#And my phone service is running out tonight

[anonymousfog101]

A relationship is like a chain with a lock.

and I don't mean that as it "ooohhh it sucks so much OOHH" no I'm not talking about that stupid bullshit take on it.

What I mean is when you're getting into a relationship it's like you're shackled to each other. There's a lock in the middle. And you can only undo the lock if you both use a key at once. Then you're not locked together anymore. But you can also break the chain by force, and that will likely hurt both of you. The chain might also rust and break on its own. There's many ways to become unchained.

When you're chained to more than one person, it can become a bit more difficult to move around. You have to work together with more people. And that's much more difficult to do if two of them don't like each other.

When words don't do my thoughts justice, I draw.

I am damaged. That much is obvious. I found a couple of locks with chains. I let them hold my heart. But now it's damaged enough that if one chain is removed, I feel like the other might lose me, its grip not tight enough to stop me from falling and shattering against the floor.

I love them both. I don't want to leave either of them. I can tell he wants to fix things. He doesn't want to be her enemy. But she doesn't like him very much, and she does not like the way he handles relationships.

The last two weeks of my life have been hell and this bullshit between them is only making it worse.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run pt 2

By the time the five of you are in the house, you’re soaked through once more, teeth chattering when the cool air of the house hits your skin as Gaz opens the door, holding it open long enough to let the dogs trot in.

“Hey! Shake over there!” He shoos, flinching when Maggie sprays him with her shake off.

“Let’s get you taken care of pretty.” Price murmurs, and you push weakly at his chest, struggling to get down. Your mind is foggy, exhaustion fighting to take over, but there are four strange men now standing in your living room, and that seemed more pressing.

Price grunts, but finally gives in, setting you on your feet, and you put as much distance between yourself and them as you can. “What do you want? What is going on here?” You demand, trying to ignore the shake of your voice.

They glance at each other, having a silent conversation, and you glance towards the stairs. You had an old cell phone, and the service this far out was absolutely shit, but it was a chance-

“We would like a place to stay.” Price’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes shoot to look at them, and a shocked laugh tumbles past your lips.

“A place to stay? After what just happened? For god’s sake I don’t even know you!” You laugh, slightly hysteric, and Price takes a cautious step towards you, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart, honest. Didn’t think anyone lived here by the looks of it.” His tone is soft, comforting. He approaches you slowly, and you back away until your back hits the wall.

“How did you even know we were in there?” Ghost speaks this time, eyes trained on your face and you try not to crack under his gaze.

“You spooked Sebastian. In the six years I’ve lived here nothing has ever spooked that horse.” You glare, anger flaring when the four of them laugh. “You think scaring my stallion is funny?”

“No little bird, just…” Ghost trails off, chuckling and you can feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“It’s cute how protective you are over some animals.” He finishes, and he can tell his words are winding you up, the crinkle around his eyes indicating he finds this amusing. Bastard.

“They might just be animals to you,” You start, your frustration seeping into your words as you straighten your back. “But when I found this place they were starving and on the brink of death. I worked my ass off to make sure they made it. I worked for their trust after some asshole abandoned them here to fucking die. They are my herd, this is my land!” Your shoulders heave, sucking in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

They stare at you, quiet and you close your eyes, clenching your fist as you struggle to maintain yourself. “You broke into my barn and scared my animals, held my own knife to my throat and invited yourselves into my home. Why is god's name should I let you stay here?” You ask, opening your eyes to stare them down, and for the first time tonight, they seem to crack under your gaze for once.

“Have you… Do you have any way of hearing the news?” Price questions, wincing and you frown. “The radio when I’m cleaning the barn. Why?”

They hesitate, looking between themselves as they shuffle their feet. Your eyes bounce between them, trying to think back to anything of importance that a reporter has broadcasted as of late.

Missing sheep from a town more than four hours north of you, a four way pile up down one of the highways,a break out at the prison, a wheeler transporting 60,000 gallons of wine tipping near the river…

A break out at the prison.

You freeze, all air leaving your lungs as you stare at them, four wanted criminals standing in your living room. You feel your knees buckle.

They notice your realization, hesitation crossing Price’s face when he notices your stiff figure.

“Please. Let us explain ourselves.” He all but begs, and you feel your hands shaking.

“You are wanted criminals!” You hiss, and they cringe, their previous bravado has disappeared.

“We will explain everything to you, we swear. Just… Please give us a chance.” Soap steps forward this time, big wide eyes trained on you. They’re just as soaked as you are, and in the light of the living room you see the bags under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. They look exhausted, and not just from this night. There’s a haunted look behind their eyes, and you curse yourself when you feel your heart ache ever so slightly.

You make a noise at the back of your throat, turning to head up the stairs.

“Pretty where are you-“

“You’re soaking my floor. You can explain it to me after I’m out of this damn gown.” You mumble, hearing one of them mumble ‘damn shame’.

“I heard that!”

After a few moments you come back, a box of clothes in hand and they all raise a brow. “Thought you said no one else lived here?” Gaz asks suspiciously when they notice it’s a box of men’s clothes. You roll your eyes, shoving it into his hands.

“They’re my ex-husbands, I took it by mistake when I moved my boxes.” You huff, crossing your arms. It’s your turn to raise a brow at their shocked expressions. “What’s with your faces?”

“What kind of eejit divorces such a gorgeous lass?” Soap asks, and you feel insulted, till you realise he’s not joking. They all look you over, and you feel your face warm at the way their eyes darken. Turning away, you clear your throat, pointing up the stairs.

“The guest room is down the hall, it has a bathroom and towels. Leave your clothes in the tub.” You order, making your way towards your bedroom. You feel the stairs shake as they bound up them, and as they pass, Price give’s your hip a little squeeze and you swat at his hand.

“Thank you pretty.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. You were just ruining my hardwood floors.” You sniff, smacking his hand once more when he doesn’t let go.

“You are testing my patience most of all.”

“You haven’t made us leave though.”

“I can change that very quickly.” You snap, pulling his hand off your side and he takes the opportunity to pull you close, leaning down next to your ear.

“But I don’t think you will, will you sweetheart?” He whispers, and you bite your lip, pushing at his chest. “For god's sake, go change you old perv.” You hiss, wiggling in his grasp and he flashes you a grin before letting you go.

You slip into your room, locking the door before pressing your head against it. What have you gotten yourself into?

You quickly take a hot shower, letting the scalding water bring warmth back to your stiff joints. You towel off quickly, slipping into an oversized hoodie and some old pajama pants.

You can still hear the shower running down the hall when you step out, a boom of thunder sounding in the distance. You slip down to the kitchen, grabbing one of your mugs. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

How could you be so foolish as to be letting escaped convicts use your bathroom?! God the feds were probably spread to every point in the world trying to track these men down. You can’t remember much the broadcast had said, just that there were four dangerous men on the run from one of the maximum security prisons a couple of hours away. How on earth did they wind up here?

You’re so lost to your thoughts you don’t hear the stairs creak, staring out into the backyard as you mull things over in your mind.

“‘Ppreciate the clothes lass, loads better!” A cheerful voice spooks you and you jump, dropping your mug to the floor. “Shit!” You curse, a matching ‘ah hell’ leaving Soap.

“Didn’t mean to scare you again bonnie, I’m sorry.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. You’re surprised to find genuine guilt there, and he gives you a sheepish look. “I’ll clean this up for ye.”

“Gone and lost us our chance Soap?” Gaz asks, frowning at the glass on the ground but Soap just waves him off. “Accident, scared the poor lass.”

“We keep doing that, she'll never give us a chance.” Gaz smiles at you, soft and sweet but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the bags under them worse after having cleaned up, and you feel that strange ache in your chest again. You glance at Soap, who is picking up the shards with his bare hands and you frown, swatting his hands away as you kneel beside him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” You scold, and he gives you a surprised look before smiling, shrugging as he gently stops your hands from piling the remains of the mug. “Could ask the same of you bonnie, hands like these are much too pretty for such sharp things.” He mumbles, scooping up the shards without a care.

The two of them eye you nervously, and you can feel knots in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you motion towards the living room. “Sit. I’ll make something to drink.” You offer. They raise a brow and you glance at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“No need to apologize, it’s just…” Gaz starts, trying to find the words and glances at Soap.

“We’re honestly surprised you didn't run for the nearest house possible when you had the chance.” Soap says bluntly, and you wince.

“No one around for miles.” You admit, and their faces fall slightly, shoulders tensing and you clear your throat. “I said I would hear you out. I plan to.” You say firmly, turning to walk into the kitchen, just to bump into a large chest.

“I gotta worry about you keeping your mouth shut little bird?” Ghost asks, arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.

“I do have a radio that connects me to the closest ranger station. And another for the Police station in the little town 3 hours north.” You admit, and you see his eyes flash, but you hold up your hand before he speaks.

“No. You aren’t taking it.” You snap, and his eyes narrow, exhaling sharply.

“If they don’t hear from me periodically they get worried. It’s a small town, everyone knows one another and I do have to take trips to the store every month or so.” You don’t back down from his dark gaze, but your palms feel clammy.

“They ever check up on you unannounced?” Price is last to arrive, voice stern as he levels the same cold glare as Ghost and you swallow, standing straighter, Gaz and Soap looking between the three of you nervously.

“Not unless I ask them to or I haven’t called in a few weeks. Takes too long to get out here.” Your voice shakes towards the end, slipping between the two looming men.

“You’re all here, you can start talking anytime.” You quip, and Ghost scoffs. “Got a mouth on you don’t-“

“You are asking to stay in my home. Watch it.”

He snaps his mouth shut, glaring at you and you turn your back to him. Price clears his throat, his gaze heavy on your back as you turn on the stove.

“Listen. There has to be some type of trust for this to even begin to work. You haven’t hurt me, and besides that oaf holding a knife to my throat,” You and Simon glare at one another, but he breaks first, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re a feisty little thing.” He laughs, crossing the kitchen to plop down at the kitchen table like he owns it.

“Besides that, you haven’t given me any reason you’re here to harm me or rob me, considering you have no car. You could easily overpower me and keep me locked in one of my own rooms and you haven’t. That’s a good start.” You finish, hands shaking slightly as you start to make your tea, and Price gently takes the kettle from your hands.

“But you’re still scared.” He states, and your shoulders stiffen. “Four men are in my kitchen asking to hide from the police. I’ve only put together who is who with your little code names by listening to you talk to one another. I’m sorry for being a little frightened.” You spit, jumping when you feel his large hand on your hip.

“Oh if you don’t quit that-“

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you pretty.”

“Okay! I think we all need to take a minute, yeah?” Gaz announces, him and Soap staring at the three of you nervously. You pry Price’s hand off your hip, again, pushing him away.

“Start talking, now. Before I let Soap and Gaz stay here and let the two of you rot outside.” You huff, taking a seat at the table and they seem surprised.

“I told you, I put together who is who, and those two,” You point, glaring at Price and Ghost as you speak. “Have been very respectful and kind.”

The two of them perk up, lapping up the small praise like thirsty dogs as their chests puff out.

Price frowns, keeping eye contact with you as he slips into the chair opposite of you. “We’ll behave.” He mutters, cutting a look at Ghost when he makes an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any of the harm or fear we have caused you, really thought this place was abandoned. The boys and I appreciate you hearing us out when you have absolutely no reason to. And I… apologize.” He clears his throat, casting you a glance over before meeting your eyes once more.

“Haven’t been around such a gorgeous little thing like yourself in a long time. Forgot my manners.” He grins now, causing heat to bloom in your chest and you splutter, narrowing your eyes at him as you fight the heart crawling up your neck.

“Story. Now.”

“Oh come on pretty, am I at least forgiven?” He asks, and you know he’d deny that he’s pouting, but it still makes a small smile tug your lips.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I could sweet talk you some more.”

“Much more interested in why you were in prison.”

Price sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he relaxes in his chair.

“Better settle in. It’s a bit of a tale.” He crosses his arms, settling back.

“I’ve got all night.” You shoot back, resting your chin on your hand as you get comfortable.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[ptergwen]

im not sure if you’ll see this😭 but can i have reader being like maddy from euphoria, confident, bad bitch, short skirts and she’s dating peter and they have this secret relationship cuz shes popular and hes not so they both go to a party and makes out in the restroom and comes out together and then flash is making fun of them and then she just kisses peter right in front of everyone (im so srry this is long but i hope u see this

out of sight, on his mind ‎♡‧₊˚

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: ?

warnings: making out, suggestiveness, drinking, like one swear

a/n: oh i looooved this idea thank you very much for your service babes :D also don't forget to join my new taglist y'all i only got a couple of you so far & happy reading!

you down a shooter, gagging at the bitter taste of the alcohol. you giggle and stick the tiny bottle in your bra. you're dancing with a group of your friends. one of them takes your hand, the two of you moving to the beat of the music. peter watches you from across the room with the hint of a smile.

he wouldn't typically spend his friday night in the corner of a packed houseparty nursing a cup of jungle juice, but ned insisted they go. his best friend is determined they both up their social statuses this year. they're not too popular at midtown, with the exception of the academic decathlon team.

if people only knew peter was dating one of the most popular girls in school; you.

it was peter's idea to keep your relationship secret. you'd wanted to show him off, but he's too shy. you're always the center of attention, and peter parker doesn't do well with attention. he'd much rather admire you with everyone else in public and be yours in private.

"come on, peter! it's a party! shouldn't we be, like, dancing or something?"

"i don't know, ned. just... drink your juice."

ned takes a generous swig of his drink and cringes. peter chuckles, sipping from his cup.

"what's in jungle juice anyway?"

"um, everything i think. you might blackout if you have too much."

"dude, that's the goal."

you catch peter's eye again. you're holding your friend's arm that's wrapped around your shoulders, hips swaying. you shout along to the music with the rest of the girls in your group. you look so carefree, and so damn good.

the pink, strapless dress you're wearing is hugging your body in all the right places. your hair is styled to perfection, tiny gems dotted along your eyelids. your look is complete with a pair of knee high boots. peter loves your style. there's no way to describe it other than that it's you, who peter adores an insane amount. he wishes he could be as bold as you are.

peter's phone vibrates in his pocket; it's a text from you.

are u watching me?

before he even answers, you send another.

come to the bathroom

peter briefly locks eyes with you. you give him a mischievous smile before slipping away, making some excuse to your friends. he bites his lip to suppress his own grin.

"hey, ned? how about i go get us some refills?"

"bet! i’m gonna dance."

ned hands peter his cup and claps him on the shoulder, disappearing into the crowd. instead of refilling their drinks, peter makes his way to the bathroom. there's a few people waiting in line. knowing you, you've already claimed it from them. he knocks at the door. a hand reaches out and grabs at peter's flannel, pulling him inside.

"hi, baby."

your glossy lips capture peter's in a kiss. he instantly leans into it, but you pull back much to his dismay. his big brown eyes go even bigger.

"woah... hi."

you laugh softly.

"miss me?"

"seems like you missed me too."

"maybe."

you run a hand through peter's hair. his hands settle on your hips.

"sorry for watching you, couldn't help it. you look so pretty tonight."

"i always look pretty."

your tone is playful, but peter knows you mean it, and he couldn't agree more.

"whatcha been up to? you having fun?"

your manicured nails scratch lightly at peter's scalp. he practically purrs at the feeling.

"mm, just been hanging with ned. i don't really know anybody else."

"you know me."

"but you're with your friends."

"so?"

"so... you know i’m shy, princess."

you giggle.

"it's just 'cause you're not drunk enough, baby."

"oh yeah?"

peter's thumbs run up and down your sides, face only inches from yours. you retrieve the shooter from your bra. there's still at least half a shot left.

"open."

peter does as you say and opens his mouth. you take his chin between your fingers and tilt his head back, pouring the rest of the strong, sweet liquid down his throat. he swallows. you toss the bottle aside. peter gives you a look, one that says kiss me. you shake your head, smirking.

you want him to kiss you.

peter's lips smash into yours. his eagerness makes you giggle into the kiss. you grip the collar of his shirt in both hands, lips moving slowly against each other's. peter backs you against the door.

"did i already tell you how pretty you look?"

"mhm, but not enough."

"you're right. you're so pretty."

peter kisses down your neck, breathing in the scent of your perfume. you guide his lips back up to yours.

"you are too, y'know."

you peck peter's lips softly, letting your lips linger over his after, eyes searching his. they twinkle. you mesmerize him, truly mesmerize him. you kiss an awe-struck peter properly this time. he holds your waist, head tilted to deepen the kiss.

your make out session is rudely interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"yeah, one second!" you answer. "let's get out of here."

peter groans and buries his face in your neck.

"but i don't want to. wanna keep kissing you."

"not here, baby."

"why not?"

he leaves more kisses on your neck. you coax peter away, laughing, his arms still wrapped tight around you.

"the line. wanna find somewhere else?"

peter perks up at that.

"okay, let's go."

you lead peter out of the bathroom. he follows, hand in yours. even though no one seems to pay any mind to the fact that you were in the bathroom together, peter can't help but blush. he doesn't make it out unscathed, though; none other than flash thompson notices him.

"penis parker, is that you?"

you stop walking, eyeing flash over your shoulder. peter lets out an exasperated sigh.

"what's up, flash?"

"you are."

peter looks down to see an obvious bulge in his jeans. his cheeks burn hotter, hand leaving yours to readjust himself. a few people turn around to look.

"y/n's a big step up from your imaginary girlfriend. where'd you say she was from again, canada?"

you narrow your eyes at flash, a hand wrapping around peter's bicep.

"do you know him?"

"yeah, we're... friends. sort of. we do academic decathlon together."

your gaze shifts to peter.

"friends?"

"oh yeah, we go way back. any friend of parker's is a friend of mine."

flash smirks at you. you look him up and down, face scrunched in disgust.

"ew."

more people are starting to watch the exchange. you glare at flash, who holds your gaze knowingly. peter can tell you're about to go into protective girlfriend mode. he squeezes your hand that's on his arm.

"anyways, just wanted to congratulate you on your first baddie," flash tells him. "try not to fumble."

before peter can process what's happening, your lips are on his, hands cupping his cheeks to keep him in place. maybe it's just because he's tipsy, but peter actually finds himself having the courage to kiss you back in front of everyone. you smile at this. he holds you by your waist, letting himself enjoy the kiss for a while longer.

peter's lips are puffy and covered in your gloss when you two pull apart. he draws you in closer to himself, giving you one more short kiss, then another. the two of you earn whistles and chatter from everyone watching. you giggle, thumbs caressing peter's cheeks and gaze meeting his.

there's something in his eyes that you haven't seen before; confidence. he might be shy, but not when it comes to you. not anymore.

you look over at flash smugly, his mouth dropped open.

"he won't."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee

[alisonsfics]

place to crash

pairing: carmen berzatto x reader

summary: carmy steps in as your knight in shining armor when your apartment’s electricity breaks, which makes you both test the line between friends and something more

word count: 2.9k

warnings: swearing, whole lotta fluff

“Oh, come on. Hurry the fuck up,” you muttered to yourself. You were currently on hold with the electricity company.

After a hectic service at the Bear, you had come home to your pitch black apartment with no power. The one thing you wanted to do was curl up and eat some leftovers while watching some tv, but that clearly wasn’t happening tonight.

“Hello? Are you still there?” The man’s voice echoed through the speaker. “Yes, I’m here,” you said, quickly. You didn’t want to risk him hanging up on you and having to start this process all over again.

“So, it looks like our crew has already gone home for the day. We can’t send anyone to look at it until tomorrow morning.” He told you. You huffed, running your fingers through your hair. “Alright, thank you. Have a fantastic night,” you said, passive aggressively.

You threw your phone down onto the kitchen counter.

With the electricity out, that also meant no air conditioning. You pulled your hair up into a quick ponytail. You were already sweating, so you knew there was no way you could stay at your apartment for the night.

You glanced back down at your phone, and it felt like the answer was staring you in the face. You opened your contacts and saw the one person you knew you could always rely on.

You clicked on Carmy’s name, smiling to yourself when you saw his contact photo. It was a goofy picture of the two of you from a party that Sydney threw. He had his arm haphazardly thrown around your shoulders. You were sticking your tongue out at the camera while he kissed your cheek.

You both had a history of becoming more affectionate than normal when you had been drinking. That night was a great example.

It only rang once before he answered. “Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?” He asked, immediately. Having seen Carmy less than an hour ago, he knew something was going on if you were calling him so soon.

“Hey, I’m fine, no need to panic. I just have a little favor to ask you, but you can totally say no—” you started to explain before he interrupted you.

“You’ve got it. What do you need?” He answered without a second thought. It made your cheeks heat up. Carmy was always ready to drop everything for you.

“You don’t even know what it is yet, Berzatto.” You told him, giggling to yourself. You couldn’t see him, but you could perfectly imagine the way he’d shrug. “I don’t need to know. I have no reason to doubt you.” He said, simply.

“Not even gonna make me work for it?” You teased him.

“You never have to work for it. Not with me,” he told you, honestly. Every time you talked to Carmy, it became harder for you to pretend you weren’t head over heels for him.

“Alright, well the power is out at my apartment—” you started to tell him. “Come stay at my place tonight,” he offered. You felt so grateful for him.

“Are you sure it’s not a burden? You don’t have to feel pressured to say yes.” You assured him, but you knew his answer wouldn’t change.

“Of course I’m sure. I’m not letting you stay at your apartment with no power. Come on over. I’m making dinner now. You eaten yet?” He asked. “No, not yet,” you told him.

“Alright, perfect. I’ll make you a plate, and I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said, and you could hear that he was smiling.

“Thank you, Carmy, truly. I’ll see you soon,” you said, before hanging up.

You quickly grabbed a bag and stuffed some essentials inside it before heading out the door. Carmy’s apartment was only a short walk from your apartment. After five or ten minutes, you were at his door.

You knocked on the door and heard a lot of noise on the other side. “It’s open,” you heard Carmy yell.

You turned the doorknob slowly before walking inside. You saw Carmy turning his pullout couch into a bed. He was neatly fixing the blankets and adding some pillows.

You also noticed the table was set with two plates of pasta, and you couldn’t tell where, but from somewhere in the apartment jazz music was playing.

