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[tejuskumar13]

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[thegoogoomuckkk]

calling all the monsters pt. 1 -> your man is a downright monster & he isn't afraid to prove it -> choso kamo, kento nanami, satoru gojo +suguru geto

“are you s-sure?” choso gulps. his eyes are laser beams, focused on the beating pulse of your neck, the vein so prominently poking out, begging for his attention. somehow, he pulls his eyes away for long enough to meet yours, questioning, pleading. 

you bring your finger to his lip, pull it down ‘til the tip is sliding across his fang. “don’t you want to, cho?” of course, he does, damn it. but you don’t quite understand how much this is affecting him, how much it’ll affect you. he makes it a rule not to drink from humans: they’re so fragile, so breakable. you’re like a glass sculpture & he wants to both admire you & protect you. if he starts now, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. 

“I’m just—I just want this, want it really bad,” he exhales, voice shaky, eyes fluttering from your eyes to your neck, to your eyes again, “I’m sc-scared I'll hurt you.” 

you hum & nod, like you've already considered this possibility, & somehow you still want it. maybe you want it because of said possibility. 

“please,” you murmur, & his movement is instantaneous. it’s quite painful at first, the skin breaking slowly as he sinks his teeth into you, but the pain is replaced by something else. . .something warm & fuzzy & perfect. & it’s just too much, for both of you; he’s so lost already, mind empty of any thoughts other than need, need, need. he’s not even sure what it is exactly that he needs. you, of course. & you’re victim to the pleasure, too, falling almost limp in his nearly crushing hold, allowing him to roll your hips against his in a vacuous action, he’s not even conscious of his grip on your waist. 

your head lolls back, exposing more of your neck to him. the sensation is overwhelming, a heady mix of pain & pleasure that clouds your mind. you can feel the pull of each swallow, the way his throat works against your skin as he drinks deeply.

his fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving bruises, but you can't bring yourself to care. all you can focus on is the building pressure, the tingling warmth spreading through your limbs. you're dizzy, lightheaded, but it feels so good you never want it to stop.

cho makes a low, animalistic sound against your throat. his hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction. you whimper in response, grinding down to meet him. the dual sensations of his mouth on your neck & the delicious pressure between your legs is driving you mad.

you’re sure you’ve had some sense in your life, but choso is slowly sucking that out of you, & really, you’re fine with that. 

kento nanami is picture perfect: reserved, attractive, & endlessly respectful. you’ve come to expect nothing less of the man. so the state of him, sweat pooling across his forehead & scalp, hands gripping the sheets next to your hand—nails shredding them so beautifully—the animalistic gleam in his eye as he’s bullying his fat cock into you is. . .unexpected, to say the least. you knew, albeit vaguely, that nanami was a werewolf, but it wasn’t something he talked about, obviously not something he was proud of; he was especially sure to keep you in the dark about that aspect of his life. you were so innocent, so small, he could just break you. & break you he does. 

“sorry, m’so, so sorry, can’t stop it, you just—god, you smell so good,” & maybe a more coherent part of your brain would find it odd that he keeps inhaling the side of your neck, but all coherency is lost as he hugs your chest to his, all but humping you into the mattress. 

your breath hitches as nanami's teeth graze your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest. his hips snap forward relentlessly, driving deeper with each thrust. you're overwhelmed by the raw intensity, so different from his usual composed demeanor.

“just gonna fuck you full—please, take it, take my knot,” & you’re nodding, but that’s not enough for him, he needs you to say it. 

“wan’ you to cum in me, please,” & you’re clawing your pretty nails down his back as he hikes your legs up over his shoulders, hitting you way too deep. “cum inside, please.” he’s sure one of these days, you’ll be the death of him. until then, he can do nothing but fulfill your requests. 

something wild flashes in his eyes at your words. his movements grow more frantic, more primal. you feel the shift in him, muscles rippling beneath his skin as the wolf inside threatens to break free. nanami buries his face in your neck, panting heavily. 

“kento," you gasp, barely able to form words. “I need it.” a growl rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. his teeth graze your neck, not quite biting but a clear threat—or promise. the dual nature of man & beast wars within him, & in this moment, the animal is winning.

“mine," he snarls, his voice rough & unfamiliar. “you're—fuck— mine.” his hips snap forward with bruising force, driving deeper than you thought was possible before stopping, allowing you both to reach your high, thick spurts of cum pressing against your cervix, threatening too much, & you cum around his meaty cock as the base of it continues to expand, until you’re sure you’re going to pass out. 

if this was what nanami was really like, you can’t say you’d complain. 

satoru & suguru were friends of yours. when you called they came. 

draping your legs over their shoulders, burying their faces in between your thighs, tongues fighting each other’s as they tried to make you feel good. demons are inherently selfish creatures, but satoru & suguru are anything but selfish when it comes to you. satoru’s a tease & he likes to abuse your poor clit, wrapping his lips around it & sucking until you’re crying. suguru shushing & humming at you, the sound muffled by your dripping cunt that he just can’t seem to pull away from. his tongue slipping in & out of you so easily, his gentle voice sending vibrations through you, hands slipping under your hips as you arch your back, too overwhelmed by their unending stimulation. 

“we just wanna make you feel good, don’t you wanna feel good?” is the shit satoru pulls when you’re squirming away from them, oversensitive & crying.  

your hips bucked uncontrollably as waves of ecstasy washed over you. grasping their hair, you ground yourself shamelessly against their eager mouths. pleasure built rapidly, your hips bucking against their faces. they held you firmly in place, not letting up for a moment. their enthusiasm was intoxicating—you could feel how much they were enjoying this too. their pleased hums vibrated through your core, stoking the fire building low in your belly. they like girls who take what they want, don’t gotta ask for it, we wanna give it to you, pretty girl,” suguru would say, sickeningly sweet. satoru’s fingers joined suguru’s tongue, curling to stroke that perfect spot inside you. the dual stimulation was overwhelming. with a cry of rapture, you came undone, trembling & gushing over their waiting mouths.

"that's it, cum for us," satoru murmured against your folds. the vibrations of his voice sent shivers through you. you were so close now, teetering on the edge. with a particularly skillful swirl of geto's tongue, you tumbled over. waves of bliss crashed over you as you cried out, your release flooding their eager mouths.

demons or not, satoru & suguru tended to be very selfless with their special girl. 

kinda lost the plot with all of these, sorry fam; I don't think kinktober is really my thing, but there's more to come, so hopefully I get better <3 did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[vanteguccir]

Matt asking you to ride his face

-🏹

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb where Matt asks (begs) you to ride his face

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

Y/N had always been fascinated by the way Matt looked at her with a mix of adoration and hunger, but tonight, there was an extra layer of intensity in his gaze that sent shivers down her spine.

They had spent the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, their kisses growing hotter as the night progressed. Now, as they lay on their bed, Matt's eyes were dark with need, his hands trembling slightly as they roamed over her body.

"Please." He whispered, his voice hoarse with desire and neediness. "I need you, Y/N... Can you- Can you ride my face, please? Make me choke on you, yeah?"

The request made her pulse quicken, a familiar heat spreading across her cheeks. She had always loved the way Matt looked at her, with a mix of adoration and hunger, but this was different. There was a raw intensity in his gaze that made her heart race.

"Are you sure, pretty boy?" She asked softly, though she knew the answer.

Matt nodded eagerly, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

"Yes, please. I want to feel you. I need to taste you."

Her breath hitched at his words, the heat pooling low in her belly. They had done that countless times before, but the thought of it, of giving Matt what he so desperately craved, never failed to send a thrill through her.

With a deep breath, Y/N straddled Matt's chest, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him. He looked up at her with a mixture of awe and anticipation, his hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips firmly.

"Just relax." He murmured, his voice soothing despite the intensity of his grip. "I've got you, princess."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she slowly inched forward, her hands resting on the headboard for support. She could feel Matt's breath against her, hot and ragged, as she positioned herself over his face.

Matt's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her down gently until she was just above his mouth. He wasted no time, his tongue flicking out to taste her, a low groan rumbling in his chest. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through her body as he licked and sucked at her sensitive flesh.

Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into the headboard as Matt's tongue explored her, each stroke more intense than the last. He was relentless, his hands guiding her movements as he lavished attention on her most sensitive spots. The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and sensation that left her breathless.

He started slowly, his tongue making long, broad strokes from her entrance to her clit, teasing and tasting every inch of her. The deliberate pace had her squirming, her hips instinctively rocking against his mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he was giving her.

"Matt." She moaned, her voice shaking with need. "Oh my God, that feels so good."

He responded with a growl, his grip on her hips tightening as he pulled her down harder against his mouth. His tongue was everywhere, swirling and teasing, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel the tension building inside her, a coil of pleasure that threatened to snap at any moment.

He alternated between slow, languid licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue against her clit, the combination of sensations driving her wild. His hands roamed over her body, one sliding up to cup her breast, his fingers pinching her nipple lightly. The dual sensation of his mouth and his touch was almost too much to bear, pushing her closer to her orgasm with every passing second.

"Please." She whimpered, her hips grinding against his mouth as she chased her release. "Don't stop, Matt. I'm so close."

Matt's response was a low, hungry growl, his tongue flicking faster against her clit. He could feel her trembling above him, her muscles tensing as she teetered on the brink of orgasm. He doubled his efforts, his hands guiding her movements as he sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue lashing against it with fervent intensity.

He changed his technique slightly, flattening his tongue and pressing it firmly against her clit, moving it in tight, rapid circles. The new sensation had Y/N crying out, her hands gripping the headboard so tightly her knuckles turned white. She was so close, every nerve in her body tingling with anticipation.

Matt's mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing the slick folds of her entrance, tasting the essence of her arousal. He licked deep into her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her body. His tongue darted in and out, each thrust making her hips buck against his face, cutting his air completely. He moaned into her, the vibration adding an extra layer of sensation that made her cry out.

Y/N's cries filled the room, her body shuddering with the force of her release. The pleasure crashed over her like a wave, leaving her breathless and trembling. Matt didn't let up, his mouth continuing to work her through her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until she was gasping for breath.

His hands moved from her hips to her thighs, squeezing them possessively as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue. He loved feeling her legs shake around his head, the way her body responded to his every touch.

"That's it." He murmured against her, his voice vibrating through her. "Come for me, baby."

Y/N's body responded instantly, her orgasm crashing over her with a force that left her breathless. She could feel the muscles in her thighs tensing, her entire body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. Matt didn't stop, his tongue still moving against her clit, drawing out every last bit of her orgasm until she was left quivering above him.

When she finally came down from her high, Y/N collapsed onto Matt's chest, her body limp with satisfaction. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he peppered kisses along her thighs and stomach, his eyes filled with adoration.

I just woke up, so I'm sorry if this sucks LMAO

[ozarkthedog]

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬

summary: you join Joel and Tess mid fuck.

warnings: 18+ mdni. joel miller x afab!reader x tess servopoulos. pwp. established throuple. pussy stacking. lots of fluids and rough sex. no beta. w.c. 1.7k

author's note: no real plot, i just wanted to smash them together. the title is too sweet for this fic but it fits.

-> IMPORTANT as tlou is made by a Zionist, as well as part 2 being based on the oppression of Palestine by Israel, I urge you to educate yourself in the light of the genocide happening in Palestine, specifically Gaza, right now. I cannot in good conscience post for Joel & Tess without bringing awareness to the horrific things that have been going on for 5 months.

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☾

You climb the stairs to your apartment, feet dragging like lead weights after a long day. As you slide your key into the lock, faint moans slither beneath the door. You smirk to yourself.

The obvious sound of flesh slapping against flesh meets your ears as you enter your tiny studio apartment. Joel snaps his hips, leaving them flush against the back of Tess’ thighs as she’s splayed across your bed, her legs bent at the knee over his elbows as he turns his head with a furrowed brow. 

“Look who’s home,” Joel grunts, turning his head with a furrowed brow, a warm grin tugging at his lips. 

Tess’ bliss-drunk eyes find yours. “Mhmm, sweetheart.” She reaches for you. Long, warm hands encompass your own. She looks like a goddess; her hair fans around her head like a crown while being praised with the utmost devotion by the man buried between her legs.

She pulls you into a fierce kiss, cupping your jaw with her hands and sliding her tongue along your bottom lip. The kiss breaks as a wrecked moan tumbles from her mouth when Joel grinds his cock just a bit deeper into her cunt, smothering her clit with this pelvis.

Joel juts his chin at you, his eyes trailing down Tess’ sprawled form, while his hips never miss a beat. Nothing ever needed to be said. The three of you move in sync, much like on the QZ streets. Stoic glances, pointed brows, and curt nods are enough communication.

You watch with intrigue as he fucks her into the mattress. Her body bends like a bow as she takes his cock as deep as it will go. 

You couldn’t undress fast enough. Your ankle catches on your jeans, and you tumble onto the bed with a soft oof. Tess softly laughs, and Joel chuckles under his breath, but they carefully watch as you take your place between them. 

Tess gasps and digs her hands into your sides as you slide your naked body over her quivering one, your knees sinking into the bed on either side of her hips. You weave a hand into her hair, keeping her still as pleasure races through her. You brush soft kisses down her naked chest, mouthing the soft plump of a breast while kneading the other with your hand.

You suck a nipple into your mouth when she arches her back, teething the tender bud while Joel roughly thrusts his cock into her heat. You smirk into her skin as she writhes from your dual assault. Having a powerful woman in such a vulnerable position made your head dizzy and cunt throb. 

Your body jolts on every savage shove as Joel fucks her. She lifts your face from her chest, finds your mouth again, and lays a branding kiss on your lips. Her body squirms beneath you, rubbing and caressing your curves together while her hands encompass your ass. She palms at you, pulling you apart for Joel while he ravages her. She knows he can never resist you.

You hear him curse, a deep gravely, “fuck”, and it lights a bright blue flame in your belly.

A warm dollop of spit lands on your crack. Joel hums at his aim and watches his spit drip down your wrinkled hole and onto your pussy. It mixes with the slick that’s already spilling from your shiny folds. A low growl tumbles from his throat at the sight. “‘aven’t even touched you yet an’ you’re already a drippin’ mess.”

His devious tone forces a lithe whine from your parted lips, and you can’t help but arch your back toward his sturdy belly, grinding against it. “You achin’ for it, huh, pretty girl?” He never misses a beat, continuously fucking Tess while dirty talking you up and getting you more and more greedy for his cock. He spanks your ass with a large, mighty swat. “Be good and wait your fuckin’ turn.”

His thick, hairy belly bounces against your ass on each shove into her cunt. Tess shivers, a sensuous moan echoing around you as she creeps closer to the edge. Her dewy chest flushes, her nipples pucker, and her hold on you grows tighter. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck.” Joel groans, feeling her clamp around him. She’s on the brink, slowly tipping over the edge, when Joel halts his hips and withdraws.

The woman beneath you gasps. Eyes fly open, angry and ferocious, like she’s threatening someone who’s done her wrong. “What the fuck, Joel?” She seethes, lifting her head to look at him over your shoulder. You layer kisses along her collarbone, hoping to defuse the tension and whatever Joel was up to, just as you feel a warm, bulbous tip tracing along the dripping slice of you.

You inhale sharply and match Tess’ shocked expression as you look back over your shoulder. Joel licks his lips with a teasing tongue before angling his hips and thrusts forward. 

“Oh, fuck.” You hiss. Your velvet walls encompass his girth, spreading and molding to his shape. “What a tight fuckin’ cunt.” He grits, gripping your hips and pulling your body until you’re flush against his svelte hips.

The twinge of pain burns your insides as his dusty pink crown nestles against your cervix. It feels like he’s in your belly. He’s so massive, just waiting to burst from the seams. Just as you take a deep breath, he punches it from your lungs with a harsh thrust. It pitches you forward further into Tess’ arms. 

Tess holds you steady as Joel takes you from behind, grunting like a wild animal. His eyes rarely leave where you’re connected, watching with immoral intrigue as he fucks you with his cock that’s still stained with Tess’ cream. He sheaths himself deeper and deeper until you're dripping down your thighs, and his sticky balls wetly smack against your clit.

Tender, warm hands cradle your face and softly thumb the apple of your cheek, starkly contrasting to how Joel treats your body. “How’s he feel, sweetheart?” she purrs, eyeing you curiously.  

You can barely think; the sickly, sweet rapture consumes your entire being. You reply with a garbled mess of moans. “That right?” She laughs, a deep, dark timber rumbling through her chest at your dumbness. She trails a hand down your body and dips between your legs, toying with your soaked clit. She rubs soothing circles around your bud in time with Joel’s thrusts, sending you careening head-first into bliss. 

“Look so good being fucked by us.” Joel says, smacking your ass. 

You’re close to igniting as the pair take you apart. It's a devastating mix of Joel’s massive body pummeling against you and Tess’ powerful aura. Your cunt spasms and tugs his length as he cants his hips, driving harder and harder until you’re on the brink of euphoria when he withdraws.

You choke on the air in your lungs. Brows tightly pinned together as you stare back incredulously at the man. He holds your stare and winks. “Gotta wait your turn, baby.”

You whimper as he gathers Tess’ legs back into his hold. “She made a mess of my cock, Tess.” He grunts as he breaches her slick hole once more. “Feel how wet she is?”

Tess hisses as he fills her. “Fuckin’ dreched,” she murmurs into your hairline as you lay against her chest. Your hands busy themselves with her breasts, plucking her nips with nimble fingers and laving at her pert buds. It’s a helpful distraction from the immense throbbing between your legs.

You watch as Tess' face twists with pleasure, the kind of bliss that feels like butterflies are flying around in your stomach when they make you watch from the side of the bed as they fuck, teasing you until you’re a blabbering mess, and only they can soothe your aching need. 

Joel’s hips slam hard against her thighs on every shove. Her moans become louder and more frantic the faster he goes; she’s desperate to take whatever he gives her.

As your tongue swirls around one of her nipples, her body locks up. Joel grunts, muttering swears as he falls out of rhythm when a wicked, blissful moan slithers from Tess’ lips, and she comes around his cock.

You can’t help but moan at the sight; you love it when she allows herself to be so open and vulnerable. 

Tess opens her eyes just in time to watch your face contort with ravenous desire as Joel spears his cock into your cunt. “Thatta girl.” She whispers as Joel bends at the waist and splays his back over yours, pinning you between their two bodies and effectively trapping you until they let you free. Not that you ever wanted to be free of them.

