stubble tickled you, sending shivers running up and down your spine.

"I want to taste you," he murmured, his voice hoarse and hungry.

You gasped when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He threw them to the side, and your bare sex was exposed to him.

Cillian groaned at the sight, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Like what you see?" you asked provocatively as you looked down on him, running the tip of your tongue tenderly over your swollen bottom lip.

"Very much so ," Cillian growled in response, as he moved further down between your legs. Your thighs shook involuntarily at the touch of his breath upon your labia.

He parted your lips with his fingers, exposing your clitoris to him. You looked down on him, anticipation and hunger in your gaze. His tongue flicked across your nub, gentle and seeking, and you struggled not to scream in pleasure.

"Oh God, yes," you stammered out as he continued his assault upon your sex.

You hadn't expected him to go down on you, but once he started, you realized how badly you wanted it.

He teased you, gently at first, circling his tongue around your clit, just barely touching you. His talented tongue danced and swirled over your sensitive area, ratcheting up the pressure in an agonizing, glorious crescendo.

You felt his other hand slip around your leg, his fingertips trailing a blazing path up your thigh as he pulled you closer to his face.

You could feel the warmth radiating from his mouth, and you squirmed as anticipation coursed through your veins.

Cillian's tongue lashed at your clitoris with more intent now, lapping at your engorged nub with a rhythmic hunger that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your legs jerked involuntarily, and he held you firmly in place.

He parted your lips further with his fingers, slipping his tongue deeper into the recesses of your sex.

He tasted you, teased you, drove you wild, and sent you over the edge. You writhed and bucked below him, your hands clutching at the fabric of the couch as his tongue plunged into you again and again.

The pressure building inside you reached its boiling point, and you cried out as your orgasm tore through you with a strength that seemed to shatter all barriers between your minds and bodies. Your vision blacked out, and for a moment, you were floating, lost in the sea of pleasure he had created within you.

It wasn't the first time you climaxed, but it had never felt like this before, so intensely and powerfully.

Cillian held you through it, his tongue making slow, soft strokes against your sensitive skin. You whimpered at the sensation, all your muscles rigid with the force still coursing through your veins.

When you finally came down, you were shaking and trembling, clutching at the couch as if it were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

"Fuck, that was insane," you gasped as Cillian's mouth continued its slow, gentle laps at your clitoris, soothing you through the aftershocks of your climax before, after a while, he eased himself up your body. "I don't think I ever came that hard before! Jesus!" you cursed.

After you finished swearing, Cillian kissed you deeply, letting you taste your own pleasure on his lips, and you couldn't help but moan into the kiss, overwhelmed by the taste of yourself, by the intensity of your connection.

His erection pressed into your thigh, and you found yourself rubbing against him, desperate for more.

"I want you inside of me so fucking much, you have no idea," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt him hard against your leg.

"Yeah?" he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as his hand slipped between you, his fingers once again slipping inside of you.

You cried out in pleasure, nodding your head and pushing your hips against his hand, urging him on.

"I need your cock inside me, right fucking now Cillian, please," you demanded, wrapping your legs around his waist while pulling on the fabric of his briefs.

"I don't have a condom Y/N," Cillian struggled to reason, his voice creaking with weakness under the barrage of your desires.

But you didn't give a fuck about anything but relieving the burning desire between your legs.

"Please, Cillian. Don't worry about it and just do it," you whimpered, helplessly clinging to his arm with your nails, as you begged him to take you, to drive inside you.

Seeing your determination, Cillian couldn't resist any longer. With a groan, he pushed down his briefs and pulled out his hard, throbbing shaft.

It was thick and long, and the tip was already wet with pre-cum. You looked down on it and couldn't believe that this was happening, that you were about to have sex with your stepfather and he looked goddamn perfect.

Cillian moved between your legs, spreading them a bit wider as he grabbed his shaft, guiding it to your entrance. He pressed the tip against your slick folds, his jaw clenching with every passing second as he, again, wrestled with himself and his guilt.

You felt your legs shaking against his sides, a pleading cry escaping your lips.

"Please, Cillian. I need you to fuck me," you begged, rocking your hips up to meet him, causing him to push his invasive thoughts of guilt aside.

But instead of taking you right away, he moved his shaft down to your entrance and began to rub its head around the rim, collecting the wetness there before he pushed in slowly. He ducked his head to kiss you, his tongue plunging into your mouth with the same torturous slowness that his thick cock easing inside of you.

The feeling was incredible, the stretch of your tight pussy around his length made both of you groan in bliss, and your nails dug into his firm ass as you pulled him closer. Inch by inch his manhood filled and stretched you. You felt every twitch and throb of his erection deep inside you, causing your channel to clench involuntarily, which drove him wild.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so tight," he muttered as he broke the kiss, unable to contain how good you felt. Cillian leveraged himself up onto his elbows, using every ounce of self-control he had not to lose himself in you in that very moment. He hadn't had sex for almost three years and being with you was almost too much to bear.

"I feel so full," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper inside of you.