“You didn’t have to do all of this for me, Carmy,” you said, feeling guilty. He put a final pillow on the bed and walked towards you. “I wanted to,” he said, simply. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a quick hug.

“I’m sorry about your apartment,” he said, sincerely.

“None of that is your fault, Carmy. You don’t have to apologize.” You replied. His hand grazed the small of your back, and he gestured towards the dining table. He even made sure to pull your chair out from the table for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you said, unable to get the smile off your face. You always felt like a giggly schoolgirl around Carmy. “Only the best for you,” he jokingly flirted, but wasn’t willing to push it any further.

Carmy cared about you so much. You were practically his world, and he was terrified that if he told you that, you’d leave.

After eating dinner, you both got ready for bed in Carmy’s bathroom. It made you feel like a married couple, and you had to force yourself to ignore it.

“I know I’ve asked you like ten times, but are you sure you don’t want my bed? I can sleep on the couch.” He offered, wanting you to feel right at home. You grabbed his hand without thinking about it.

“Carmy, you are so sweet, but I promise that sleeping on a couch will not kill me. I will be fine, sweetie.” You told him. You weren’t sure where the pet name had come from. You’d never called Carmy “sweetie” before.

Carmy had practically jumped out of his skin hearing the name roll so smoothly off your tongue. He only wanted to hear you call him sweetie from now on. It took everything in his power to not confess his love to you right then and there.

“Okay, fine,” he gave up, knowing you were more stubborn than he was. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. You happily wrapped your arms around him as he held on to you.

You were taking in every part of this moment. You could smell his cologne, the same one he’d worn since you met him. You’d told him how much you liked it once, and he promised himself he’d never change it.

“Goodnight. Sleep well,” he said, kissing the top of your head and leaving you smitten.

You walked into the living room, and fell asleep within seconds of crawling under the blankets.

In the middle of the night, a sound woke you up. You jumped to sit up, looking around to see what the noise was. The bright LED numbers from the clock read 3:42. You realized the sound was someone jiggling the doorknob on the front door.

You jumped off the couch and ran into Carmy’s bedroom. You were half awake, and it was the only thing you could think of.

You reached forward and placed your hand on Carmy’s forearm, trying to wake him up. He jumped up as soon as you touched him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, quickly. Even being half awake and in a dark room, he was somehow still able to sense that you were afraid. “It sounds like somebody’s trying to come in the front door.” You told him, which woke him up fast.

He grabbed the bat from beside his bed and headed towards the front door. Your fear only made him more confident. He knew that he needed to step up and protect you.

You stayed behind him. He got within a few feet of the door. Then, you both saw the door start to open.

“Get the hell out,” Carmy threatened whoever was on the other side of the door.

The door quickly was flung all the way open. “Cousin, chill the fuck out. It’s me.” You both heard Richie say.

You both breathed a sigh of relief. Carmy dropped the bat down to his side, irritated at Richie. “Do you know what time it is? What the fuck are you doing here?” Carmy asked him.

Richie flipped on the light switch and held up his spare key, as though that explained his presence.

“Oh shit, Y/N? What’re you doing here?” Richie asked, finally noticing you standing behind Carmy.

Before you could even answer, Richie’s eyes darted between the two of you. He saw Carmy just in boxers and you in an oversized tshirt, which he assumed must’ve belonged to Carmy. Then, it made sense to him.

“Oh wait. You two are hooking up?” He asked, smirking at the both of you. Richie was the most convinced of all your friends that you and Carmy were meant for each other. He saw it all, especially the way that your’s and Carmy’s gaze always found each other in a crowded room.

“No!” You and Carmy both quickly assured him, but Richie’s smirk didn’t fade. He didn’t believe either of you for a second.

“She’s just sleeping here tonight,” Carmy tried to explain.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure there’s been lots of sleeping going on here.” Richie teased, causing Carmy to put his head in his hands.

“The electricity is out at my apartment, so Carmy’s letting me crash here tonight. That’s it,” you tried to shut Richie up.

“So you came here for the electricity?” Richie asked, very aware of the double entendre. He loved how much he could get under yours and Carmy’s skin with just a few comments. “You’re the worst, Richie.” Carmy said, exasperatedly.

“See, we have the pullout,” you said, gesturing towards the couch. You saw a mischievous glint in Richie’s eyes. Richie was like a brother, so you knew the joke he was going to make before he even opened his mouth.

“The pullout COUCH, you fucking child,” you said, smacking his arm. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmy with his eyes trained on the floor and his hand covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh.

You crossed your arms and frowned at him. “You are not helping,” you said, glaring at him. He quickly held his hands up in surrender, not wanting you to hit him too.

Richie moved past the joke, but wasn’t quite ready to stop teasing you yet.

“The couch looks pretty messy to me. I wonder how that happened.” He teased. You knew that was just trying to get under your skin, but if you stopped denying what he was saying, he’d be so much worse.

“Yeah, cause I jumped up in a panic thinking someone was breaking in.” You defended. Carmy placed his hand on your back, rubbing small circles. You and Richie were the two most stubborn people he knew, and he knew that neither of you liked to lose an argument.

“And little Carmy was ready to protect you? I won’t lie, that’s pretty sweet, dude.” Richie said, watching the way Carmy’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

“So, why’re you here?” Carmy asked, changing the subject. Richie plopped himself down on the couch. “I need to crash here too. My neighbors are in a big fight and they won’t shut the fuck up.” Richie explained.

“Well, you aren’t staying here. Go find some other fucking place to stay.” Carmy said. He didn’t want anyone to break up his alone time with you.

“That’s not what you told her.” Richie argued, gesturing towards you. Richie had a point, but Carmy would never tell you no.

“Richie, just please leave. Besides, there’s nowhere for you to sleep,” Carmy begged him. Carmy knew if Richie stayed out, it would ruin everything with you. Richie would tease every move he made, and he couldn’t be as affectionate with you. That should have been Carmy’s first indicator that you both were more than friends.

“I’m taking the couch, you two figure out the rest.” Richie said, grabbing you both by the wrists and shoving you into Carmy’s bedroom. Carmy went to open the door, but realized Richie was leaning against the back of the door.

“Richie, let us out,” Carmy begged. You went and sat down on Carmy’s bed. “Carmy, c’mere, you know Richie’s stubborn, and he won’t give up,” you said, patting the spot next to you.

“Reminds me of someone else,” he teased you as he sat beside you. You lightly smacked his arm. “I am not stubborn. I was out there defending myself but also defending you. He’s gonna be insufferable at work tomorrow. He’ll tell everyone that we hooked up, and we’ll never hear the end of it.” You rambled.

“He’s been trying to get us to hook up for years, it might just be easier to actually do it and shut him up.” Carmy joked before he could process the words he was saying.

You felt your eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, Carmen Berzatto. Did I mishear you? Did you just suggest that we hook up?” You asked, truly stumped.

“Don’t look at me like that. I was just joking.” He tried to backpedal. He couldn’t read your expression, which was a first. It was because if he’d actually suggested it, you would have said yes immediately.

“I’m sorry about this. First, your apartment. And now, Richie being Richie.” He said, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “Carmy, none of this is your fault.” You said, grabbing his hand and tracing your finger over his tattoos.

You both were painfully aware of the fact that you’d never been this physically close before. This was beyond the level of affection that you both could defend as friendly.

“So, if it wasn’t Richie, you were gonna protect me?” You asked.

“Of course, I was. I’m always watching out for you. Gotta keep my girl safe,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You sat straight up. Once again, you thought you’d misheard him. “Oh, fuck it,” he said, cupping your face and kissing you roughly. It didn’t take you any time to kiss him back.

He pressed his palms against your back and carefully pushed you back onto his bed. You ran your fingers across his toned chest. You could feel his muscles flex under your touch.

“I thought you said you were joking,” you teased him as he pressed kisses down your jaw. He let out a soft chuckle, his chest shaking against you. “Why? Do you want me to stop?” He teased.

“Fuck no,” you mumbled, cupping his face and pulling him down to kiss you. His fingers fumbled with the hem of your tshirt, letting his hands slip under it and caress your skin.

He felt you groan against the kiss and took it as a sign to keep going. One of his hands crept higher up your chest while he removed his other hand. He grabbed the bottom of your shirt and was ready to pull it over your head when the door burst open.

“Richie, the fuck? Get out,” Carmy yelled, quickly pulling your shirt back down to make sure you were completely covered. You hid your face in Carmy’s chest, not wanting to face Richie. You could already imagine the smug grin on his face.

“Well well well,” Richie said, in his signature “I told you so” tone.

Carmy didn’t want to put up with his gloating. “Richie, enough. Out!” He repeated, grabbing a pillow off the bed and throwing it at Richie’s face. The whole time he kept one arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him and letting you hide from Richie.

Richie jumped backwards to dodge the pillow and finally closed the bedroom door. As soon as the door clicked closed, Carmy cupped your face with one hand and kissed you again.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as he ran his hand down your side. He let his fingers trace every inch of your skin.

You placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away. “Did I do something wrong?” Carmy asked, immediately concerned.

You quickly shook your head, trying to reassure him. “There’s nothing I want more right now, but we can’t do this with Richie here. You know that, Carm.” You said, caressing his cheek.

“One part of my brain knows that, but the other part knows how long I’ve waited for this, for you,” pressing a soft kiss against your cheek, “but you’re right.” he said.

“We’ve waited this long, what’s a little longer?” You joked, smiling up at him. He kissed your forehead, falling in love with the way you were looking at him. “Tomorrow night. I’m gonna take you out to dinner, and we’ll have a real date. I’m gonna spoil you.” He said, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you said, leaning forward to peck his lips.

You both sat in silence, soaking in the moment. You both knew that it was perfect, and you wanted to remember it forever.

“You look really pretty in the moonlight.” You complimented him, admiring the way Carmy’s curls framed his face.

“You’re making it really hard to not fall in love with you,” he teased, pulling you in for another kiss.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[thecoochiefairy]

say it. toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 12.7k word count. a LOT of dialogue ngl, first person pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, hair pulling,squirting,creaming drunk/tipsy sex, oral [f] [m], choking, daddy kink, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, degrading (maybe?), condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive + cocky toji, daddy toji, baby megumi, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this was my first fic y’all, it is first person, sorry if that’s strange. enjoy! 🫶🏽

“WHO THE FUCK STILL EATS FIG NEWTON’S?”

“Me! That’s who.”

My eyes continue to wander down the snack aisle, searching for my favorite selection. I toss the fruit paste filled cookie into the basket as I respond to my friend on FaceTime, “How about you mind your goddamn business?”

“As long as you continue to buy snacks only made from the devil, I won’t.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyways, you still comin’ tonight or what? I’ll buy a bottle of Stella Rose.”

“Black?” She smirks into the camera, leaning over in her chair as she continues her makeup.

“Black, of course. Makes me feel sexy,” I chuckle.

“Sorry, bookie. I’m going on a date tonight!”

“With the man that’s not your man, but is your man?” I tease.

She pulls the lip liner down from her face as she glares, “Very funny. That’s why you’re still single.”

“Very funny,” I repeat mockingly.

I could admit, it was way too late to be in the grocery store. But as I continued to sit in my condo with an empty fridge, my stomach began imagining myself cuddling with my favorite snack—Fig Newtons. Now I was here.

“You need to get your ass home, it’s late as hell and you’re by yourself,” my friend reminds me.

“I know, I know. I’m going. Once I get my Stella Rose Imma’ get my ass out—“

I stop. I was originally alone in this aisle as I suddenly heard the sound of feeble crying, my head turning as I look down to see a child. No, a baby. The baby waddles in anguish, his olive toned face red and swollen as his mouth ejected cries. My body was frozen as he stalked towards me, his stubby arms raising as he wailed in my direction.

“Girl,” I raise the phone to my ear, “There is a goddamn baby running towards me in distress.”

My friend's eyes go wide as she looks into the camera, “A baby? Oh hell. It’s some sex trafficking shit. Get out of there!”

“This some scary shit, I’m not going to jail! Or ending up in the back of some van where they tell me they’re gonna sell each of my organs,” I exclaim. The baby continues to bawl, now inches away from me as he then raises his arms up. His dark hair sticks up in different directions, wide eyes practically pleading for help.

“Awe. He’s adorable. Shit. Them’ people might get my ass, what if he’s really in distress?” I look around, seeing as no one else appears in the store but me.

“I still say it’s a trap. Kick the damn thing like you would Chucky!”

“Oh shut up, would you kick your own child?”

“Don’t have kids, can’t answer that.”

I place my phone down in the front of the basket as I turn back towards the small being, gushing, “Awe, Pumpkin. Are you lost?”

I lift him into my hands, wrapping my arms around him and he immediately accepts my gesture, leaning his soft head against my chest. I feel my heart melt, his crying begins to subside as he hides his face in my neck.

“Now sir, you and I both know I’m not your momma’. But that’s okay! Cause you’re adorable. And we’re gonna go find her. Shit, okay, where the hell do you bring a child if he’s lost in the store?” I look back over to the phone.

“Customer service desk, I think.”

“It’s damn near twelve o’ clock at night, Customer Service is most likely closed,” I mutter, “Shit. Okay, um—fuck. I’m gonna have to call the police. Or Jesus. Or Dr.Phil.”

“Don’t call Dr.Phil,” my friend pointed out.

“Right. Imma’ have to go to the front of the store and—“

As I turned to make my way towards the opposite direction I was going, I was interrupted as a man now stood in front of me. I jumped.

“Holy shit, am I really finna’ get kidnapped?!”

As I took in his face, this wasn’t just a man. This was a man. All the way down from the large black boots he wore, my eyes trailed up to his olive toned arms, muscles bulging through his shirt as a dragon tattoo trailed around his left hand. The silver jewelry he wore stood out on him. Numerous rings and chains, complimenting his onyx shirt that clung to his perfectly sculpted body. His full eyebrows were furrowed at me, scar atop of his lip twitching on his attractive face.

“What are you doing with my kid?”

“What? Oh— I’m sorry, is this your child?” I asked, slightly panicked. As I continued to study this man, he was scarily sexy. Dark hair, dark eyes. He looked evil in the best way. He had…a baby?

"Yeah, he's mine.” The man looked at me with suspicious eyes, sighing as he looked at the baby in my arms.

“What's the matter, champ?" He asked with a kinder and softer tone, the coldness from earlier in his stare now gone.

“I wasn’t trying to kidnap your child!” I admitted, my face going hot. I felt like I needed to admit that as I continued, “He…was crying. And I was just worried. I’m sorry.”

"I never said you were,” He replied. The small scowl on his face was slowly coming back. He reached forward to take the child from my hands, the baby beginning to struggle and cry again. He buried his head back into my arms as he hugged me tighter.

“Oh…” I then looked him up and down, “Wait a damn minute. Are you sure you aren’t trying to kidnap him?”

His face seemed surprised at my question. He looked down at the baby who continued to cry in my arms as he asked, “Kid, what's wrong with you? Why can't you calm down?"

The baby refused to let go of me. As I looked down to his adorable face, he cried as he then put his hands to his mouth. I realize why he’s upset.

I then say, “He looks to be less than two. I um…he seems to have teeth coming in. You should probably get some cold stuff for him to munch on, that probably explains him being so fussy. Once he couldn’t find you in the store, it probably just scared him.”

He looked at the child and noticed the swollenness in his cheeks as well. The man looked up at me, almost shocked at my observation.

"You know about children?" He replied. I could admit that this was an odd interaction. However, it seemed to be enough to break down his guard. His face softened.

“Yeah, I have a lot of siblings that I took care of. I was basically a mom at a young age,” I reply, “But seriously, he’s just hurting. It’s like a toothache all around your gums.”

"Yeah, you're right. It explains the wailing, it's not like I've never seen these symptoms before. Just didn't connect the dots,” He explains, scratching the back of his head. The baby was still crying, but slowly started to calm down. He looked up at me with teary eyes, still refusing to let go. The man tried again to take him from me, but the child held on tighter.

“I’m sorry… I don’t understand why he’s so comfortable with me,” I say softly, rubbing his hair to calm him down further.

The man sighed, then looked at me with an eyebrow raised as he said, “Maybe he saw something about you that he liked?" a teasing smile slowly coming along his face.

“I mean, I was holding some blueberries, does he like those?” I respond awkwardly, shaking my head as I try to flirt back. Was he even flirting?

He chuckles, “I don't know. Maybe he just liked the way you smelled? Or maybe the color of your hair?"

“Maybe. At least now you can remember that your son seems to have a thing for black women. He has good taste already,” I smile softly.

He chuckles again, my shoulders tensing as he briefly washes his eyes over my entire body. He then asks, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Oni’—“ I then stop myself, “Seioni,” I then correct, “Pronounced ‘Say-Oh-Knee. A lot of people just call me ‘Oni’. And um, your name? And your baby’s?”

The look on his face seems to be amused by me. After all of this, the baby finally reaches out to him, the man quickly taking him back into his hands. He then replies, "I'm Toji. And my son's name is Megumi."

“Well, Megumi’s a very beautiful little boy,” I reach out my finger to the baby, he wraps his entire hand around it. “It’s nice to meet you, Toji.”

“Same with you too, Seioni,” He fully pronounces my name, looking down at his child who was still holding onto my finger tightly. Megumi was now rubbing the finger with his whole hand, refusing to let go. Toji tried yanking him away again, but the baby wouldn't budge.

"Don't get too comfortable, I'd rather not have him get fond of you,” Toji replied, to which Megumi let out a small whine.

“Right,” I agree, pulling my finger away from the child. I continue, “But I’m glad he found me when he did, god forbid he’d walked out of the store or worse. But um, I’m sorry again if it seemed like I was trying to take him.”

He sighed as Megumi reached his arms out to me. He begins to apologize, "It's fine. I shouldn't have been so quick to judge….” He muttered, kissing the child's head as he stared at me.

"You seem like a good person."

“Thank you,” I smile, “You seem like you and your baby have a sweet bond. I’m glad he found you safely.”

"I appreciate that. I try to be the best dad I can, this isn’t a good representation of that,” He jokes, holding the child in his arms. Megumi then started to smile, cooing as he gripped onto his fathers shirt.

“So…I um…assume that his mom is at home waiting for you guys?” I ask.

He looked down, smile disappearing from his face. He cleared his throat as he explained, “Unfortunately, no. His mom passed away,” He replies flatly.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” I shook my head, “I’m shitty for asking that. I mean—bad, sorry,” I correct my cursing, the baby giggling at my tone of voice.

Toji laughed, “No, no need to apologize. It was just an honest question, but that’s why I'm raising him all alone."

“From what I can see you’re doing an amazing job. He’s a sweet baby, and in the instance of an emergency he ran for help. So, don’t be too hard on yourself,” I compliment him. I adjust my glasses on my face, feeling a small bit of irritation as my ginger hair was slowly falling from its claw clip.

His smile felt a little more genuine than before. He held the baby in his arms as he spoke, “Thank you. I'm glad that he's turning out to be just as good as you think he is."

I notice as silence capacitates the space between us, his eyes now study me the similar way I observed him before. I was wearing a matching set, gray sweatpants and a compression long sleeve. I looked like I had just hopped out of bed, yet, I didn’t feel unattractive to his vision.

I place my hair behind my ear, “Well…um…I should probably get back to my grocery shopping, don’t wanna keep bothering you two.”

"Yeah, you're right. I still have a few things I need to buy." Toji replied, I notice Megumi begins to grumble out fussy sounds. I give him an awkward smile as I then wave to the baby, turning myself back towards my basket to push.

"Wait... can I ask you something?" Toji then said. As I looked at him, he was looking straight at me; not the baby.

“…Yeah, sure!” I nod my head, gripping my grocery list nervously in my hand.

He looked at his son, slowly looking back at me.

"Does that mean you're single, by any chance?"

I'm not sure why my heart skips a beat at the question. “Um…yeah, I am actually,” I clear my throat as I feel my face becoming warm, “Why?”

He chuckles at my reaction as he replies, "The way that he was clinging to you, I thought that maybe he was onto something."

Okay, so he is flirting. Realizing that makes me even more flustered as I speak, “Oh…babies do have good intuition,” I point out. “Well, maybe this was his plan all along…to come find me,” I smile gently.

"Maybe it was. But one things for sure, the boy is interested in you,” He said, teasing. He tried pulling the baby farther back, Megumi beginning to whine, clearly wanting to stay closer to me.

“Mmm. Fair. But the real question is, is Daddy interested in me?” I tease back, asking the question more so towards Megumi, coming closer as I delicately tickle him with my fingers.

A small smirk appeared on Toji’s face.

"Maybe I am,” He said with a flirtatious tone, his son giggling from the tickles I gave him.

“Well maybe I have a number I can give to Daddy then, hm?” I cooed to Megumi.

As I cooed over the baby, I then looked up into Toji’s eyes directly. From the way he began to look a little flustered, I guess he didn't expect me to be as bold. Maybe Megumi really was on to something.

"You do?" He asked, his voice going raspy as he leaned in a little closer to me.

“I do. Let’s see if he’ll call me then.”

I take a piece of paper out of my notebook, writing my number down and placing it in Megumi’s small hand.

"Shit. Well I might just have to then, Seioni,” He said, eyes following my body as I walked away from him. Before I turned the corner out of the aisle, I saw the baby fumbling with the piece of paper in his hands. Toji smirked as he brought his attention to him, “What did she give you, champ?"

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

MAYBE I WAS BEING A CREEP. It was nearly three in the morning, a small box of Fig Newtons on the table as I stared at my phone, curiously waiting to see if he’d text. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s three a.m, and he has a child.

I wondered to myself why I was even still awake. The interaction from earlier might’ve given me a bit of a high, and now I couldn’t bring myself to sleep. I look down as the clock says it’s now 3:01AM, rolling my eyes as I stand up to put my snack away and go to bed.

That’s when the phone begins to ring.

I could’ve flown to the table if I suddenly grew wings, looking over the phone as an unknown number pops up. It probably wasn’t him. Another spam number, mostly likely. I wait a couple of seconds before I pick up the device, stepping back as I press the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

"Is this the beautiful, kind woman that gave her number to my son?" He asked, an immediate flirtatious sound to his voice as he spoke. I could hear the sound of random voices in the background.