His mustache bristles your cheek. “Can feel how badly you want to cum, pretty girl.” Joel grits, plunging his length deeper and harder than the first time. “Your sweet pussy is just aching to milk my balls.”

It’s obscene how wet you are. Between your creamy arousal and Joel fucking you with Tess’ you’re all but dripping the combined fluid onto the sheets. It’s depraved and so fucking filthy.

“Look at you all cock dumb.” Tess moans, softly cupping your jaw with a crooked smile. “What a fuckin’ sight.”

Something white-hot blazes in your belly. You beg and plead; your pitiful cries echo in the small room, wanting them to pull you apart and piece you back together.

“Gonna make a real mess of you,” Joel informs, curling a hand around your throat and savagely tugs you back onto his cock. “Fill you to the brim. Mark you from the inside.”

Your pleasure ignites at his obscene words, swirling your cunt around his length and dragging him to the edge with you. His fingers dig into your hips. A dark growl rumbles deep within his chest. He fucks you full of his spend, finally adding to the combined, heady mixture, not stopping until he unloads every drop.

Your front half collapses onto Tess’ chest, strung out on dreamy bliss and still full of Joel’s cock as he catches his breath. He withdraws slowly with a hiss, and it’s like a dam has cracked. If you could feel shame, you would as your cunt profusely leaks the gluey spend from your swollen folds. 

Joel curses at the sight. He drags his finger through the mess before lapping at it. You squirm as his warm, wet tongue drags up your soft curves and tickles your thighs. He contentedly sighs as he cleans you up while Tess smooths her fingers along your spine, lulling you into a sated sleep, taking care of you like they always do. 

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

[copperbadge]

The new heated mattress pad is on the bed! So far, kitty approved.

I'm not sure I wholeheartedly recommend the brand I bought. The shady Korean importers let me down so I bought a Beautyrest brand queen-sized pad and it's....

Well, it has deep pocket corners, which I like because I have a tall mattress. It heats up well and gets very warm. Both things I pretty much required. It has dual controls, one per side, which I wasn't nuts about but at queen size and above they ALL do. Supposedly you can switch them on remotely somehow but I haven't figured that part out yet.

What I really dislike is that it also has two power plugs, so you have to use up a whole outlet (or get a power strip) to power both sides. That's downright irksome, especially since they don't want you to use a surge protector or power strip, but I ignored them and used a power strip anyway.

So we shall see, but at least the cats are happy :)

[ID: two photos of my bed; in one it is nearly made up and turned down, with a grey fitted sheet and yellow duvet cover. In the second image, Dearborn the Tortie and Polk the tabby are sitting loaf-style, only slightly suspicious looking, on the duvet.]

[mcumorningstar]

EVEN MORE RIFF SMUT??? I’d love jealous riff like reader is getting way too close and flirty with the other jets and riff has to fuck her to remind her she’s his

Behind Closed Doors (Or Not)

pairing: riff (wss) x reader

summary: your relationship is a secret so when ice mistakes your kindness for encouragement, riff proves that you're his girl.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex (p in v), exhibitionism

a/n: sorry this took absolutely ages to finish. i've been so busy recently and didn't want to rush it.

“You don’t have a girl? But you’re so handsome.”

Riff’s ears perked up from the other side of the apartment. Through the commotion of the Jets, he heard you nonetheless.

Sitting on the threadbare sofas with the other Jet boys, he tilted his head back, spotting your close proximity to his best friend, Ice.

Turning to the water-stained ceiling, his vision blurred and his jaw clenched, leg bouncing as he fought the urge to charge over.

In the past, you scolded him for jumping in guns blazing whenever you dished out a compliment or someone complimented you.

It was in his DNA to get his back up whenever you were concerned but his protectiveness bordered on aggression.

You were his girlfriend.

The Jets didn't know that though. To them, you were the nurse that patched them up after rumbles and hung around to try get them on the straight and narrow.

Standing in the kitchen with Ice, you complimented him with smiling eyes and soft touches to his arm.

Your sweetness and innocence was what drew Riff to you. He could hardly complain; you were just being yourself.

“There's a movie showing at the drive-in tomorrow night. Wanna go with me?” Ice lowered his voice and leaned closer to you.

“Oh well…” It dawned on you then that you weren’t cheering up a 'down-on-his-luck' friend but maybe misleading him.

Chancing a look at Riff, he looked as tense as a bowstring, disengaged with the jollity of the Jets. His tongue rolled against the inside of his cheek as he rose to his feet.

Riff stood beside you and Ice, refusing to acknowledge him and honing in on you, his gaze pinning you to the spot. His large and calloused hand grabbed your ass roughly, pulling you into his side.

Ice's lips slowly parted as he looked between the two of you.

“A word?” Riff nodded towards the bedroom. You excused yourself, making your way to his room. Ice's eyes followed you go and Riff tilted his head at his best friend, silently challenging him to piss him off even more.

Ice swallowed thickly, cowering away from Riff's scrutiny and backing away to sit with the other Jets. Satisfied, Riff backed away to his bedroom down the hall.

A mattress and array of blankets lay on the unswept wooden floorboards, surrounded by broken furniture and wonky shelves with little trinkets.

Leaving the door open, Riff lunged at you, holding your jaw with a firm hand and pulling you into a heated kiss. A surprised gasp fell from your lips, gripping his shoulders, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue against yours.

His firm, warm body crowded you against the wall, pressing his hips roughly against yours. Strong hands gripped your sides, hiking your skirt above your waist.

Pulling away from his mouth, you gasped for air, clawing at his back through the material of his sleeveless jacket. Heat radiated from his hands as they met the naked skin of your hips.

Rubbing his nose against yours, he teased your lips with barely-there kisses. His dual-coloured eyes bore into yours.

"You're mine," He breathed against you, trapping you in his gaze.

"I'm yours," You nodded breathlessly, entranced by his raw desire.

"You're mine," Riff groaned, dipping his forehead against your chest and squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to restrain himself.

Stroking a gentle hand along his cheek, he lifted his head to meet your eyes again, darkened by lust and jealousy. In one swift movement, Riff turned you to face the wall, pulling your hips back against his.

"You don't sound so sure," Riff grumbled, pushing your skirt above your hips and palming at the globes of your ass, "Gonna prove it?"

A loud smack echoed around the room as his palm collided with your ass.

A shocked moan tumbled from you, faced pushed against the cold wall. Riff took liberties with your body, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing his thumb along the damp material of your panties.

"Did he make you like this?" Riff spat, spanking your ass again. Heat bloomed from the abused skin. His toned body pressed against your back, his hips digging into your ass and his hungry lips mouthing at your shoulder.

"No, only you. All for you," You whined, pushing your hips back against him. Riff sunk his teeth into your shoulder, making you squeal and reach back to grab at his hair.

A shiver ran up your spine at the sound of Riff's belt being removed and tossed onto the floor behind you. Turning your head over your shoulder, Riff caught your lips in a desperate kiss, pressing all of his weight on you and pushing his jeans down.

Hooking his fingers into your panties, he pulled them to the side and pushed into you in one rough thrust. Moaning loudly, you separated from the kiss to see his open bedroom door.

With one hand, Riff gripped your hips and, with the other, his fingers twisted into your hair to keep you in place, his mouth hovering over yours.

Sharing the same oxygen. Trapped in your own world.

Riff bucked his hips, the fat of your ass bouncing against his pelvis with every stroke. His cock nudged the sensitive spot within you, your slick dripping down his shaft.

Uncontrollable moans punched from you and your skin slapped loudly. The open door of his room taunted you, knowing the Jets were just down the hall and yet it felt far too good to stop him.

"Who makes you feel this good?" Riff gritted his teeth, objects on the shelves toppling onto the floor with every rhythmic thump of his thrusts.

"You, Riff," You panted, tugging at his hair.

"Louder," He demanded, snaking a hand to your clit and rubbing tight circles against you. You felt your stomach swirl and muscles tense at the taut pull of pleasure within you.

"You, Riff! Riff!" You cried, hips bucking into his touch, "Riff! Please! Ah fuck!"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you came on his cock, moaning brokenly and gasping for air. Riff slowed the roll of his hips to feel every spasm of your walls around his cock.

Grunting and clinging to you, Riff spilled inside of you, his warmth breath panting against your sweat-slicked neck.

Between heavy breaths, you stroked your fingers through his hair and whispered, "I love you, you know."

Riff nodded, burying his face in your neck, "Love you too. Don't know how else to prove it to you."

"I got the message," You giggled and pushed him back, your skirt fell from your waist and Riff pulled his jeans up, "Loud and clear."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him deeply, getting lost in him until there was a soft knock against the door.

Riff sighed, refusing to part from you, "What?"

Baby John peered into the room with rosy cheeks and darting eyes, "Tony's here. Needs to talk to you."

He finally looked at you for a moment before backing away from the door and disappearing around the corner. Riff laughed, tilting your chin and kissing your softly, "Duty calls."

"Be careful," You kissed him again before parting from him.

"Yes nurse," Riff sank his teeth into your neck before pulling away and winking. You pushed him out of the door with a giddy grin.

Tony’s voice carried from the kitchen to Riff’s bedroom, mocking your escapades, “Yes Riff. Please Riff. Your mother not teach you how to close the door?”

Soft giggles were muffled by the palm of your hand. The front door of the apartment closed behind the Jets, all now aware of your Riff’s claim on you.

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 3

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 3: Movie Premieres, SNL and Quarrels

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Otherwise known as the One in New York. What do you guys think about R and Jenna's dynamic so far? 👀 (taking a break for a few days/maybe a week after I post this, I think I've kept you all fed for a bit while I'm gone lol, in the meantime, send asks I'll try to answer all of them!😋)

Word Count: 6.4k+

“You get on that plane and I’ll drop you as a client.” Jake’s voice rings out from your work phone. 

“What the fuck, Jake, are you serious?!” You seethe, practically red in the face. 

You have been on the phone with Jake for the last hour – Liv refuses to pick up your calls after you blew up the group chat, rehashing your argument with Jenna. Desperately pleading to fly back home because you couldn’t stand being in the same city as the actress, at the moment. 

You couldn't even think about her words without it making your blood boil.

“Fuck yeah, I’m serious. Do you know what time it is here?”

Glancing at the clock it read 3:46 A.M. EST, you roll your eyes. “It’s just past midnight in L.A. You won’t die if you don’t get eight hours of sleep.”

“Be quiet. I don’t wanna hear another word from you.” He nearly shouts and you imagine that one vein popping through his forehead. You liked to stare at it when Jake goes off on his shouting tangents at you. 

He never notices that you're not paying attention.

“Maybe we should get Liv on the phone or maybe Sarah?” Link glances at you worriedly.

He hates seeing you so riled up, so he often played the middle-man with your quarrels against Jake and Liv.

“Liv says she doesn’t wanna hear it. Sarah says forget it and I’m saying, I’m not fucking around this time Y/N, this is your last chance. I’m over your shit.” He hangs up the phone, leaving the line dead.

You jump face-first into the stiff bed, groaning loudly.

“Looks like you’re outta luck.” He pats you back, leaving you to sulk alone as he shuts the door. “Try to get some sleep.”

There was no way you ended up in this situation. 

You guess, it was fair to acknowledge your recent streak of bad behaviour. First, it was tame — ignoring your phone, running away to party, getting mixed in the wrong crowds – eventually, Link had to start dragging you out of bed by the legs (sometimes kicking and screaming) just to make it in time for a gig.

You’re not sure when all of this started. All you knew is that you were so tired. You just wanted one second to breathe; to feel like that young child again, with hopes and dreams. But no, someone was always hovering over your shoulder ready to drag you away to another event you could care less about. 

You close your eyes, allowing the jetlag and exhaustion to set in as your body moulds into the mattress.

– 

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of Jenna’s hotel room. The large double door looks menacing and faintly, you can already hear a bustle on the other side. You really didn’t want to knock but you know what was on the line so you swallow your pride and raise a fist to knock. 

But before you can knock, the door is opening revealing a girl, with dirty blonde hair bearing a semblance to a certain actress. “Oh, hi!”

“Hello.” You greet warmly.

“I’m Aliyah. Jenna’s younger sister.” She holds her free hand out.

You shake her hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m–”

“I know who you are.” She smiled then laughed, “Everyone knows who you are.”

You chuckled, shyly nodding. “I guess.”

“Are you two done?” Jenna suddenly appears, yanking the door wider so you can see her. Her makeup complements her well; the green bustier two-piece looked expertly crafted just for her; and the way her hair fell in soft waves framed her face nicely. 

“Hi…” You say a little vacant-sounding.

You don’t say anything else.

From the corner of your eye, you see her sister’s raised brow but you think you’re imagining it because you can’t keep your gaze off of Jenna. The actress raises her brow at you, impatient.

“What did you need?” She asks.

“Uh—I wanted to talk, about last night."

Jenna watches you momentarily before rolling her eyes; pulling you inside with a rough yank. “Get inside before someone sees you — Aliyah close the door.”

You stumble, still a little dazed but the smaller girl’s nails are gripping your arm painfully making you snap out of it.

“Ow, ow, ow.” You whisper, not inattentive to the multiple people scattered around the large room.

“Guys, this is Y/N.” She ignored your complaints and pulled you past the foyer into the living room – her entire team had taken refuge in the room to get the star ready for a day of press interviews.

Various echoes of your name and greetings are sent back to you but you certainly don’t miss the awkward tension in the room started by your sudden presence. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can just go.” You point behind you.

“Nonsense.” An older woman that looked kinda like the actress waves off. “It’s great to have you here, Miss L/N. Jenna was just talking about you.”

“Oh please, just Y/N is fine.” Shaking your head bashfully, briefly wondering what she could be telling her family and team about what kind of person you are.

“I’m Jenna’s mom. That’s her dad, her other sister Mia, and her brother Markus.” She points and you try to keep up with the names of the people she’s throwing at you; Jenna’s family and team included.

“It’s so great to meet you all. It’s not hard to see that Jenna is so loved.” You say sincerely.

“We try our best.” Her dad says looking appreciative of your words. You smile at everyone and it seems to ease a bit of the tension in the room.

You didn’t see Jenna rolling her eyes again (her favourite to do around you) disregarding the encounter; she hides the surprise she feels from your genuine compliment.

Last night's argument with you, still burning in her brain.

“What did you want to say?" She says a little bluntly.

Watching as everyone turns to go back to what they were doing, you look down at Jenna. “Um… I wanted to apologize for last night. And call a truce, maybe over dinner?

She looks surprised not expecting you to be the first one to give in. “Oh…”

“Yeah…”

“I appreciate it.” Jenna cuts in, “I’m sorry too… a truce sounds good. Sarah got mad at me too, for what it's worth. She even said I was whining.”

Jenna jokes, dropping her walls a bit.

You rub a hand on the back of your neck, chuckling, “Good to know.”

“I can’t do dinner though.” She shuts her eyes as if remembering something. 

“Oh, that’s okay. Maybe another time.”

“Or maybe… you can be my date to the Scream cast dinner?” She offers, looking a little hopeful.

“Are you sure?” You chew your lip. Ignoring the word date.

“Yeah! Totally, you can meet everyone, it’ll be great. Not to throw anyone under the bus but they’ve been trying to meet you.” She says sheepishly.

You laugh, dropping your walls just a tad. “Sure I’ll be there.”

She smiles warmly, satisfied with your answer. “Yeah, it’ll be great. I guarantee there’ll be paparazzi, so it’ll be good for publicity. They’ve been hounding me since I landed, my dad nearly pushed a guy in the airport. I couldn’t even walk to the door by myself at the SNL dinner cast party.”

You lose a bit of the smile but Jenna doesn’t see, laughing at her memory of the paparazzi. You blink around, making sure no one saw you, it might give them the wrong idea. “Uh, yeah sure. I’m good with whatever.”

“Okay, cool.” She shoots a thumb up, walking away from you. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Mhmm.” You smile, waving goodbye to everyone and booting it out the door. 

Unsure where the tension in your chest is coming from you swiftly walk to the elevator; aggressively tapping the button as if the elevator would come faster that way. And practically throwing yourself in the metal box as soon as it opens.

You miss the entire pandemonium that implodes in the room when you leave.

“Holy shit?” Mia exclaims.

“Language.” Her mom chastises. 

“No, holy shit, indeed. Jenna oh my god what did you do to that poor girl?” Aliyah walks past Jenna to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. 

“What are you talking about?” She looks at her sisters confused.

Mia’s rolling her eyes, standing up from the couch. “Did you not see the way she was looking at you?”

“No? How was she looking at me?” She turns to her mom who had a hint of a smile on her lips as if she knew something. Jenna was starting to feel left out. 

“She likes you, Jen.” Her brother speaks up, not even bothering to look up from his phone. 

“What? You guys are crazy. We barely know each other.” Jenna starts shaking her head furiously, turning to Enrique, her stylist and close friend. “Enrique, tell them they’re being crazy.”

But he shrugs, sharing that same Cheshire grin her mom had. “God, not you too.” She clamps her eyes shut with her hands.

“Hey! Watch the eyes!” Her makeup artist warns. 

“Dad?” She drops her hands, pleading at the silent man, who, she knows is listening. Why do Dads do that thing where they let everyone argue, only stepping in when the Mom asks for backup. 

He remains in character – staying silent.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. She was literally here for five seconds. How could you possibly think she likes me from that.” Jenna turns to everyone else.

“I don’t know, Jen. The eyes never lie.” Mia says, privy to the way your smile fell when Jenna mentioned being spotted for publicity tonight. 

“I’m– I’m late for interviews, I need to go,” Jenna mutters, grabbing her purse and walking to the door. 

–

“This is gonna blow up.” Your producer says from beside you. 

“I don’t know. I still think it’s missing something.” You sigh, sliding the headphones off as you slump onto the plush leather seats. 

You sneaked off to the studio not too far from the hotel in lower Manhattan. See you would have told Link or anyone really, but you were trying to be discreet. And Link is one ‘ol snitch and the personal fun police. 

It seems after your fight with Jenna, Jake and Liv put you under strict instructions not to leave the hotel unless accompanied by someone from your team. 

You’re not a fucking child. You don’t need a babysitter. So here you are, with your producer in the studio trying to record this damn song you’ve been stuck on for three months.

“Maybe it’s time to scrap the song then.” He offers. “It’s never gonna be done before Coachella.”

Immediately you are shaking your head. No, this song is special, you can feel it. If only you can get your head out of your own ass long enough to find the damn words. 