Cillian's face darkened with hunger as he pulled his hips back and sank even deeper into you, causing you to cry out loudly.

"Fuck," he muttered, unable to hold back a groan at the unbelievable feeling of being inside you.

He repeated this motion several times, pulling out a few inches before plunging himself back into you.

Each stroke stretched and massaged your sensitive walls. You were loving every moment of it, quivering with a building, unrelenting pleasure—a pleasure that begged for more.

You clawed at his arms, urging him on as he moved faster and deeper. You were incoherent now, barely able to form words as his pace quickened.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you to meet each thrust. Your breasts bounced enticingly as gravity played its part. The sensation between you both grew incredibly intense.

"Oh, oh, yes, Cillian," you managed to say, your legs gripping tighter around him as your pleasure heightened.

You knew you weren't going to last and neither was he. As you felt each thrust, your eyes rolled back into your head.

Cillian adjusted his angle and hit the right spot causing you to gasp loudly.

"Fuck, that's the spot!" you exclaimed.

A slight sheen of sweat formed on both of your skin as your bodies melded together, your hips rising to meet each desperate pounding thrust.

"Cillian, don't stop, please, don't stop," you pleaded, the words barely coherent coherent as Cillian's tempo increased.

Your body begged for reprieve, aching for release from this earth-shattering pleasure. Yet, at the same time craved for it to last longer, for this moment to never end.

You could feel Cillian's breath panting heavily against your neck. The heat from it branded your skin as his pace quickened, driving himself into you with a wild urgency until you exploded once again.

"Oh my god!" you cried out as the climax tore through you, ripping away all control and thought as you writhed beneath him, eyes rolling back and legs tightening around him.

Your orgasm was a blinding flash of pure pleasure, a devastating force that swept you away in its current. Cillian couldn't last much longer. As your pussy clenched around him during your climax, every muscle in his body tensed with the effort not to cum too soon.

But he fought against it, needing to prolong this moment just a little bit longer. He wanted to savor the feeling of being inside of you, of hearing the way you moaned his name and seeing the pleasure written all over your face.

After a while, you started to slow down, your body spending a few moments catching up with your exhilarated senses. As your still-throbbing sex eased around his shaft, Cillian felt the pressure in his balls build to an almost uncomfortable degree.

With a final, desperate moan, he buried his face in your neck and gave in.

The first spurts of his release jetted deep inside of you, splashing against your cervix, the warmth of his load filling you completely. You relished in the feeling of him coming hard, his own release triggering another small orgasm inside of you, the combination of his warm seed mixing with the contractions of your pussy brought you to a peak yet again, a last wave that sent you crashing down.

Cillian's hips jerked erratically beneath you, and he groaned your name as he continued to pump every last drop of himself inside of you.

Your walls contracted around his shaft again and again as you whimpered with each pulsating wave of your orgasm.

Cillian held still for a few seconds before slumping over you, still buried deep inside your warm welcoming embrace. Your breaths came out in short pants as his did the same, leaving him with a few shudders and aftershocks as he caught his breath.

"Oh fuck, Y/N," Cillian managed to say after a while, his head still buried in your neck. "That was...that was..."

He couldn't seem to find the words, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Intense," you suggested, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Cillian chuckled at that and blew out a long, slow breath. "Yeah, that."

The weight of his body upon yours felt anything but unpleasant; you found yourself wrapping your arms around him tighter, delighting in the feeling of his warm skin against yours which is when guilt consumed him once more.

"Fuck," he cursed again before slowly pulling out, then extracting himself from your grasp and your body, standing up on the plush carpet that lay between the couch and the fireplace, watching as your limbs dangled over the edge of it like a rag doll's.

"We shouldn't have done that," he muttered mostly to himself but loud enough that you heard him, just as he noticed that you'd opened your eyes to peer up at him from under heavy lids. "Fucking hell, what is wrong with me?" Cillian mumbled to himself as he stood naked in the vast living room of his home, the air heavy with the scent of his own arousal.

He had been unable to deny that fire burning deep within him any longer. That forbidden connection with you, his stepdaughter, had grown too intense to ignore.

The way your lips had parted as he ravaged your body... the sounds you had made as your sweet body responded to his every touch...the sighs, groans, cries, and whispers that escaped your lips... the way your legs had trembled, then wrapped around him, your heels digging into his backside as you urged him on... all of it had driven him to the brink of madness.

And now, as he looked down on you sprawled out on the couch, a deep sense of shame and betrayal filled him.

"Please don't do this," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you slowly sat up and pulled a throw over your naked body.

You looked at Cillian, pleading for him to see things from your perspective, too. You understood the gravity of what you had just done, but you also couldn't deny the powerful connection that you felt.

"I need to go," he muttered, turning away and gathering up his clothes from the floor before disappearing upstairs to get dressed in private.

"Fine," you sighed as you slowly got up from the couch, your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, and wrapped yourself in the blanket. "Just walk away then. It seems to be a common occurrence in this fucking house," you hissed, the words sharp and filled with anger as Cillian walked off to collect his thoughts.

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