My heart fluttered at his deep voice. I confidently replied, “Yes, is this the handsome man with the son?” I closed my eyes, wanting to kick myself in the throat.

He chuckled, amused at my compliment as he spoke, "Yep, that's me. I was surprised that the little one wanted your number so badly."

“Seems like he wanted it more than you did,” I tease.

"That's probably true." He replied, his voice going a little lower, “I do have a couple of questions though." He started to say, sounding a bit more serious now.

“Uh…cool, no problem. Go ahead with your questions,” I prod, sitting myself on my sofa.

He cleared his throat, trying to make clear what he was about to say next. The silence suddenly felt as if he was apprehensive of his question.

“Why are you single? You seem like an incredibly kind and attractive person.”

The question makes me chuckle. “That’s sweet. But…if I'm being honest, I just moved down here. I was in a relationship for a while before we broke up. I owned a tattoo shop back in my hometown, and I decided to expand out here. So, starting fresh in a new city,” I explain.

"You own a tattoo shop, really? I'm surprised I don’t have to fill out an application just to talk to you ,” He joked, his voice filled with curiosity.

“It’s gotten a lot more eyes on it than I ever imagined. But, unfortunately not, as far as the dating scene. My shop kinda runs itself, I have my regular artists who hold it down. I just do the paperwork now,” I reply.

I hear him adjust himself, a smirk now on his voice. “Wow. So you've got this nice shop, plus your own condo?”

I laugh, “Why’s that hard to believe? I’m a woman with her shit together. The topic of companionship never mattered to me, but I also wouldn’t mind the space being filled.”

"So you can handle yourself alone, I feel that,” He replied, giving a little chuckle, “But with all those qualities it just surprises me that you haven't found the right one. If I were to guess, I bet you get a lot of guys who hit on you."

“Not much since I’ve been down here, surprisingly. I’m usually at home a lot, if not in the office of the shop. You’re the first guy to actually approach me—but that was just due to circumstances, I guess,” I giggle.

"True. I’m glad I caught you before somebody else did. You said you were in a serious relationship before moving here, right?"

“Oh. Yeah,” I almost want to roll my eyes at the reminder, “But between you and me, I just turned twenty-nine. I’m ready for a seriously committed relationship. I don’t have time for the stupid shit—That stupid shit being a lot of stuff I dealt with in my hometown.”

"Yeah, I feel you on that,” He chuckles, “Sometimes the fun stuff can turn out to be the most problematic shit. The older we get, the more we learn what we want from someone. What was your previous relationship like?"

I adjust myself on the sofa as I think for a moment. “It was kinda an off and on relationship. He was the person my family wanted me to be with, everybody expected me to marry. But he was…boring? In every aspect. We didn’t have any of the same dreams or aspirations, the sex was pretty mediocre, and he didn’t take me seriously in my career. I don’t hate him, I just didn’t think we weren’t compatible,” I explained, “Is this an interrogation?” I then ask.

"No, no it isn't. I'm just trying to get to know more about you is all, beautiful,” Toji replied, his voice becoming a bit more deeper and flirtatious as he spoke.

"Plus, it seems like you already know what you want, which would definitely weed out a lot of guys anyway..."

“Mmm. So now I’m beautiful,” I repeat, “But yeah, it does. I want someone that’s gonna excite me in every aspect of the relationship. We can be two different people, but there has to be some fiery chemistry to create the connection I’m craving, you know?”

"Ex-act-ly!" He replied, "You want someone that can match your personality, not someone who settles for just whatever is given. Someone who can actually stimulate you, make you feel things that you've always wanted to feel. Someone who's confident and willing to take charge..." He paused, realizing he was going on a little bit of a rant.

"Sorry, I just got a little carried away there," he said with a small chuckle.

“No, you’re fine. We’re not having this conversation for you to be short. That’s exactly what I mean though, everything you said. I’m a lot to handle. And I’m not saying I need a man to ‘handle’ me, but I guess being grounded back down to earth at times…or even ‘handling’ me would be nice. I like a man a lil’ rough around the edges,'' I laugh softly.

"You like a man that's rough around the edges, huh? Someone who can really 'take control' of the situation?” Toji teased back, his voice going a little bit deeper.

I was enjoying how this conversation was going, our flirting felt entirely natural. But I didn’t wanna get ahead of myself yet.

I giggle softly as I reply, “Exactly. That’s exactly what I want,” I confirm, “But what about you? I…don’t want to be intrusive, but I’m just a little curious about Megumi’s mother. What happened to her? Were you guys together before she…passed?”

Silence comes within the phone. I immediately felt bad for even asking the question, quickly correcting myself as I spoke, “I’m sorry—“

"You’re good. We were together before she was pregnant with Megumi but...she passed away shortly after. She was…”

“We don’t have to finish this conversation, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” I reply, hearing his voice becoming different.

"It's fine, really,” he continues, “We were together. We had Megumi, but then she passed from birth complications.”

“I understand. My um…my birth mom actually passed away when giving birth to my youngest brother, which left me and my second brother to go into foster care early—but my family now is perfect. So I understand the feeling you get when you speak about her. I don’t know the actual feeling because that was someone you loved romantically, but my mom was my mom, so…” I shifted my body on the sofa, distracting myself not to become upset, “I get it. Grief comes with time, time comes with patience, patience comes with preservation.”

“And here I thought you were just someone I met by chance,” I feel relieved to hear him teasing again.

I laugh softly, “And here I thought you were some hot guy that looks like a villain, or might be a villain! Clearly there’s more to you than that, and it’s very sweet. But, it seems like you’ll have a little competition in trying to win my affection,” I remind jokingly.

“Villain? Shit, might be. But I don't mind the competition. I'm up for it if you are,” He speaks confidently.

“Competing against your baby son? Shame, Toji,” I shake my head, “I think he had me first, though.”

"Damn. That’s crazy. I guess he does have you all to himself then, huh? But for real, I’m not even jealous. It's just funny seeing him take such an interest in someone. He usually doesn't show much expression to other people, but he really went out of his way to want to know you. So you can take that as a compliment."

“I do, actually. It seems like he’s tired of your ass, he needs a womanly touch,” I playfully insult.

"Oh really? You think you know more about my son than I do?”

“Mmm, I’m not too sure. I mean, I don’t have any kids, yet I somehow knew your baby was teething before you did…weird, right?” I mock his sarcasm.

"Yeah, right. Like you, some lonely ass woman who's got no kids can know more about my own son than me, even though you haven't even spent an hour with him yet,” He scoffed back, “I bet you don't even know that he started a new habit recently."

“Ouch, I am not lonely!” I chuckle, “I have two cats, actually. They’re great companions. And what’s this new habit he started? I’m curious,” I reply.

"He’s really into Doc Mcstuffins, as you can currently hear in my background. He also started chewing his thumb. He'll do it when he gets fussy, or he can't get to sleep...” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice as he talked about Megumi.

“I hope you didn’t take that baby’s pacifier away before he was ready. He’s looking for it, asshole!” I insult, “That’s why he’s chewing on his thumb. You should try putting his pacifier in the freezer and then giving it to him. He’ll love that. And yes, I am a cat lady, better than a fussy man around my house, eating all my food and paying no damn bills!”

"Hey, I didn't take his pacifier away! I would never do that to him. But you're right, I haven't tried the freezer thing with his pacifier yet before. I should do that soon, and see how he takes it."

“Good. The coldness on his teeth will really help that process of them coming in. See, maybe he ran to me because he needed a girly touch to things. The boy knows what he wants in a woman,” I hum.

"Mmm, I think he just wanted to see if he could get a better reaction out of you. I guess he was bored of me. Although, the only type of 'girly touch' I can imagine you doing to a guy is kicking him. You seem far too aggressive for someone that wants to be seen with more of a ‘womanly touch’.”

“Oh god. You did not just hit me with the angry black woman trope. Megumi was practically in love with me. Don’t act like you don’t like my aggression and hostility, otherwise you wouldn’t be on the phone with me,” I laugh.

He laughs, “Nah. It’s not like that. Maybe aggression is kind of 'my thing.' I do have a little bit of a kink for that..." He said, teasing me again.

“Mhm, exactly. I know you think it’s a little sexy, so shut up,” I reply, “ But, I guess to prove that he is in fact in love with me, a second interaction is needed.”

"A second interaction? So you think you're definitely going to win his heart this time, huh?"

“I’ve already won it. And if I don’t, you can laugh in my face for it, hm?” I suggest.

“Imma’ have to set up a second interaction then, just to see which one of us is the winner. I’m not finna’ let you take the heart of my son! I have too much pride for that."

“It’s a deal then. Give me a time, and I’ll be there,” I hum, feeling completely comfortable in this conversation.

"How about... in 3 days. Does that work for you?" I could suddenly hear a flirtatious vibe in his voice.

Three days felt like a very short time. I don’t know why I went from being comfortable to nervous. To be able to actually see this man in person again, it made me…intimidated. But it also made me very curious.

“Mmm, in three days? I think I can do that. Make sure everything’s together in my shop, so I can have all the time for you and your little miniature self,” I chuckle.

"I'll make sure everything is prepared then. But you also better prep yourself as well, you don't know what to expect fuckin’ with me,” he speaks cockily, my eyes rolling at his confident tone.

“You say that as if I’m supposed to be intimidated. I think you should be more worried about handling me, Toji…” I drawled his name sultrily, wanting to play him at his own game.

“Oh for real? And why exactly should I be worried about handling you?" he questioned, his cocky tone returning.

“I’m a shower more than a teller. Guess I’ll just leave that in mystery now.”

"If that's the case, then it seems like I have three days to figure out what kind of woman you actually are before we 'compete' for Megumi's love’,” He said.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll answer the phone, maybe I won’t,” I playfully responded.

"Then I guess I should make sure I stay near the phone the entire weekend, huh? You really want to win Megumi over? Or is it something else?"

“Don’t turn this around on me. Now, I fell in love with little Megumi. It’s a plus that his father is incredibly sexy, so, maybe I am looking for more. But so are you,” I speak slowly, flirting into the phone.

"Be more specific when you tell me what you want from me.”

I raise my eyebrows. Why the fuck did that kinda arouse me?

I clear my throat as I reply, “Damn. You making demands already? So dominant. You want everything your way, I can tell,” I point out, “But, maybe I’m…interested in you romantically as well. God, I should’ve lied, I can feel that cocky ass smirk on your face as I speak.”

“I am dominant,” he corrects me, “But repeat what you said. Are you romantically interested in me?”

I roll my eyes, “Yes, Toji. Happy?”

“Very.”

“Mhm. I think you like that idea a little too much. But, it’s unfortunate that I have to get off the phone. I have to go handle some infuriated customer at the shop, mentally preparing myself for the bullshit as we speak,” I sigh.

“Damn. This late?”

“This late. My shop runs overnight too, my artists love making some money.”

“Me and your artists have that in common… I wanted to talk to you a little bit longer,” he admits.

“Seems like someone’s more interested than they make themselves to be,” I flirtatiously hum, “But seriously, I do have to go. I’m sorry. You’ll see me in three days, so…think on that.”

"I'll be thinking about you for the next three days."

“Goodbye, Toji.” I smiled, hanging up with a small flush on my cheeks. I press my hands to my face as I lay out on the couch, laughing to myself in embarrassment. Dammit. I was such a softy.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

“OKAY. OKAY. FUCK. OKAY, THIS IS GOOD, RIGHT?”

I stand in the mirror of my bedroom, twisting and turning my body as I stare at myself. The black corset clung to my figure. The long skirt I wear is equally tight as my hips struck out, my right hip peeking through from the high slit on one side.

“I mean, it’s not too much, right?” I frown at myself.

“Girl, I’d fuck you. You look amazing,” my friend compliments.

“Thank you. But I’m not looking for him to fuck me, ma’am. I actually…find myself liking him.”

“Ooh, the Ice Queen has a heart?”

“….I might want him to shake my uterus loose. Just a little bit,” I admit.

My friend laughs, “That’s what I thought. But seriously, you look beautiful, Oni’. If he doesn’t want you, we’ll go out to the bar and find a man that does!”

“Thank you. But I don’t want a drunken idiot. I want him,” I say honestly.

My ginger hair comes down in wavy layers as I brush my fingers through it. The color compliments my winged eyes, lips a dark shade of mauve. I hope I can survive in the skimpy strapless heel I wear, a small pink bow on the front straps. I blew out a breath.

“What if he—“

“Girl. You said you were practically caked up with him until damn near five a.m. If the man doesn’t like you, he’s insane.”

I try to shake my insecurities as I exhale, “You’re right. Okay. I’m gonna go, I love you. If I don’t text back in the next two hours, put a police report out on me!”

“Or you’re getting criminally fucked,” my friend smirks.

“You’re disgusting, and that was a horrible pun. Goodbye.”

I hang up the phone, spraying myself of my vanilla perfume as I take another spin in the mirror. I knew I looked good, I just hoped that he felt the same way. Grabbing the small gift bag, I grab my keys as I quickly make my way out of the door.

My heart stammers in my chest as I turn the music up in my Lamborghini, speeding down the road to block out the noise in my head. I usually never had an issue with presenting myself to anyone, especially a man. Why was he any different?

As I think to myself, I look down at the map on the screen of my radio, looking up to see that I was pulling in what looked to be an extremely wealthy neighborhood. All the houses seemed to be older, simple and light colored as I slowed myself down the road. One particular house stood out. As I came to the end of the neighborhood, the last house stood by itself, spaced out between all the others. It was all black, contemporarily styled as it was flat unlike the other houses that were pointed. Most of the walls within this house were glass, my eyes able to see into the home that had all black furniture, marble granite counters and other lavish items. I raised my eyebrow as the map confirmed that I had made it to my destination.

“What the hell…”

I pull my car into the circular driveway, parking next to the three cars that slanted above the grey brick on the ground. They were an all black, matte wrapped Rolls Royce, G-Wagon and a Corvette.

“Huh,” I muttered to myself.

I stepped out of the car, holding my skirt as I slowly made my way up to the front door. My heart began stammering itself again, I took a deep breath as I rang the doorbell. The longer it took for the door to open, the more I thought about just walking away and going home.

The door then swings open, my eyes following up to that same darkly attractive face. This time, with no clothes. He stood there in a dark red towel covering his lower half, using another towel as he dried his onyx hair. My eyes glanced down to the tattoo I’d previously seen, watching it snake all the way up to the side of his neck. The body that I’d see before was now in full view, more perfectly toned and defined up close. His veins traveled in his arms, flexing as he dried himself off.

“Hey, Pretty. I’m sorry for not being ready, Megumi’s pacifier went missing before I put him down for his morning nap, so that fucked up my track of time. You would’ve thought that shit was world war three,” he explains. He eyes me up and down as he then takes my hand, kissing my palm. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” I replied, “And it’s fine…did you find it?”

I try to distract myself as my eyes flicker down to the bulge that stares back at me, bigger than I’d imagine it to be.

“Yeah, in his damn toy box. Let me get dressed, I’ll come meet you back downstairs. Come in.”

I nod my head, watching as he turns away and begins walking down the hall, my upper body leaning into the door as I watch him.

“You still lookin’?” He calls teasingly, obviously noticing my eyes.

“Mhm…” I call back, watching as he disappears down the hallway.

Closing the door behind myself, I notice that all of his shoes are by the front. I take that as a sign that he doesn’t allow shoes on his floor, removing my heels next to the outrageously smaller shoes next to his. My eyes take in the up-close scenery of this house, all black architecture with minimalist decoration. Paintings of women with no faces lay along his walls, silver electronics sat on the tables, leading up to a TV as big as a theater screen. My ears catch attention to the music dancing all around the house, I nearly roll my eyes.

“Of course this motherfucker listens to Brent,” I mutter.

I sit the small gift bag I have against the table, leaning myself on the end as I continue to stare at his home. My eyes come back down as he now appears, fully dressed in a black long sleeve and matching sweatpants.

“The present is for Megumi I’m assuming? Kiss ass,” he disses.

I roll my eyes, “Whatever, hater. Don’t be mad cause you didn’t think of it!”

“What’s in there?” He repeats, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, since you think I’m such a kiss ass, I thought I’d buy some Silicone Teethers for your baby, and to help your big headed ass.”

“My head’s that big?”

“Anyways, I figured these would be better for soothing the pain. You can put these in the freezer. I also got him a new pacifier as well.”

“Cute,” is all he says, his gaze shifting down my body.

“Where’s Megumi?” I then raise my eyebrows, “You’re easily distracted.”

“I can’t help myself,” he shrugs, “He’s still down from his nap earlier.”

“Mmm,” I reply back, scanning him up and down as I compliment, “You have a nice ass house. But what do you do for work? I mean, luxury cars, inputted speakers in the ceiling? You in the mafia or something?”

“You’re half right, but it’s not always mafia related work.”

“Oh hell. I was joking,” I reminded him, “You’re serious?”

“And I get paid damn well for it.”

“And you trust me to keep this secret?”

“You can do whatever you want with that information, see where it gets you.”

“Ooh, boy. Please don’t get smacked,” I threaten.

“I appreciate the stuff you got him, seriously. Thank you. Tryna’ play mommy already?” He grins.

“You wish. The hopeless romantic you are, Toji,” I sigh, “Haven’t even been around me for an hour yet. Sure you aren’t falling in love already?”

“Who said that I wasn’t? I’m a grown ass man, I like you. And?”

He came closer to me as I still leaned against the end of the table, hovering over my frame as he stared down at me. I grinned to myself, “Well I might like you too, but I like playing hard to get.”

“That’s cool, I like to play with my prey before I catch it,” He plays back with me.

I raise my eyebrows, “You’re one arrogant bastard, aren’t you?”

The natural flirtation had returned. I raise my hand out as I place it at the bottom of his shirt, twisting as I tug him forward.

“You like it,” he comes even closer, bringing his eyes down to my lips as he leans in. I then pressed my hand against his lips as I stopped him from kissing me, giggling sultrily as I said, “I think you should go get your son, Toji.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t.”

I shake my head, amused at his now irritated face as I push him back and say, “You should. I’ll be here.”

“You better be,” he gruffly responds, turning as he makes his way back down the hallway of his house. I blew out a breath, my composure coming down as I felt my heart slowly speeding itself up. As I looked around, I began to wonder how many women had been in this house. It wasn’t my business, but I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of his conquests.

I turn my head as I hear footsteps making their way back towards the living room, ridding my mind of all the thoughts I had.

“You look nervous,” he notices.

“Not at all,” I lied.

I look behind him as I hear small footsteps clumsily making their way into the living room, my heart melting all over again as Megumi appears. He wears a brown wool onesie, the hoodie attached to the neck part having animal ears that looked to be bears. He wears a small golden chain around his wrist.

“Don’t ask about the onesie, the boy loves his teddy bears,” Toji shakes his head.

Instead of coming straight towards me, we both watched as Megumi stumbled around the room, observing everything that he could as he walked around. His cheeks were fat and full, movements reckless as he was bumping into things by accident.

I slowly squat down as I smile softly, “Hi, handsome. Miss me?”

Megumi's head quickly turned around as he heard me, his big golden eyes now meeting mine. Excitement comes along his soft face, a squeak releasing from his lips as he nearly falls over, staggering to me. I laugh shockingly as I catch him in my arms, picking him up as I squeeze gently.

"Ah shit. He likes you,” Toji smacks his lips.

“Mmm, I think he does, too. Now, didn’t you say that we were betting on winning his affection? Cause I think I’m doing pretty well. He recognized me all the way from the grocery store.”

“I think you’ve won the bet.”

“I know I did,” Megumi wraps his small arms around my neck and hair, leaning himself against my chest. I cooed, “Hi, sweetheart. I got you something, wanna see?” I knew that he couldn’t respond, but I still wanted to communicate with him.

“Look,” I turn, sitting him against the large black table, pulling out the teether I mentioned earlier. I also grabbed the small rattle I hadn’t mentioned to Toji, placing it in his hand. I take his wrist as I gently shook it from side to side to show him what to do. Megumi began to shake it around, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he did so.

“I think I might’ve chosen the wrong toy for your Daddy’s sake. Seems like he won’t be sleeping for a while,” I whisper, playfully rubbing my finger against Megumi’s cheek.

I could hear him chuckling behind me, coming forward as he kissed the baby's cheek, “You like everything, lil’ man?”

“Hm?” I then lift the cold pacifier I have in the bag as well as other cold toys, placing it in his mouth. The baby hummed softly in response, causing me to smile, turning to Toji as I spoke, “He really does like everything!”

“I can tell, you like everything, hm?” He then raises the baby up in the air, giggles flying all around the room. I laugh quietly at their interaction.

“So, how many women have you played house with like this?” I can’t keep this question to myself anymore.

He holds Megumi to his chest as he hears my question, raising his eyebrow as he replies, “Many women, if you really wanna know.”

That made me roll my eyes as he then continued, “But don’t act like you haven’t had as many men in comparison.”

“Mmm, I actually haven’t. But as for you, that’ll be an issue if you expect me to take you seriously,” I tilt my head.

“What are you trying to say?”

I sigh. “You’re sexy, Toji. I’m not stupid to think you don’t have multiple notches on that bed post of yours, you have a child, for god’s sake. Your sexual appetite is probably…hungry at all times. Especially if you had a woman crazy enough to moan that she wanted your child. But seriously, I don’t care about that. I just wanna make sure I’m not another one of your conquests, cause if that’s the case, we can cut this interaction extremely short.”

The amusement on his face makes a glare almost come to mine. When he notices that I’m entirely serious he comes forward as he says “You aren’t,” affirming my suspicion.

“We’ll see,” I then hum. “So, were we gonna spend the rest of the day with Megumi? Or did you want me all to yourself, you did seem a little jealous on the phone,” I tease.

"I would actually like to spend some alone time with you...but if you're okay with just spending the rest of the day with Megumi, I'm fine with that too,” he replies, shrugging as he awaits my answer.

“Mmm, I think I can spend some time with you, Daddy,” I said sultrily, “Where will Megumi be?”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, “Think I’ll probably put him down for his evening nap.”

“Sure. He seems to be…already there,” I giggle as I then notice Megumi passed out on Toji’s chest.