“No, just– just put it on hold. Let’s work on something else.”

He sighs, clicking the screen to pull up another file. “Your call.”

The buzzing of your phone against the wooden table echoes into the silence that grew as you waited. “Ah fuck.”

Reaching over, you grab the phone and are bombarded by a flurry of texts and missed calls. 

Some from Jenna, some from your bodyguard and driver, most from Link.

Jenna’s is the first one you click.

The phone rings three times before it gets picked up. Muffled, loud voices are all you hear at first before she eventually speaks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, I am so–”

“Where the hell are you? You’re ten minutes late. We’re all waiting for you.” Her tone is sharp and snipped. 

You had fucked up.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I’ll be right there– there was…. uh.” You stand, gathering your jacket and silently bidding your producer goodbye as he looks on confused. “There was a lot of traffic. I am so sorry, I’m trying to make it as fast as I can.”

She sighs through the phone, “It’s…fine. Just get here as soon as you can, please.”

A little white lie never killed anybody.

You make it to the restaurant in record time. Pushing through the paparazzi camping outside the restaurant doors. Do they have no shame? Clearly not as they shout Jenna’s name at you; asking if you were there to see her, trying to get their piece of the scoop. Thankfully, the security guard had seen you and personally ushered you to the cast‘s table. Someone must have informed them that you were coming.

You’re still blinking away the spots in your vision from the camera flashes when you feel an arm pulling you down to sit. 

“What took you so long?”Jenna asked assertively, scanning you.

“I told you. Traffic.” You plaster a smile at all the eyes on you, subtly shrugging Jenna’s arm off yours with a little bit of attitude.

You don’t miss her clenched jaw. Plastering a smile in front of her costars who were trying their best not to gawk at you. "Well, where were you then? No one could get a hold of you, we were worried."

You tried your hardest to school your genuine surprise at her worry. "Sorry. I was working. My phone was off."

“Hi! I’m Melissa, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.” A brunette extends her hand from across the long table – interrupting Jenna before she can say anything else.

You make the usual greetings, introducing yourself to Jenna’s costars and colleagues. You felt a bit like a trophy wife if you were being honest. Like eye candy on her arm, serving only to make her look good. Upon that realization, you feel a little flushed. You’re not sure why, that is the whole point of this whole thing. 

Her castmates have been sending you two knowing eyes over dinner — giving Jenna inconspicuous smirks and smug grins as if you couldn’t see. You keep your head down after the pleasantries are over and the main courses are brought out. 

Grateful, you don’t have to talk about your upcoming projects any longer.

“What’s wrong?” You nudge her elbow, noticing how she was pushing away some pieces of food on her plate. 

“I don’t like apples.” She mutters. 

You can’t fight the smile that creeps on your lips but you don’t tease. “Just push them off to the side and I’ll eat it.”

She looks at you. “You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” You shrug taking a sip of your wine. 

“That doesn’t gross you out or anything? I know some people are weird about that sort of thing.” Jenna explains. 

“Dude, I’ll eat your apples, chill.” You laugh.

“Okay, thanks…” She mumbles, still looking at you but you turn, talking to Mason and his girlfriend.

Jenna feels a nudge on her side. “What?” 

“You two are cute.” Jasmin smirks. “And Y/N L/N? Not a bad catch at all.”

“Stop.” Jenna blushes. Unsure if she feels uncomfortable that some of her close and respected friends believe this lie so easily.

–

“Hey, give them some space!” The security guard shouts as the paparazzi come rushing toward the door as soon as the cast steps out. 

You were standing in the lobby waiting for Jenna. “Shit…” You hear her mutter, watching as she searches for something in her bag. 

“What’s up?” You ask.

“I forgot my sunglasses in my room. The flashes hurt my eyes.” She frowns. Wordlessly, you fish the pair you stashed in your jacket. 

“Here, wear mine.” You hold the glasses out, watching as she just stares at it. Rolling your eyes, you push it toward her. “Dude, just take it.”

“Thanks…” She mumbles, sliding them up her hair. 

You walk ahead of her, holding the door open as everyone trickles out. You’re regretting giving Jenna your only sunglasses cause the flashes are bright and it’s making your eyes water.

“Go ahead,” You usher, only leaving once everyone’s gone ahead of you. You trail behind ignoring the various men with large cameras chasing you as you walk down the sidewalk. 

“Y/N over here, please! Just one photo.”

“Y/N, just one photo of you and Jenna, please!” 

“What do you have to say about Vegas?”

You ignore them keeping your head down trying not to fall behind. 

“Where’s Y/N?” You hear over the sea of nameless faces. 

“Right here.” You say, sliding in beside her.

You miss the subtle sigh of relief she lets out.

“You can’t just walk behind everyone like that.” She grits, frustratedly.

"I tried to keep up." You mumbled like a scolded husband.

The shouting increases when you stand beside one another; practically rendering you blind with all the flashes. “Dammit.” 

You place an hand on her back, pushing her forward. “Put on the sunglasses and walk.”

“Y/N, please over here. Jenna!” The shouting is constant and blurs altogether all at the same time. 

“Ow.” You feel Jenna tumble when someone bumps her side causing her to bump harshly against you. Firmly, you grab her arm to preventing her from falling and pushed back against the crowd to check on her.

“Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as she fixes the lopsided glasses. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Hey. Watch it–” You grit at the closest person holding a camera. “It wasn’t me.”

The man insists, still shamelessly snapping flashes directly into your face and you begin to grow angry, slapping the camera out of his hands. “I said fucking watch it, asshole.”

You glare for a brief moment as the shouting gets impossibly louder. Knowing if you didn’t pull Jenna out of this, chaos would ensue. You link hands and drag her through the crowd, briskly walking to her castmates who shared looks of concern.

“Are you okay?” You ask, still walking but now barricaded by security and her friends.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I promise.” She squeezes your hand but then sighs, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

You scoff, “Are you serious? That guy pushed you.” 

“It was an accident and you kinda overreacted.” She whispers lowly. 

You clench your jaw, dropping her hand — Not wanting to blow up in front of her colleagues, you walk swiftly ahead.

You don’t talk even when you are both side-by-side being driven back to the hotel. Her driver has the partition up halfway but you see the nosy glances he keeps making at the rearview mirror as you and Jenna sit in silence; acutely aware to the growing tension between you and the actress.

You refuse to speak, just looking out the window as other cars pass by on the street. 

“Are you done ignoring me now?” She speaks up but you still don’t want to talk. “Seriously?”

“Y/N all he did was push me. A little shove, that’s all. I’m okay. What’s not okay is the phone call you know we’re going to get from Liv and Sarah about that guy’s camera.”

“He deserved it.” You mumble through the palm holding your head up. 

“I’m not saying he didn’t but you can’t just be aggressive to paparazzi like that. It’s exactly what they want.” She reasons, turning to you. Hoping you’ll finally look at her. 

“I know…”

“Look at me, please?” She places a hand on your arm.

You turn, keeping your face impassive.

She sends you a shy smile then laughed. “I mean it though, thank you for having my back. My Dad is gonna think this whole thing is hilarious.”

“Why?” You can’t help but join in.

“He’s a cop, so he’s a little protective. He’s been waiting to shove away a pap for the longest time. He’s gonna be so mad you beat him to it.” 

You laugh imagining her father’s reaction. 

–

“You haven’t seen Scream? Not even the original?” Jenna turns bewildered like it was the most blasphemous thing she’s ever heard. You were in her hotel suite, watching movies. For some reason, Jenna invited you over to her room after being dropped off at the hotel. “How? You’re an actress.”

You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no so you accepted.

“Yeah, sorry. Jeez. Way to sound like a film snob. I didn’t know there was a checklist of movies to watch before becoming an actor.” You snort reaching for more popcorn from the bowl beside you. 

“Shut up.” She hits you with the remote. “How have you not seen any of the Scream movies? You’re literally going to my premiere tomorrow.”

You hold up your hands in surrender, throwing a couple of kernels in your mouth. “Sorry, they’re not really my cup of tea.”

She rolls her eyes, snatching some popcorn from your hand, ignoring your protests. “Oh sorry, I forgot we have an action star in our midst.”

It was your turn to hit her arm, “Shut it. I just mean… I haven’t found the time to sit and watch them. They’re not exactly short films.”

“You’re in the MCU and Dune. Don’t talk to me about long movies.”

“Touché…” You can’t beat her there. They are ridiculously long movies. Probably why you’ve only ever seen them during premiere night and never again. “Well, put one on then. Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

She grins scrambling for the remote. “You’re on.”

You wait for her to pull up the Scream catalogue, chuckling at her visible excitement.

“Hey, why did you become an actress? and singer while we’re at it, Miss Grammy winner.” She nudges your shoulder.

You snort, shoving her lazily. “Shut up… Do you want the press interview answer or the real one?”

She raises a brow, immediately deciding. “The real one.”

You nod, feeling like she would say that.

“My mom... She was a rising star in the 80s but something happened and she never got to live out her dreams. When she had me she put me through all of the arts. I bumped and failed with most of them but acting and singing kinda stuck… I guess she saw those were the only two things I could stand so she pushed and pushed, it led to Jake discovering me and here we are.”

Jenna stays silent processing your story, she doesn’t miss the slight solemness your tone had taken. "Why do I feel like there's more to it than that?"

You chuckle, licking your lips. "Caught me... it's why I don't talk to my parents anymore."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. As soon as I turned eighteen I cut ties with them. She got too controlling, wanting money, wanting autonomy over my career so I took Link with me and moved to L.A. and did it on my own. I think... at some point acting became a spite thing with me because of her.

“Spite?” Jenna asks?

“Yeah… it was all I’ve ever known for a long time until I started making music. Probably the only time I’ve ever felt sure about a decision.”

"Oh..." Jenna finds herself saying again.

"Uh–sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird. We can just forget about it." You curl into yourself, tugging the blanket to your lap.

Jenna blinks, feeling dumb that she's made you think her silence is a bad thing.

"No..." She grabs your wrist. "Thank you for sharing with me."

You look into her eyes, feeling a bit small at her kind eyes. You know it's not out of pity but you couldn't help but want to close up again.

Pulling your hand away from her grip, you cough. "Of course, we're friends now."

"Oh, are we?" Jenna ignores the drop in her chest when you pulled away like that. “Okay, what’s the press answer then?”

“That I watched the movie Cabaret when I was younger and wanted to be like Liza Minelli.” You admit.

Jenna scoffs, “That’s literally my answer.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah except, it’s Dakota Fanning in Man on Fire.”

You chuckle, “doesn’t Denzel die in that one?”

“Yeah and what about it?” She raised a brow.

"But see, don’t fight it we’re meant to be friends... we even share the same answer."

"Shut up, dummy. Every actor has some sort of answer like that.”

Eventually, the two of you start a marathon of the Scream franchise. Which in hindsight, is kind of a bad idea seeing as it was way past midnight and the other actress still has a long week ahead of her. It seems like the events of the day catch up to her cause you feel a head slipping on your shoulder; distracting your focus halfway through Scream 3.

Jenna had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder. You fight the urge to tense up not wanting to wake her up. She looked like she needed the rest and you relate more than anyone to her exhaustion. 

“Jenna…” You lightly tap, “You fell asleep, you need to go to bed.”

She grumbles, whining in her slumber. You feels your cheeks warm when she unconsciously moves to snuggle closer to you, throwing an arm over your waist.

Fuck.

Really?

God, I am not your strongest soldier. 

“Jen, seriously. Wake up.” You shake her arm.

“What?” She complains, her words muffled by your collarbone.

“You need to go to bed.”

The feeling of her soft lashes brushing against the material of your shirt as she blinks sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh…”

Jenna mumbles mortified. Quickly pushing herself off of you, unable to look you in the eyes. “Sorry.”

You don't mention how she might have punched your stomach and that you were desperately trying not to cough.

“S’okay…” You shake your head softly. You couldn't help but notice the way her hair fell over her eyes messily. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks once she regains her senses, waking up from her short slumber.

Something tells Jenna she won’t be sleeping with how fast her heart is pounding; uncertain as to where her sudden anxiety is coming from. 

“Yeah… I’ll be waiting for you inside.” You stand gathering your belongings.

“Wait, you’re not walking the carpet with me?” Jenna pulled a face.

You raise a brow, “No? At least, I wasn't told I had to. They just said I had to show up.”

“Oh… okay.” She nods then sighed, long and profound.

You continue to raise a brow but don’t say anything. Not wanting to push her. You remember the last time you guys fought and are immediately turned off. No thanks, not trying to open that can of worms.

“Okay. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” She leans against the door.

Her premiere is a success. After borderline shoving you inside a tinted Cadillac, Link brushes your vintage Prada gown down; making sure you are in tip-top movie-star shape. You don’t walk the carpet, instead heading straight inside – making headlines. 

Your every damn move is a headline these days.

Silently thanking whatever God was out there that you didn’t because the way your jaw dropped when you see Jenna was downright embarrassing. Your reaction would surely have been a running piece if cameras were around.

Your managers would love it though.

Link had to forcefully elbow your side as Jenna walks up to greet you. 

“Wow…” You manage to say. “You look stunning Jenna.”

Jenna was glad for the dim lights in the theatre, “Thanks.” She blushes, casting her eyes down.

“You look great too.” She scans you up and down, suddenly feeling warm under her gape. 

Maybe it was the way her makeup is done or the deconstructed tuxedo for a dress that she had on tonight but she looked more mature, intimidating? Like she could throw you around a little and you’d just gladly ask her to do it again.

Wait, what?

“Thanks… Link and I should head to our seats but I just wanted to congratulate you. This is seriously amazing.” You express sincerely.

Jenna flushes more, waving you off with a huff and a lazy hand. “Please.”

“Seriously!”

Link coughs loudly, interrupting the bubble you and Jenna found yourselves in. “Okay, someone’s a little impatient. We better go.”

A hand reaches out, grabbing you. “Do you wanna, maybe, I don’t know. Sit beside me?”

You turn, surprised. “Oh? What about Enrique?” You glance at her stylist standing just behind her pretending like he wasn’t listening; fiddling on his phone. 

“I’m sure he won’t mind switching to sit with Link, right Enrique?” She turns, asking her friend.

He grins widely, “Nope. All good with me!”

“Perfect!” She smiles at you, still grabbing your arm. 

“We’ll be down there!” Jenna calls out to Link and Enrique linking your fingers out of nowhere as you walk to beside her costars.

You still don’t say anything when Jenna wraps herself around you when you make it to your seats, waving as people cheer with a large smile before pulling you to sit down. 

Only then did she pull herself away, “sorry about that.”

“All good.” You mumble after realizing what happened; turning to face the large screen.

Perfect photo op.

“Hey is that sharpie on your dress?”

“Yes.” She sighs.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch but you can’t stop the growing unpleasantness in your chest. You decide to brush it off and save face for Jenna’s night. Your sulking and feelings can wait in the privacy of your own four walls and definitely not at a high-profile movie premiere.

By the time you found yourself at the NBC building in a random dressing room at the SNL studio, waiting for Jenna’s monologue you forget all about it. You lay lazily on a stiff and most likely old couch, scrolling through your phone. 

A knock on the door has you pulling off your headphones. “Come in.”

“Hey Y/N.” A head peaks in making you sit up briskly. “Aliyah, hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just uh– Jenna’s asking for you.” She sends a sheepish smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

“Oh,” Your head perks up. “Is she okay?” You question, following the smaller girl past hallways that all looked the same; trying not to bump into the various stagehands buzzing around. 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s kinda freaking out, though and… we can’t get her to calm down.” You both stop at a closed door. 

“Oh… why me?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Uh… okay she didn’t exactly say you but I saw your episode and you were hilarious and who better to talk her down than someone who’s done it before.” She flashes a large grin before opening the door and shoving you inside.

The room is empty save for Jenna dressed in a short-legged suit. You force yourself to blink, reminding yourself that you are on a time crunch.

“Jenna.”

She snaps her head at your voice, and a noticeable tremble in her fingers is the first thing you see. “What–what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in your seat by now.”

“Your sister asked me to come.” You admit, walking forward.

“I’m fine. Go to your seat, I’ll see you after the show.” She turns her back to you, looking over sheets of paper with multi-coloured inked notes scribbled on every open space.

“Take a deep breath for me, Jenna.” You walk closer, slowly bringing the hand tightly clutching her notes down. The bones in her fingers relax as she drops the paper. She doesn’t say anything when you don’t disconnect your hands. 

You find yourself standing much closer to her.

“Take a deep breath.” You repeat.

Jenna closes her eyes, inhaling a long, deep and audible breath in then out. She clutches your fingers as she does so, unconsciously leaning back against you to ground her bubbling anxiety. 

She stays in your hold with her back against your chest: a death grip on your fingers. Your swipe a thumb over the skin of her hand. “It’ll be okay…”

“Thanks…” Jenna looks into your eyes, taking one last deep breath.

Briefly, you hold her gaze feeling tepid under the intense look in her eyes. You can’t tell what they're saying but for some reason, the way her dark pupils seemed softer under the fluorescent lights had you under a spell.

And for a fleeting second, you thought she was leaning in closer to you — eyes flickering to your lips.

“Don’t mention it.” You drop her hand immediately, taking wide steps back.

Not liking the way her eyes flickered down.

You don’t like what that could possibly mean.

Jenna’s turning rapidly, pretending not to notice as you take sizable steps away from her. “What did my sister say?”

You laugh, shoving your hands in your jacket. “That she liked my SNL episode and thought someone who’s done it before can talk you down.”

“Talk me down?” She scrunches her nose.

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” You shrug.

“Your episode was okay.” Jenna turns away to face a mirror, brushing away her bangs.

You take the bait, glad she wasn’t trembling anymore. “Okay? I got the whole cast to break, it’s considered a classic. It was nominated for an Emmy that year.”

“It didn’t win though.”

You scoff playfully, “I’m leaving. You clearly don’t need my help anymore.”

She laughs obnoxiously as you stomp out of her dressing room. “Wait.”

You stop just before you open the door. “Yeah?”

“Thank you… for talking me down.” She tucks a hair backs, a little shy.

The small smile creeping on your face is hard to subdue. “Don’t mention it. Now, go. You’re gonna kill it.” You wink, exiting the dressing room.

“She’s all good.” You tell her team.

“That’s it? She hasn’t calmed down all day, it takes you – what, five minutes?” Enrique crosses his arms. Jenna’s mom smirks, patting his back then walked past him and into the room as the rest of her family slowly trickled in; her sisters staring at you intensely.