“I’ll go put him down. Want a glass of wine? I don’t do that expensive shit, it isn’t all that good…do you drink Stella Rose?” He asks.

I place my hands on my chest as I sigh dreamily, “You had me at Stella Rose.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods, making his way back down the hallway. He then came back and went into the kitchen. I sat myself along the sofa, my eyes sweeping over his large arms, wondering how strong he was. I could feel a chill go down my spine at the thought.

I take the glass out of his hand as I see he also poured himself a glass of brown liquor, “Thank you,” pressing my lips up to the sweet drink. He sits himself against the sofa next to me, scooting me closer to him as he pulls my legs over his thigh.

“So, tell me, what’s the plan for you in a couple of years. You mentioned your….illegal activities, anything else you wanna do career wise?” I curiously ask.

“Mmm, own a jet, build an enterprise, be able to buy Megumi anything he wants under the sun. And…time travel,” he shrugs, sipping his drink.

“I’m assuming you have a plan…” he asks curiously, finding my topic to be intriguing.

“Well, eventually. My business is doing great as of right now. All my artist get paid pretty well for their work, so I want to get to a point where I can open multiple shops nationwide. I’ll have managers for those shops, not even have to do any of the work. Just watch the money roll in,” I shrug.

“Sounds like you’re pretty confident in yourself.”

“I’m pretty cocky when it comes to my career, I’ll admit. I’m a badass tattoo artist, the work speaks for itself. My pen is fucking dangerous,” I admit, taking another sip of my wine, giggling to myself. I was becoming a little tipsy, I knew that.

“I hope you really got the skills to back it up then,” he grins.

“Of course. All the ink on my body, I’ve done myself.”

He scans my body, noticing all the ink upon it. He then asks, “What’s your biggest piece?”

“For sure my tiger. As you can see it kinda swims to my thigh,” I refer to the red ink that scales my skin, “Everything else was kinda out of pure boredom. But pure boredom caused that scar on my ass, so,” I laugh.

"You’re saying that you have more pieces due to pure boredom alone..." He repeated with a soft chuckle, finding it funny. When I mentioned the scar on my ass, he burst out laughing.

"How in the hell...did you get a scar on your ass?" He asked, unable to stop laughing.

“I tried to do a tattoo on my ass and went too hard with the needle. It’s a sad story,” I pout.

" Were you drunk at the time or something?"

I smack his arm as he still laughs, “Hey! Laughing is not allowed. I pride myself on tattooing in any state of mind. But…maybe I was a bit inebriated,” I admit, taking another sip of wine.

“You’re crazy…”

“I have a nice ass, what can I say? I thought some ink would look nice on there,” I shrug, laughing with him.

“I’ll agree, that ass is something else,” he shrugs, finishing off his drink.

“Oh? So you admit you’ve been looking at my ass?” I raise my eyebrow, “And oh, c’mon! I’m sure you have a bad drunk story.”

“Nothing as wild as your shit,” he chuckles.

“Whatever,” I shrug, “Back to this time travel thing, were you serious?”

“Kinda…you know in mythology, time travel is real.”

“Oh god, are you tipsy?” I joke, “Hm. Well, what would you do if you had the ability to time travel?”

“Probably travel back to a time where my family was alive. I’d change a lot,” he responds.

“Pretty understanding. To meet the people that created you is a wondrous adventure, I’d assume. Or a horrible idea. Same difference. I’d steal the Statue of Liberty or something, I don’t give a damn if it’s an important artifact. The bitch is terrifying,” I finish off my glass of wine.

“Something we can agree on. You uh…good on the wine?” He tilts his head.

“Boy, please. I drink wine like I drink water. And what the hell were you drinking? Does it turn you into a monster or something?”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “Nah, nothing like that. It was just Crown. Shit just makes me a little more flirty and outspoken.”

“So your regular self, then?”

“Exactly.”

“So how are you feeling right now then? About me?” I ask curiously.

“About you?” He repeats, thinking to himself, “I’d say I find you pretty charming, funny, sexy. All of the above.”

“And…you’re physically attracted to me?” I lean closer to him, a warmth over my entire body that only happened when I drank. Damn you Stella Rose.

“I’d be lying if I wasn’t, Oni’.”

“Well good, cause I find you pretty attractive as well,” I smile, “If you remember, you um…tried to kiss me before you brought Megumi out,” I mentioned.

“Did I?” He replies, a sarcasm along his face. Now he was playing with me. “I think you liked that shit, didn’t you?”

“I did. I think… I might want you to test your luck again…” I tempted.

“Really?” He grins, seeing as I have a new set of confidence within myself, eyeing me up and down as I crawl closer to him.

“Mhm,” I sat my wine glass down, pushing myself up as I now straddled his lap. I placed his hands on my hips.

His eyes widened slightly, fingers gripping around my hips yet he said nothing as he watched me. I then asked, “What’s wrong?” trailing my finger down his chest, bringing my eyes up innocently.

“…Nothing…” he stumbles, still unable to say more than that.

“What happened to that cocky man that always wanted things his way, hm? I think I miss him…” I trail off, biting back my smile.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” His eyes come down, staring down at my lips. I could tell that he was tempted to kiss me, and if being honest, I really wanted him to.

“I mean…Toji…” I slowly come forward, hovering my lips right above his as I speak, “If you wanna kiss me…come take what you want.”

It’s almost as if the suggestion made something in him snap. The urge that had been slowly building up was now in control of him, as he leaned forward, closing the tiny distance between our mouths. But instead of just taking what he wanted from me, he started to gently brush his lips against mine in a slower, softer way. With all the flirting I did earlier to get to him, it was his time to do the same.

His lips slowly ran against mine, teasingly touching my bottom lip before he moved to the top one as well. It felt all too enticing. His teasing caused me to grip the bottom of his shirt, twisting it slightly as he made me aroused. I whimpered at this movement embarrassingly, wanting to pull him closer. He couldn't help but smirk. He slowly grabbed my hips as he brought himself closer to me. I wanted more.

“Don’t play with me,” I beg, “Kiss me.”

"I think I'll keep playing..." He countered, thankfully having no plans to keep me waiting any longer. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he moved his mouth against mine, passion flooding in. My words had caused him to lose control of himself, and the flirty talk from earlier was nowhere in sight. He also wanted more. Badly.

I moved my lips with his, nearly losing my senses as his tongue was in my mouth, taking control of the kiss as if he were trying to assert his dominance. I relaxed in his hold, allowing myself to submit to him. I was in a trance. I’d never been so aroused from just a kiss, the ache between my thighs beginning to grow as I slowly grind myself against him, moaning softly at the feeling.

He was practically filled with adrenaline. His hands gripped tightly around my hips as my moan echoed in the room, he moaned softly in response to my movement. His lips ran aggressively against mine, tongue exploring my mouth. When he pulled back, I now felt his lips along my throat, holding the side of my neck as he sucked the skin. I closed my eyes and breathed harshly, “T—Toji…I think you’re a little drunk…” I giggle, my breath hitching intensely.

"Yeah...maybe I am a little bit..." He muttered softly against my neck as he continued to lightly suck, enjoying the way I was reacting to his actions. He definitely wasn't stopping what he was doing, now biting my flesh.

I moaned at the slight pain from him biting the skin, feeling myself becoming more aroused. I could feel my corset lowering, my nipples being exposed to him and my face flushed in embarrassment as I tried to pull the material up. I kept thinking, was this gonna lead to sex? Was I ready for that with him?

“Toji…I just…wait,” I breathed, his mouth all over my skin, “I just…wanna make sure that this is the right time for us to do this…” I kept talking, moaning as he continued to touch me.

"Well...” He breathed out in between kisses, “When do you think is the right time?"

“I don’t know…I—guess there isn’t necessarily a t—time,” I responded, aroused at every touch he made against my skin, I moaned again for him as I whimpered, “S—so…good…”

I knew the way I answered with a stutter caused his eyebrow to raise in curiosity, deciding to probe a little further. His hands roamed all over my body as his kisses traced my neck, speaking to me in a flirty tone.

"So...you're telling me...that it doesn't necessarily matter the time when we do this? Because...if that's the case..." He sighed, hands sliding down to my thighs.

“N—no…” I shivered, realizing that he was now messing with me. I wanted him to continue. Dammit. Why was I nervous again? I could barely respond back to him. I inhaled a sharp breath as I then felt his hand find my hair, tugging as he used his other hand to grip my throat, pulling me close to his face.

"Ahh...so now you're getting scared..." he whispered into my ear.

“I’m not scared…” I panted, trying to remove his hand from my throat as he gripped a bit tighter, pulling me so close to his face as he cockily smiled. I couldn’t help it, I loved the way he was talking to me.

"You sure?" His hand readjusted with the intent to squeeze harder if I kept resisting.

“M’…not scared of you, Toji…” I gritted out my teeth.

The way I spoke made him smirk even more at my words. He wanted to hear me say something.

"Oh? Well, what are you scared of, then?" He whispered softly against my ear, the hand that was previously in my hair sliding up my thighs, squeezing my ass gently.

I was nervous to actually admit this. I then closed my eyes as I responded, “How r—rough you can be…” I admit. I was intimidated by him, but it only excited me more.

"That’s how you want it?"

I nodded my head, shivering at his mouth against my ear, “Yes, please.” I nodded again.

I barely had time to react. My breath hitched as he then flipped our positions on the sofa, I grunt as he bent me over the furniture, pushing my back inward so I arched my body against him. He ripped my skirt off of my legs, my ears hearing the material shred lightly. I jump as he spanks the skin of my thigh.

“So polite…”

“Toji…I…”

I took in another sharp breath as he pulled me upwards to where my back met with his chest, his hand coming around from behind as it gripped my throat, pulling me close to him. He used his other hand as he ripped the lace of my underwear apart, the fabric trickling down to the ground. My eyes flicked upwards to the wall across from us. I could see myself in full view. He twisted my hair in his fist, tugging me up to look in his eyes. Leaning down, he spread my flesh apart with his fingers as he attached his mouth between my legs, immediately sucking on my clit. I closed my eyes as a moan plummeted from my lips. I arched myself forward, his hand in my hair pulling me backwards onto his tongue, mouth creating a sloshing sound against my core. I groaned at the feeling, swaying my hips to match his movement. He grunted against my skin, spanking his palm down on my ass in repetitions.

My stomach cramped as I tensed, arching myself down to see him from behind me. His eyes flicked up to mine, a grin surfacing against my skin. He closed his eyes as he placed his hands under my legs, pulling me backwards as he moaned, full on making out with my lower lips, tongue continuously dipping in and out of my opening.

“‘Shit ain’t never tasted so good, baby. Never had anything like you. Imma eat your shit until you squirt,” he groans.

It’s unfortunate that I wasn’t too long from doing that. I could barely hold myself together, circling my hips onto his face, his tongue lapping as if he starved for me, ached for me. He was chaotic in the best way, face diving entirely into me, sucking harshly on my clit as he gripped my hips, grinding me against his tongue. I could feel myself gushing before I could realize. He encourages, “Yeah, baby. She listening to me, huh?”

I shuddered against him, taking in the breath I’d lost as he now fully stands. He removed his shirt, throwing it to the side as he brought his eyes to mine.

“Come take these off, see what’s finna’ be yours soon.”

I turn fully, seeing him back up. “Crawl,” he demands.

The heat in my body turned up with every word he said. I lower myself off the sofa, placing my hands in front of each other as my legs sultrily follow, flicking my eyes up to his as I pull his sweatpants down. His length springs in front of my face, bigger than I’d seen from his bulge earlier. It was heavy in my hand as I immediately brought my fingers around it, his hand coming back into my hair as he tugged my eyes upwards, “You want it in your mouth?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Of course you fuckin’ do,” he pulls my jaw open, sliding himself in between my lips, filling my mouth until I felt him in the back of my throat. He grunts, my mouth bobbing against his hips as I choke, humming out the drool releasing from the sides of my lips.

I tried my best to keep up with his movements, swaying my neck back and forward as I closed my eyes, moaning as he fixed himself to the back of my throat. He pulls out from my mouth, slapping himself against my tongue as he speaks, “Treating this shit like it already belongs to you, hm?”

I nod my head. He leans himself down as he slides his hand to where it meets the side of my face, keeping a slight grip of my jaw beneath his fingers. I had never seen myself be this immediately submissive towards a man. But I also didn’t feel bad about it either.

“Wanna put it back in your mouth, or you want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck me.”

“Please?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Please,” I softly repeat myself.

“That’s what I thought,” he replies smugly, lightly smacking the side of my cheek. I have the urge to roll my eyes, nipples hardening at the hand along my face.

As I’m back against the sofa, I turn myself to face the mirror to see my expression was now purely filled with lust, wanting to fulfill the fantasy I imagined every time I stared at him. He follows behind me as he brings his hand to back of my neck. I had no room to argue as he leaned me forward, my nipples pressing against the leather material. He takes his other hand as he grips my hip, tip bobbing up and down gently along my folds. He pushed himself in inch by inch, stretching me in a way I’d never felt before, causing my mouth to drop open. I gasped loudly. I felt a deep pinch in my lower stomach, the feeling equally overriding in a deep sense of pleasure. I whimpered loudly, “Tojiii…”

He couldn't help but grin at the way I reacted to him. His grip around my throat became tighter when he heard these things, my shivering continuing as our hips met one another. Chills crawled up my spine. He moved slowly at first, taking his time as it caused me to drag out a moan, feeling every single pleasure from him. I closed my eyes, using the sofa as leverage as I found something to hold onto. “Oh god…”

His gentle movement allowed this feeling to last a lifetime. My moans seemed to be something that he found extremely hot, planning to continue the pace to keep it going for as long as possible. His hand circled around to the front of my throat, continuing to move against me, not speeding it up just yet. I wasn’t sure if I wanted more or if this was just as perfect.

“Oh my…” I gasped, trembling as I bit my lip to control my voice. His slow movements were driving me insane, feeling so good. I couldn’t hide the amount of pleasure I felt as I kept talking to him, “Baby…” I called, finding another term of endearment for him, “F—Feels so good,” I nodded my head.

“I know.”

I continued to gasp, shake, moan, and whimper. He knew it was driving me insane, wanting to keep moving slowly for as long as possible. My words were more than enough to fill his ego. He continued to go at the same pace for a bit, then began to speed up. He was curious to see just how much more pleasure he could make me feel.

My grip on the sofa became tighter. He loosened his hold on my throat as he then moved that same hand upwards as he slid his fingers in my mouth, using the leverage to pull me back against him. I then began helping him, moving myself back to match his rhythm, causing me to moan a bit louder.

“Toji….” Is all I could say, my head falling back as I moaned, his fingers shoving deeper in my throat. I lost control of my own rhythm, the leverage he had against me stronger as he bounced me back onto him. My eyes fluttered shut as I gasped from the feeling, whining as I continued to filthily bounce against him. I babbled, “Toji…baby…my god….” I just couldn’t stop myself. I slowly began to feel pleasurable tears forming in my eyes.

"Is that all you can say at this point? Is that what I've reduced you to? Just a simple whimper and my name?” He says back to me, continuing to thrust himself back in. His rhythm became faster as he dragged me back down more aggressively. My noises became louder, more feminine and filled with pleasure. He was right. I couldn’t stop moaning his name. He then added another hand to my throat, now gripping it harder this time with two hands as I bounced back and forth.

“Toji…I—I can’t…” I panted, whining as I wrapped my hand around one of his wrists, neither of his hands letting up from their hold against my throat. I looked up as I could see the mirror across from the sofa, my eyes closing embarrassingly as I could see myself. My flustered and submissive face. When I saw Toji noticing my stare, I grunted as he forcefully pointed my face to the mirror, now snapping his hips into mine.

“You’re a big girl, Oni’. I know you can talk to me. You can't do what?” He asks, “Look at you, big girl” . He keeps my face up to my reflection, “Taking my dick like this. Your pussy is gripping the fuck out of me. She likes it, so I know you do. Keep whining. I love that shit.”

I closed my eyes, unable to hold myself together anymore. I cried out, “Oh my goddd. I love the way you’re fucking me, baby. Yes,” I groaned, crying out louder as he never stopped his movements.

He smiled as I cracked beneath him, my moans uncontrollable at this point. The way I cried out for him was a way I never responded to any man in bed. His hands now tightened around my throat in a way that it was almost too much, yet there was no second of my mouth shutting. I just kept going.

“I hate you,” I cried, “You’re making me feel so… fucking good,” I moaned loudly, my eyes unable to snatch themselves away from his face in the mirror.

His grip finally loosened a bit, still remaining firm as he started to go even faster against me. His low laugh echoed along the room in a way that heightened my embarrassment. However, he'd keep going anyway.

He pulled me upward and close to his chest, holding me firmly as he fucked me. My ears listened as he brought his lips to them, speaking filthily, "You know you love it when I choke you, right? You like the fact that I take control…You like being used by me..”

I closed my eyes, whimpering and crying like a baby. I nodded my head as I trembled, “Yes. Yes. Yesssss…” was all I could make out.

Our bodies were in unison, his ego most likely in the high heavens by now. The way he spoke filthily into my ear would only cause him to hit more buttons, he held my face tightly in his hold, voice right in my ear. He spoke into it, sending chills down my spine.

"Say it, baby…”

“…Say..what…” I panted heavily, bringing my eyes away from the mirror.He was implausible, never slowing down his movements. I was listening.

"Say you belong to me..." He spoke in a firm tone, holding both of my hands down behind my back as he kept up with his movements.

“N—no,” I stuttered, biting my lip as I lowered my head. He used the leverage he had on my arms pulled behind me and pulled me up again, forcing me to look at myself in the mirror as he bounced me back onto him harder than before. I whined, my entire body trembling beneath him. The fact that I didn't immediately obey his commands caught his attention, as he'd grip me harder to make me look at myself as well as him. The bouncing back and forth on the sofa made my muscles weak as he kept going, speaking to me through both the mirror and his own mouth.

"Such a stubborn girl...do you want to be owned by me, or do I need to break you first..."

I closed my eyes, saying nothing in response. I could feel the arrogance pouring off of him, a low sob releasing from my chest as he tugged me back against him, my arms begging to be released from his hold. His smirk grew even more as I didn't respond to his words, keeping me close to his body. He knew I enjoyed every second of this.

“My fuckin’ god….Daddy,” I whined, my entire body purely hot from embarrassment as I called him this, his movements making me submissively chaotic. I watched him in the mirror, unable to hold myself together as I kept babbling, “I’m yours, baby. It’s yours. All of it. Just don’t stop. My god. Don’t stop.”

I spoke all of this into the mirror. I meant every word I said. His hips plummeted into mine, merciless as our skin slapped together. My entire vision filled with the image of my own body, hot and trembling, as he continued to go.

“Tell me I’m yours, I love when you talk to me. Tell me I’m fucking yours,” I cry, knowing I’d hate myself later for it, “Tell me I’m a good girl, I’m listening, you make me feel so good. No one has…” I took in another breath, “Ever made me f—feel this good.”

"You're mine," he spoke now, sounding more aggressive and demanding.

“Say it again,” I beg, seeing the tears in my face as I looked in the mirror, biting my lip as I couldn’t stop moaning.

He smirked as I begged. He knew I would despise myself later on, but the words made him smile even more. It all filled him with so much arrogance.

“You’re mine.” He repeated this to me, drilling himself between my hips, skin wetly coming together each time he was inside me.

“Yes. I’m yours baby, all yours. Yes. Yes. Yes.…” I said through each movement, crying out in a way I’d never heard myself before.

"And you belong to me?” He asks, grin on his face as he'd make the movements a bit slower. As if he was teasing me for the next answer.

“Nobody else, Daddy,” my tears poured in a quick stream, dropping down onto the sofa as he had his way with me.

The way he heard these words, the way I answered him so quickly. I knew for a fact that I’d never forget tonight, and he knew that I’d be begging for him again soon. Very soon.

“I’m so close….I’m gonna…please don’t stop, Toji. Please…” I called to him, full on crying now, my body trembling so hard that I had to firmly hold myself up.

"Beg me..." he demanded. He was moving slower, as if he was teasing me even more. There was no tiredness in his voice, as I was becoming extremely exhausted from each movement he made against me.

“I’m begging, baby. Please. I’ll never stop fucking begging,” I cried, dragging out my words.

"Good girl..." he spoke, a chuckle hiding in his tone. My tension began to rise, my body becoming harder and harder to hold as he was still going slow. His grip on my throat didn't loosen this time, holding onto me firmly. I could feel that same pinch beginning to build in the pit of my stomach, begging to be released from his pleasurable touch.

My body relaxed, my wet eyes shutting and taking him as he sped up again. I giggled as I whined, “That’s it , baby. Just the way I wanted it. Yessss.”

"Just a little bit more..."

“Yes…just a little more…I’m gonna….” My wet eyes cascaded tears from them, looking up into the mirror as I watched him. “Look at me, look how good you’re making me feel, I…I’ll never think about anyone else…”

He moaned at my words. The way he made me see myself in the mirror, he knew this was exactly what I wanted. His movements became more sloppy, tugging me back and forth in a way he didn’t care, like he hated me. He wanted me to beg for him again.

“I….just…don’t stop. Right there…that’s my spot…you’re hitting it so good…” I whined, my body shivering chaotically.

"Is that a good spot for you, baby?" A cockiness had never left his voice, almost mocking mine. He angled himself as he lowered down, swiveling his hips into me, my hips wining as they followed his motion.

“Y-es,” my voice broke as I spoke back, hiccuping my cries, “I’m falling in love with the way you’re fucking me….” I jumbled out, not even hearing my own words as they came out in moans. He slowly pulled himself out as he then slammed back into me. No noise releases from my mouth as it’s now agape, eyes rolling to the back of my head as if I were possessed.

“Toji…I’m close…” I bit my lip again, fluttering my wet eyes, my body unable to hold itself up.

“Don’t tell me something I already know. Look at that pretty fucking face,” he forces my eyes up to the mirror again, twisting his hand in my hair as he turned my ear to his lips. His voice was like a sinister taunt in my mind, reading how much power he had over me as he continued, “Squirt all over my dick. Paint it like it’s finna’ be yours. It is yours,” he grips my hair tighter, pulling himself out slowly as he moans, “Look at you, baby, creaming my shit. Looks like you want to cum. Might have to give you more than that,” he doesn’t stop. He slams back in, bouncing me back with just one hand as he promises, “Megumi needs a sibling. Might just give you a fucking baby.”