“Uh sorry?” You blush furiously, walking off in the other direction to find your seat.

Jenna kills it, but that was never a surprise. You can tell she’s nervous throughout her monologue but after Fred Armisen does his bit – from beside you, which had been a pleasant surprise. She begins to grow confident, feeling pleased with your embarrassment when the camera pans to you and Fred.

You’d get her back for that. Making a mental note to cook up a special revenge plan, just for her.

Eventually, she falls into the role naturally. Nailing her punchlines perfectly, working the crowd like an expert, and exquisitely performing her skits. It’s a shock to you when you overhear someone behind you say she’s never done live stage work before.

She's so natural at it.

It's a privilege to watch her perform.

You nearly die when she changes into a red suit as she introduces the musical guest of the night.

Actually, you begin to slide off your seat when she comes out in a pinstripe suit — a reference to the Addams family you overheard in passing.

When credits roll and the ‘LIVE’ sign turns off. You remain in your seat. Unsure if you are just admiring her or if it’s ‘cause your legs no longer functioned. You can’t fight that admiration as it grows when you see how supportive her family is as they cheer her on and celebrate this win as one unit. 

You smile, wishing you can relate. At least some people had that in their lives.

A part of you thinks it makes the whole world’s difference, having a support system like that. But you would never know.

Silently, you slip out the stage doors and back to the random dressing room you’ve decided to take refuge in. 

You narrowly miss Jenna trying to find you through the masses; her smile dropping a bit when she realizes you’re gone.

– 

You don’t get a chance to personally congratulate Jenna because Link was bursting into the dressing room — after complaining about trying to find you for ten minutes. Rambling on how you’re needed back in Los Angeles and there was no time to say goodbye.

When you catch the other actress it’s by pure stroke of luck. You're going through checkout at the hotel, waiting for Link to do all the work as you wait behind him. 

You feel slightly guilty that you're just leaving without warning.

You should send Jenna a text, right? But would she even care if you left so suddenly? She did want you out of the city just a few days ago.

But then, you two literally just, might’ve, maybe, almost kissed/shared a moment in her dressing room, so who knows what you should do at this point.

You feel a migraine forming at the base of your skull, the longer you thought about the other actress.

“Y/N?” A voice breaks your self-deprecating thoughts. You turn to see Jenna with her team and family trailing beside her.

Jenna’s smile falls when she sees your bags. Her family walks ahead but you certainly don’t miss their curious eyes as she stops in front of you.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes keep flickering between you and your bags.

Link avoids her sharp, accusing eyes.

“Back to L.A. sorry I was just about to send you a text, actually.” You confessed, a little ashamed. 

It felt like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing… like when you lie to your long-time partner about the real reason why you want some time apart.

“A text?” She raises an unamused brow not liking your answer.

“Yeah, Jake wants me back in L.A. Uh– sorry, was I supposed to tell you?” You ask, a bit confused.

“Tell me?” She scoffs, face dropping. “Yeah, you’re supposed to tell me. I was going to invite you to dinner to celebrate with my family and the SNL cast tonight. But you weren’t even in the audience anymore by the time I finished.”

“Sorry… I thought you’d want to celebrate with your family.” You shrug lamely, torn between feeling guilty and confused at her reaction to the news of your sudden departure.

She made it feel like you were trying to escape.

“Well, I thought–” 

She cuts herself off with a huff then looked back as her family waits for her by the elevator.

“Thought what?”

As if remembering she was still out in a very public setting, after hosting one of the most recognizable programs in America; Jenna blinks out of it. Shoving her feelings down.

“Nothing. Have a safe flight back to L.A. I’ll see you in a few days… or weeks” She mumbles with an edginess to her words, walking away before you can say anything else.

“Tough break, buddy.” Link pats a comforting hand on your shoulder as you were rendered speechless. Unsure if you should chase her down and apologize.

Damn can she walk fast in those heels.

But, why would you be apologizing for having to do your job?

But the way her brow creased like she was actually upset caused an unpleasant drop in your chest. Not enjoying how she was upset and that it seemed like it was all your fault. You? Nah. Maybe she’s still dealing with other stuff and is just taking it out on you. 

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“What. Just. Happened.” You turn, aggressively snatching your card from the hotel worker who definitely enjoyed the show.

“Are you blind?” He scoffs then walks away from you.

“What do you mean? Link… what do you mean?” 

-

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[kittenintheden]

Before Morning's Light

surprise early morning Oristarion bang because I felt like it, enjoy.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Orianna (female OC) Word Count: 750 Content: 18+, wake up from dual nightmares and then bang the demons away

***

They wake in their shared bed in the Elfsong at nearly the same moment, both panting and fighting against their nightmares’ pull. Instinctively they find one another for comfort, hands entwining and bodies pressed tight until the shakes stop, until her heartbeat slows. They rest on their sides, embracing as best they can.

It’s very early morning, judging from the way the only light in the room comes from the yellowed and washed-out streetlamps on the street below, and as they catch their breath, they meet one another’s eyes. Bleary with sleep, steeped in the terror of a receding nightmare. An understanding sort of mirror.

Ori tilts her chin forward and kisses him, softly.

The thrum of fear and anger still pulses with nowhere to go, twining along their nerves and preventing them from settling back to rest.

Their eyes flick back to one another and a current passes between them.

Ori’s hands go to his waistband as his fingers reach up underneath the hem of her sleep shirt, their movements frantic and hurried as though this can’t happen fast enough, both uncharacteristically fumbling. She makes an annoyed hiss as she grabs hold of his shirt and yanks it up to give herself more room to work.

“Who tucks their bloody shirt in when they sleep?” she grouses in a whisper as she looks down. She can see the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his thin breeches and she needs it free immediately.

Astarion’s hand is fully under her clothing now, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of her smallclothes and already pulling them down her hips with no mind whatsoever to whether he might tear the fabric. “Who doesn’t wear breeches to sleep at all?” he grumble-whispers back, bending her knee up to make it easier to get this stupid thing all the way down and over her ankle.

“Someone who plans for this exact eventuality. What in the hells is this fucking drawstring-” She pulls at it, trying to dig out the knot and prying a subdued groan from him as her nails scrape against the skin over his pubic bone.

“Get, would you get out of the-” He lifts her freed leg up over his hip and reaches between them to knock her hands out of the way so he can take over. It takes a few seconds for him to work the knot apart, and then he and she both shove them down, breeches and smallclothes together, over his arse and hips to free him. His cock springs up toward her, eager, and he thrusts between her legs without thinking, seeking her warmth.

He misses the first time, his desperation making him sloppy, and they both snipe quietly at one another until she puts a firm palm on his hip to hold him in place and rolls herself up to catch the tip of him, adjusting for angle, and gets him partway in. Then he thrusts up once, twice, and he’s inside.

They don’t even communicate the need before they each get a hand over the other’s mouth to muffle the debauched whimpering noises they make as they begin rutting with total abandon, her leg tight over his upper thigh and gripping for leverage.

Their bodies are teeming with adrenaline and nerves and need. It’s like they were already on the edge, their arousal hypersensitive and ready to burst. It’s pure, needy, unadulterated fucking, no artistry or thought behind it, only the base desire to rock and ride straight to the top.

Astarion comes first, his eyes slamming shut and his back curving with it, his moan trapped behind Ori’s fingers. His shaking free hand goes up under her clothes, flat on the small of her back as he pulses and continues to fuck into her as long as his body will let him. Close, close, close-

She cries through gritted teeth and behind her own barrier, shivering through her climax before she slows and they melt back down into the mattress beneath them. Hands drop away from mouths, chests heave for breath.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” Astarion whispers, eyes still shut, limbs going heavy.

Ori presses her mouth to his forehead, huffing out her breath. “That’s one way to exorcize our demons, I guess,” she breathes.

From somewhere beyond their privacy screen, they hear Gale groan, “By Mystra’s holy tits, would you two shut the nine hells up, you aren’t as quiet as you think you are. It’s not even daylight. Gods.”

 Astarion collapses into silent giggles against Ori.

“Sorry, Gale,” she whisper-yells.

[captain-hawks]

maybe kuroo + vouyerism for your spicy sleepover weekend?

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

c: 18+, past relationship, pining, masturbation, voyeurism

Tetsurou’s too many drinks deep for this monumentally questionable decision.

This is his fault—the fact that he’s sitting on the cold tile floor of yours and Bokuto’s girlfriend’s dual ensuite bathroom, damp swim shorts doing nothing to hide his half-hard dick as he leans his head back against the door and stares up at the ceiling.

He’s the one that let you go, who ran like a goddamn coward the moment your situationship started to feel too much like a relationship.

He knows he fucked up, he’s been well aware for months on end, the endless ache in his chest a persistent reminder. 

But you’re happy now—something Bokuto’s girlfriend mentioned thrice at the bar last night, threateningly waving a fork in his direction for emphasis. 

“So you’d better fucking behave at the party tomorrow, Kuroo.”

He’d behaved all right. 

He’d behaved all damn afternoon, even when you finally showed up late with your new boyfriend in tow, plopping down in his lap on one the lounger chairs beside the pool and resting your head against his shoulder as you laughed and recounted the events of his baseball game.

He’d even managed a cordial fucking wave when the two of you locked eyes.

But it all started going downhill when you caught him alone in the kitchen, his hands slipping on the condensation on the side of the Coke can he was holding as your gazes locked on one another.

“I’m sorry—”

“Tetsu—”

He paused, an odd ache unfurling in his chest as you corrected yourself, “Kuroo.”

And maybe he could have made it through the rest of the day unscathed, if he hadn’t noticed you were still wearing the stupid ankle bracelet he’d won for you on the boardwalk last summer. The one with the silly little cat charm on it, which had been a pitiful consolation prize when his best efforts still couldn’t win the obnoxiously rigged balloon pop game, but you insisted he immediately tie it around your ankle all the same.

“I’ll wear it till it falls off,” you’d promised with a grin as Tetsurou offered the underpaid teenager at the booth and the obnoxious assortment of gigantic, impossible-to-win stuffed animals one last parting glare.

He should have left then—Akaashi even offered him a ride home.

But he’d stayed.

He’d fucking stayed and tortured himself even more as you lounged atop a floatie, your damp swimsuit leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Especially not one that already knows all your dips and curves—every little sound you make.

Sounds you’re making for someone else in your room on the other side of this goddamn door while Tetsurou’s head spins.

He’s too drunk for this.

But he can’t bring himself to get up, not when his mind’s readily conjuring images of you splayed out beneath him on your mattress, his hands cupping your breasts through your still-wet swimsuit. His thumb dragging across your nipples, the buds hard and sensitive in the air conditioned apartment.

He has to shove the heel of his palm against his dick when he thinks about untying your top, the way you’d arch your body up into his as he mouths at your breasts, your skin warm and wet under his touch.

On the other side of the door, you moan.

And fuck it, he lets his cock spring free from his shorts, nearly groaning in relief as he finally wraps his fingers around his achingly hard shaft.

He thinks about peeling off your swim shorts and spreading your legs, rutting his throbbing cock against the mattress as you drag your fingers through his hair while he eats you out. 

The bed frame creaks, and you moan loader, and Tetsurou spits in his palm, teeth biting into the side of his free hand as he tries to stifle his own groan while he fucks his fist.

He thinks about you climbing into his lap, the damp feeling of your skin flush against his, the familiar taste of your kiss as his mouth slots against yours. That little sound you always make as he eases his thick cock into you—the ghost of a laugh tangled in a whimper at the stretch.

The satisfied, languid noise that crawls up your throat when he bottoms out inside of you.

The desperate way you say his name when you’re about to come.

“Tetsu!”

Tetsurou’s eyes shoot open.

Did he just hear you—

A tidal wave of pleasure punches through him as he messily pumps hot, thick spurts of cum from his cock, his seed splattering across the floor tiles, and he rakes a hand through his hair, heart pounding erratically against his ribcage.

Fuck.

[exorcqism]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀oliver aiku ･ karasu tabito

⠀⠀ "you’re an experimentalist—trying new things isn’t an issue for you, and you ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ always find yourself having a good time in the end. but how would they react ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ to your openness? only a little bit of convincing would help. "

⠀ ← [ BACK ] : HOME ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ [ NEXT ] : MLIST →

概要 ⌇ nsfw. fem!reader, female anatomy, smut, modern AU, jerking off (m!receiving), fingering, cunnilingus, whimpering, crying, drooling etc. lmk if i missed anything. ( wc. 1.07K )

⠀THANKS FOR READING ⭑ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ≡ © VMPIIRES, 2O24

⠀⭑ ⌜OLIVER AIKU⌟ ⸝⸝⠀

⠀⸻ jerking, whimpering, oral.

⠀⠀⠀whenever you were bored late at night, you found yourself on twitter, scrolling through the endless amounts of explict clips that appeared on your timeline along with the whimpering audios that occasionally popped up. you cringe a bit, thinking about how someone could record stuff like this without feeling odd themselves. they're getting money, right? you thought to yourself. you weren't knocking how someone made a living, but you definitely couldn't see yourself doing something like this on your own time.

⠀⠀⠀you take a glance over at you boyfriend who was turned over on his side and half asleep scrolling through tiktok, tiredly chuckling at whatever he found funny. on your screen was a couple, their noises kept at a moderate volume in your headphones. while you weren't totally focused on the clip, the small scenes you notice intrigued you. your eyes sparkled at how the woman slowly jerked off her partner while he whined and writhed under her touch.

⠀⠀⠀a smirk appeared on your face as an idea popped into your head. leaning over, you tapped oliver on his shoulder, disrupting his ridiculously sluggish scrolling. when his gaze fell on to your brightened screen, he squinted and his expression changed from one of tiredness to confusion then slight interest. oliver was aware of your experimentalist attitude. he was mostly down for whatever you presented to him, unless it was too odd for him to engage in, but slightly feeling bad for not letting you experience what you showed to him. with a plethora of 'hell no's and 'what the fuck?'s, oliver finally let you have a chance to explore.

⠀⠀⠀"i don't want this lasting too long, i'm tired," the male advised as he put his phone down onto the nightstand on his side of the bed and got into position, ready for whatever you were about to throw around him. with an excited smile, you turn your phone off also and sit on your knees and sit up on your knees. you untied the drawstring of his sweats and pulled them low enough to where his member was visible.

⠀⠀⠀the mattress creaked and shifted beneath the two of you as you continue to sit on your knees and oliver laid his head against the headboard, whimpering and shivering with need. his dual colored irises were glazed over and rolling back into his skull as he tried his best to contain himself but you could tell he was failing miserably. your hand moved tortuously slow in an up and down motion, feeling every ridge, every vein that ran down his thick shaft. a bead of pre-cum began to seep its way out of the slit on his tip and down onto your hand, nearly making a sticky mess of the surrounding sheets and the curly patch of hair at oliver’s lower end.

⠀⠀⠀“damn..baby, can you go a little faster?” oliver’s hips bucked upward into your hand while his free hand squeezed the fabric of the sheets beside him. he was never a whiner but to see him making a mess of himself tonight only spurred you on. your hand moved a little faster and oliver’s writhing only got more urgent. another loud whine escaped his lips as your thumb rolled slowly and deliberately over his throbbing head. you hadn’t seen anything so pretty in your life until now. to add on to oliver’s pleasured torture, you brought your head down, pushing his dick into your warm, wet mouth.

⠀⠀⠀“fuck,” oliver cursed, his moans still being stifled as he bit down on his lower lip. his hand made its way up to the crown of your head and gently pushed you down onto his shaft more, making you swallow his entire length. your hand continued to move, jerking him off slowly, your lips following its movements carefully.

⠀⠀⠀oliver’s grip on your hair grew tight the moment you decided to pick up the pace. his hips snapped rapidly upward once more, fucking your face and nearly gagging you. his eyebrows furrowed as pleasure took over and a final groan escaped him before he released his load into your mouth—you swallowed, licking your lips and smiling with hooded eyes that were filled with satisfaction.

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⭑ ⌜KARASU TABITO⌟ ⸝⸝

⠀⸻ fingering, cunnilingus.

⠀⠀⠀karasu was more than happy to indulge in whatever disgusting desires you had. the two of you were the same in a way, watching stuff on twitter and getting ideas⏤but he was worse than you in every way you could think of. the male had his face pressed into your core while he sucked and slurped loudly on your folds, the tip of his tongue curling inwards to fit into your needy hole.

⠀⠀⠀while you whined and begged him to slow his ministrations, he wasn't listening. every plea and every attempt to move him away failed. his head raised and his mouth retracted from your core, only to give you a simple warning, "quit running". with that, he put his hands on your hips, squeezing them a bit before pulling you closer to him.

⠀⠀⠀the male continued to lap at your core before he raised his free hand and pressed two fingers into your wet heat, making you moan louder than you expected. his digits pumped in and out of you slowly, remnants of your arousal coating his occupied fingers. when he noticed that you seemed to be enjoying it, he started to move his fingers a bit faster, curling them up into that spot that made you see stars.

⠀⠀⠀you writhed under karasu's smooth but harsh ministrations and your back arched with every torturous yet pleasurable moment. once again, you attempted to push your thighs shut bur karasu wasn't having it. he gripped onto your thighs and pushed them farther apart than before.

⠀⠀⠀a low growl came from beneath you, vibrating against you, causing you to squirm and writhe against the mattress, ruining your once neatly made bed. your fingers gripped onto the sheets as tears blurred your vision and streamed down your face. soon enough, karasu pulled back, his face glistening with your fluids and his own saliva.

⠀⠀⠀"as much shit that you talk, you should be embarrassed that ya could barely handle that," the male smirked at you before climbing off of the bed. "let's clean up, yeah? i hope you don't wanna sit there looking like a soggy mess." karasu continued to tease before taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom to clean up.

⏤ 備考 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. im kinda back :D.. i made this for my friend since her birthday is today (@5kstxrz love you :3 go look at her stuff) and she love her some karasu. i also tried a new layout at the top (working on this from my mac) but it looks so weird on my phone...so don't kill me if it looks ugly.

i'll try something different next time because it was so hard and irritating to make. anywayyyy BYE i hope this short lil thing i made was enjoyable. (also im getting on AO3 fr this time. i have stuff saved in notion)

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

left my window open, baby

pairing: miguel o’hara x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 1.9k

summary:

Sometimes when Miguel comes through your window, he wants all the control.