I screamed. I screamed in a way that I never screamed before. My body trembled, the pressure at the bottom of my stomach releasing as I orgasmed. I turned my head towards him as I begged, “Kiss me Daddy, please.”

His breath was heavy as he heard me finally reach my climax, he knew all of this was just the result of him keeping me on the edge and teasing for so long. The sound of me screaming with pleasure filled his ear, that fucking scream of mine, it was something that would haunt my memory for a long long time to come. The way I begged him at the end made his grip loosen on my throat, turning his face over to kiss me.

He moaned against my lips, a kiss more intimate than any time before entering my mouth as I felt a warmth filling inside me, his body never completely stopping as we grind against each other. I whimpered as my body relaxed, accepting the kiss further. Making out with this man in a way that I would’ve kissed my husband. I was fucking crazy. As I opened my eyes, I fully saw myself for the first time. My makeup was all over my face, mascara running down my cheeks as I stared at him. My entire face was completely red. I couldn’t believe who I had become. It was as if he could see all of my thoughts. But instead of being empathetic, he simply brought his hand around my throat as he hovered his face over my neck, dragging his tongue along the skin. I laughed sultrily, breathless in my entire being as all I said was, “You really are fuckin’ evil.”

The sound of Megumi crying also filled my ears with his arrogant chuckle. That reaction told me that from that point on, I was indeed fucked.

“Damn right,” he grunted. 

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

Can you write abt after care and acts of service jaemin ? I need a cute fluff rn (also i love ur writing so much )

thank you babes!!! hope you enjoy <333

(cw: implications of sex but not explicitly detailed)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Jaemin's arm was looped around your shoulders as you both laid back and tried to catch your breath while staring at the white ceiling of your shared bedroom. The cotton sheets felt fresh against your sweaty back, sheets that had just been freshly washed.

It shouldn't have been as attractive as it was to walk into the bedroom to catch Jaemin fluffing the pillows. It shouldn't have been so attractive to see all the pillows in the exact arrangement you liked them. Jaemin doing the bare minimum, changing the bed sheets, should not have been that attractive. Before you knew it, the sheets were tangled around the both of you in a heated intimate exchange, ruining his work.

Jaemin pressed a kiss to the side of your head, exhaling contently, "you through a wrench in my productive plans for the day. I was about to finish our vacation itinerary. Then I was going to start on dinner for tonight. Now, I just don't feel like leaving your side."

"But tonight is my turn to make dinner," you add while turning on your side to look up at him.

"Well, you did laundry all day and I had this great idea for those potatoes we've had sitting on the counter," he counters while running a slow, gentle hand down your bare spine.

"Jaemin," you drawl out, "I had to do the laundry anyway. Tell me what you have planned and I'll make it. Ok?"

Jaemin groans dramatically while kicking off the sheets and standing from the bed, "let me do something for you! Just this once!"

He grumbles all the way to the bathroom and has an angry pout on his face as he reenters the room with a warm towel to clean you up while you pull his discarded t-shirt over your head. Your head pops through the hole, hair a mess which he lovingly fixes. You keep your eyes locked on him, "you do stuff for me all the time. You changed the sheets, you refill the gas tank in my car, you put my phone to charge, you take over making dinner like 90% of the time. Let me do stuff for you too. I feel like I'm the lazy one in this relationship."

Jaemin's jaw drops in shock, "I do these things because I want to. I like helping you out in any small way I can because I love you. I'm going to love you until I'm wrinkly, old, and gray. You can't get rid of me-- ever. And you're not lazy, you do lots of stuff for me."

You raise your brows at him, asking him to continue, "well, you kiss me whenever I want, you play with my hair when I want you to, you cuddle me to sleep, you get me my favorite snacks when you go to the store even when I don't ask you to. I just like doing things for you because it makes me happy, and more importantly, it makes you happy. You're not lazy because we each have different strengths in this relationship."

"Geez, for a second there I was almost certain my love language was just acts of service but words of affirmation just climbed its way up. You are like the perfect man."

He shrugs with a laugh, "I'm your perfect man. Let me go get started on dinner."

[elllisaaa]

in ur last svt post (which made me fold btw) you mentioned you love doing bf thoughts (and we love reading them!!) so i’m gonna be the one to do it… any dirty bf!wonwoo headcanons sweetie? 🫣

not me dropping two wonwoo asks in one day like i’m not hansol biased i’m gonna run away 🏃‍♀️ he’s so husband material tho (getting back into my svt phase is fun 🙂‍↕️)

lmaoo honestly it's valid being whipped for wonwoo, i am too even though i'm a seokmin and chan girlie (hansol is coming at me these days though...)

BF!WONWOO who's a silent lover, but who loves you so much that everyone can see who smitten by you he is.

another member of seventeen that i think is a very good listener. wonwoo is always ready to listen to you when you need to talk, be that because something funny happened to you or because you had a bad day. and he's also really good at giving you advice when you have a problem. he strikes me as someone who's emotionally smart, so it isn't difficult for him to know that you're sad without you having to tell hims. sometimes he'll notice that you're not doing well and he will prepare you a little snack and deliver it with a kiss and a sweet "i love you, i'm here if you need to talk." that almost makes you tear up from how caring he is. also, wonwoo's hugs must feel incredibly good, like being engulfed in a warm bubble of love that's so soothing you immediately relax in his embrace. you could literally spend your whole life hugging him because it's genuinely the best feeling in the world.

"it's okay darling, i'm here now. everything is going to be alright."

wonwoo would love to play video games with you. it's good if you are already into it, but it would be even better if you don't because he would love to teach you how to play his favourite games. he would even use it as an excuse to make you sit on his lap while he's trying to show you how to play. from there, you would often play together, but it's also not rare for you to simply sit in wonwoo's lap and watch him play, or take a nap there, lulled to sleep by his breathing and heartbeat. one of his favourite ways to spend a date night at home with you is playing board games. you'd pick out one or two games together, make yourself some tea and prepare snacks and then you'll spend your night playing together. the members often joke about how the two of you are like an old couple but you don't care because what matters is that you're having fun during these game nights. also, wonwoo loves to just stay at home with you, all cozy in your matching pajamas and getting to see you all relaxed. he obviously loves it when you're dressing up when the two of you are going out, but you're the most beautiful to him with only a big beautiful smile on your face.

"let's just watch a movie tonight, i don't want to see other people, only you."

he's adamant on reminding you of how beautiful you are every single day. and that's the way he says it that makes you blush - like it's the most natural thing ever and that it's obvious. however, when it's your turn to praise wonwoo, he gets shy and bashful, and you literally have to fight him to get him to accept the compliment. but wonwoo loves your insistence on adoring him and he loves the attention - he's down bad for you, but it's good to know that you're down bad for him as well. he would often take photos of you without you noticing when he thinks you look particularly pretty. he won't show these pictures to you, but he has folder of them on his phone and on his computer too, and he looks at them when he's away from you and that he misses you. wonwoo would put all these secret photos into a pretty album he made and decorated himself, and he would gift it to you for your anniversary. overall, he would gift you a lot of mindful things like these, and you keep all of them in a little box under your bed.

"when did you take this one nonu ?" - "when we went to the botanical garden, you were so pretty that day."

BF!WONWOO who's a service top and who loves to please you, but who can also get a little bit mean when he wants to.

wonwoo definitely loves cockwarming with you. when you sit on his lap while he's playing video games, it's not impossible that he'll end up pushing your panties to the side and slipping his cock inside of you, not moving at all. he just loves the intimacy of it, how much you trust him and relax into his touch immediately. but it's impossible to not get hard when your pussy feels this wet and this warm, nor when you're sometimes clenching around him. wonwoo usually gives up pretty quickly, because he loves the feeling as much as you. most of the time, he would grip your hips and help you drop down on his cock slowly until the both of you cum. but when he's feeling more needy, he would bend you over his desk and fuck you rough from behind until you're screaming his name. but sometimes, you can stay like this for a long time, even managing to fall asleep because it feels so warm and safe to be so close to him. it's the way you feel so comfortable around him that gets him going mostly.

"just sit on my cock for while baby, then i'll fuck you, okay ?"

overall, wonwoo just loves to please you in every way he can. he's inflexible about foreplay because he loves to have you cumming at least once before he fucks you - his girl should get as much orgasms as possible because you only deserve the best. he woul often keep his glasses on while eating you out, because even if it's the most comfortable for him, he knows how crazy you go when he looks up at you through the fogged lenses and how hot you think he is when he has them on. wonwoo prefers positions where he can see your face as he fucks you, so missionary is a must with him. he loves to see your face contort when you're close to the edge, and he loves to watch you as he brings you to your orgasm - your pretty expressions and the sounds you make often enough to trigger his own release. again, he loves how close he can be to you in this position, chest and forehead pressed against each other's, whispering praises and love confessions against your lips while he ruts his hips into you deep.

"you're so pretty darling… so fucking pretty like this."

despite him being very romantic, he also knows how much you like it when he shows you how strong he is. wonwoo would definitely manhandle you into bending over for him if that's what you want - and he's not gonna lie by saying that he doesn't like it when you become all putty in his hands because he's holding your hands firmly behind your back. it's quite good for his ego too to hear you gush about how attractive he is, how hot his strength and his muscles are. wonwoo also uses it to his advantage when you've been a little tease or that he's frustrated. all these hours spent at the gym are worth it when it allows him to hold you down against the mattress while he pounds into you until you're crying out his name and that tears are running down your face. of course, he's always mindful of any signs of discomfort when he's rougher, but you both love it when wonwoo doesn't hold back and ruins you. it feels rewarding to know that he can make his girl scream his name so loud that the neighbors complain the next day.

"i'm not gonna let you go until you're dripping baby, i need to have you again."

[mimasroom2]

My tennis star! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Secretly dating jock!ellie

C/w: smut but for like 2 seconds. Mention of weed lol. Uhh that’s it this is pretty laid back. This is my first time using those fake texting things I think I like it? Idk

W/c: ≈ 800

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

- She plays tennis bc I said so 🎾

- She’d win a match and she’d post on her instagram story something REAL cheesy like “only reason why we won is because someone special was in the crowd💖” and everyone thinks she’s talking ab a guy but it’s really you >•<

- She’d pull you aside into an empty hallway and lean over you with her arm up (yknow. The classic masc move.) and whisper “You comin’ to the game tonight, baby?”

- It’s so fucking cheesy but you swear she makes your knees weak every time she talks with her sexy ass voice.

- “Too bad I can’t have a massive ass sign that says your name on it all big or something.” You grin widely and she laughs, leaning in to give you a soft kiss.

- You guys go on dates to the mall so she can buy new workout clothes & equipment. Every time you guys see someone you know in a store you split up and pretend to be looking at different things on other ends of the store. Eventually when they leave you two come back together and giggle.

- “Heya stranger.” She grins, showing you some knee high socks she found while she was pretending to look around.

- Only your two best friends know ab you and Ellie, so you’re always having to make up excuses as to why you’re going to the tennis games.

- “They needed help with grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for the game, and you know I always need more service hours!”

- “Man I’m sorry I can’t go to the movies tonight. I already told the tennis coach I’d do face painting for the little kids that come😕”

- You’re studying at your desk when the first message from Ellie absolutely jumpscares you. The girl really needs to learn about context 🙄

- Absolutely all the girls in the crowd and on the opposing team would swoon over her. She lovesssss the attention and always waves at the crowd and blows kisses to them. Sometimes she winks at the girls on the other team to purposefully distract them as they’re serving. You don’t feel jealous though because you know as soon as the game’s over you’re going back to her place to celebrate ;)

- You feel so fucking lucky you’re dating a jock as her toned muscular arm is pumping in and out of you.

- “Fuck,, guess all that racket swinging comes in handy when I’m fucking you, hm?” She smirks, and she was actually right. She could practically finger you forever and never get tired.

- She’s a perfectionist with her playing and in bed. She’d have to make you cum at least twice before she’s satisfied.

- The next morning Ellie has to leave early for practice so she lets you stay in her room to sleep in. She texts you a WHOLE BUNCH, effectively spamming your phone and waking you up:

- She comes up to you one day out of the blue and says “Hey y/n, I’m like so serious can you hide all my stoner shit until this season is over…?” You knew she smoked but she told you she only does it when she’s off in tennis, so you’re surprised when she hands you a shoebox full of all her stuff.

- “Yeah ‘m fine. Coach has been gettin’ on to me. Jus’ more stressed out is all.” Is all she has to say when you ask about it. She runs her hands through her hair, thinking you’re frustrated with her. You’re just glad she trusts you enough to make her keep her promises to herself.

- She’d ask you what your favorite color is and get a special racket in that color for whenever you see her play. She’d say it’s her lucky racket :,)

- You were never super into sports but you loveeeee spending time with Ellie, so she decides to give you some one on one lessons.

- “Yeah, thas’ it, baby.” She’d mutter in your ear from behind you. She’s holding the racket with you and helping you swing your arms the right way.

- You guys didn’t expect to see anyone on the tennis court this early, so when other people come and Ellie recognizes them, she quickly guides you guys behind a tree.

- Your stomach is filled with butterflies as she tucks your loose hair behind your ear and kisses you !!

- You feel like a little kid playing in the woods again because now you and Ellie are sneaking around the park/tennis court trying not to be seen by the other people

- She gets really cocky sometimes and posts soft launches of you on her insta stories

- It would be a picture of you in her lap WAHH! Her tattooed hand is on your thigh with the caption “keeping me occupied”

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birdie's Halloween

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: The fifteenth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Listen, Mum," Mary says as she weaves through the aisles of the store," I'd love to chat but I'm really quite busy right now."

"Oh yes, I'll let you get back to what you're doing," Mary's mother says on the other end of the phone," But just remember to send me her Christmas list, alright? And maybe that list of-"

"Mum," Mary says again," Seriously, I have to go."

"I know, I know but- Oh! I didn't tell you. Mrs Todds - you remember Mrs Todds, right? Anyway, Mrs Todds from next door said-"

"Mum. Me, go. Have to. Alright?"

"Oh, fine, Mary. You go. I'll call tonight. We can finish this then."

"Great," Mary mutters, looking down at her phone impassively," I'll look forward to it." She sighs, shaking her head and slipping the device back into her pocket with the startlingly discovery that she's lost you.

Again.

It's actually kind of incredible how she can lose an eight year old and her puppy in such a small store.

"Birdie!" She calls out," Birdie!"

There's no answer.

Mary sighs. "Y/n! I mean it, come here!"

Your head pops around one of the aisles and Newton's golden fur moves in speedy circles as he waits for Mary to get closer.

"You can't keep wandering off," Mary tells you, taking your hand," What happens if I lose you?"

Ever practical, you reply," Well, if I get lost then I have to go to the nearest shop worker or mother and tell them I'm lost. I have your number on my ID necklace so I get them to call that."

You beam up at her and Mary laughs despite herself.

"You know, I think Tooney was right when she called you a little smartass."

You keep beaming. "Ella's just jealous she's not as smart as me."

"But at least she knows not to wander off in a store."

"I have Newton with me."

Mary gives you a pointed look, staring down at your very dopey dog who's only now growing into his service dog vest. He's great for your emotional regulation and anticipating meltdowns but for your physical protection, not so much.

"Still," Mary says," Let's just stay close, alright?"

You huff, muttering," Just because you don't speak French," but still keep close as Mary looks through the racks of costumes.

"And you're absolutely certain you want to match?"

"Yes."

"Alright then."

It's nowhere near your first Halloween with Mary but it's your first with Newton, your adorable service pup who enjoys things like sleeping on a heated blanket and accidentally treading on his own ears.

Usually, you choose something to match with Mary but you don't want Newton to feel left out, especially because of everything he does for you.

Newton's your best friend in the whole world, even more than the horses at the barn you go to for your lessons.

So this year, you're foregoing a matching outfit with Mary in favour of one with Newton which is what led to Mary spending hours looking for a shop in Paris that sold human costumes and dog costumes.

"What about this one?"

You wrinkle your nose up at the cheap ghost costume Mary holds up for you.

"That's basic," You complain, "Newton deserves better."

Newton seems to whine in agreement, sitting up on his haunches in the same way he begs for scraps when he's off duty.

"Fine," Mary grumbles," Fine. We'll find something better."

"Newton's a gentlemen," You continue," That's why he deserves a better costume."

Mary smiles fondly as you go look through the racks yourself.

Newton whines a little ten minutes later, wedging his body between you and the costumes when he notices how distressed you're getting.

Mary notices too, guiding you away from the dog section to ones more your size.

"Let's choose yours first," She says gently," Are we going scary or cute?"

"Cute," You mumble, running your hand through Newton's soft fur.

"How about these?"

Mary lets you be for the most part, taking items off the rack to show you the choices.

"That one," You mumble, already halfway to non-verbal as you repeatedly run a hand through Newton's fur," Please."

"Good choice, Birdie," Mary says," Shall we choose one for Newton today or-?"

You nod your head, shuffling back to the dog aisle as Mary throws your Belle dress into the basket.

You rifle through the racks quickly, though one hand remains rooted around Newton's leash.

"This one?" Mary checks as you pull one out for her to take. "You're going to be Belle and Newton's going to be the Beast."

You nod.

"Good choice," She says," Let's pay for these and we'll head home. There's some chocolate milk with your name on it."

[squiddyfics]

get gone

namgyu x f!reader

description: namgyu’s long hours spent at the club, wasting his life away, have gotten to you. you finally decide to leave him, but it doesn’t hurt to say goodbye first.

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw, angst, drugs mentioned, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation

a/n: happy valentine's day hehe

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He broke his promise.

Namgyu's shift at the club always ends at two in the morning, but he's never home when he's supposed to be. Whenever he does finally return, his eyes are bloodshot and his mood is sour.

You couldn't stand by and watch him ruin his life, destroying his physical and mental health each weekend as he delves into a world of illicit substances and people who don't give a fuck about whether he lives or dies.

That's why you made him swear to stop staying at the club past his shift. You respect that he has a job to do, but beyond that, there's no reason for him to stay out and slowly kill himself.

Last week, he actually stuck to his word, which was a pleasant surprise. It made you hopeful that he was finally turning things around, for once prioritizing his life with you over cheap thrills.

But now it's three a.m., and he's nowhere to be seen. You run your hands over your face, attempting to stay awake. You won't be set at ease until you see him walk through the door. Each night he doesn't come home on time is a night you spend worrying that he's finally succumbed to the consequences of his actions, leaving you alone in the world.

He never texts you back on these nights, either. You open your phone and click on your text thread with him, fruitlessly hoping that things might be different tonight. Of course not; your messages remain unanswered.

You can't keep doing this anymore, can't keep caring about a man who doesn't care about himself. Up until now, you've stuck by his side, scared that if you left him he'd spiral even further. Enough is enough, though. You have a life to live, and without spending so much of your time stressing about Namgyu's well-being, you'd be much freer.

These are your last thoughts before you pass out on the couch, unable to force yourself to stay awake any longer.

The sound of keys in the door wakes you back up. When you open your eyes, it's lighter in the apartment; the sun is beginning to rise. You check the time on your phone.

6:09.

Namgyu opens the door and looks surprised to see you in the living room. You meet his eyes with a glare.

"Thanks for finally gracing me with your presence," you snap.

"Chill," he says, and the word sends a surge of anger coursing through you. "I just spent a few extra hours networking."

"Networking?" you scoff. "Is that what you call getting fucked up and partying with junkies?"

"I made hella tips," he says. "This group of super-rich dudes said they'd keep giving me money as long as I could convince the bottle-service girl to sit with them."

"Oh, okay, so now you're pimping out your coworkers. That makes me feel so much better."

He throws his keys down on the table much harder than necessary. "Are you seriously mad that I'm making money? Would you rather we get fucking evicted?"

"I'm mad that you broke my trust!" you shout back. "You were supposed to leave at two, Namgyu. You promised."

He kicks off his shoes and storms toward you. "You think I want to be out for twelve hours straight? I'm doing this for us. I would've thought you'd be grateful, but I guess that's expecting too much of you."

"Oh, fuck you." You laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "Don't try to spin this as if doing lines in the club bathroom is somehow for my sake."

"I'm playing the game," he says. "This is the world I work in; this is what you signed up for when you started dating me."

"Well, I'm done now. I'm done."

He pulls the sleeves of his slightly oversized dress shirt over his hands. Normally you'd find this cute, but right now it's just pissing you off.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you I can't do this anymore," you say. "This isn't how I want to live."

"You don't mean that." He shakes his head. "You haven't slept. Let's go to bed and talk about this in the morning."

"Motherfucker, it is the morning," you spit, gesturing to the sunrise outside your window. "And I mean every word of what I'm saying to you right now. I can't stay with you; not when this is the path you're choosing for yourself."

Suddenly Namgyu's apathetic expression morphs into one of concern, and he's on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands. "No, baby. You don't need to leave. This was the last time, I swear."

"You swore the same thing the other week, but that didn't seem to mean much to you."

"It's different this time," he says, rubbing his thumbs over your hands as if that will fix anything. "I understand now. I know you don't really want to go, so let's just talk this through, yeah?"

"You didn't even have the decency to send me a text." Your voice is smaller now. "I can't spend my nights wondering if you'll make it home in one piece. It's killing me."

"I'll change."

"It's too late," you say. "I've made up my mind."

Still kneeling in front of you, Namgyu hugs your waist, pressing his cheek against your stomach. "You can't leave me. You can't."

God, he's so fucking pathetic.

“Get off of me,” you say, but he only squeezes you tighter.

“You’re not leaving. You’re not leaving.” He says it like a prayer.

“Get the fuck up,” you tell him. “This is just sad.”

He does get up, but instead of walking away, he leans over you, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. Despite how angry you are, you kiss him back.

He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you up so you're standing too. Your own hands find his face, fingers tracing over the features you've come to know so well, the features you'll be saying goodbye to.

As he guides you to the bedroom, still kissing you, you break apart just enough to say, "This doesn't change anything."

Namgyu throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, his lips and hands laying claim to every part of your body. He’s always been physically affectionate, but he’s touching you even more now, with the ravenous passion of someone who knows this could be the last time.

He kisses your neck in just the right spot, and grips your breasts with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly riding the line between pain and pleasure. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he makes you feel, but you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

"How could you give this up?" he mutters against your skin. "No one knows your body like I do. It'll never be this good with anyone else."

You know it's true, but you don't want to think about that right now. Instead, you decide to show him what he'll be missing out on, everything he lost due to the consequences of his own reckless actions. You reach down and wrap your hand around the bulge in his pants, squeezing lightly.

He reacts to your touch instantly, rocking into you as curses fall from his lips. He grasps at the hem of your shirt, urging it off of you. "I need you."

One by one, each piece of clothing separating you and Namgyu from one another is tossed aside, until there's no barrier between you. He grinds against you, sliding his shaft along your wet slit. His cock twitches at the moan he elicits from you.

Given his obvious desperation, you expect him to fuck you without hesitation. You're surprised when he lowers his face between your legs, kissing your inner thighs.

You tangle your fingers in his hair as he licks up your slit, taunting you. You attempt to push his head to the right spot, but he's taking his sweet time. By the time his lips encircle your clit, you're already bucking and moaning like a madwoman.

"Fuck, Namgyu," you breathe.

Your reaction spurs him on, and he pushes two fingers inside you, fucking you with his hand while he continues to suck on your clit. There's no warning; you're climaxing in record time, falling apart beneath him as your high racks your body in violent waves.

Namgyu doesn't give you even a second to recover. You're still panting, your walls still clenching as he pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean before raising himself back up and slamming into you.

You cry out, but he silences you with a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, all your senses in overdrive as he fucks you mercilessly.

"Oh god, Namgyu, hold on, I'm—" but you're cut short as another orgasm rips through your body.

You grip his hips, attempting to still him, to ease the pressure on your sensitive core, but he's relentless. He pounds into you at a shocking pace, and the overstimulation causes tears to well up in your eyes.

"Who else is gonna do this for you?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Who else is gonna fuck you until you can't think straight?"

You shake your head, unable to respond; the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Fucking answer me."

Between moans, you manage to gasp out, "No one."

Your words send him over the edge, and he finishes deep inside you with a guttural growl.

A moment later, he’s collapsing on the bed beside you. He drapes an arm and leg over you in one final weary effort to keep you by his side.

After taking a minute to catch your breath, you slip out from under his grasp and stand up. You clean yourself up quickly, then start getting dressed.

“What are you doing?” Namgyu asks, pulling on his boxers.

“I told you, I’m leaving.”

You grab a suitcase and open up the drawers of your wardrobe, stuffing clothes inside. Namgyu shoots up and rushes to your side frantically. Each time you move to grab a handful of clothes, he takes a pile of them back out of your suitcase, shoving them haphazardly back into the drawer.

“Stop it!” you shout, but he continues to unpack your suitcase, trapping you in an endless cycle. “You’re acting like a child. Let me leave or I’m calling the fucking police.”

He ceases for a moment to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

He steps back then, finally seeming to understand the gravity of the situation. He sits down on the bed, watching as you gather up your belongings.

You grab a smaller bag and take it to the bathroom, throwing your toiletries inside. Once you’ve gotten all the necessities together, you take what’s left of your life and head down the hallway.

You hear his quick footsteps on the floor behind you, but you don’t turn around.

“Wait,” he says, his voice cracking. “Wait, please. Don’t leave me. I love you.”

You swallow hard, but you still don’t look at him. Seeing his face will only make it harder to go, and you know this is what you need to do. Without another word, you open the door and shut it behind you.

Maybe one day Namgyu will pull himself together, and maybe then a life with him will be possible. Until then, you can’t keep putting yourself through the torture of loving him.

[ohbabydollie]

jschlatt x reader who’s so much more confident through text and so shy irl and when he finally meets u he can’t help but tease u the entire time about how shy u are

😁👍 slightly suggestive

you guys became mutual friends accidentally, being in a random discord server together talking on a call that lead to a friendship people didn’t expect

he had only known you online, never meeting you in person and painting a picture of you

he thought you were bold and not shy remotely

calling him mid-stream

“hey, if jambo and [redacted] still need a mommy i could volunteer, you can call me mommy too if ya want” you say smiling as he shows the stream your facetime

the chat blew up with ‘she’s a baddie’, ‘schlatt, if u don’t fuck her i will’, ‘she can fix me’, ‘she can make me worse’, etc.

texting him flirtatiously which his chat has caught on multiple occasions whenever he shows them his phone

he has his mods do damage control for the hundredth stream in a row

even just posting photos with flirtatious captions he knows is directed towards him

a picture of you in a sheep themed bikini with a caption of ‘he makes my daddy issues act up’

EVERYONE IS FREAKING OUT

so many angry simps bashing schlatt for ‘stealing’ you

everyone is FLABBERGASTED from how straight forward you’re being, how obvious you are and how you’re so much bolder than before

they couldn’t wait until your meet up with schlatt and a few others to make some summertime content

everyone thought fan service would be amped up

it ends with you shyly looking up at schlatt, a soft “hi” leaving your mouth

ted acts like a dad whose trying to get his kid to tell the waitress what they want

“c’mon n/n, schlatt doesn’t bite” ted says pushing you towards him

“i won’t unless you’re into that” schlatt says flashing you a smile as you go red in the face

any second the both of you are alone he’s on you

“was that all over the phone just big talk?” he asks cornering you

“n-no! your height is just intimidating” you say putting your hands on his chest

“intimidating? huh? i bet it is for a shy little thing like you” he says smiling as you feel yourself blushing

it’s humiliating and embarrassing

schlatt would take any chance he gets to fluster you and flirt

if you run off to get drinks, he’s slapping your ass and calling you a good girl

if you make him something to eat he’s making a joke about eating you out

any chance he gets to make you blush he’s taking it

“this is the second best thing im gonna eat tonight” schlatt says biting down on a burger before looking at you, “you’re the first”

[anticapitalistclown]

can I request some lookism characters after an argument with reader? some comfort pleasee?

sure!

*I made a poll long time ago and the most voted characters are Gun, Samuel and Goo (the most stubborn man fr)

Gun, Samuel and Goo x reader, after an argument

Gun

You and Gun always try to avoid conflict, mostly because of your stubborn nature and for the sake of your relationship, yet sometimes arguing can't be avoided. It is in those cases that your boyfriend's way of showing his apology is by acts of service, sometimes by cleaning your apartment or making food for you, he's too stubborn to say a simple "I'm sorry" yet he makes it up by showing it instead.

You were curled on his bed, drained, all the energy you had it was gone, your eyes staring at his empty wall, his decoration sense was so hideous that you could have used that in the argument "stupid Gun" you cursed and hugged his pillow "watch your fucking language" Gun's voice made you jolt, you rolled to face him, and he slowly approached you, laying next to you and grabbing your body to hug him instead of his pillow.

You both rested curled in each other's for a silent while, his hand caressing your hair, admiring your features, your fingers were following the line of his collarbone, even in that silence you both managed to show each other's love by simple touches.

"Gun" you tried to break the silence, yet he didn't let you continue, his lips kissed the tip of your nose "I made some dinner if you're hungry".

Samuel

God for sure gave you the strength to keep up a relationship with this man, Samuel was raised to not show any vulnerability, those who did get beaten up to pulp or just experience a fake act from him, a way of manipulation that sometimes affects you too.

When Samuel and you argue he tends to leave, not out of disrespect, just to cool things and give some space, then he comes back with any sort of present.

You were sitting on his sofa watching whatever was on the TV just to cool you down a bit, your teeth had no mercy on biting your nails, an involuntary gesture that you had since young and only appeared when you were stressed out. Suddenly a hand grabbed yours "stop, this is not good for your fingers" you recognized the tattooed hand and avoided looking at Samuel "are you going to give me the silent treatment?" no response "alright, understood" his hands travelled to your neck and placed an expensive necklace on it "you wanted to spend more time together, right?" you looked at him and nod at his words "get dressed, we're eating out tonight".

Goo

Arguing with Goo was no use, you would never make him understand the point, only getting mockery from him.

You both have been arguing for an hour, honestly it was you just arguing and him laughing or looking at his phone, it was like talking to a wall, and you hated it so much.

"enough!" you shout of anger and trow him the first object that was near you, a soft pillow "do you really think you're going to hurt me with this?" Goo laughed "ouch my nose is broken!" he retorted on the floor mockingly "the softest pillow we got on the house broke my nose!" he laughed and looked at you, Goo expected you to laugh, he always stops the arguing when he makes you laugh, so this time would work again, right?

Goo went silent when he saw you crying "you idiot" you sobbed, and he knew he fucked up. Goo got up from the floor and hugged you, his strong arms making you unable to move and run away from him, you started to slap and punch every part you were able to reach, his arms still around you, not letting you go.

Once you got tired of attacking him you rested on his chest, crying on it "believe me, seeing you cry hurts me more than any punch you trowed at me" he palmed your head, soothing you "I'm sorry".

[shu-porang-porang]

Who's Needy Now? (sequel)

♡ You started it, what did you expect?♡ (Read the first part here.)

P.s. Honestly I feel like it's not my cup of tea, but I gave it a go, hope you like it.

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Explicit

Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: pure smut, unprotected sex (do not try at home!!), degradation, overstimulation, edging, not proofread

Word count: 1.2 k

You come back after two hours. He seems exceptionally normal! He even cooked you dinner. No mentions of your little mischief. You have a hunch it’s only the calm before the storm. You’re on edge the whole night, you know he wouldn’t let go of it so easily. You wonder what he has in mind. This calm façade is probably just a part of his plan. He likes to mess with your head like this, the suspense you’re feeling makes it all the more enjoyable for him.

Finally, he tells you to go sit on the bed like a good kitty for him. He takes a seat on a chair at the foot of the bed, leaning back, his legs set apart, his lap looks so inviting but you know better than to do anything you’re not ordered to, so you resist the urge of going over and sitting on his lap. Freaking devil! He knows exactly what he’s doing to you now. You wait on your knees for his next instruction.

“Strip.” He commands firmly, his tone makes you shudder. You start removing your clothes one by one, your eyes never leaving his intense gaze, you wanna put on a brave face, like your stomach isn’t doing summersaults anticipating his next moves.

Once you’re fully naked, his next order is: “Now cum without touching yourself, you have 3 minutes.”

You hope he’s joking but his stern face and the fact that he actually starts the timer on his phone tells you otherwise.

“What the fuck, Min?”

“It’s Sir, you filthy slut! You lost the first name privileges when you walked out of that door. Hurry up, time is running out.”

Your heart is pounding loud in your ears, this side of Minho you don’t get to see much often, but when you do… You lie on your stomach, pressing your hips to the mattress in a circular motion, you discovered this little trick back when you were a teen, and it had helped you reach orgasms but you haven’t done it for so long, you’ve found much more interesting ways to come ever since. You know you’re fighting a losing battle, there’s no way you could cum by just doing this in such a short time, but you decide to give him a good show at least, maybe he’ll pity you later. You raise your hips higher than you need to, just to give him a better view of your oozing cunt, your whimpers are more audible than usual, all in service of satisfying him.

“Please… I can’t… need you Sir” you try to gain his sympathy.

“But you left me to do it on my own. Don’t you think you deserve punishment?”

“I do… but I can’t… need touch”

“Oh I’ll touch you… gonna make you wish I didn’t!” with that warning he gets up and walks over to you, meanwhile the timer goes off. He sits next you on the bed, rolls your body over and cups your soaking pussy.

“Time’s up, now take your punishment like the slut you are.” He starts rubbing your clit with lazy strokes.

“By the way, this time you’re not allowed to cum until I say so.” He presses his finger harder on your clit and circles it faster, all the while looking at your face waiting for it to contort as you near your orgasm. You try to close your legs but he forces them open and lands a slap on your throbbing core. You focus on the pain to stall your climax for a bit. His hand leaves your core to travel up and pinch a pebbled nipple.

“You almost lost it there, needy bitch! It was only the first one, take a hold of yourself.”

What does he mean by “the first one”? How many times is he gonna edge you tonight?

His hand goes back between your thighs, he gathers your slick with his index and middle finger and spreads it on your puffy clit, with each finger resting on either side of it he starts pinching it. This time, the feeling borderlines on pain and pleasure, nonetheless soon enough you’re a moaning mess, trying to suppress another orgasm. You grab his arm, trying to stop him but to no avail, it only makes him angrier.

“Don’t make me tie you up” he growls as he pinches your clit harder. You think you’re a goner this time but right before the orgasm hits you, he stops. Your body is tensed, even a breeze on your clit could make you cum, as much as you wanna cum, you fear the consequences. You just lie there with your eyes closed, waiting for the stolen climax to die down.

You feel him shifting on the bed and open your eyes to see what he’s up to next. He slots himself between your legs. You think he’s done with the games and will finally give you what you need.

“One more time” he says with his face inches away from your core. He slurps at your running juices and you bite your lip from the sensation of his tongue lapping at you. It doesn’t take long before the knot in your stomach tightens again, how could it not with his heavenly mouth sucking you like his life depends on it?

“Please… please please…. Let me come Sir” you beg as your knuckles turn white fisting the sheets. Your pleas fall on deaf ears. You can’t take it anymore. You arch your back and let go, the orgasm washes over your spent body. As soon as he realizes, he stops, you came without his permission, he’s not gonna help you ride it.

“Tsk… what do I do with you? It’s as if you want to be punished!” It’s not like you stood a chance anyway.

Without hesitation, he takes of his pants and boxers, strokes his already hard cock a few times and slams it balls deep inside you with no warning. You almost scream at the sudden stretch. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust and starts pounding into you mercilessly. Tears spill as you squirm from overstimulation. He pins your hands above your head to stop you.

“Stay still you cumdump, that’s all you’re good for since you can’t follow orders.” His words stir something inside you. His hand reaches in between your bodies and stops on your stomach, you look at where it landed and you see the bump forming there with every thrust, the sight makes your head dizzy. You feel another orgasm building up. Your head roles back and he dives down to suck purple bruises on you exposed neck. Hitting all the right spots, he makes you cum around his cock. He lets go of your wrists so you can hold onto him while he keeps chasing his own release, his pace not faltering. Finally, he reaches his orgasm, thrusting his cum deep inside you as he rides it out.

“So? Did you learn your lesson?” he says while pulling out and dropping next to you. His words float around you like you’re dreaming.

“Say it. Say you won’t leave me like that again.”

“I won’t leave you… like that… again.” You mumble not even knowing what you’re agreeing to, your mind and body too spent up to comprehend anything. You just feel him cleaning you with a towel at one point, and the next thing you realize is being wrapped in his arms with sweet kisses peppered on your face.

[stanpinesdykewife]

ME AGAIN hi hi nothing extravagant as i don’t want to overwhelm you, but i’ve been rereading your works again and i’m just DYING to know your personal headcanons for stan, either sfw, nsfw or both!!! thank you for your work you’re amazing 💗💗💗 - 🎀

THIS I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS… thank you so much for this ask what a super fun idea!!!! here goes!!! under the cut:

sfw and nsfw stan headcanons… as your boyfriend!! (i’m blushing) (no gendered pronouns used)

(bonus: fic rec at the bottom)

sfw:

big on chivalry! says he was raised “right��� and he’s a “gentleman” etc. holds open doors for you and offers his arm instead of holding hands. also really big on flowers or other gifts

pointedly uses the word “date” instead of just inviting you out: “great! it’s a date!” vs “let’s go out tonight” (yes he thinks there’s a difference)

can’t keep his hands off you! always needs to be touching your waist, your back, your wrist, or at least standing close enough to know you’re right next to him

cheesy flirt!! loves the yawn and stretch to put his arm over you. constantly uses his bank of pick-up lines on you: “did it hurt?... when you fell from heaven?” and “you got a map? cuz i just got lost in your eyes!” probably studied a book of them in high school

that being said stan gets so easily flustered it’s hilarious HAHAHA the second you flirt back or even give him a smile and a Look up and down he’s sweating

never admits that he gets flustered because he’s used to the idea of being a Big Macho Man. but he knows you know that he knows how easily you can make him melt

enjoys you playing with his face like feeling up his jaw and cheeks and nose and mouth. it makes him feel pretty!

loves holding you in his lap… will refuse to admit his legs are numb in favor of hugging you around your waist and nuzzling the back of your head

loves loves loves teasing you! like grabbing things out of your hands and holding them high up, grabbing your waist and holding you hostage when you try to stand or leave the room, constantly asking “what’s in it for me?” whenever you ask him to cut it out or do something simple like pass your phone. but stan will never ever say no to a kiss

nsfw:

obvious in all my fics but stan cannot shut up. he loves to talk during sex and loves to make you talk back: begging for him, asking “politely” for him to touch you, telling him how good you feel

MAJOR praise kink. huge. the reason he’s so chatty during sex is to make sure you want the things he wants. he craves the validation that he makes you feel good. LOVES to hear you moan and make noise for him

BIG SERVICE GUY!!! loves going down on you. literally moans into you because he loves the taste and how good it feels for you. probably came in his pants once or twice just from palming himself during it

loves to overstimulate you. always reminds you to literally shove his head away if it’s too much because he gets so lost in how loud you get

he’s kind of gross lol he’ll wipe his sex hands all up on his clothes or sheets and not bother washing his hands unless you tell him to

BIG kisser. lots of tongue. he doesn’t have much experience kissing so he’s really sloppy with it especially during sex when he’s trying to kiss you and fuck you at the same time

tits guy! doesn’t even matter whether you have tits or not. he loves them and loves nipples in his mouth especially when you arch your chest up to him

loves coming inside

he’s so gross! if he doesn’t come in you he’ll come ON you and smear it into your skin. the messier the better

aftercare is so important to him after meeting you… he doesn’t have much experience with it himself but he adores you and can’t help himself from snuggling up even if you’re complaining about how gross the sheets are

he definitely gets generous after a good fuck. will run out to get you water or snacks or just some wipes to get you cleaned up!!

(inspo from Must See: Mystery Shack by guilty_pleasures_abound)

all done! this was so fun! would love more hc requests whether it be for more stan-centric ones or other characters/scenarios!!

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Lips of an Angel

Summary: You left for school, chasing a better life. Long distance wouldn’t work. You both knew it. So you ended things, moved on. Or at least, that’s what Joel thought… until the phone rang just before midnight on his birthday, and there you were—sounding just as sweet, just as lovely as he remembered. And just like that, everything he’d buried came rushing back—to his mind, his chest… every part of him that still ached for you.

tags: porn with plot, smut MDNI, masturbation, adultery, phone sex, dirty talk, legal but big ol' age gap (reader in her mid 20s? Joel late 40s), daddy kink. voice kink, size kink, unresolved feelings, jealous!Joel, sexting, dual pov, no outbreak, inspired by Lips of an Angel by Hinder word count: 10k a/n: I won’t lie, this has been on my mind for weeks. I'm literally obsessed sorry I went a little crazy here

Joel hated his birthday.

Always had, always would.

There was nothing special about getting older—just meant more gray in his beard, more aches in his back, and another year closer to being one of those old men who grunted every time they stood up. But this one? This one really cemented the fact that he was damn old.

Forty-nine.

And what did he get to celebrate it? A stiff peck on the lips from his girlfriend this morning, followed by a Happy birthday, babe! as she slid a gift card across the table.

Fifty bucks to Home Depot.

Like he was some suburban dad who got his rocks off walking through the lumber aisle. 

Not a nice dinner. Not a thoughtful gift. And sure as hell not a blowjob.

Not that he was expecting much on that front. It had been months since the woman put her mouth anywhere near his cock, and even when she did, it was with the enthusiasm of someone doing court-ordered community service. He’d long since stopped asking. Joel wasn’t about to beg for something that felt more like an obligation than want.

So instead, he spent the night on the couch, working through a couple of beers, half-watching highlights of last week's football game on TV while she went to bed early, leaving him alone on his own goddamn birthday.

Sarah was out of the house—he’d told her to go have fun with her friends after dinner, not wanting her to feel obligated to sit around with him all night. She’d given him a sweet hug before she left, gifting him his old watch—the one he’d completely forgotten about, buried somewhere in his collection of things he’d sworn to get to someday. A thoughtful gift, something that actually meant something. His heart had tugged somethin’ awful when he’d opened it, and he put it on right away.

But now, standing in the dim light of the bathroom, Joel looked at himself in the mirror, scowling at the tired man staring back at him. He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand over the scruff of his jaw.

God, he was getting old.

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he shifted, adjusting himself in his jeans. The rough denim chafed against his briefs, which dragged against his cock, and for the first time tonight, something other than irritation stirred in his chest.

What he wouldn’t do for a fucking blowjob.

But his only source was long asleep now, curled up under the covers, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing in the bathroom, half hard, frustrated, and more than a little bitter.

Joel sighed and turned, leaning back against the porcelain counter, his fingers pulling at the leather of his belt and shifting down the waistband of his jeans, wrapping his hand around himself with a quiet hiss. His head tipped back as he gave himself a slow, steady pull, trying to work up something, anything to get fully hard.

He tried picturing her mouth around him, but the image wouldn’t stick—not when all he could think about was the dry, dismissive kiss she’d given him this morning, like they were some elderly couple celebrating their fiftieth anniversary.

His grip tightened.

He could still hear her voice, all saccharine and uninterested. Happy birthday, babe.

Didn’t even try to make it special. Hell, he’d always gone down on her. Would spend ages between her thighs, dragging her over the edge until she was too sensitive to take any more, and he hadn’t even minded—he liked making her come. Liked hearing the sounds a woman made.

But when it was his turn? She always had some excuse. Too tired. Too late. Too much work.

His jaw clenched, frustration buzzing under his skin as he stroked himself, but it wasn’t enough.

His mind started reaching for anything else—porn, maybe. That might do the trick. He fished his phone from his back pocket, but with his jeans bunched down around his knees, it was awkward, fingers too big for the small screen as he finally pulled it out and tried to type with one hand.

The damn thing slipped.

“Shit,” he muttered as his hand reached for it haphazardly until it hit the floor with a loud crack.