Other times, like tonight, he wants something different.

author’s note:

it’s official. i have miguel o’hara brain rot. if you enjoyed this lil fic, please consider leaving a comment or message bc they make my heart happy!!

content warnings:

explicit sexual content, no use of y/n, porn without plot, dom/sub dynamics, switch!miguel (but mostly sub in this), potentially bad spanish translations, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, woman on top position, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, praise kink, orgasm control, pet names, choking, scratching, mentions of fangs/biting, cum play. Please let me know if I've missed any!

You’re in bed reading a book by the glow of the lamp on your nightstand when the window slides open. In any normal situation, you would probably be alarmed, but at this late hour, it could only be one person.

“You ever think about knocking?” You ask, not looking up from your book.

“You ever think about locking your window?” A deep, familiar voice replies. You glance up at the masked figure lurking in the shadows. Miguel steps closer, mask disappearing and revealing a handsome face - chiseled jaw, strong nose, tired red eyes, and a permanent furrow between his brows. 

He plants a knee on the mattress, gaze holding you captive as he crawls over your body. Up close, you can see the exhaustion in his features, the tightness in his jaw and shoulders.

“What do you need?” You ask quietly. 

“Need to make you feel good,” he murmurs, head dropping to your neck. He inhales deeply, tip of his nose tracing your pulse before his lips follow, slightly chapped but deliciously warm. “Please.”

You find yourself nodding and he lifts himself off of you, pulling back the linens covering your body until his only barrier is a pair of panties and the t-shirt you wear to bed. Miguel fits himself between your legs and the molecules of his suit covering his hands flicker away as he presses them to your thighs, his claws pricking your skin and making you gasp. He slides a finger beneath the elastic of your panties and pulls, slicing through the one side and then the other, the shredded fabric falling apart and leaving you bare.

He lies on his stomach and kisses your inner thighs, sucking and biting the sensitive skin until you’re squirming. A heavy arm settles over your hips, holding you against the bed as he continues to mark you up to his liking.

“Miguel,” you whine, fighting against his hold as his fangs scrape so close to where you desperately need relief, “Stop teasing me.”

He immediately heeds your demand, lapping at your pussy with deep strokes of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit. He sucks the sensitive bud between his lips, moaning as he does and the sensation has you digging your hands into his hair. He says something that you can’t quite hear.

“Hmm?” You hum. He lifts his head.

“Más fuerte,” he says. Harder.

Miguel returns his attention to your pussy and you heed his demand, tugging on the soft strands between your fingers. He growls, deep and visceral, the primal sound of it making you clench with want. Like he can sense your need, his tongue dips inside of you, curling against your walls as his nose brushes your clit. The dual sensations have you gasping, pulling desperately as his hair, which only urges him on.

He slides a thick finger inside of you as he sucks on your clit and it sends you toppling over the edge, your legs trying to close against his broad shoulders as you come, clenching desperately around his finger and moaning his name into the mostly dark room. 

He continues to lick you through your release, slow and gentle until he feels your body relax again. When your thighs have dropped back to the mattress, his tongue begins to move faster and he slides another finger inside of you, the stretch of it making you gasp.

“Miguel?” You ask, but the man doesn’t answer. His attention remains solely on your pussy as he continues to kiss and lick and bite and suck at the most sensitive parts of you until you’re once more panting and writhing and on the cusp of another orgasm despite the aftershocks of your first not having faded. 

“Fuck!” You cry, trying to catch your breath. He removes his fingers and lifts his head to look at you, chin shiny with spit and cum.

“Sabes tan bien,” he moans. You taste so good. He crawls up your body, looking every bit the predator you know him to be. The suit flickers away, his broad muscles rippling beneath tan skin as he settles over you and dips his head to press his lips to yours.

He tastes like you, salty and earthy and the thought makes you moan as you kiss him back. You reach up, pushing at his shoulders until his back hits the mattress and you can straddle his trim waist, sitting just above his cock. 

“That was amazing, Miguel. Did you enjoy making me cum?” You ask, rocking your hips over his abs. “You made a mess of me.”

Miguel’s eyes are half-lidded as he nods, his claws digging into your thighs and making you hiss from the pain that intermingles with the pleasure of the friction on your sensitive clit. He licks his lips and you get a glimpse of sharp fangs that make your heart rate skyrocket.

“But I didn’t tell you to make me cum twice…did I? You were greedy,” you tease. You shuffle back on your knees until your pussy is sliding over the thick length of him. He groans, head pressing back against the mattress and his eyes squeezing shut. “Maybe I should be greedy, too.”

“Que?” He asks. What? You lift slightly and grasp his cock to position it at your entrance, sliding down the slightest bit as he gasps. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s not often that Miguel lets you be in control, but sometimes the weight of protecting the multiverse from collapse leads to nights like this where you tease and taunt and praise him until that furrow between his brow relaxes just the slightest bit. You continue to slowly draw him into your body, your thighs shaking with the effort and your palms pressed to his chest for balance. The stretch of him is intense, it always is, but you’re so wet and ready for him that he fits with relative ease.

Once you’re seated on his lap, stuffed so full you can hardly breathe, you reach up to grip Miguel by the chin, fingers digging harshly into his cheeks. “Look at me,” you demand. His red eyes are nearly black, glassy and unfocused as he stares up at you with a look of adoration. “That’s it, baby, watch me take your cock so well, okay?”

He nods his head enthusiastically as you rock your hips, drawing up on your knees before shifting back down. You set a rhythm that has him panting and writhing beneath you, a quick slide up and and down his length with a deep grind of your clit against him that has you seeing stars.

But it’s not your turn for release.

“I want you to be a good boy for me,” you murmur. “I want you to cum for me, want you to fill me up.”

Miguel growls, his feet planting on the mattress for leverage as he starts to meet your downward strokes with upward thrusts that quickly grow erratic. You can feel him pulse inside of you, wet heat flooding you as your hips slow and you stop, holding still as he twitches inside of you and gasps for breath.

“Good boy, Miguel,” you whisper. His lips twitch in what could be a smile if the serious man was capable of such an expression.

When he starts to go soft, you rock your hips and clench your muscles around him. He hisses, mouth dropping open in surprise as you grind on him.

“Told you I would be greedy, too,” you tell him. His eyes widen as he realizes what you mean, what you want from him. He’s genetically enhanced and has the stamina to match, so you know he can take it, but the shock on his face makes you feel powerful. “This time you won’t cum until I do, understand?”

“Yes, sí,” he slurs. You lean back a little, your hands gripping his muscular thighs just above his knees, moving your body over him in a deep and sensual rhythm.

“Look, Miguel,” you command, shifting your weight to one hand so that you can bring the other to where your bodies are joined, your index and middle fingers on either side of his cock as you grind on it. “Look how much you stretch me, baby.”

He lifts his head to look, licking his lips as he watches you move over his cock, the way his length glistens with each pull from your body and how with each push inside, more of his own spend slips from your hole. “So tight, cariño.” Sweetheart. 

You smile down at him, leaning forward and placing one palm on his shoulder and the other at the base of his throat, your fingers grazing where his pulse frantically beats. It’s a question, this position, one that he answers by taking your wrist and sliding your hand up higher, until your fingers wrap around his neck. You tighten your grip as you begin to move again, his eyes fluttering shut and a moan echoing through the room.

“So good,” you tell him, “you’re so good, Miguel.”

You’re so close to coming, you can feel the rush of it in your veins as you move faster, harder, slamming your hips to his over and over. He looks up at you with stars in his eyes, the worry and pain that normally clouds them eclipsed for at least a brief moment, and that’s what has you clenching around him and crying out his name as you come undone.  

Miguel growls, sitting up and deftly flipping your positions until you land on your back, knees pressed close to your shoulders by his broad frame. His red eyes are sharp again, determined, as he pounds into you with single minded focus. Your nails claw into his back, leaving red tracks in their wake as his name spills from your lips like a prayer.

“I hope you had your fun, mí cosita hermosa,” he says, lips grazing your ear. My pretty little thing. His hips are punishing as they slam into you and he uses you to chase his pleasure. “Whose cunt is this, huh? Tell me.”

“Yours,” you gasp. He chuckles.

“That’s right. Todo mío.” All mine. 

He presses deep, his cock pulsing and flooding you with his spend for the second time that evening, his lips pressed to your throat and the threat of his fangs against your pulse. When he’s finished, he sits back on his heels to let your legs fall to the mattress. His softening length slips from your body and he watches your clenching entrance with intense focus.

You can feel his cum dripping from your body and he gathers the mess on two fingers, pressing it back inside of you as you gasp. Finally, he lies back on the mattress beside you and you shift closer, resting your head on his chest.

You lie like that for a while, catching your breath and listening to the beat of his heart. Eventually, he rolls out from beneath you and stands beside the bed, tapping at his watch screen until his suit flickers back into place. You pout over the loss of his gloriously exposed body and he chuckles, leaning over you and kissing you deeply before approaching your window.

“See ya, spider boy,” you say as he lifts it open. 

“It’s Spider-Man,” he corrects, mask materializing over his face. “Lock your window, cariño.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go save the universe.”

[1u11ablues]

No Doubts Anymore (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x You) [Dual POV]

WC: Almost 3k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Not Beta-read.

Alternate ending where Simon didn't die, as requested by an anon!

Part 1

Deep, almost purple lines had been a permanent feature of your face, now. Where your eyeliner used to go, there are now tear lines extending from the corner of your eyes—a product of sleepless nights and unhealed grief.

Has it been four months now? Five? Hell, half a year? Time heals all wounds, they said, yet you wake up with more pieces tumbling out of your chest every day that sleep decides to grant you mercy.

Simon’s balaclava, all his bloody shirts that he used to wear, they lie pristine where you last kept them. 

In a box, inside the closet.

For you fear the scent of him will disappear with every touch, every kiss upon his belongings.

But sometimes—like tonight—it gets unbearable.

Curled up on the mattress, bedsheets probably moulding in the dryer back when you had the sudden burst of energy to be productive, you took a rationed inhale of the skull balaclava in your arms. 

The position was a pain to maintain. Yet, even that kind of pain was preferable. Maybe if you’re in enough physical pain, angry enough, drunk enough-

You’d said no to Price’s repeated recommendations to see a therapist, because how could he understand?

How could the man ever understand the irrational, undeserved hatred—that you’d tried to tell yourself off for—you had against him for having a hand in Simon’s death?

It was just one of the multiple poisons you’d let into your body. Hatred. Substance. Isolation.

“You’re supposed to get up, love. The bills are stacking up.”

And sometimes, like today, the ghost of him materialised to taunt you with an untouchable form. Sitting on his side of the bed—not even kind enough to make a dip on the mattress to tell you that he’s there—and talking you out of misery.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten something? This is not how you move on.”

“I don’t want to move on! You left. You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye- I hate you. With all my heart, I hate you, Simon Riley.”

And, like clockwork, he disappeared into thin air.

***

It is over. He had kept up the ruse, going along with Price’s plan to pronounce several soldiers dead just so he can join a team of spies to infiltrate enemy bases and gather valuable intel.

So he spied, waiting things out until Price gave him the go-ahead to leave, knowing what was waiting for him at home; the state in which he’d left things at.

He didn’t want Price to drop his box onto your lap and let you know that he was dead. Because what use would it be for him to fight against hell, to keep the breath in his throat if it weren’t for the sake of coming home to your arms?

Still, he relented. And, for it to work,, he had to rid himself of every trace of you, just so there would be no connection linking him to his one and only pressure point.

But it’s over now, and God, he has a lifetime of apologising to do.

As soon as he reached his quarters, he knelt by the mattress he’d slept on many a night that he wasn’t able to spend besides you. He lifted it up, and under it—if one knows where to look—was a stitch where he’d taken a drag of his combat knife to before his mission, hid one item of yours he wasn’t strong enough to burn, and meticulously threaded the hole back together.

This time, his slice met with less resistance. He reached into the fillings and felt around, and, there-

He pulled out the glossy picture of you he used to keep in his wallet and brought with him to everywhere he could go. 

He got it from the time he’d taken you out on the walk in mid-autumn, letting you pester him to try one of those seasonal drinks he used to care less about. There’s a photo booth right out of the cafe and, of course, you pulled him into it and took so many pictures he’d gone half-blind, but this picture wasn’t from that, no. When you were ordering the drinks, he came back out to the booth because he noticed there was an option to print his own picture from his phone. 

He did his best to figure out how the fuck was he to connect his phone to sync up his gallery to it, but it worked eventually.

That damned machine ate almost thirty pounds off his wallet to print out his favourite pictures of you.

One where you were petting a dog. One where you were biting into a caramel apple. One where you had the most ridiculous foam mustache. And this one-

Where you were asleep, right next to him. An image of peace that he regrets not being able to bring you more.

Instinctually, he brought the picture to his chest, right where his heart still beat. 

He’s coming home and making sure he treats you well for the rest of his life.

***

When he reached the flat, his spirit deflated, realising that it was empty.

Well, at least, that’s how it seemed from the outside. It was all dark, quiet. There was nothing that could indicate life within the walls of your home, until he heard soft, inconsistent sniffles behind the door, getting fainter and fainter the more you moved away from it.

Even though the key was in his hand, he figured it would be most sensible to knock. After all, you were under the impression that he was dead up until three days ago, when Price had hopefully relayed the actual news to you, giving you ample time to react.

Three classic knocks. No answer.

Another three. The sniffles had died down. Were you asleep?

After about five minutes of waiting, he finally decided to use the front door key. 

It’s late, he thought, and you were probably comfortably sleeping.

Like he noticed from outside, the darkness bathed the entire space. Save for the dim glow from the battery-powered LED snow globe that doubled as your nightlight—signs that you were awake were minimal.

I’ll just crawl into bed and hold her, he thought, until an unpleasant smell wafted from the kitchenette.

The sequences of what greeted him? A miserable discovery.

Overflowing bins, unwashed plates. Spoiled food leaking out of the refrigerator and a full load of clothes were still in the dryer.

In truth, Simon had a feeling you’d fall into depression a week or two—a month maximum—before you moved on from his ‘death.’

It had been a year. Has this been your year? Falling into unkemptness when he never knew you to love clutter?

“Love?” He called out, softly, just in case you were really asleep. He tossed his belongings on the sofa unceremoniously—where he put his belongings were the last thing on his mind at the moment—before making his way to the bedroom.

The sight shushed his brain to a ringing silence.

In the middle of the room was the box of his military belongings, opened, its cover flapping against the opening at every oscillation of the standing fan in the corner of the room.

Two things were making sounds at that moment. The fan, supposedly comfortable white noise now an attack to his senses; you, struggling to get a breath in as you cried, hair matted and red sores visible on the sides of your hip.

“Fuck me- Love-” he immediately moved up to the side of the bed. You were facing the other way, curled up and hugging something close to your chest.

“It’s me, love, I’m back, I’m sorry,” words stumble out of his mouth in wasteful attempts. Not even managing to elicit a reaction out of you.

Hell, it took him almost a full five minutes of apologising before you even turned back to look at him.

And the first words that had come out of your lips?

“I hate you, and I wish I had never met you.”

***

Again, the vision of him came to torment you. 

What is it this time? To tell you to air the room out? To drink more water?

Again, you tell him the words that would normally make him disappear.

“I hate you, and I wish I had never met you.”

It was like a spell that you had used to stop unwanted hallucinations—or so you thought. They always come back and it takes sleeping to finally stop some of the visions.

This one didn’t seem to budge. In fact, it answered! Maybe you need to take up Price’s offer for professional help.

“You don’t mean that, darling…” he spoke, face absent of the non-expression you were used to seeing in the figment of him that continues to visit you.

Of course, you don’t mean it. But how else would you deal with the fact that you’re slowly losing your mind? How else are you going to attempt to move-

The touch on your face is warm. Textured.

You can’t remember the last time you dreamt about being touched like that again, his hands brushing hair away from your face, and this time, oh, how cruel is it for it to feel this real?

How cruel, how evil?

With fresh tears and wobbly lips—your attempt at trying to hold on from simply breaking down—you whispered, “You never gave me the chance to say goodbye. Don’t you love me enough to even give me that, Simon? Am I not worth a single glance back, when we fought, when I asked you if the mission was more important than your life? Than us?”

The fight, your last memory of him, was unfortunately always the fight. 

When you were uselessly clinging to him to not go because your inkling was proved true—it wasn’t a mission that he’ll come back from.

Even knowing that, he kept it to himself. You were to read and interpret his facial expressions and body language yourself, coming to your own realisation that he was given a death mission.

“I hate you,” you say again, “I don’t think I will be able to move on from you. Go away, please. Don’t haunt me anymore.”

Turning your back on him, the silence tells you that the vision had dissipated. A deep sense of regret fills you, intermingling with loss and guilt that tasted like bile in your throat.

You didn’t mean that; you didn’t mean to be mean. Maybe if you turn around and apologise, it could help ease the process. Maybe, maybe-

His sad eyes still stared down at you. It didn’t work.

Where his arms rested, the mattress dented.

“Do you mean it? Have I returned to find you hating me?”

***

He didn’t know if you’d even let him touch you, so his arms rested on the uncovered mattress and hoped for the best.

It sounded like you’ve developed venom for him. Rightfully so, given the way you ended things before he went off on the year-long mission. 

Simon was not good at that, the talking part of a relationship. Despite how he presents himself, he still stuttered over his words and lost his speech when being in love occupied a big part of his brain—rendering any sort of poetic affection null. His body speaks for him most of the time.

“Am I losing my mind, or have the ghost of you taken on a physical form?”

The confusion in your face was apparently enough to put a pause on the sobs. You hadn’t an idea how relieved he is at the lack of them. Never in his life would he want to make you cry as hard again, if he could help it.

“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m back. It was a covert mission…haven’t Price informed you?”

He didn’t expect a ‘welcome home’ with cakes and a banner—but he admitted, the least he wished for was a hug. A tight, long hug, followed by a night of holding each other until his body couldn’t physically take it anymore.

Has he gone and ruined it?

“Price?” Your hands thud against the bed to feel for your phone. It had been days since you last checked it, or more. Time moves differently when you’re busy nursing loss and heartbreak. Realising the device was nowhere close, you finally got off the bed—after spending a consecutive day and a half in it—to scan the nearest floor and then-

Ah, there it is. You picked it up and unlocked the screen. 

Your eyes bulged as the notifications rolled through the notifications bar, Price’s name consisting of the majority of it.

Simon trails your every movement. After his question, it took you several pauses to think, but almost a quarter of the time to look for your phone, which had undoubtedly dropped somewhere on the floor throughout the day.

His breath stills as he watched your eyes increasingly widen reading the messages. Messages that should’ve reached you at least a couple days ago, that were to prepare you for his arrival.

“Simon?” You called out as you read through each of Price’s explanations and apology. There was another number that tried to reach you, too. Also, a series of apologies—this time, more intimate.

“I’m here,” he answered. God, he wanted to hold you so, so badly. But he can wait. He waited for a year with nothing but the memories and dreams of you to keep him going. He can wait the few moments more that it took you to decide on a path.

“Simon, is- is that really you? I’m not imagining things? I swear, if it’s my head again, this is really cruel-“

“It’s me, love. It’s really me. Not a hallucination. I’m home.”

You look at the figure on the other side of the bed. Slowly, you climbed onto the mattress, scooting ever so hesitantly with your knees to the middle of the queen sized-bed, hands reaching out half-expecting your touch to go through him.

Damn it, he couldn’t wait. When you got onto the bed, his body rushed to mirror the movement, meeting you halfway and grabbing your hand to place it over his cheek—now with an additional scar over his jaw.

His eyes shut. Your touch upon him righted his world again, and suddenly-

He’s crying. Or at least, about to. He’s here, and warm and tears brim his eyes, somehow never falling down. 

Most importantly, he’s home.

“My dear, what have they done to you?”

He’d returned to you almost unrecognisable—the certain look in his eyes that made him Simon washed away until only a dull imitation remains.

“Not now, love. I don’t want to talk about it now.” 

He’d gone through torture before, and came out of it with deeper scars than the last. 

But this torture was different. The enemy they were against was known for targeting the person closest to whomever was against them, thus the need to cut contact with you. Every night was a constant pacing, wondering if they had found you, if you were okay. Every damned moment, your imagined screams and cries took over his decisions, despite him trying his best to keep his head on the mission.

The torture was visions of you being in his place.

“Please, is it too late for me to answer your question now?”

“What question?” 

You were always the more emotional one in the relationship. So, despite all the tears you’ve exhausted through months of mourning, there was no surprise that your body had decided to create more. 

Though, this time, it was his head pressed to your chest instead of the other way around. Because yes, you may have suffered through the loss of him, but he had been actively fighting for his life in that same duration—and having to hide all of it from you, too, never having the comfort of home at the end of the day.

Your question, which had been making a home out of his skeleton by now. 

“When you asked me if I love you. If I did enough to stay.”

You remembered that. It was a last ditch effort—perhaps a manipulative way to make sure he stays. It was a question you regretted asking. Because Simon is Simon, and there were more lives at stake than making sure your pretty little heart stays unbroken.

“I didn’t mean to ask that. Simon, it was wrong of me-“

“Yes, I do.” His answer resolute. That was to be his last mission, and he decided the minute the door closed on him when he left the flat that day. His last, and he’s going home—and if he’s lucky, you would still be there for him. 

Simon straightened and this time, took you in his lap. When you didn’t fight, he leaned down and hesitated for a kiss over your lips.

When you reciprocated, his tears fucking fell, seasoning the kiss with its salty essence. 

But you didn’t pull away. You kissed him, and every inch of his face, paying extra attention to the fresh scar on his jaw.

You pulled back from the kiss when you started losing breath. 

“You do?” You ask, suddenly remembering the velvet box next to his dog tag resting on the dresser beside the bed. Your eyes slid to it.

Simon’s eyes followed the direction yours went.

Fuck, he thought, forgetting that he had intended to propose right after his last mission. Well, apparently the secret’s out.

“I do, I love you. And I will make sure to not make you doubt me anymore. I love you, darling. You keep my head above water.”

Perhaps it will take time to go back to the way it was. Time, and lots of outside help.

After all, there would be no sunrise without the darkest of nights.

“And you keep my feet on the ground. I love you too, Simon.”

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 11- Cohabitation

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: We were making monthly payments on a bedframe, and it's been fully paid off for three months now and I still don't have it. I've been sleeping on just a mattress since May. Three months of waiting is crazy. Or maybe I'm just impatient. Should've used Wayfair.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

You use the wall to help you walk. You should have crutches. Or a cane. Even a large stick would've been nice. Instead, you're left to awkwardly navigate the halls of the compound with a barely useable leg. Every step sends sharp pains shooting up your calf.  It turns into a dull ache in your thigh. You just climbed a flight of stairs and have to pause to catch your breath. It's not that effective, considering every deep breath makes your lungs push against your ribs in a hellish manner. You shake your head and limp along to Valeria's office.

You rap your knuckles against the wooden door and wait. You were supposed to be here by eleven but you were slowed considerably by your injures by ten minutes. A dark splotch has appeared on your punctuality record, and you are not pleased about it.

"Come in." Valeria calls, smooth voiced muffled.

You push open the door and hobble on inside. Valeria sighs and pushes a small stack of paperwork to the side. She stretches, arms and head back. Exposing the tan column of her throat. You lean against the wall to give your leg a break while Valeria stands.

"Lets go." she jerks her head, beckoning you to follow.

The drive to Valeria's home isn't long. You expect to see something extravagant like Diego's villa.  Wrapping balconies and large potted plants. Instead, she pulls up to a more modest dwelling. Still miles nicer than your sad, cramped apartment. It's one story, though you suspect there's a basement. Large floor to ceiling windows reflects the headlights of Valeria's vehicle as she pulls up and cuts the engine. The lights cut out and leave you two in the darkness. Barely illuminated by the full moon.

"I'll help you get out." Valeria sighs. She gets out and the car shakes a little when she closes the door.

You watch her silhouette round the front towards your side, pulling open the sleek black door. You grip Valeria's forearm and allow her to slowly pull you out. Your leg jostles but you ignore the pain. Valeria lets go of you once your secure and sets ahead of you, clearly not going to help you inside. Her keys jingle as she roots for them in her pocket. There are no walls to help you along the way. You try to limp the good old-fashioned way but without anything to help you distribute your weight, you end up putting too much pressure on your bad leg. You should have crutches. Or a cane. you spread your arms for balance and hop towards her. You gasp in pain as your leg jerks. That's not a great idea.

Valeria, hearing the noise pushes open the door and turns to look at you.

"What are you doing?" She scoffs. Approaching you.

You don't like her judgmental tone. "I'm trying to get inside." There's some bite to your voice. 

"Well you're going to hurt yourself doing that." Valeria says disapprovingly. Before you can protest she places her hands just below the backs of your knees and lifts you. 

"Hey?" You say, caught off guard. Her strength is surprising. You'd expect her to struggle a bit more but the only sign she gives is a light grunt. An unbidden thought enters your mind about how much she must lift. An image soon follows. A sweaty, grunting Valeria with flexing muscles as she lifts heavy weights. You shoo it away.

The warmth coming from Valeria is distracting. So is the way she smells. A hint of sandalwood and under that, her. Valeria shoulders a light switch and flicks on some bright, warm lighting. Inside, the house is quite spacious. The foyer is tidy and has enough room for at least six people to stand comfortably. The walls are white except for a brown accent wall. A few paintings with religious imagery hang from it.

"I think you can put me down now." You say. The walls will aid you in your movement now. At least until you get crutches. You're convinced you weren't given any because they thought it would be amusing to see you hobble everywhere. Well it wasn't and the joke is over.

"I'll just carry you." Valeria dismisses to your surprise. She adjusts her hold, and you feel too awkward to tell her that her hands are under your ass. "It'll be quicker."

You don't protest. Being carried by your evil, criminal, drug lord of a boss is weird. You'd never tell a soul, but it does feel nice though. Valeria carries you through her home. The hallways are narrower than the rest of the house naturally, but even they are somehow still spacious. She stops outside of a dark room and pushes open a white door - not a faded, splintering brown door like the ones in your apartment - and steps inside. She turns on a light.

It's a blank canvas of a room. A curtain covered window with a double bed right below it. There's a single night table to the right of the bed. The sheets are white and there's a distinct smell of unoccupancy. You feel a sharp spike of homesickness. for your small, creaky bed. For the sheets that smell like you and the decor that watches over you at night. 

"You'll be in here for a while." Valeria speaks. You can hear her voice vibrating in her chest. "My room is the first one down to the right."

"... Okay." You reply quietly.

Valeria sets you down on the bed with careful consideration for your leg. The blankets are cold. They smell like failure and loneliness.

"Tomorrow, we'll go to your apartment and get some of your things." Valeria states calmly. 

"Okay, um.." You hesitate. "Thank you for this, it's very kind of you."

Valeria doesn't reply right away. Instead regarding you with a guarded look. Finally, she speaks. "Nothing I ever do is with the intention of kindness."

"Oh." You weren't expecting such a... blunt response. Embarrassment warms your face. You should know better than to humanize Valeria. To think she might have anything human inside of her.

"I wouldn't be doing this if I weren't getting something out of it."

You blink, rubbing your hands together in your lap. "What are you getting out of it?"

Valeria shakes her head, strands of black hair swaying with the motion.

"Nothing that you need to be concerned about."

Yet somehow, you remain concerned. It dawns on you that you are almost immobile, isolated in the desert, alone with Valeria. It's not that you don't trust her, (although one should always regard Valeria with a certain level of mistrust.) but you're painfully aware that should she decide to attack you, you'd be practically defenseless. An unbidden, intrusive thought about her slinking into your room while you sleep and shooting you point blank between the eyes floats through your mind.

You shake the thought away. Valeria is violent but it's not baseless. Instead, a new thought takes its place. Somehow causing you more anxiety than the first. You hadn't thought about it, considering you had been more focused on your injuries. Your notes were on your desk. The ones containing every single recipe and ratio for the meth. You barely register her bidding you a goodnight and leaving the room. Trying to come your breathing as you fight off the dread threatening to consume you.

[ohwolfling]

It should come as no surprise bc it's like 95% of my blog these days, but I am unhingedly obsessed with literally everything about Gale Dekarios's chest. His pectoral muscles are so plush but solid, like the best medium firm mattress you could possibly buy. His nipples are the Platonic Ideal of male-coded nipples. I need to comb my fingers through his chest hair like I need to breathe. I want to make myself cat-sized and curl up on his lovely warm chest and sit there for hours. I want to be a necklace and hang out in his cleavage all day. I want to lick him all over.

"the platonic ideal of male-coded nipples" to me, you are a poet.

I want to press my nails into his chest so bad. I want to clutch his beautiful wizard titties while I ride him so hard we both black out and high five Ao.

And I KNOW he smells good!!! ❗️❗️❗️

An underrated or perhaps just under discussed aspect of Gale Dekarios being FINE AS FUCK is that he's just... broad. He's solid. He's not enormous like Halsin and I'm a Gale tummy truther but he's a sturdy man. And the chest and back are so broad and strong. That's where you really see it.

I like to think of Gale as a dual back or side sleeper for the dual pleasures of feeling his back pressed up against yours or Gale pulling his slide sleeping partner better into position to lie on his chest. Firm, comfy, no need for pillows, your hands gently tracing along sternum, collar bone, scratching so gently into his skin, fingertips brushing along his chest hair (have I mentioned I think he smells so good ???). I bet he uses his leg to pull your leg into more of a tangle with him too. His hands play in your hair, scratch your scalp.

I do hc Macha to have this little scratching motion she does in the center of his chest- which started unintentionally but now they're both aware of it- that signifies dick me down.

[bed-chemist]

❝i got the flavor that lasts❞

a/n: liv walks up to the stage. a random cough cuts through the otherwise silent crowd. she taps the mic, causing deafening feedback. “is this thing still on?” she asks, but no one laughs…

Chapter Summary: Chef Joel cooks up a Christmas surprise while the sweetest baker makes a terrifying discovery.

Chapter Warnings: language, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression, panic attacks, side character in a relationship involving domestic violence (main character notices bruises and they have a conversation about it), smut, slight breeding kink if you squint, fluff, comfort, lmk if i forgot something.

Series Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 9k words ⋆ series masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

The day starts the same as any other. My first vibration-only alarm rumbles beneath my pillow, and I quickly shut it off. I grumble as I disconnect my limbs from Joel’s, reluctantly pulling myself out of bed. An invisible string yanks my body into the bathroom to prepare for the day. When I look over my shoulder, Joel shifts in the bed until his back faces me. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I process the ping of annoyance in my brain. If you drop a pin, I’m awake. But if you drop a house on Joel, he’d just readjust the foundation’s position.

I quickly prepare for the day, not showering to keep Joel’s scent on me. My curls are unruly, so I grab my spritz bottle and some leave-in conditioner to breathe life into it again. Once my curls look presentable, I grab a scrunchie to secure a half-up, half-down ponytail. When I pull my hair tight, my arms fall to my side.

The bright light above the mirror makes me squint when I look in. The only thing I see when I look back is my poodle-shaped hairstyle, and I snort. Shaking my head, I walk away from the mirror so I don't pick myself apart.

Slipping out of the bathroom, I tip-toe back to Joel, whose back is still towards me. His breathing remains slow as I sink into the mattress on my knees. I extend my body over him, reaching for my phone on the charger next to his head. His hot breath fans over my hand while I’m fumbling with the charger that won't let go of my phone.

A curse leaves my lips, and I drop my phone into the mattress, opting to forget about it when, just then, my second alarm starts going off. ‘Busy Woman’ by Sabrina Carpenter fills the room, causing Joel to jolt awake. His hard body collides with mine, sending me flying off the edge of the bed.

A shrill cry leaves echoes back to me off the walls when my butt nearly hits the floor, but Joel’s hands are already on me. He quickly pulls me to safety and back into him. My chest rises and falls quickly, out of breath from shock. “Do you know you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met?” Joel asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m working on it.” I flash a smile, and he returns it, flushing my cheeks. No matter how long we’ve known each other, he still causes a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. “Can you turn that off?” I ask, pointing to the loud noise that my phone is emitting.

He nods, hitting the button before returning his attention to me. The air between us is thick with sexual tension, and his eyes burn a smooth hole through my head. “What?” I ask, hoping he’ll speak first and let me off the hook.

His palms make contact with my upper thighs, causing me to freeze. He inches his way up to my hips until he’s gripping my waist deliciously. He lifts slightly before flipping us both until I’m on my back beneath him. “I love waking up with you,” he rasps, dipping his head down to pepper kisses on my face. I let out a light giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck. “It’s different every time,” he murmurs with his lips on my cheek.

He pulls back slightly, allowing me to keep him close. “Me too,” I smile, attempting to sit up and give him a peck on the lips.

His head jerks back, and my brows knit on my head. He’s never actively dodged a kiss from me. Maybe it’s his morning breath, but I don’t care. I pull him down closer to close the gap, but he puts his hands on my forearms, disconnecting my hold on him.

A ping of worry hits my chest, and I’m already attempting to sit up more, but Joel blocks my way. “Let’s move in together,” he exclaims.

My breathing is restricted, and my mouth dries. My temples tighten, and energy moves from my head to my toes. “Joel,” I manage to squeak.

“We can stay here or at mine until we find a bigger place for all of us, but,” he starts.

My eyes blink rapidly, trying to shake myself out of the hyperfocus I’ve put on Joel’s dark silhouette this early morning. “You can’t be serious,” I scoff.

Joel’s face scrunches, almost as if my statement offended him. “Why not?” he questions.

I sigh, allowing my eyes to roll naturally. It’s far too early in the morning to converse like this with a man who excels in weaponizing his ignorance. “Firstly, it’s five thirty in the morning. Secondly, we’ve only been dating for a month. Third, we just had this conversation on Friday,” I put plainly.

“We’ve known each other for six,” I hear him counter while my eyes drill holes into the ceiling.

As if that makes things more acceptable. My eyes narrow at Joel’s, and I almost get lost swimming in his espresso-colored eyes. “Meeting someone and knowing them is different from dating someone.”

His fingers move a curl off my shoulder until my neck is fully exposed to him. His fingertips ghost over my pulse, drawing mindless lines into my skin. “It's not for me. Couldn't stop thinkin’ about you, Sugar,” he confesses.

I try not to let my disbelief in his words show, but I know my face is slipping. Although, he can’t expect me to be bubbly right now when the birds just started chirping outside. “You’re a liar,” I taunt.

“Serious as a heart attack. Every time Leo came in, I’d ask about you. Thought ‘bout you every steak I flipped,” he grunts, shifting closer to put his face in my neck. His scruff tickles my neck, and his morning face's rasp makes me smile. Leo never said anything about his meetings with Joel after my birthday, although I know they took place. “How could I forget the gorgeous woman who gave me my first one-star review,” he asks rhetorically, pressing a warm kiss to the pulse point he identified just moments ago.

He nips at my skin with his tongue following shortly after, warming the painfully delicious sensation. “You’re playing dirty,” I utter breathlessly.

He continues down my neck to my collarbone, looking up at me through his long lashes. “’m not playin’ at all. Would make me feel better if we moved in together,” he seduces.

My head tilts to the side, and I subconsciously run my hands through his curly locks. “What do you mean?”

“Knowing you’re safe and alive in our bed. I’ll finally be able to breathe,” Joel exhales against my chest. Then it clicks for me; he’s referencing our conversation from last night. Our heads faced each other under the Sunday moonlight as we engaged in the most profound pillow talk I’ve ever experienced. He told me about Sarah’s death, explaining that it was sudden. He hadn’t known she was struggling with depression before she took her life. When he found her he became inconsolable.

I cried so much Friday that I’m still dehydrated. The ten minutes after Joel opened up to me only made recovering now worse. I relate to him because I’ve been obsessed with my friends and family driving safely since my parent’s accident. Even though I know they were driving safely as they always were, sometimes freak accidents happen. It still doesn’t shake my uneasy feeling when I haven’t heard from a loved one in a while.

With Joel, he always needs to watch me fall asleep first. He doesn’t say it, but I know that’s why he sleeps so hard in the morning; a weight releases from his shoulders when I make it through the night. He always tells me to close my eyes, and I become exhausted when my head hits the pillow. I guess that’s the point; Joel’s request is connected to Sarah’s situation. At the moment, I’m unsure if moving in with him would ease his anxiety or offer him a crutch to not work through his issues.

After I cleaned myself up, we sat in the book nook and talked about our futures together. Joel told me that I was it for him. If things don’t work with me, there’s no one else he’d be willing to try with. He confessed he didn’t feel he could handle getting close to another person.