Joel bent down, his hand still wrapped loosely around himself as he grabbed the phone, turning it over to inspect the screen. Still intact.

He exhaled a small sigh of relief, only to freeze a second later.

The app open on his screen wasn’t the one he’d meant to pull up. In his scramble to catch the phone, his fingers must’ve swiped across the screen, opening Facebook instead.

Joel never used the damn site. Sarah had made him a profile years ago, mostly to keep up with her school events and soccer team updates. He never posted anything. Sometimes Sarah would tag him in photos, like the one from her soccer match today, and they’d show up on his profile. Hell, most of the time, he didn’t even remember he had the app at all.

Except for when he did. Because every now and then, he’d find himself searching for someone he wasn’t supposed to be looking for. 

Someone he hadn’t seen in two years.

And when he glanced at his screen now, his stomach dropped.

Right there, at the top of his feed, was a photo of you. Bright-eyed, beaming, holding a diploma in hand.

So, you’d done it. You’d gotten your degree.

That was why you left. Why you’d sat on his couch that night, knees curled up under you, eyes red-rimmed and wet as you told him it wouldn’t work. That long distance was impossible. That you had to go, that he had to let you. And maybe he didn’t say much—maybe he just sat there, jaw tight, arms crossed, nodding along like he’d expected it all along—but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Because deep down, he had known.

Knew he couldn’t keep you. Knew you had bigger things ahead of you, a future you’d worked too damn hard for to throw away on a man like him. You were young, and he—well, he wasn’t. He was set in his ways, tied down to Austin with a business, a daughter, a life you were never meant to fit into long-term.

What he didn’t know was how the hell he ever got you in the first place.

Maybe that was the cruelest part of it all—because it wasn’t him who begged. Wasn’t him who chased.

It was you.

You were the one who looked at him like there was no one else. Like no other man could ever come close, no matter his age, no matter how stuck in place he was. And for a while, he let himself believe it. Let himself have you. Let himself feel what it was like to be wanted, truly wanted, by someone like you. Someone who was sweet and charming and funny and beautiful. Someone good.

The one that got away. That’s what all the songs and movies called it.

So Joel did something very stupid, and he tapped your name at the top of your photo, taking himself straight to your profile. He swiped through the pictures. Just to see, he told himself. Were you happy? Were you content? Did you have someone? He scrolled past a photo of you and a boy. Stupid floppy hair and polo. Did he treat you well? Did he touch you like he—

His breath hitched.

Joel blinked down at himself, realizing his palm was still wrapped around his cock, his grip tight, squeezing without even thinking. He was suddenly rock hard. 

Jesus Christ.

Joel slammed his phone down onto the counter, the sharp sound cutting through the silence. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tension out of his body, the thought of you from his mind. As hard as he tried to picture anything else– those porn stars he liked, an actress, hell, his own damn girlfriend– they kept getting shunted by memories of you that suddenly crashed over him in waves like some cursed memory reel. His mind played you back to him in perfect clarity: your body beneath him, your big, pleading eyes, the way you used to beg to have your mouth on him, the way you’d ride his face, his cock, head thrown back and pussy clenching around him like a goddamn vice.

He let out a sharp breath, his hand still curled around himself, hips twitching forward into his fist before he forced himself to stop. He needed to stop this.

And then, a sudden buzzing had his mind finally quieting as his breath hissed, looking down onto the sink where he’d thrown his phone. 

Bzz bzz.

Oh god.

Bzz bzz.

His stomach dropped. His heart fucking lurched.

This had to be some kind of sick joke.

Had he butt-dialed? Had he fumbled so badly—opened Facebook, scrolled through your pictures, and somehow hit 'call' in his stupid desire befuddled haze?

Because why the fuck was your name popping up on his screen at this time of night?

You hadn’t spoken to him once in the two years since you left.

It had been too hard, too much, too tender of a wound to press against. You told yourself it was for the best, that letting go meant really letting go—but tonight, in your bed, with your phone in your hand, staring at a photo Sarah had posted after a soccer match, that resolve started to crack.

It was just a picture. Just her and her dad, both smiling– her sweaty from the game, his arm slung around her shoulders.

But your eyes weren’t on Sarah.

They were on him.

Joel.

Your stomach clenched, something deep and familiar twisting inside you as you traced his face on the screen. His hair was grayer, beard a little thicker. But it was his eyes that held you captive. Something about them, something in the way he smiled—it was dimmer than before. Like something was missing.

And then something clanged into place as you looked at the date above the photo.

It was his birthday.

He’d told you once—if you ever needed anything, no matter how much time had passed, to call. Emergency, bad date, ride home after a night out—didn’t matter.

But you never had. Never dared.

Because you knew—one moment of hearing his voice, and you’d be packing your bags, catching the next flight home to Texas.

Still, the longer you stared at the photo as you laid in your bed, the harder it was to talk yourself out of reaching out. You wondered if he’d had a good day. You knew he had a girlfriend now, and you wondered if she had treated him to anything special. If they’d gone out to a nice dinner, if she’d…

Your breath caught in your throat, fingers tightening around the phone.

Your pulse was already picking up as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Before you could stop yourself, your eyes flew open and you were tapping his profile. Scrolling. Searching.

God, you shouldn’t be doing this. But each photo only made it worse—the memories slamming into you like a tidal wave. Sweet, simple moments sprawled out on a blanket by the soccer field, screaming your lungs out for Sarah’s team, laughing when Joel grumbled about the refs. Late nights at the diner, splitting a milkshake, your knees brushing under the table, his eyes warm when he watched you sip from the straw. Wandering the dusty aisles of the old record store, flipping through stacks of vinyls, sneaking glances at the way his hands—so big, so rough—handled them with care. Then the memories, damn them, the clearest ones, swarmed your mind like a thousand bees. The weight of him pressing you into his mattress, his body heavy, warm, covering you completely. Those same hands, no longer careful but gripping, claiming, leaving bruises in their wake. His mouth dragging over your throat, your shoulders, your thighs, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. And that voice. Low, gravelly, rich with something dark, something sweet, something only you ever got to hear, whispering filth into your ear until you were shaking.

A slow heat started to pool between your legs, your thighs pressing together as you kept scrolling, the ache building, your breath coming a little faster.

You shouldn’t call.

You shouldn’t.

But your thumb was already hovering over his name as you opened up your contacts app.

And before you could stop yourself, you tapped it.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Then, “...Hello?”

Your breath caught in your lungs, fingers tightening around your phone, suddenly too warm, hands clammy, pulse racing against your chest.

“J-Joel?”

There was a beat of silence. Then he exhaled—a low, quiet sigh, almost like relief. Like he was just as surprised to hear your voice as you were to hear his.

“Honey, why you callin’ me so late?” His voice was quieter now, lower, like he was speaking into the phone from somewhere dark. Like maybe he didn’t want someone else to hear him. Then, softer, “Is everything okay?”

God. The pet name.

Already, he was undoing you, his voice so hushed and soft. It settled low in your belly, turning you to molten heat, just like you knew it would.

You swallowed, pulse hammering, suddenly too warm and you weren't even under the blankets.

“Yeah,” you rushed out, voice thinner than you wanted it to be. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

Your fingers twitched at the hem of your pajama shorts, rubbing the fabric between them, grounding yourself in the sensation. Your mind was completely blank, you wish you’d thought of what the hell you were going to say to him once he actually answered.

You squeezed your thighs together, heart hammering, breath shallow.

“I… I wanted…” you trailed off, exhaling a shaky breath. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

It sounded stupid now. No contact for two whole years and that’s all you could come up with?

You waited, heart in your throat, listening for his response.

He let out another sigh, like he was trying to keep himself together through the phone. You wondered for a moment if your voice affected him just as much. 

“It’s kinda hard to talk right now,” he murmured, voice hushed.

That wasn’t what you were expecting.

Hell, you weren’t even sure what you were expecting. Some kind of revelation? A confession? That he missed you just as much as you did him, that he shared your thoughts that no matter how much time had passed, no matter who you tried to date to fill the hole he left, no one compared to him? 

But he was quiet. Almost distant. You should’ve known better, known better than to call after all this time. It was your fault, after all. 

Your stomach twisted. Your throat burned. Tears pricked at your eyes before you even realized they were coming.

“Honey, why are you cryin’?” he asked suddenly, voice sharper now, more alert. He must’ve heard it, the way your breath hitched, the way the silence stretched just a second too long. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

You sniffled, trying to hold it together. He was always like this—always knew when something was wrong, always saw right through you even before you understood it yourself.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, voice shaky. “I just… I missed you. Your voice.”

There was a long pause, and then, “I miss you too.”

Not just your voice. Not just whatever this had turned into.

He missed you.

Your breath caught, fingers gripping your phone even tighter.

“Why are you whispering?” you asked quietly. “Where are you?”

He breathed in deep, something rustling in the background. You could almost picture him shifting, running a hand over his face, maybe rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was tense.

“My girl’s—” A slight pause. “My girlfriend is in the other room.”

Oh. Right. Girlfriend.

Just like you very well had a boyfriend. One who wouldn’t like knowing you were talking to your ex in the middle of the night. Your much older, and, in your opinion, much hotter ex.

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting, reality settling in cold and sharp.

“Oh. Of course.” Your voice barely made it past your lips. “I can let you go. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why’d you call?” His voice cut through yours, low and firm.

You froze. That… wasn’t what you were expecting. You thought he’d let you go. Let this slip away like he probably should have. But instead, he was asking.

“Why now?”

The question nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. You weren’t sure you had an answer. At least, not one you were ready to say out loud. So, instead, you told the truth.

“I saw that picture of you and Sarah at her soccer match.”

Joel made a noncommittal Mhm, waiting for you to say more.

Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shorts, your throat tight. “You look… you look happy.” A lie, but you didn’t want to say what you truly felt. That the twinkle in his eye looked like it had been blown out like a candle. 

Another pause. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed slow and steady on the other end of the line.

“Are you happy, Joel?”

A long, thick silence that stretched between you, the weight of it pressing down hard. You barely even realized you were holding your breath, waiting, anticipating, heart still hammering, a low thud in your ears.

Then his voice came through the speaker, lower now. Rougher.

“…You askin’ ‘cause you care or ‘cause you wanna hear somethin’ else?”

Your lips parted, stomach twisting, heat curling low in your belly. His tone had shifted—just slightly—but you felt it. Like a spark igniting something dangerous between you.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, warmth spreading through you, and your fingers toyed with the fabric of your shorts again, this time for a very different reason.

“'Course I care. Why would I want to hear anything else?” you whispered, but the words didn’t sound innocent.

Joel let out a slow exhale through his nose, “Dunno,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower. “You tell me, honey.”

And just like that, the air between you changed. It was still thick, still charged, but now there was something else. You swallowed hard. His voice, so low, steady, dipping into something dangerous, sent heat curling through your stomach, settling deep in your core.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you murmured, but the words came out soft, breathy, full of something he was smart enough to catch.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, low and rough, the sound vibrating through the speaker.

“Honey,” he drawled, like he didn’t believe you for a second.

You felt it now, the shift between you. The slow unraveling. The way your body reacted to him like muscle memory, like instinct, like no time had passed at all.

“I saw you in that picture,” you admitted, voice quieter now, fingers ghosting along the inside of your thigh. “And I just…”

You were breathing too heavy now. Your skin felt too warm, your heartbeat thrumming heavy in your chest, your hand trembling slightly where it gripped the phone.

“I just started thinking about you,” you confessed.

Joel went quiet. Not the kind of quiet where he was trying to figure out what to say. The kind of quiet like he knew exactly what kind of thoughts you were having.

“Yeah?” he said finally, voice softer now, but rougher somehow, like gravel dragged over silk. “What exactly were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

Your whole body tensed, the pet name sending a jolt through your spine. It was unfair how easily he still did this to you, how effortless it was.

You exhaled slowly, shifting against the pillows, the hem of your shorts riding up your thighs.

“…You,” you whispered.

Joel hummed, like he wanted more, like he was just waiting for you to say it.

You swallowed, fingers trailing over the curve of your stomach, your muscles tightening at the thought of him on the other end of the line—shirt rumpled, sprawled back against something, his fingers dragging through his hair, trying to decide if he should stop this before it went too far.

But he wasn’t stopping.

“Tell me,” he growled under his breath, “Does that frat boy of a boyfriend take care of you?”

Your fingers tensed against your skin, crimson blush flooding your face, but your mouth was faster than your shame, “Does your girlfriend take care of you?”

There was a beat of silence, then a chuckle, “Can’t say it’s the same.”

You bit your lip unconsciously, what the hell did he mean by that?

Your chest tightened, heart pounding as warmth licked up your spine, making your skin feel too tight, too aware. It was familiar—he was familiar. That rush Joel Miller always gave you, even now, even after all this time. Your legs squeezed together, desperate for friction, for something.

“Not even on your birthday?” you pouted playfully, voice dipping into something teasing, something that felt too easy despite how wrong this was.

Joel hummed, voice quieter now, like he was thinking about it, “Not even for my birthday.”

Your fingers curled against the sheets before moving back to your shorts again, lips parting. Your body was betraying you, already giving in, the heat pooling low, making your head swim.

“I would’ve—”

You stopped.

Your breath hiccuped, your body going still as your fingers rested against the soft fabric of your pajama shorts, right there, hovering, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

You needed to stop.

This was wrong. So, so wrong.

Joel must’ve sensed it, must’ve heard it in your silence, because his voice softened, still low but gentler now, sweeter.

“Easy, honey,” he murmured. “Once you cross that line…”

Like a warning. Like he was trying to keep you from falling over the edge—like he was trying to keep himself from doing the same. It already felt too late.

You sighed, exasperated, on fire, like you’d been running from this feeling for too long and now it was catching up to you, wrapping around your throat, dragging you under. “I just think of you all the time, Joel,” you admitted, voice unsteady, heavy with something deeper than just need.

There was a pause. You could hear his breath—slow, steady, but not controlled.

“Nothing ever…” you trailed off, eyes squeezing shut, chest rising and falling unevenly. “It’s not the same for me either, Joel.”

Another sharp inhale on his end, like your words hit him, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear them or if he’d been waiting for them.

“It’s really good to hear your voice,” he said, and you recognized what he was doing. Steering you both away, trying to veer off that edge before it was too late. “Just as sweet as I remember, baby.”

Your stomach flipped. Your fingers clenched the fabric of your shorts, crumpled now from your grip..

“Do you think of me, Joel?”

Another long silence.

Joel Miller was going to hell.

That was for certain.

Your voice—soft, sweet, and yet goddamn sultry—wrapped around him like a noose. And the worst part? You weren’t even trying.

Didn’t even realize how you sounded, how your voice had dipped just a little lower, quieter, breathier. That sugary lilt that went straight to his cock, made his pulse throb behind his teeth.

His jaw clenched, his grip flexing around himself, fingers tightening as his stomach tensed. Hard to soft to rock fucking hard again, like his body had been waiting, hoping for an excuse, for just the smallest reason to give in.

And now you were giving it to him. Unknowingly handing him the rope to hang himself with.

He sucked in a slow breath, trying to get his shit together, but it was a losing battle. he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, using his now free hand to run it over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose like it might somehow stop the inevitable.

It didn’t.

Because your voice was still there. In his ear. In his head. Under his skin.

Do you think of me, Joel?

He squeezed his eyes shut, his grip tightening again, fingers flexing over the thick length of himself as his cock twitched in his palm.

“…You know I do.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Heavy. Like the two of you were teetering over the edge of something dangerous, forbidden, inevitable.

“When?”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Joel exhaled, sharp and slow, head tipping back, jaw locked so tight it ached.

“All the time, baby,” he said, sighing out the breath he'd been holding in.

He heard it then—your breathing, uneven, picking up with every inch closer you both crept to the edge. He should stop, should shut this down before it went too far.

But Joel had never been able to keep himself in check around you.

Not when Tommy had pulled him aside, voice low and pissed, telling him it wasn’t right, that you were too young, that people were talking. Not when the side-eyes and whispers started when the two of you were out together, your little hand in his, the way you’d lean into him and brush your lips against him. Those sweet, sweet lips. Like a fucking angel.

He could never say no to you.

Not when you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger. Not when you nearly begged for him every night, made those sweet noises, pleading and needy and hungry. No man is his right mind would deny you.

Oh, he was sooo fucked.

His hand flexed around his cock, the weight of it heavy, throbbing, aching in his palm.

“Was thinkin’ about you tonight too,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher, slipping into that sweet spot where he knew exactly what he was doing. If he was going to hell, he might as well take full advantage the whole way down.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

That single word sent a shiver down his spine. He could hear it in your voice and he wondered if your body was betraying you just as his was.

“I was…” He said, hesitating a bit, fingers tightening around himself, heart thudding hard in his chest. Fuck, was he really gonna admit this?

“I saw your picture on Facebook,” he admitted, voice gruff, raw, like it physically hurt to say out loud. “Was lookin’… lookin’ through your page.”

Silence.

“You were stalkin’ me, Joel Miller?”

Joel let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a groan, his stomach twisting, churning, that hunger clawing at his insides. Because fuck, hearing his name on your lips again—low and teasing, all soft and sweet like it had been made for you to say—made something dark and needy snap inside of him. 

It didn’t matter how much time had passed.

Didn’t matter that you were miles away, years removed from him.

He needed you like he needed the very oxygen he breathed, like his heart had only been keeping his old ass alive long enough to get back to this.

“Only a little,” he chuckled, voice low, rough, barely there.

His hand squeezed tight at the base of himself, a groan slipping through his teeth. If he didn’t get off soon, he was going to fucking implode. He could feel it, the pressure mounting, the tension coiling so tight he thought it might break him in half.

There was still a part of him—the righteous, rational man—who told him to stop. The one who had tried so fucking hard to be better. Just end this now, hang up the phone, put on some shitty porn and get himself off like he always did. Alone. Like he was supposed to. 

But the devil—the one he was headed for either way—whispered louder.

“‘Sides, you sound like you were enjoyin’ the view too,” he said, a little breathless, picturing you with the phone in hand, looking at the photo of him from today, “What’re you doin’ now, honey?”

He could hear shuffling around on your end, like bed sheets or something soft beneath you. Settling into the bed, and Jesus, just the thought of you so pliant, so sweet and soft and in bed so innocently scrolling pictures of him…

“I’m… laying down.” Your voice had changed—softer now, lower. “In my PJs.”

His stomach flipped, fingers flexing without thought.

“You know, the little gray and white shorts—”

“And the matching little tank top,” he finished without thinking, the image flashing so damn clear in his mind, memories flashing in his mind of his own hands sliding up that tank top, underneath the fabric that was so soft and left absolutely nothing to his imagination. Except for now, he supposed.

A breathy chuckle on your end, teasing. “You remember ‘em?”

Joel gritted his teeth. “Fuck, baby.” His voice was raw now, unsteady, every nerve in his body lighting up. “Always loved how those looked on you. Made your ass look so fucking good.”

That part good man in him, the one with morals and a goddamn conscience, the one screaming at him to get off the fucking phone—was long gone. There was something about you, something that pulled at him, dragged out a part of himself he thought he’d buried.  The one who worshipped the ground you walked on, who got drunk off the way you used to look at him, the way you used to need him. That part of him had never left, never dulled, no matter how much time had passed.

His hand flexed around himself, squeezing at the base of his cock as his stomach tightened, as he let himself feel it—let himself remember. The way your body used to move beneath him, the way you’d whisper his name against his skin, the way you’d let out those sweet little whimpers, breathless and eager, begging for him. No one had ever sounded like you, felt like you, and he knew no one ever fucking would.

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, steadying himself, his voice lower now, thick with heat and want. “Bet they still fit you real nice,” he murmured, gripping himself harder, his strokes slow, measured, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Bet you still look so damn good in ‘em, don’t ya?”

You exhaled a little laugh, breath still shaky, teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing to him. “They’re a little tight now, actually.”

And it was all he could do not to lose it right there.

Then, soft, playful, pure fucking sin, you said, “Wanna see?”

His cock twitched hard in his fist.

And his answer came out instinctive, raw, from somewhere deep in his chest: “God, yes.”

His phone buzzed against his ear seconds later. He pulled it back just long enough to glance at the screen, his hand still wrapped around himself, already knowing what it was, already aching for it.

Then he saw it. And he almost fucking came right then and there.

That damn little pair of shorts—hiked up so high on your hips, the soft, round curve of your ass spilling out the bottom, thighs pressed together, your skin looking so damn smooth, so fucking perfect.

And the way you took the picture—angled from above, like he was looking down at you, like he had you belly-down on the bed, back arched, ass up in the air—

Just like when you used to suck his cock in bed.

Begging. Pleading for him to come down your throat, to ruin you, to let you take it all because you could. Because you loved it.

His throat went dry, his cock throbbed, and his restraint snapped like a goddamn rubber band. He barely heard your voice over the rush of blood in his ears, over the sharp groan that slipped past his lips.

“Did you get it?” you asked, voice light, innocent, like you weren’t the reason he was about to lose himself in his own goddamn hand.

He grunted a rough Mhm, spit into his palm, his cock pulsing as he worked himself a little more, now slick and smooth. 

Your gasp came through the receiver, a sharp inhale, “Joel,” you whispered, breathless, “are you touching yourself?”

“Y-Yeah,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut, doing his best to picture it—your hand, your mouth, your sweet, clenching pussy wrapped tight around him, just like he remembered.

“What did you think about?” you asked softly, and fuck, you sounded so innocent, so needy, “When you saw the picture? Tell me, please.”

Like it wasn’t enough that he was already losing his mind imagining the way you used to beg for him—now you were actually pleading again, your voice syrupy, thick with anticipation, and he swore it was going to kill him.

His fist dragged up over the swollen tip of himself, a sharp hiss slipping past his teeth as he squeezed before sliding back down, forcing himself to hold back, to make it last. His hips jerked, instincts begging him to give in, to fuck into his palm until he lost himself completely.

But no.

He had to drag this out. Had to make you feel it, too.

His eyes flicked back to his phone, thumb hovering over the screen, looking at you. At those damn shorts squeezing each cheek, the soft curve of your ass spilling out, practically inviting his hands, his teeth, his lips.

God, the things he wanted to do to you.

To bite and slap and kiss every inch of you, just like he used to. His jaw clenched, his breath heavy, his cock twitching in his fist as he let himself sink into it.

“Was thinking that…” he trailed off, voice raw, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deliberate stroke. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to steady his breathing, forcing himself not to let this end too soon.

Your breath hitched on the other end. It felt it like a caress, like you were right here with him, like your lips were brushing against his ear instead of whispering through the receiver.

“Tell me,” you pleaded again, your voice so soft and desperate.

His eyes squeezed shut, his fist tightening around his cock, squeezing at the base, forcing himself to hold back the groan bubbling in his throat.

“Was thinkin’ about how good you look under me,” he admitted, his voice a little rougher now, slipping deeper into that place where there was no turning back. “How the angle reminded me of your sweet mouth on my cock.”

A whispered fuck came through the line, and Joel had to force his hand to slow down.

His jaw clenched, his breath heavy, his thumb teasing over the sensitive slit of his cock, spreading slick, adding just enough pressure to make his hips twitch. “Was thinkin’ about how I used to look down at you,” he murmured, words slow, like he was savoring them, like he was picturing it so clearly it hurt. “All wide-eyed, pretty little mouth stretchin’ over me—God, baby, you always took me so well.”

You let out the softest whimper, barely there, and it nearly destroyed him.

“You’d look up at me,” he continued, his strokes getting slicker, slower, teasing himself just as much as he was teasing you. “Bat those pretty lashes. Workin’ me over like you loved it. Like it was all you ever wanted.”

“I did love it,” you whispered, voice breathy, wrecked, needy, and fuck, fuck, fuck—Joel’s cock jerked in his fist, another deep groan spilling from his lips before he could stop it.

A soft, breathy moan came through the line, and Joel nearly dropped his phone again.

“Baby,” he rasped, his grip tightening, his breath heavy and uneven, “are you touching yourself too?”

“Yes, Joel, yes,” you whimpered, and fuck, it was more like a plea, an urging, just like you used to urge him to keep going, to keep fucking you, asking for it deeper, harder, more–

He was going to lose his fucking mind.

“Stop.”

His voice came sharp, commanding, cutting through the haze of slick heat between your thighs, through the desperate rhythm of your fingers teasing yourself through the tiny shorts that had long been soaked through.

Your breath hitched, your body stilling at the unexpected shift.

“…Stop?” you asked, incredulous, chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, your fingertips still resting over your folds, damp with your own arousal.

“Want you to listen to me now,” Joel heaved through the phone, like he’d realized something, like it had hit him all at once. His voice was still wrecked, still thick and husky with want, but there was something firmer now. More in control, “Gonna listen to me, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy—”

Oh, shit.

Your body froze the second the word slipped past your lips, your breath stuttering in your throat, heat flushing up the back of your neck, “I—I’m sorry,” you gasped, voice rushed, panic creeping in. “Joel, I didn’t mean—”

“Daddy wants you to play with your tits, honey,” he said, like it was nothing, like he’d just been waiting for you to slip back into your old ways, waiting for you to give into him. “Do you remember how I used to touch you?”

Every nerve lit up in your body as heat coursed through you now, nipples hardening as you looked down at them, clothed and covered, licking your lips.

“Baby?”

“Y-yes,” you shuddered, your free hand dragging up your stomach, your fingers ghosting over the neckline of your thin tank top, “I remember,”

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice thick, warm, rich with something dark and hungry through the receiver. “My sweet girl.”

Your body reacted to the praise, stomach tightening, thighs clenching. You loved it when he talked to you like that—when he made you feel cherished and filthy in the same breath.

Slowly, you pulled down your top, letting your breasts spill free, nipples pebbled against the cool air. You dragged a teasing hand over one, not kneading yet, just pressing, applying the slightest friction with your palm.

It wasn’t him.

Wasn’t his big, warm, calloused hands, the way they’d palm your breasts, squeeze, flick at your nipples just to hear you gasp. You swallowed hard, already aching.

“Are you teasing yourself?” Joel rasped, voice like honey dripping with filth. “Teasing your cute, perfect tits like I did, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes slipping shut, imagining his hands on you instead.

“Good,” he growled. “Want you to lick your finger now, get it nice and wet, and swirl it around your little nipple, honey. Can you do that for me?”

You moaned in response, sliding two fingers past your lips, tongue swirling around them, coating them in spit before sliding them out with a wet little pop, and Joel heard it. 

A deep, wrecked sound left his throat, and you knew he was squeezing himself harder now, barely holding on.

The second your fingers flicked over your nipple—slick, sensitive, teasing—a shocked gasp escaped your lips.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, breath heavy, thick with need.

You could hear him swallow hard, could imagine him—head tipped back, hand wrapped tight around himself, his cock slick and aching in his grip, his chest heaving with desire.

“Can you picture me there, baby?” he murmured, voice smooth, coaxing, laced with pure sin. “Picture my mouth around you?”

Oh, God, you could.

Your body tensed, your breath coming quicker as the memory flooded back—the way Joel used to hold you tight, his strong arms caging you against him, his mouth hot and wet around your breast, tongue swirling, sucking, lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough.

He’d look up at you through those thick, dark lashes, gaze heated, possessive, worshipping as he worked you over. He’d groan against your skin, his lips latched onto you, devouring you, sucking until you were whining, until your back arched, until you were begging for more.

Your hand worked over your other nipple, slick and sensitive, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Feels s-so good.”

He moaned into the phone, rough and low, his breath ragged in your ear. “I know, honey,” he whispered. “Now, trail your fingers down that sweet body of yours—slow.”

The last word was a command, and you obeyed without thinking, your body responding instinctually, muscle memory kicking in. Because with Joel, you always listened. Every word he spoke—whether praise or command or plea—was like dogma, something you bowed to, something you ached to follow.

“Joel,” you whispered, desperate, needy.

“Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed hard, your breath shaky. “Can I touch myself?” A pause, then softer, whining—“Please? Please, Daddy. I need it. Need you.”

Joel let out a deep, guttural sound, and for a second, he didn’t answer. You could hear it, the way his breath hitched, the way his grip tightened around himself, could picture him—his cock slick in his palm, pulsing, aching, his free hand gripping the phone, barely holding himself together.

“Not yet,” he murmured finally, voice rough, measured, dripping with restraint. “Want you to just gently tease. Let your fingers graze over your shorts, baby. Nice and slow, like daddy would,”

Your body obeyed before your brain even processed the words, fingers drifting down, skimming over the soft skin of your stomach, tracing the curve of your hips before ghosting over your mound in your tiny, soaked-through shorts.

The breath you sucked in was sharp and Joel groaned softly in response.

“You wet for me, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed, eyes slipping shut, your fingers teasing the edge of the damp fabric, pressing lightly against your folds but never giving yourself what you really wanted, not enough to give yourself any real relief.

“Bet you are,” he rasped, voice thick, breath heavy. “Bet you’re fuckin’ dripping, baby. Just from my voice, huh? Just from Daddy telling you what to do?”

You whimpered, shifting against the mattress, legs squeezing together, hips rolling up subtly, trying to create the smallest bit of friction. 

A low chuckle rumbled through the receiver, dark and knowing. “Getting impatient, honey?”

You whined again, your fingers twitching, your whole body begging for more, for him, for relief.

“Please,” you whispered, “I need—”

“I know what you need, baby,” he cut in, voice low, soothing, but firm. “And you’ll get it. But you listen to me, you hear?”

You nodded quickly, before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Y-yes, Daddy. I’ll listen.”

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured. “Now—” a pause, a deep inhale, like he was picturing it just as vividly as you were. “I want you to slip your fingers under your shorts, baby. Feel how wet you are for me.”

You let out a shaky exhale, obeying immediately, fingertips slipping beneath the damp fabric, grazing over the slick heat of your swollen cunt.

The second you felt it—felt how soaked you were just from him, from his voice, from the way he knew your body even from miles away—you couldn’t hold back the moan that spilled past your lips.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you pressed against yourself, skin to skin, your breath hitching, pulsing under your own touch, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t him.

“I miss you,” you murmured, voice small, breathless—then immediately corrected yourself, trying to recover, trying to keep this exactly where it needed to be. “Miss your mouth, Joel. Miss the way you made me feel so good.”

But he caught it.

His breath faltered, the sound of it shaky through the phone, followed by a long, deep exhale, like he felt those words more than he should.

“…Miss you too, baby girl,” he admitted, something rougher beneath it, something unspoken. Then, clearing his throat, pushing you right back under, owning the moment, “Gonna play with that pussy for me, right? Let her feel real good for me? I know she misses a real man’s cock.”

You groaned, your hips instinctively pushing into your hand, fingers circling over your aching clit, relief blooming in your stomach at the friction.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Tell me,” he commanded, voice deep, firm, taunting. “Tell me what that stupid boy does for you.”

You whimpered, words incoherent, body tensing, toes curling against the sheets.

“He—he,” you swallowed, trying to collect yourself, trying to focus, but it was impossible with the way Joel’s voice had settled in your bones.

“It’s not the same—”

“Tell me.” he growled, sharp and rough and… Jealous?

He wasn’t going to let it go.

“Wanna know how he neglects you so bad you come runnin’ to Daddy for a fixin’, baby.”

Your stomach flipped, heat rushing through you, your fingers slipping lower, your body betraying you.

“Joel—”

“Go on,” he coaxed, voice thick, taunting but sweet, like honey laced with sin. “Tell me, baby. Tell me how he doesn’t take care of you.”

You shuddered.

Because fuck—he already knew.

“He…he fingers me sometimes,” you exhaled, voice barely above a whisper, breath shaky as your fingers pressed onto your aching clit.

Joel sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, but then, like he knew, “Stop playin’ with your clit, baby.”

Your body froze, instinctively obeying, thighs tensing as your hips twitched for more.

“I can tell you’re getting close,” he murmured, voice low, smooth, controlled, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Just want you to take your time.” A beat. Then, deeper, commanding: “Slowly make circles around it—soft, teasing. Think about Daddy’s tongue on you, baby. Think about how I’d do it, yeah?”

You let out a shaky moan, pulling away from your swollen clit, dragging your fingers in slow, lazy circles instead, teasing yourself the way he would.

“Yeah,” you sighed, pleasure building, aching, the wet sounds of your slick filling the silence between you.

Joel groaned, a deep, low sound that sent a shockwave down your spine.

“Can hear that pretty pussy from here, baby,” he grunted, and you knew he was gripping himself tighter now, fucking into his fist, the slick sounds of his own hand barely muffled over the phone.

“Go on, then. Keep tellin’ me how Jack-Off Junior tries to fuck you.”

Your whole body tensed, pleasure crashing over you like a wave, a broken little moan slipping past your lips, because fuck, you shouldn’t love how filthy he was, how jealous he sounded, but God, it only made it so much worse.

So much better.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had come over him, but suddenly he was seeing red.

The thought of that stupid fucker—some kid, some boy—putting his hands on you, touching what once belonged to Joel, had his teeth clenching, his grip tightening around his cock until the pleasure almost blurred into pain.

“He, um…” you murmured, distracted, breathy, your mind clearly slipping, and fuck, he wished he could see you.

Sure, he could picture it—your body sprawled out, flushed and needy, your thighs trembling as you worked yourself open, the way you used to look when he had you like this—but it wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Joel swallowed thickly, voice coming out lower, rougher, gritted, “Can you do me a favor, baby?”

A distracted little hum came from you, “Mmm?”

“Take a picture right now. Wanna see you.” he said suddenly.

“Only if I can have one of you.”

Oh.

So you were playing games. Joel would play. He loved to play.

“Fair enough, honey,” he muttered, flipping his camera open, angling the shot just right, careful to keep the focus exactly where he knew you wanted it.

His cock was thick in his fist, aching, flushed red at the tip, beads of precum pooling at the slit from holding back, from denying himself what he so desperately needed to release. His fingers flexed around the base, his breath shuddering as he gave himself a slow, teasing stroke.

“Sent,” he gritted out, using his thumb to smear the wetness over his tip, spreading it, slicking himself up, shuddering at the sensation.

Then, the phone buzzed and he looked down—

And fuck.

He had to take his hand off his cock completely before he fucking lost it. Because Jesus Christ, you looked like a dream. Not just any dream.

His dream. The one that had haunted him for the past 2 years. The one that had him waking up in the middle of the night, hard as a fucking rock, his cock pulsing so bad he’d have to grip himself through the sheets, the one that made him hop in a frigid cold shower to shake the thought of your little body beneath him.

In the photo, your breasts spilled over the top of your tiny tank, the hem bunched around your waist, your shorts still on, but the gusset pushed to the side, exposing just a little bit of your pretty pussy where your fingers were teasing yourself.

He let out a long, wrecked groan.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Joel,” you moaned, voice thick with sin, dripping with need. “You look so good—just like I remember, so big and perfect and fuck—”

The wet, slick sounds coming through the receiver, your fingers working yourself, the breathless way you whined— it was all going to kill him.

He needed to come. He needed to.

But not before you.

“Want you to push your fingers inside, baby,” he ordered, voice low, taut, still clinging to that last shred of control. “Two. Now.”

You whined, hesitating for just a second, and Joel could hear your breath stutter, could nearly feel the way your body tensed in anticipation.

“Won’t feel the same as that beautiful cock, Daddy,” you sighed, voice like velvet in his ear.

He smiled despite himself. Only you could make him blush like a kid again.

“Does he make you come on his cock, baby?” Joel’s voice dropped lower, thick and slow, taunting as he wrapped his hand around himself again, “The way you used to come undone all over me?”

You’re moaning, your breathy sounds like heaven in his ears, spurring him on.

He pumped himself slowly, drawing it out, torturing himself, his mind flashing with the way your pussy used to choke his cock.

“Your pussy would milk me so well, honey,” he murmured, voice almost tender, thick with longing, with ache. “Would feel so fucking perfect and warm and tight around me, sugar.”

You whimpered, breath coming quicker, shaky, like you were barely holding yourself together.

“Jesus, Joel—”

“Does he?” His voice was harder now. Tense. On edge.

He needed to know. There was a long pause, filled only with the soft, broken sounds of your moans, the slick, wet noises of your fingers pushing inside yourself.

“No.”

Joel let out a sharp breath through his nose, a knowing sound, “No, huh?”

Another pause, another stuttered breath, “I have to do it myself,” you admitted, voice softer now, small, almost embarrassed. And That fucking broke him.

“After-after he leaves.”

Oh, now Joel was pissed.

“You gotta do it yourself?” he growled, voice deeper, rougher, nearly feral. His hand fisted his cock, working himself harder, faster, his control slipping with every word out of your mouth. “You lay there all alone, stuffin’ those pretty little fingers inside yourself ‘cause he don’t know how to take care of you?”

You whined, your voice barely a breath. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s a goddamn shame, baby,” Joel groaned, stomach clenching tight, his hips jerking up into his palm. “Bet that boy don’t even know how to touch you right. Bet he don’t know how to make you come like I do.”

“No one does,” you gasped, voice so small, so wrecked, and he could hear it, the way you were unraveling, the way your breath was coming out in fast, sharp bursts, the way your fingers were working yourself open, “You’ve ruined me Joel,”

“Fuck,” he praised, his voice thick, dangerous, dripping with possession. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I’ve gone and treated you so good no man can compare, huh?” His hand tightened, stroking himself harder, groaning at the wet slickness coating his palm as he spits on himself again, at the way his cock pulsed at just the thought of you—fucking yourself open, stretching yourself, thinking of him while you did it.

“But that ain’t really my fault, is it?” he rasped, voice dark, teasing, cruel in the way he knew would make you fall apart.

“No,” you whimpered, and goddamn, the way your voice shook, the way you were gasping between words, had his stomach clenching tight, pleasure searing through his spine like a live wire.

“No, Daddy,” he corrected, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“No, Daddy,” you repeated, mewling, desperate.

“That’s my girl,” he grunted, his hips thrusting even harder at the sound, at the way you still said it like it belonged to him. Like you still belonged to him, even when you both knew better, "You've ruined me too, angel. Ain't no one like you." he wasn't sure why he was admitting it, he felt so drunk off the thought of you, his mind burning up like molten lava, scorching every bit of reason he had left.

“Now, I want you to fuck yourself on those fingers for me,” he ordered, voice thick with lust, heavy, nearly slurred from how wrecked he was. “Stretch yourself real good—want you open for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whined, and fuck, he could hear it, the slick wet sounds through the phone, the way you were working yourself, the way your moans were turning higher, breathier, more frantic.

Joel grinned, mean and hungry.

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped. “Can you feel how tight you still are? Hmm?” He sucked in a breath, his strokes slowing just a little, drawing it out, making himself wait, even though he was so fucking close it was painful. “Bet you can barely fit those little fingers inside, huh?”

You let out a broken whimper, voice wrecked. “S’not enough, Joel,” you gasped.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed through broken breaths, “Know you need something bigger, huh?”

“Need you,” you admitted, whining, voice breaking on the words.

Joel groaned, his cock jerking in his fist, his whole body tense, stomach tight with how bad he wanted to see you, touch you, fill you.

“That’s right, baby,” he muttered. “Know you need my big cock to stretch you open proper.” He sucked in a breath, squeezing himself at the base, forcing himself to hold on just a little longer, just until he could drag this out and ruin you completely.

You let out a choked little moan, and he could hear how frantic your fingers were moving now, how much you needed more, how much you were aching for something you couldn’t have.

“Bet you can still feel it,” Joel murmured, voice smooth and soaked in filth. “Bet you can still feel how deep I used to fuck you, huh? How I used to stretch that pretty little pussy wide open—fuck you slow, make you take it all.”

“Y-yes,” you panted, your breath coming in ragged, desperate bursts.

“You miss it, baby?” he pressed, his voice dark, coaxing, his grip tightening around himself as he fucked into his palm, pace rough, chasing that edge. “Miss Daddy’s big cock filling you up, ruining you for anyone else?”

“Miss it so much,” you cried, voice trembling, breath catching, and fuck—he could hear it, you were right there, teetering, about to fall apart.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna come,” you gasped, words tumbling over each other, desperate and pleading. “Please let me—let me come, daddy, please, please—”

Joel’s breath hitched, stomach tightening brutally at the sound of your begging, his cock pulsing in his fist, but fuck, you were going first.

“Come for me, honey,” he rasped, voice wrecked, commanding, pushing you right over that edge. “Now.”

Your cry shattered the air, sharp, needy, high and desperate, and he could just barely hear the wet slick sound of your fingers fucking yourself through it, pleasure crashing through you so violently he swore he could feel it through the phone.

And fuck, fuck, fuck, he was right there, right there, 

“Joel!”

The sound of his name on your lips, the lips that always tasted so damn sweet, so soft like heaven, it made him snap, his body locking up as he turned towards the sink. His jaw went rigid as his orgasm ripped through him like a fucking storm, his cock jerking violently in his fist as thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles, splattering on the porcelain, hot and endless.

A deep, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his body shaking, muscles trembling as the pleasure hit him in waves, rolling over him, dragging him under.

Both of you were heaving on the line, quiet and shocked by the clarity that so often followed mind blowing orgasms like the one he’d just had. He let his head tip back, exhaling slowly. His grip loosened, warmth still coursing through him, but his mind was already catching up, already reminding him what he’d just done.

Maybe he really was going to hell.

“…Joel?”

His throat was dry. His muscles still tensed, his cock still throbbing even though he had nothing left to give.

He smiled, despite himself, “Yeah, baby?” His voice was thick and gravelly, the exhaustion warm in his tone.

A soft laugh. “I… I can’t believe we just did that.”

Joel huffed a lazy, satisfied chuckle, running a hand down his face, still catching his breath.

“Me neither, honey.” A pause spanned between you, then, softer, he added, “Hope you don’t get in too much trouble with the boyfriend,”

“I won’t." you said, and then after a moment, added, "We broke up.”

Joel’s eyes flashed open, staring at himself in the mirror now, wrecked and exhausted and flushed with red, sweat beading on his face. He stuffed his cock back in his pants, turning away from his reflection again, “Yeah?” he murmured, his tone dipping into something a little too close to hopeful. “Good to hear.” That little shit never deserved you anyway.

He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling the last ghostly pulses of his release in his spine, still a little drunk off the sound of your moans, the way you’d whimpered his name, like he was the only goddamn thing in the world.

“Yeah, he was an asshole.” you chuckled.

“And Joel?” Something in your voice shifted—careful, softer, like you were weighing your words now.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I’ll be comin’ back soon…for the holiday. To see my parents,” you said, your voice lower now, carefully, treading with caution, “If you…wanted to get coffee or somethin’,” 

Joel swallowed thickly, his jaw ticking as he stared at the floor, trying to keep his cool, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in his brain.

Because he wanted to say yes.

God, he wanted to say yes.

Wanted to say yes to you and your big, bright eyes that looked up at him, that soft skin he ached to touch again, your easy smile—the one he used to live for, the one that made everything feel lighter—pulling him back in like no time had passed at all.

But time had passed.

And he still had a girlfriend.

The woman sleeping in his bed, the woman who—what? Gave him a gift card for his birthday? Barely kissed him? Didn’t even want to touch him the way you begged to run your hands over him? It was so easy to push her out of his mind when it was you on the other end of the phone, saying his name like he was still the only man in the world for you.

And if he saw you again, he’d need to figure that out first. Because he knew how easily he slipped back into you, how fast everything fell away when you were involved, how easy it was to forget about real life. 

But you had a life now, a future he wasn’t supposed to be meddling in anymore. He’d already made peace with that—or at least, he thought he had. Until tonight. Until you moaned his name through the receiver, shattering every bit of distance time had built between you. Until he forgot...about his girlfriend, about real life, about everything but you.

And that should have been enough for him to say no. Enough for him to put an end to this, to tell you that whatever had happened tonight was a mistake, that it couldn't happen again. That you both had lives now, separate paths that weren’t meant to cross anymore.

He should have told you that. He should have hung up the phone, let this be the last time.

But instead, before he could stop himself, the words were already leaving his mouth.

“That sounds real nice, darlin’.”

when I tell you im literally so obsessed and proud of this! I hope you liked it!! Please leave your comments and thoughts if you made it through this behemoth :')