I knew I felt the same way, but a frog seemed to get caught in my throat at the time. He comforted me by telling me I didn’t need to say anything. My head just swayed to the side, fogging up the glass of the tiny corner of my room. I allowed him to usher me to bed shortly after, content with not pushing him towards sleeping either.

Suddenly, I want to run. I want to sprint far away from a life of comfort with Joel and Ellie. I want to throw the specimen of pure sex off my body and bolt. In my head, Maddie’s voice mutters, “Savor this moment. Do not let your urge to run ruin the love of your life asking you to move in.”

I assume Joel takes my frozen silence as a no, and he lifts his head, looking at me with hurt eyes. “Say you’ll move in with me, Sugar,” he half pleads. “’m gettin’ old, Sugar, and I want to start a life with you.”

A snort leaves my nose, and I slap his shoulder with amusement. “You’re not getting old. You’re only thirty-two,” I say through a fit of giggles.

“And if we start now, I’ll be fifty when our first kid graduates high school,” he deadpans.

More laughter slips through my lips to his apparent dismay. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you about this kind of stuff?” I question him. Typically, the woman comes to the man about getting too old.

His nose scrunches, and I search his face for the answer. “Is this about what El said last night?” I add.

Before we escaped to the seclusion of my bedroom last night, Ellie mentioned something about always wanting a sibling. The thought made my stomach churn, and I wasn’t quite sure where Joel stood before our deep conversation. Now, I’m wondering if her teenage words got to him.

He shakes his head, answering before his mouth can correct himself. “Well, yeah,” he bashfully looks away.

My hands slide up to his warm cheeks, bringing his attention back to me. “You seem conflicted,” I point out.

He sighs, looking over my shoulder at the electric clock on my nightstand. “You’re right, it’s early. Forget I asked,” he crawls off me, his disappointment emitted from his body. He slunks into the bathroom like a sad puppy, with the door smacking the pane when he slides it shut. A sigh leaves my lips, and I let my eyes float towards the ceiling.

This is not how I wanted to be: so guarded that I can’t let him in. I want to give myself to him because I subconsciously know he’ll keep me safe. But similarly to him, the last time I let someone in, they left me. While I’m prone to running, he’s prone to clinging.

I let my thoughts mull for a bit before sitting up fully. There’s not a sound decision I can come to without coffee, so I walk over to my keys. Sliding out to the hallway, I’m careful to creep past where Ellie’s still sleeping in the guest room. I realize my attempts are futile seconds later when Toph and Katara start crying through the door. When my head turns to look towards the door, their tiny paws claw underneath the seal to be let out for the morning.

As if my body is put in reverse, I slightly crack Ellie’s door, allowing the kittens their freedom. The fact that she’s still asleep gives me time to start their morning routine of breakfast and water, and I enjoy the moment of silence. It only takes me a few minutes to finish the tasks when Joel walks into the kitchen.

He silently slides past me, his face undetectable. He grabs his keys and wallet from the counter, sliding them into his back pockets. Tension fills the room as I stand on my toes to grab my travel mug from the cupboards. Once the pink mug is secured underneath my arm, I return to Joel. “Do you have time to go get coffee with me?”

He extends his arm to scratch the back of his neck. “Tommy wants to have a staff meeting before we open, but I’ll walk you out, Sugar,” he excuses himself.

I check the clock above the kitten’s food bowl, which they’re busy devouring. “At six am?” I ask, slightly calling out the lie.

He puts his hand on the small of my back, ushering me towards coat hooks. “Yes,” he answers curtly.

I don’t argue, watching him take my jacket off the hook. He methodically opens the garment, holding it out for me. I quickly slip into it, turning around to face him. “The restaurant opens at eleven…” I let my suspicion slip.

He glares at me, running a hand through his short curls. “Damn, Ginny. Are you tryin' to ruin the surprise?” he questions, seemingly frustrated.

My ears perk up. “What surprise? I don’t like surprises,” I inform him. The last surprise I got was when I was sixteen. I nearly had a heart attack then, so I have no faith in the outcome of Joel’s surprise.

He turns his back towards me, grabbing his jacket. “Your Christmas present,” he states, dejected, towards the wall.

A sigh of relief leaves my body. Not that I thought Joel was the cheating type; I just didn’t want to question my unwavering trust in him. “Oh, no, I wasn’t. What is it?” I try to coax him into telling me.

He looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “What do you want it to be?” he asks with a smirk.

I shrug, kicking my feet towards my shoes. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d care, as long as it’s from you,” I tell him honestly.

Stepping into the winter boots, I quickly sit on the bench to lace them up. Joel watches me struggle for one second, and he’s getting on the ground, lifting my calf in his hand. He props my foot into his knee, lacing the shoe methodically. “What do you need for Christmas, Sugar? What’s the one thing you’ve never had before?” he asks.

My bottom lip rolls between my teeth. The one thing I always needed was someone to share the romantic aspects of the holidays with. I always dreamed of wearing matching pajamas with my partner and watching Christmas movies together. I had a boyfriend years ago when my parents were alive, but he never wanted to do any of that stuff.

Joel is the first person who’s given me anything I ask of under the guise of making me happy. I’ve never experienced this much love for a person other than my mom and dad. My feelings seep through my pores, and I become antsy with my reply. “You,” I blurt, drunk on a love-induced haze.

He double knots the shoelace, pausing to check his work. “Well, you have me,” he points out. He puts my foot down, moving to the right one. But something seems to be itching at him.

Suddenly, Joel stops moving, and his eyes anchor on mine. Lightening strikes the space between us, and the universe places an impenetrable bubble. The silence doesn’t last more than a breath, but when Joel licks his lips, I’m nearly leaning into him with anticipation of a kiss.

The pads of his calloused fingers brush against the back of my calf, squeezing lightly. “I love you, Imogen Scott,” Joel voices confidently.

My heart rate quickens and my palms become sweaty, slipping as I grip the edge of the bench. “Joel,” I start before I’m cut off.

Joel shifts closer between my legs. “Let me finish ‘fore I lose my nerve. Throughout this whole thing, I’ve been unsure ‘bout myself. But I know damn well that I love you.” The strength in his voice sends a thrill through me.

I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. “You care ‘bout me, and Ellie. Hell, you even look out for Tommy,” he adds before I can respond. A soft chuckle escapes me; it’s the first sound I’ve made in a while. “You’re kind and talented. You smell like sunshine and flowers. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to know you,” he continues.

His words wrap around me like warm sunlight. “You treat Ellie like she’s your daughter; we’d be lost without you. I’ve been meanin’ to say this, but I can’t hold it back anymore. You’re the one I wanna spend the rest of my life with,” he finishes, leaving me momentarily speechless.

As his words settle in, tears well in my eyes, and an overwhelming joy washes over me. I gently take his face in my hands, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You don’t have to say nothin’ back,” he says softly, trying to calm me.

I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts together before I burst. “You don’t get to tell me how-how to react, Joel Miller, and right now, all I can think about is how much I-I love you. I love that you’re a leader and how analytical you are. I especially love how amazing of a father you are to Ellie. You care for me and her more than yourself. Your sacrifices don’t go unnoticed,” I stammer.

Joel’s smile is brighter than I’ve ever seen it before. His face is turning a beautiful shade of pink the longer we confess our love to each other. “I love how your brows furrow and the veins pop out in your arms when you're frustrated. You’re my best friend, and I’m pretty sure I’d starve without you. Not to mention the best sex I’ve ever had,” I joke at the end, and he chuckles.

I take a deep breath to speak more confidently. My nerves don’t subside, but I continue anyway. “I love how you make me feel special and wanted. You’re everything to me, Joel. Absolutely everything,” I emphasize at the end, hoping my words can convey how I feel for him.

He nods, and his hands slide up my thighs to pull me to the edge of the bench. “Come here, Sugar,” his arms snaking around my back. His lips crush mine so hard that our teeth click on each other. Neither of us cares, taking the time to let our tongues explore each other’s mouths. A rushing heat strikes my core, and I squirm in his hold. The taste of his tongue is so intoxicating that I have to keep myself from moaning.

My head tilts back, allowing him more access, and I lose myself in the kiss. Annoyingly, the voice in my head reminds me his daughter is right down the hall. We’re trying to leave for work soon, and now is not the time to have a quickie. I want us to take our time and relish in the ability to make love finally. But Joel’s dominance doesn’t relent, pressing me tighter into him. He swallows a mewl from me, and my body becomes sticky in the winter coat.

I break the kiss to breathe and cool the furnace blazing between us. I let out a breathy laugh, and my thoughts begin to wander. I’ve never felt so relieved now that he knows how I feel about him. My thumb ghosts over his plump pink bottom lip, and he kisses the pad.

Now that we’ve said the fateful three words to each other, I feel more at ease with the thought of us living together. There’s only been a handful of times since we had sex the first time that we haven’t stayed the night with each other. My schedule practically revolves around Ellie’s, so we might as well blend our lives thoroughly.

“I’ll think about us moving in together, but only after the holidays,” I say firmly.

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he murmurs, returning to lace up my boot as if he hadn’t just shared something significant. I take in the muscles of his body, noting what I’ll tell him I love later.

He finishes lacing and stands with a grunt, leaving me on the bench to grab my gloves. Once they’re snug, he ties his boots, ignoring any extra layers as he prepares to face the storm. He pulls me up from the bench, linking our hands. I can't help but worry; he could get sick out there.

As he leads me toward the door, I watch his back muscles flex while he pushes it open. “Do you think El will be okay alone while I go get coffee?” I ask, concerned about leaving the teenager sleeping without anyone around when she wakes.

“She’ll be just fine. You need fuel,” Joel replies, ushering me into the stairwell. He reaches back to grab my pink earmuffs before shutting the door.

He quickly turns to me, and I pull my hair back to let him do whatever he needs. “So do you. You still have work after whatever you’re planning,” I retort, gesturing to him with my hand.

He seizes the moment to grab mine, pulling me down the stairs. “I’m fine. I can make somethin’ later,” he reassures me as my worries spill out. I know he can cook; I can’t, which makes his concern clear.

We make it to the bottom of the stairwell, and Joel pulls me closer to him when I step out into the cold. “What are we having for dinner?” I ask, looking far ahead into the future.

The slush forms around our boots with every step down the alley, “Was thinkin’ tortellini. Ain’t had it in a while,” he says, his drawl slow and easy.

My smile beams bright and I squeeze his side. “I love you,” I remind him. Pasta is my second favorite after burgers and fries; we had that for dinner last night. On top of that, no one, and I mean no one, makes pasta like Joel. The fact that he’s constantly making my favorite meals is a sentiment that makes my heart skip a beat.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as a smile spreads across his lips. “I love you too, Sugar,” he says proudly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on my dry lips.

I relish the warmth in my heart as we turn the corner at the end of the building, stepping out toward the street. Joel frowns and shifts around me, positioning himself between me and the oncoming traffic. “Imogen,” he murmurs, his tone low.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” I reply, adjusting the mug slipping under my arm.

We approach the street corner by the coffee shop, and Joel presses the crossing signal button. I exhale, my breath visible in the frigid air, trying to move my legs like a little cricket to generate some warmth. Sensing my shivers, Joel wraps his arms around my shoulders. I lean into him, closing my eyes and ignoring the biting cold on my face.

When the signal changes, we quickly cross in front of the inviting glow of the coffee shop sign.

“I’ll text you and Ellie after the lunch rush, Sugar. Be careful out there,” he says, smoothing down my curls. He kisses my temple, and his cologne envelops me like a familiar cardigan, making me lose track of time by the nearly revolving door.

I raise an eyebrow when our gazes meet. “With what? Measuring the ingredients?”

He pulls me close, holding the front of my coat. “You know what I mean. Holiday shoppers are wild, Ginny,” he replies, leaving me with no room to argue.

As he steps back, I immediately start rubbing my legs for warmth. He opens the door for me, practically nudging me into the cozy coffee shop. I turn to wave goodbye, but he’s already jogging down the street.

With a heavy sigh, I turn to absorb the atmosphere of the bustling coffee shop. The space is cramped, with only a few small tables and a narrow bar against the window, barely accommodating the ever-growing line snaking out the door. The shop offers no food selections or reading materials, and the ambient lighting creates a cozy ambiance that contrasts sharply with the blinding glare of the snow outside.

As I wait, my thoughts drift to the holiday cookies I need to bake today per the suggestion from my social media manager. She insists that livestreaming my baking sessions could significantly boost traffic to the store. I’m intrigued by the idea, picturing a vibrant online audience watching as I mix, frost, and decorate, but I can’t shake the nerves.

Finally, I reach the front of the line, only to realize I still haven’t spotted Willow, the shop's owner. Usually, she’s a whirlwind of energy, darting between tables and the counter, especially during the holiday rush. Just as I’m about to ask the barista about her, an electrifying presence fills the room, shifting the air around me.

A sharp squeal pierces the chatter, and I mentally note to introduce Willow to Madi. Both women have an uncanny ability to light up any room they enter, and I can’t help but think they would make an unstoppable pair. “Is that my favorite baker?” Willow’s voice rings out proudly as she emerges from behind the counter, her arms outstretched for a warm embrace.

“Hi, Will,” I say, smiling into her hold. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon envelops me. Once we step back, I ask, “How are you?”

“I’m good! It’s been a while since Joel’s been getting your coffee every morning,” she teases, giving me a playful nudge.

My cheeks flush at the suggestion that Joel has been picking up coffee for me daily. Since he started, my interactions with Willow have dwindled. I know they’ve developed a friendship, chatting about smart business strategies and sharing ideas, which I’m glad for—Joel needs someone to brainstorm with, especially since Tommy and I lack that business-minded focus.

Tucking my cold hands into the depths of my pockets, I reply, “I know, I felt like I needed to show my face.”

Willow darts behind the counter, effortlessly replacing the cashier and assigning them another task. She reminds me of a more polished version of myself, navigating her responsibilities with grace. Organized and innovative, her creativity shines through in her unique coffee concoctions. “The usual?” she inquires, raising an eyebrow, her playful curiosity evident.

“Yes, please,” I murmur, lowering my gaze, not wanting to draw the attention of the bustling coffee shop around us.

My feet shuffle forward as I pull my wallet from my coat pocket, the chill of the air biting at my skin. Willow purses her lips, shaking her head firmly. “It’s on the house,” she insists, her voice warm yet authoritative.

I shake my head vigorously, determined to assert my independence. “No, it’s not. Mine was at least $6. Let me pay you,” I plead, urgency creeping into my voice.

Willow narrows her eyes at me, her tone sharp and playful. “Ginny, don’t you dare.”

The sudden shift in her demeanor catches me off guard, and I instinctively raise my hands in surrender. But as she turns away to set my cup at the front of the line, I seize the opportunity, quickly swiping a twenty from my wallet and sneakily dropping it into the tip jar.

Stepping to the side, I wait as she chats with her colleagues, the warmth of the shop contrasting with the chill outside. When Willow finally joins me, her expression shifts, and she begins, “I want to talk to you about something.”

My body fills with concern as I scan her from head to toe, the frantic energy of the moment tightening my chest. “Okay, are you alright?” I ask, urgency lacing my voice.

“Yeah, it’s nothing personal. I was just wondering if you had time to look at the proposal I sent you last week. I didn’t hear anything about it,” she replies, her tone steady yet tinged with disappointment.

A wave of shame washes over me as I recall our casual conversation about starting a bookstore café together. We had dreamt aloud, imagining a cozy space brimming with romance novels, my pastries nestled beside her expertly brewed coffee. It was the perfect haven for book clubs and events I’d longed to host at Daylight, but which had never attracted enough interest.

As I speak, my gaze inadvertently drifts to Willow’s neck. I squint, my heart sinking as I take in the unmistakable dark bruises mottling her skin just below her jaw. They stand out sharply against her complexion, like a warning sign. A cold knot of concern twists in my stomach. Despite our camaraderie, an unsettling feeling creeps in when her boyfriend is around—a lingering doubt that makes me question everything.

“Oh um, sorry I’ve been busy. I must’ve forgotten to look at the email,” I say, forcing my focus back to her words, though the sight of those bruises looms in my mind.

“Will you at least consider it when you open it?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.

I hesitate, a blush creeping into my cheeks as I shrug. Daylight was my first venture, one I had nurtured mostly alone, and the thought of sharing control was daunting. “I don’t know. Starting a new business sounds stressful, especially since we just got out of the red,” I admit, my worries now tinged with a deeper concern for her.

Willow bites her plum lips, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. She nods slightly, and I can see the glimmer of hope begin to dim.

Leaning in closer, I lower my voice, ensuring it’s just for her. “But can I get back to you after the holidays?” I propose, wanting to keep the door open.

Her face brightens with a small smile. “For sure, we can meet at Daylight, and I’ll bring the coffee,” she responds, her enthusiasm returning. “Speaking of, I think yours is coming up,” she adds, glancing toward the counter, where the barista is preparing my drink.

When she crosses in front of me, my gaze drifts back to those bruises. She returns a couple moments later with my cup, but I still can’t shake the concern gnawing at me. “Willow,” I say, my voice softening, “can I ask… what happened to your neck?”

At the mention of her bruises, Willow’s demeanor shifts. Her smile falters, and I notice her eyes flicker with a hint of nervousness. She waves a hand dismissively, but I can see the tension in her posture. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little mishap,” she says, her voice too light, too rehearsed.

But I can’t let it go. “It doesn’t look like nothing. Are you sure you’re okay?” My eyes search hers, hoping for honesty.

She hesitates, the flicker of vulnerability in her gaze making my heart race. “Really, Ginny, I’m fine. Just clumsy, you know?”

I don’t believe her. The tension hangs heavy, and the doubt lingers between us. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here,” I say, my voice firm but gentle, unwilling to drop the subject entirely.

“I know, and thank you,” she responds, her voice barely above a whisper.

Willow’s smile looks plastered on, strained at the edges, as she blinks a couple of times, attempting to shake off the weight of our previous conversation. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “So, what are you and Joel doing for the holidays?” she quickly changes the subject, her voice a touch too bright.

I take a breath, eager to share a bit of our plans. “We have an obligation to go to Christmas dinner at my friend Madi’s house since Joel is her family’s holiday chef. They’re loaded. But after that, we’ll probably come back to the city. Do you and your boyfriend have plans?” I reply, noting the way her eyes flicker, as if she’s gauging my reaction.

Willow’s gaze drops for a moment, her enthusiasm fading. “I’m not sure. We usually just stay here for all the holidays because my family is in Seattle,” she says, her voice trailing off, the cheeriness dimming as she speaks.

I step a bit closer, feeling a sense of urgency. “Is it just going to be the two of you?” I quickly ask, my eagerness to extend an invitation evident in my tone.

“Yeah,” she sighs glumly, the weight of that single word hanging between us like a fog. I can’t help but feel a sense of dread. I wonder if Josh might have something to do with the bruises on her neck. The thought unsettles me; I want to pull her away from him. I know Joel would never do something like this to me, but I can’t be sure about Josh.

Firming my resolve, I want to bring her some holiday cheer. “You should come with us to Christmas dinner at Madi’s and come over the next morning for breakfast,” I suggest, my heart racing at the thought of her joining us.

Willow shakes her head, looking conflicted. “Oh no, I can’t crash your Christmas,” she protests, but I can see a flicker of interest in her eyes.

“Yes, you can. You can finally meet all the people I talk about,” I insist, feeling the urge to pull her into our festive circle.

Her expression falters again, and I can tell she’s weighing her options. “I don’t know. Josh might be in a mood. Can I let you know later?” she replies, her voice uncertain, and I sense a hesitation beneath her words.

I offer a reassuring smile, trying to ease her worries. “Yeah, of course. Joel cooks the whole day before and he’s making more than enough food for everyone to go for thirds,” I reassure her, hoping to dispel her doubts and get her out of that situation.

“Okay, thanks for the invite,” she says, a hint of warmth returning to her tone, though I can still see the uncertainty lingering in her eyes.

I glance at my watch, knowing I need to head out. “Of course. I have to actually go work now,” I say, shifting my weight, ready to break away.

“Boo,” she replies, a playful pout crossing her lips, her momentary lightness lifting my spirits.

“I know. But I’ll text you!” I say, a smile creeping back onto my face, glad to see her lighten up even just a bit.

“Sounds good,” she says, her eyes brightening just enough to make me feel hopeful as I turn to leave, but I can’t shake the feeling that I need to keep an eye on her boyfriend.

Around 11 PM, the front door slides open to my condo, and the familiar sound pulls me from the fog of exhaustion. I lift my head slightly from the couch, blinking against the dim light to see Joel dragging his feet inside. He looks worn, his shoulders heavy with the weight of work stress. As he kicks off his shoes and sheds his coat, his eyes remain fixed on the ground, the tension radiating off him palpable.

Even with his head bent, I catch the deep furrow in his brow and the way his eyebrows nearly touch in the center, a clear sign of the battles he’s faced throughout the day. I glance down the hall, knowing Ellie might still be awake, and just in case she is, I whisper-shout, “Hey.”

When his espresso-colored eyes finally meet mine, something shifts. The tight lines of his face soften, and a flicker of warmth ignites in his gaze. He lingers at the door, taking a moment to drink me in, as if the sight of me could wash away the day’s burdens. My heart quickens as our eyes lock, and I can’t help but notice the slight curve of his lips that hints at a smile.

“Missed you,” he says, his voice low and sincere, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The simple honesty of his words sends a thrill through me, and I smile back, feeling an electric tension fill the space between us.

“Me too,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, and the air thickens with unspoken emotions. I can feel the heat radiating from him, a magnetic pull that draws me in.

He pulls into his arms as he reaches the couch, and I breathe in his familiar scent—woodsy and comforting. Our bodies fit together perfectly, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. I can feel the weight of his day starting to lift, but there’s something else simmering beneath the surface, a shared understanding of what we mean to each other.

“Why don’t we take a bath?” he suggests, his voice a low rumble against my hair. “We could both use it.”

The idea of soaking in warm water, together, sounds heavenly. “That sounds perfect,” I reply, looking up at him with a smile. His eyes light up with relief and something deeper, a sense of intimacy that makes my heart race.

“Let’s make it cozy,” he adds, his expression playful now. “Candles, maybe?”

I nod, excitement bubbling within me. “I’ll grab some.”

I hurry to gather the candles, setting them around the bathroom while Joel fills it with warm water. The soft glow of the flickering flames creates a soothing atmosphere. When everything is ready, we slide into the tub together, the heat enveloping us like a comforting embrace.

Once we’re settled, Joel takes my feet in his hands, gently lifting one to rest in his lap. I watch as he begins to massage my soles, his fingers working out the tension with a deftness that leaves me sighing in relief. “You really know how to treat a girl,” I tease, a playful smile dancing on my lips.

“I aim to please,” he replies, his gaze steady and warm, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

I beam, slowly pulling back my foot so I can crawl into Joel’s lap. Once I’m in the correct position, I straddle him. “I know another way you could please me,” I nudge as I brush my thumbs over his stubble. “Can I kiss you? I haven’t kissed you in hours,” I mumble, slightly tilting my head. It’s not my fault I can’t get enough of his touch and his taste.

He furrows his brows at my question. “Yeah, Sugar. Ya never have to ask me,” he declares, tightening his arms around my waist.

I smile and lean in slowly, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He parts my cracked lips with his tongue and I savor the taste of him. I moan, deepening the kiss and I feel his cock grow hard beneath me. He grabs my neck as he leans into me.

Before he can deepen the kiss, I gently pull back, breaking the connection. “I forgot to ask you about your day. How was it?”

With my hands cradling his face, I begin to place soft kisses on his cheeks, enjoying the warmth of his skin. He rubs my back, a comforting gesture that makes me feel cherished in this moment. “Fine, Sugar. Just busy,” he chuckles, leaning back against the edge of the tub, the water glistening around us. “How ‘bout you? How was your day?”

“I finished getting everyone’s Christmas gifts today so good, but tiring,” I reply, letting out a soft sigh.

My hands wander down to his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles as I continue. “I feel selfish for adding to your stress today. You should be focused on the Michelin Star, not whatever surprise you’re cooking up for me,” I confess.

He lets out a sigh, scratching his scruff thoughtfully. “Listen here, I don’t give a damn ‘bout that restaurant. I care ‘bout you and Ellie, Sugar. More than anyone or anything else. As long as y’all are okay, everythin’ else can wait.” His gaze locks onto mine, and I feel the weight of his sincerity in that moment—a promise that goes beyond any accolades. His words create an unspoken bond between us, grounding me in the depth of his commitment.

I reach down into the water, and wrap my hand around his cock. “We can still relieve some stress.”

I try to urge him on by fisting his cock and rubbing it through my wet folds. A smirk takes over my face, as I watch his face for a reaction. He looks at me with wide eyes, gripping the sides of the tub.

“Gin,” Joel warns just before I situate the head of him near my opening. In one go, I completely sink down onto his hard member. He groans quietly and I bite my lip, relishing in this feeling. I’m full of him in every place.

I start slowly moving up and down on his length, careful not to splash water up the sides of the tub. Every inch of his cock impacts me in all the right places. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this in here. Your muscles are all tight as it is, Sugar,” he continues worrying.

I curse myself for having such a high sex drive and needing him every hour of every day. Instead of letting my thoughts take over, I kiss him deeply, silencing his warnings. While swirling my hips, he swallows my moans and begins thrusting in me from below.

“I know. But I need you, Joel,” I whisper against his lips.

With a groan, he gives into my pleas and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my chest closer to his. Joel sets a rhythm, thrusting up into me slowly over and over again. The eye contact is maddening and I can’t help it but shut my eyes at the feeling. He takes full control and I let him, enjoying every bit of this moment.

“Fuck, Imogen. I’m in love with you,” Joel groans when I bite down on his shoulder to avoid moaning too loud. His pubic area runs against my clit in the most delicious way. The building could be burning down around us and I wouldn’t notice.

Joel squeezes me tighter as my back arches into him, and a bit of the water begins to splash over the side of the tub. I tuck my head into his neck, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. “I love you Joel, so so much,” the moaning babble slips from my lips.

Joel picks up the pace of his hips, helping me to move on top of him. His movements sync with mine, and my mouth opens in a silent scream. I feel Joel slide his hand between us, feeling for my clit. It only takes him a second to find it, sending my whole body ablaze. He starts rubbing quick circles, with his mouth occupied by sucking my skin between his teeth. When he kisses and bites at my sweet spot, I nearly see stars. He drives into me, filling me to the brim each and every time.

My impending orgasm begins coiling tightly like a spring. Ringing fills my ears and my heart has surely floated to the outside of my body. “That’s it, Sugar. Let me have it,” Joel grunts out. His words are enough to release the coil of my orgasm. I let out a long strained moan, falling into him. I grasp at his shoulders feeling the euphoria course through me.

“Holy shit, Joel,” I moan as he slowly strokes me through my orgasm. He lets me come down with full control, allowing me to grind on top of him for a while. Then, I come to a stop with him still solid and sheathed inside me.

I need a second to breathe if I’m going to keep being on top. Joel nibbles at the top of my ear, and his hands are everywhere. My legs, my back, and my chest. Before Joel, I wondered what it would be like to make love. Now, I think I’d have to murder him if he tried to leave me.

“I’m real proud of you, Sugar,” Joel gives me words of affirmation and I smile, lifting my head to look at him. There’s still a fuzzy haze around the edge of my eyes, but the center is clear. I have a drop dead gorgeous man all to myself.

“Mind turnin’ around for me so I can keep lookin’ after you?” Joel asks, lightly tapping my thighs underwater. I nod with anticipation because that’s exactly what I need right now. Every bone in my body urges me to make him feel the same pleasure I’m feeling right now.

I steady my hand on Joel’s shoulders, slowly lifting myself up. We both hiss at the loss of contact and I quickly turn until my back is facing him. I slowly sink down in the water on my knees. My hands go to the bottom of the tub so I can poke my ass into the air for him.

“Damn, I wish you could see how beautiful you look,” I hear Joel sigh behind me, his voice filled with a mix of awe and admiration, as if I’ve taken his breath away. The sincerity in his tone sends a warm rush through me, amplifying the flutter in my chest. It’s as if, in that moment, I truly possess his heart—every beat of it belongs to me. His compliment lingers in the air, wrapping around us like a gentle wave, and the way he sees me makes me feel radiant. I can feel a deep connection between us, a shared understanding that transcends words; we own every part of each other, our vulnerabilities and strengths intertwined. The heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but smile, feeling both shy and elated by his words.

The water shifts beneath me, and I feel Joel’s hands on my ass. I jerk slightly when his wet hands make contact with my skin, but relax when he begins rubbing the skin. “Hang on to the edge of the tub, Gin. I don’t want you slippin’.”

Joel spanks me lightly and I whine in response, crawling towards the edge closest to the window. He follows my lead, moving forwards until he’s needled behind me. He uses one knee to nudge my leg wider and suddenly, he’s pushing back into me.

No matter how many times we have sex, being full of Joel all at once never gets old. He snaps his hips forward again and again, showing me what he meant about holding the porcelain beneath my finger tips. My moans reverberate back to me and I don’t recognize the sound coming from my throat. Joel groans in response, gripping my sides deliciously as he picks up the pace. “You’re takin’ me so well,” Joel grunts.

Instead of letting Joel have full control, I begin rocking my hips so we crash together with each trust. With every piston of his hips, I slide forward on my knees causing just the right amount of pain. Joel doesn’t let that stop him though, pulling me back with his strong hands.

It’s simultaneously just the right amount and completely overwhelming. My love for Joel feels suffocating as I grapple with how to express it. “Breathe, Ginny. You ain't breathin’,” he says, his hand gently resting on my neck from behind.

My chest expands as I gasp for air. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, but given how much I usually talk, that was likely Joel’s first clue. My clit buzzes a signal up my thighs and I squeeze around his cock again. “Joel, I’m about to-“ my whimpers are cut off by him picking up the pace. How am I supposed to breathe when he’s trying to murder me with his penis?

"Not yet, Sugar. Just breathe. Breathe with me." His voice is gentle, yet his grip on my neck becomes tight. I try to heed his words, concentrating on my breathing, but every part of me feels like I might collapse.

“Please, Joel,” I shamelessly beg Joel, feeling the pleasure built in my stomach. My cunt contracts around him more and I notice his thrusts becoming uneasy as he nears the end with me.

“Now, Sugar, show me how much ya love me and let go,” Joel coos and I can tell he’s enjoying this just as much as I am. I clench around him so tight, I think I’ll hurt him somehow. My fist balls up and I moan a little too loudly as he strokes us through our orgasms.

Joel’s hot cum shoots inside me, filling me to the brim. “I love you. I love you. I love ya, Ginny,” he chants as I milk him for everything he’s got.

Joel slows himself down, rolling into me one last time as he finishes his release. I’m panting, and when I lick my lips, I taste the saltiness of my sweat on my tongue.

My back twists slightly so I can look at Joel. He gazes at me, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and desire, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve and contour of my body. His hands gently cradle my stomach, his touch both tender and possessive, radiating warmth that sends shivers down my spine.

“House first, baby second,” I say, my voice steady but playful, a warning laced with sincerity. I know the spark in his eyes suggests he might be imagining a future beyond this moment, a future that could include more than just the three of us.

I can feel the weight of his gaze change into a blend of longing and determination. I move away from him before he gets any more ideas, causing him to groan with disappointment when he pulls out. I turn to sit across from him again, and he mirrors me.

I sink down into the tub, with only my head above water. He takes my feet and pulls them into his lap, beginning to massage them again. He works through every knot in my soles. “That was incredible. You’re somethin’ else, ain’t ya?” Joel rasps.

A soft giggle escapes me, and I wonder if I could ever give up this feeling. “Not as amazing as you,” I responded, wondering where that much energy came from when the man works all day.

Suddenly, I remember Willow’s recent proposal. The idea of a cozy haven filled with the scent of fresh coffee and the sound of turning pages is enticing, but my stomach churns at the thought.

“I forgot to tell you Willow asked me to partner with her on a bookstore café,” I admit, my voice laced with uncertainty. “But I’m worried about handling the finances. You and I both know numbers aren’t my strong suit.”

He leans in, his expression all warm and steady. “That’s alright, Sugar,” he begins, calm as a summer breeze. “Me and Willow can handle that. You just focus on the books and the vibe. Y’all’ll create a place folks are gonna love.”

His confidence is comforting, yet I still feel hesitant. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if I fail?”

He drops my foot and moves closer, pulling me into his lap. “You ain’t gonna fail. You’ve given up so much for me; now it’s your turn to chase after what you want. You deserve this, trust me. Just think ‘bout the joy it could bring you,” he reassures me.

As his words sink in, excitement and apprehension swirl within me. But then a troubling thought surfaces, uninvited. “I’ve been worried about her lately,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “I noticed bruises on her neck today and I’m afraid they came from her boyfriend.”

His expression shifts, concern replacing calm. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“I don’t know for sure, but it didn’t look right. She brushed it off, but…” I trail off, feeling the weight of my worry. “I invited her to Christmas dinner, hoping to create some space between the two. Maybe if she sees how different things can be, she’ll think twice,” I explain.

He tightens his grip around my waist and his brow is furrowed. I can tell he’s holding in every ounce of composure so he doesn’t get out of this tub to go find Josh. “You oughta talk to her. She needs to know she can count on us. And I want you to know, I’d never hurt you. You deserve someone who treats you right, with respect and kindness.”

I nod, his words a balm against my anxiety. “I know. I just don’t want her to go through this alone,” I affirm.

As I meet his reassuring gaze, I feel the urgency of our conversation merge with the potential of my dreams. Maybe, with his support, this could be my chance to pursue not just my goals, but also help my friend.

Once the conversation settles, we finish our bath, the warm water soothing our bodies. As we step out, he wraps a warm, fuzzy towel around me, the fabric enveloping me in comfort. I smile up at him, probably with gratitude shining in my eyes.

After drying off, I slip into a delicate lace slip. My bonnet slides over my curls while Joel changes into a pair of soft boxers. He scoops me up effortlessly, carrying me to the bed. I nestle against him, feeling safe and cherished. “I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. I smile, warmth spreading through me as I echo his sentiment.

I allow myself to drift to sleep, but I can't help but toss and turn the entire night thinking about Willow's situation. My mind is spinning, formulating an idea so bold, it leaves my palms sweaty. I’m going to get her away from Josh.

I just don’t know how dangerous it might get.

[saltnsugarbear]

I get so hungry when you say you love me (18+)

summary: Mandy takes care of your needs

title from: "Cannibal" by Ke$ha

word count: 0.4k

content warnings: smut MDNI!!!! mandy got the strap 💥💥, vampire themes! vampire mandy debut

side note: for my mouse! my first time writing for Mandy and exploring my TVD au,,,, i love her and i love you my mouse, the biggest kisses happy holidays <3

You can feel tears slipping down your cheeks as you look up at Mandy through your lashes. She's a vision above you, blood smudged around her mouth and chest heaving. When she caught your eye, Mandy gives a particularly deep thrust into your throat, scoffing when you squeal and squeeze your thighs together.

"Fuckin' soaking the sheets," Mandy rolls her eyes, looking back at how you try and find some sort of friction. You let out a choked whine at her words, lifting your hips up with your thighs squeezed tightly together.

Mandy sighs from on top of you before she leans back, slipping the silicone cock from your mouth. Your breathing is heavy as she shuffles down your body, planting herself just above your hips.

Mandy's body is heavy on top of you, hips being pushed roughly into the mattress with hers. The weight of the silicone dildo is also heavy on your stomach, your saliva smearing against your skin from your teasing.

Now her strap lays heavy between you as she keeps your arms pinned above your head. Her slow grinding is driving you insane, rutting your hips up trying to seek some friction.

She's grumbling as she leans down to kiss you, some distant complaint about you being so needy. The kiss is tangy with blood and the beer she'd been sipping on before you came home.

Mandy easily slips her legs from over your waist to press flush against your thighs before she wiggles back. The feeling of the silicone strap against your entrance makes you whine. Mandy nips softly at your lower lip before she starts pressing her hips forward.

The stretch makes your jaw drop, eyes fluttering shut. Mandy holds your jaw loosely as she turns your head and starts placing gentle, gnawing kisses to your cheek and jaw. The gentle tug of teeth makes you sigh, rolling your hips into her.

She had spent enough time between your legs that there was little resistance as she buried herself to the hilt.

Mandy times the first roll of her hips with a sharp nip at your throat, dragging her tug where blood starts to bead. The dual sensation makes you whine, bucking your hips up into her movements. She soothes her tongue over the bite as she pulls out to the tip before snapping her hips back into you.

"Never fuckin' satiated are ya?" She sneers. Mandy press her nose against your skin as she gnaws softly at your jaw.

"Guess I'm gonna have to fix that.."